Chapter Text
Emma Fitzherbert watched the door close behind the Americans. She waited several score heartbeats before letting out a heavy breath, her gaze lingering.
“Well,” she said at length, and in Old Norse, “that was interesting.”
“That was risky,” Irma corrected in the same language.
She looked at the other woman. “It was worth that risk.”
“Was it?” She didn't sound convinced.
Emma smiled. “You know as well as I do how that fit into the plan.”
Irma cocked an eyebrow. “Allowing the American to have you was part of the plan?”
Emma sighed. “I intend to have him again, you know.”
Irma chuckled. “There are so many battlefields in this war and so little time. This...” She gestured toward the square. “...I understand. But what transpired here between you and Norman?” She shook her head slowly. “A thousand years and I am still no closer to understanding you mortals than I was the day Freja first issued my charge.”
“I might remind you that it was your idea to lure them up here.”
“To more closely observe them in a way not possible in the open. The rest was not part of the plan.”
Emma smiled, then sighed. “Perhaps it was not part of your plan.”
Irma scowled. “Do you mean to tell me, shieldmaiden, that you deliberately bedded the American?”
“The opportunity presented itself.”
“And if his commander had decided to take you, then what?”
Emma tipped her head back and laughed. “Seriously? Do you really think anyone could bed me without my consent?”
Irma's lips spread into a thin smile. “No, I suppose not. But why the act? Why pretend to be...how did you put it...the damsel in distress? That is so unlike you.”
Emma shrugged. “It is simple. I want Norman to return for me.”
“But why?”
Emma carried her stack of plates to the kitchen. “I do not attempt to try to explain matters of the heart. I only know that I knew I wanted him from the moment I saw him. He is young, but he has a good heart and that is worth a lot to me. We are connected now. I know it and, given his behavior shortly before our parting, he knows it. The seeds are sown in both of us. Now I must wait and hope that neither you nor your sisteren will have to collect him.”
“Not for many years, at least. His commander, on the other hand, I will watch him. He seems the type to die a hero upon the battlefield.”
“Indeed he does.” Emma heated some more water. “And the others?”
Irma snorted. “They did not impress me. Especially that rude one.”
Emma laughed ruefully. “Five minutes more, and I would have ended him myself. And you know how seriously I regard the taking of sentient life.”
“That is because you have a good and tender heart, Emma Agtharsdottir.”
Emma smiled. “I am glad you think so. Sometimes I doubt it. Like now, for instance. I dislike wishing ill on another, but that man deserves torment.”
“There is a difference between wishing ill and wishing justice. A man reaps what he sows. The rude one has no respect at all. Still,” said Irma pensively, “it might be amusing to watch Thor beat it into him.”
Emma laughed, then began washing plates. “It is a pity I won't be there to see it.”
“That remains to be seen. You might not be a warrior by trade, but you may yet join the ranks of the Einherjar.” Irma looked sharply up. “Incoming,” she said almost casually.
An explosion sounded out in the square, the concussion wave rattling windows. Screams followed. Emma closed her eyes and reached out with her sixth sense, searching. Yes, there he was. Norman was unharmed.
“Emma!” Irma barked. “Brace yourself!”
Emma barely had time to prepare. She could hear the whistle of another approaching shell. She felt it hit the outer wall. Heat and energy moved quickly in multiple directions, then everything erupted into so much noise and pain.