The Benevolent Warrior (Fandral Fanfiction #1)

[22] We Are Your Overlords

Ashildyr hung back,  succumbing to the cries that echoed in her mind. It was a child, she knew. A child was crying for its mother. One had been left behind. She spun around as fast as she could, readying another arrow. The face she found in front of her was one that struck fear into her. It was Hela. Ashildyr's arrow flew from the string and in one swift move, Hela caught it and broke it in two.  It was with one half that she struck Ashildyr down as if she were a mere shade of mist in her path.

Fandral stopped in his tracks and looked up. Through the haze, he saw it. The woman he loved was defenseless now,  crawling away on her hands, Hela stalking her every move, armed with a pike.
"Ashildyr!" he cried,  shoving and cutting his way through the surge of the undead around him. He had to get to her. He had to.
How time seemed to stop then. He saw the pike in Hela's hand tilted towards the heart of mercy, the heart of his light. His chest ached. His limbs tore at him.

It flashed in his mind then: the courtyard in the city where they had sparred with one another playfully, all malice hidden from them. Everything was perfect then. Everything, everything. He had lifted Fimbuldraugr to her heart with a boyish grin, his bravado a performance solely for her benefit.

But now, in this reality, in this fresh hell, Ashildyr found his face in the crowd. She let a blood curdling scream rip from her throat. She saw the pike. She saw him drawing closer with every leap.

"Together," they had agreed once, in the heat of battle, in what she had feared was their last moment. Vanaheim. The promise was secured in the truth: "Even in death."

Fandral was there before she had the time to whisper his name again. He thew himself in front of her,  arms outstretched. Hela drove the pike through his chest and smiled, though a feint slant of recognition flickered across her face.
She twisted the pike, "Haven't I killed you before?"
Fandral gasped, choking on the blood that surfaced at his mouth. "For... Asgard..." he breathed,  slashing Fimbuldraugr's edge along her face.
Death staggered, clutching her face with her clawed hands,  screeching. The others would deal with her in his stead,  he knew. He smiled upon the thought. His mission, his charge from the beginning had been to lay his life down in service of his people, those he loved. And he had had done that. He was content.

He slumped to the ground with difficulty. A weight pulled him down. He reached down and pulled the pike from his chest with a cry. Blood rushed in a flood and within moments, his world was tainted by white and dancing lines.
Ashildyr. He needed to see her face one last time.
One last...
But when he turned, all he found was her body resting beside his, soaked in blood. All the breath fell out of his mouth as he threw himself onto her, pulled her into his arms.
"Hildyr," he sighed, "No,  no, no. Please. Come on!" he cupped her face in his hands and pressed his forehead to hers. He sobbed, putting a hand over her heart. The pike had pierced them both.

Her eyes fluttered and strayed,  before finding solace in the reflection of his.
She let her hand touch his face, before letting it drop down to his chest, where the blood flowed freely. She whimpered at the sight, at the alarming fact that it just wouldn't stop.
"Fandral..." she sighed breathlessly, "I'm sorry," she said quickly, "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have held back. I-"
"Sshh, sshh," he cooed to her,  blinking at the ache of his own. Valhalla was calling him again. "It's okay. It's alright now. You're okay."
She smiled weakly,  watching as the child, the one whose cries she heard, whizzed past, cradled in Heimdall's arms.
"My Dashing Prince," she snaked an arm around Fandral's neck, pulling herself up into his arms.
He wept,  "My brave, brave Ashildyr." He stroked her face, willed his fingers to memorize every scar,  every stray freckle and line. It all mattered. It was all that mattered now.

His lips found hers and with all he had left, he passed on what breath he could into her lungs, giving her a precious moment longer in the paradise she knew as Asgard.