Divided Chapter 47

Assignment: 64379-01
Location: Asgard



Agent: Colin M. Denehy
Date: 10/10/29

Snow. Before December. Snow....just a slight dusting mind you but enough to remind us that winter is at hand. A far cry from the unseasonable warmth a few days ago when Loki and I rode to the longhouses. I was for certain he was going to tell me where to get off. We started down the road on the horses and at first it was a silent ride. I could see he was still struggling with the aftereffects of the wine and so being the fool I am, I finally opened my big gob YET again.
“Your Highness,” I says, “I was after understanding you swore off wine.” Then I waited for him to lash at me with his riding crop. Instead he laughs, grimaces.
“I charged Gretten this very morn with locking up the manor's cellar ere he found me in such spirits. He asked me what he should do were I to order him fetch me a bottle. I told him he should stand his ground and receive a gold coin for his stalwart effort when my mood passed.”
I allowed as how bracing oneself against his foul moods deserved more of a medal than a gold coin. What the hell, I was thinking he was all ready to send me packing to the encampment anyhow, so what was there to lose in speaking my piece? Therein he surprised me yet again.
“There are few in my family who are able to weather my dark humors. I beg your forgiveness for my outburst this evening last. I confess I was struck with a deep melancholy after you retired to bed. You have proved time and again your great affection for my family and they for you. When I expressed my extreme distrust for your Director Fury and the agency you call S.H.I.E.L.D, my rage was sorely misdirected, the gods bless my wife for showing me the error of my ways. I am certain, because you hold my family in such high regard, you would tell me were the consequences of Simon's actions to bring harm to them and so I believe you when you claim that you know nothing more of Simon's whereabouts.”
You coulda knocked me off Agathon with a wink. I felt obliged, after Loki's confession, to allow as I agreed in part with Stark's cautionary tale though I couldn't give him any details because I knew precious little myself. After New York and S.H.I.E.L.D's ...um...internal restructuring, only top level agents were privy to classified information and even they had their blind spots.
Stark seemed to have sprouted a few more gray hairs overnight. He would only say he'd talked to Fury but when I asked him what Fury said about Simon's stunt he shook his head, wide eyed. When he was able to corner me alone for a moment later in the day, he told me he hadn't said anything to Fury about Simon defecting. When I asked him why, he faltered, kinda looked gobsmacked that he'd said anything to me in the first place then threw his hands in the air.
“Ya know what? Okay. Because if I were to tell him I'd lost track of my chief physicist on the project, I'd be sitting at home in my beach house in Malibu, enjoying the sunrise with Miss Potts and don't get me wrong, there's absolutely nowhere else I'd like to be at this moment but if I was off the project, someone would have to replace me and more likely than not it would be Fury, with a shitload of special ops trained to track and extract personnel. Call it an overblown sense of responsibility but I'm the one who started the development of these portals and I don't want to see Asgard torn apart by military operations and I most certainly do not want to start an interstellar war. As long as he doesn't find out through other means, we're golden.”
Other means, says he. What other means, says I. Then again in January, the second group will be ready to return to Earth. They'll know about Simon. When they're debriefed, they'll do just as they're supposed to. They'll talk....
Maybe defection would be a better option.
Maybe the portals were a bad idea....

In other news....Brenna is expected back home tomorrow. Beth has latched onto the idea of asylum and you know what? I've encouraged it, fuck them all. She's not an agent, she's a senior in college, a student. We have obligations but her? If she wants to stay here with Gretten so be it. I'm prohibited by my position to advise her upon a course of action though I told her in detail what Simon wrote in his letter to the King. Objection, yer honor....I call leading the witness....objection upheld....guilty as charged.
Oh! And wonder of wonder, miracle of miracle....I came down to breakfast yesterday and found Hal sitting at the bottom of the stairs staring off into space. I dropped down beside him. Eliciting no response, I waved my hand before his face.
“What seems to be the trouble, my good valet?”
Deadpan he replied, “Vesta is with child.”
I clapped him on the back, “Good on ya. I thought you said she couldn't have children.”
Hal nodded slowly, “And so we were led to believe. All these seasons, we expected she was barren...until now....”
I kept my mouth shut about the possibility of  illness being the cause for her interrupted menses. I'd rather be on the side of the angels with this one. I congratulated him. I'm curious as to the changes pregnancy will bring to the shy silent Vesta. Could get interesting.
Loki has informed me there will be games in the public arena at the palace in Asgard before Winternights and that he and his brother will join in. He entreated me to compete as well, listing such events as wrestling, grappling, weight lifting, Toga hӧnk, a type of tug of war...., Skinnleikr, a sort of keep away game involving a rolled up animal hide....then there were the more serious events where it isn't uncommon for players to lose their lives. I told him I wasn't much of an athlete though perhaps I could be persuaded to join in a tug of war.
It's getting closer to Yuletide. Though I've come to love this place, I will admit I've sorely missed the old sod....and me Ma and Da and Grandad. It'll be nice to see them again if only for a week...for now though...it's back to business....



“I told ye the water looked brackish.”
Simon pulled the heavy bearskin robe tighter around him, seeking to still his chattering teeth, block out Lelia's admonitions.
Another voice, floating in and out of his periphery, “Men, they'll not listen to ye...here now, see if ye can't get this down his gullet, 'twill ease the fever, purge the evil humours from him.”
A soft cool hand touched his cheek, raised his head, a cup was pressed to his lips, “Open yer mouth, ye stubborn man child.”
Warm liquid trickled down his throat, sweet and bitter altogether, silky on his tongue and he coughed, making to push the cup away from him.
“Ah no, swallow it.”
He managed to take in enough of the vile brew to satisfy Lelia who let his head back to the down pillow.
“There ye go. I've sent my youngest for the village physician, he will bring potions. He's seen the effects of bad water many a time.”
Simon opened his eyes, looked up at Lelia who knelt beside the pallet he had been laid upon. A heavyset short middle aged woman in a plain dress, her hair in a kerchief, stood slicing a loaf of bread at a long table in the common room beyond.
He grasped feebly at Lelia's sleeve and she placed her hand on his forehead though she kept her attention on the heavyset woman.
“So, ye said yer on yer way to Alfheim is it?”
“Aye,” Lelia nodded, “Me husband has family there.”
Simon grunted, made to sit up, catching Lelia's glare, “Lie still, now. Let the posset ease yer fever.”
“Family? Tell me now, what clan does he lay claim to?”
Lelia chewed her lip, “Ah....Melos's clan.”
The woman put a hand on her hip, stood straight, “Melos? He's high born then? Ye've a way to go. If I recall right, they reside near the far western border near Muspelheim.”
Shouts from outside brought the woman's head about.
“I will tan their hides, I swear to it!” she muttered as she threw the door wide, striding outside, hollering at the top of her lungs, “Zacar! Let go of yer brother or I'll warm yer backside with my bread paddle!”
“Husband?” Simon rasped, “What...are...?”
Lelia leaned over to Simon's ear to speak in a whisper, “Listen and mark me words. If or when yer people come looking for ye, they'll not be searching for a husband and wife will they? So if anyone is asked, sure their answer will not point to us.”
Simon nodded, “Wise woman.”
“And ye'd be wise to remember this,” Lelia sat back, caressed his cheek. He wanted to press her hand to his face, hold it there but couldn't find the strength to move, “Besides, 'tisn't proper for an unmarried man and woman to travel without a companion, at least here in Asgard.”
At the sound of returning footsteps, Lelia sat back on her heels again as the woman sailed back inside.
“Those boys will be the end of me. Forgive the interruption,” she bent over the iron pot hanging half over the flames in the fireplace, “Melos's clan...aye that's what we were on about. Ye married into a rich clan. Were ye an arranged marriage if I might be so bold?”
“We were, that, but we knew one another afore we were joined,” Lelia smiled at Simon, earning a chuckle from the woman.
“Ah so love made a fine accessory along with the dowry? 'Tis a rare thing especially with such disparate ages.”
Simon made to raise his head though the room spun about, “My good lady, exactly how old.....,” his head dropped back to the pillow, “...do you...take me for....?”
The woman straightened up, walked over to peer down at him, “I'd bet ye were forty seasons if I were the gambling type which I don't claim to be.”
“Jesus Christ,” Simon muttered....”Forty...”
“Now what does that mean?” The woman tilted her head, cast a curious look at Lelia who glared at him as she took his hand, giving it a hard squeeze.
“Ah, 'tis a friend of his who can lay claim to such a ripe age. Ye will fergive him. His head is clouded with fever.”
“Mmmm, yes,” Simon mumbled, “My thirty one year old head.”
The woman wrinkled her nose at him, “Such strange words ye speak. Ye've done a fair bit of traveling about the realms have ye?”
Simon opened his mouth to speak again, spied Lelia's face which was as red as her hair and promptly clamped his lips together tightly. Not another word would he utter, not even under pain of death....or Lelia's temper...which was worse.
“He is well traveled, ye can be sure of that...,” Lelia stood from her place beside the pallet, following the woman back to the iron pot.
“And how old be ye, me dear?....” the woman assessed her, “If ye don't mind my asking.”
Lelia glanced down to the floor at her feet. Her da had always lamented she'd not decided upon a suitor before her aunt had proclaimed her to follow in her footsteps as the next seer.
“Ye've waited too long child,” he'd moaned on the day a party of palace guards came to collect her, “I begged ye....I warned ye....”

“One and twenty seasons.”
The woman bent down again to stir the contents of the pot, “I'd been a mother to Zacar two seasons with another on the way at yer age. Are ye settling down in Alfheim then? 'Tis never too early to start a brood. Leave the traveling to the merchants and the nobles....,” she lifted the spoon to her lips, taking a sip, “Ah....a bit more salt is what it'll want....as I said, leave the traveling to those who lay claim to no bed. Safer to be among yer kin these days.”
A fit of coughing behind Lelia made her turn quickly to kneel beside Simon, a bowl to his cheek  as he rose up on one elbow to vomit cloudy water into it.
“See now. He'll be on his feet come morning. Truth be told, I'm glad of a bit of company . Me husband isn't expected for half a fortnight. He should be home in time for the hunt. Even though Zacar is thirteen seasons, he is a gentle soul. Bravery would befit Bern, my youngest...”
“My....gods,” Simon gasped, clutched at his stomach as it contracted again and he gagged over the bowl, wracked with dry heaves, “I'll not be surprised to see my insides on the outside before long. What in the world was I thinking?”
He fell back to the pillow, draped his arm over his eyes, raised it again, “And I am sweating like a bloody pig....”
“Fever's broke,” Lelia stood up with the bowl in hand, “Count yerself lucky.”
She trudged outside with the bowl, returning a moment later to set it with a loud thunk on the cobblestone floor beside him before she rejoined the woman at the fireplace.

By moonrise, he was well enough to sit up on the pallet and feed himself a bowl of rabbit stew. Even if he'd been a drooling, half conscious, lump, he doubted Lelia would have bothered to help him. She sat at the table with the woman, whose name he'd found was Gretna, and her two sons, Zacar and Bern, pointedly ignoring him for the rest of the evening until it was time to retire.
“The boys will take the pallets tonight. Ye will have their bed, that is if ye think ye can climb up to the loft Jorgan.”
Simon looked at Lelia then back to Gretna once, twice before he noticed Lelia's face turning crimson again and he stuttered a reply, “Oh...um....sorry. I was daydreaming....or night dreaming...ha...as it were,” he gazed up at the loft above their heads, “We're fine with the pallets, honestly. You've been a gracious host. We couldn't ask you to give up a bed.”
Gretna waved a plump hand at him as she handed a lantern to Lelia, “ 'Twould be poor hospitality to do otherwise. Off with ye now. There'll be heavy blankets at the end of the bed.”
Simon took a deep breath and started up the ladder at one end of the loft, half expecting Lelia to remain down in the common room but soon enough he felt the ladder sag as she followed along behind him. When he reached the loft, he knelt down to take the lantern from Lelia but she refused his assistance, setting the lantern down on the floor and pulling herself up to the loft.
Simon moved away from the edge of the loft floor and put his hands on his hips.
“Right then...I'll take the floor. You wouldn't begrudge me a blanket would you?”
Lelia scowled at him, a finger to her lips as she strode up to him.
“If ye don't lie down and keep yer propriety to yerself,” she hissed, “ 'Twill be a shroud ye'll be pulling up to yer chin!....,” she stalked over to the bed and threw the coverlet open, “...Husband!”
She sat down on the bed and began to pull off her boots while he stood there, mouth open, arms at his side until she glanced over her shoulder at him, “Well?”
Impossible, it was going to be impossible to sleep next to her and yet he was sitting down on the other side of the bed, removing his own boots. She lay down, her back to him, pulling the coverlet over her.
“Fetch the other blanket too.”
He stood up, shook out the heavy blanket, added it to the coverlet, and sat back down, staring out across the common room to the cottage door.
“Lay.....down...”
He slipped beneath the covers and lay on his side facing away from her, his body tense, listening to her even breathing, the whispers of the boys laying on the pallets before the fireplace, watching the flame flickering inside the lantern.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered, lay there, waiting. When there came no response, he sighed, “I really am. You don't have to continue this journey with me, hell I don't even know if I can continue this journey myself....”
“Have we not been over this again and again? I'm here of me own will. Sure and if it's only to save ye from yerself...”
She paused, sniffed and he swore to himself as she whispered hoarsely, “ 'Tis so hard to be traveling to the gods know where without knowing what we're supposed to be on about when we arrive...or how long we'll be on the road...we need more rations and I've only a couple coins left...”
“God...damn....gods...see I'm no good at this. Don't cry, please, Lelia. Tomorrow we'll head back to Asgard...I'll turn myself in for disciplinary action...you can return to your Aunt...”
The bed sagged as she rose up, leaned over his shoulder, “Fine, ye turn tail and head back to yer half life. I'll continue on to Alfheim as I'm meant to do.”
Simon looked up at her, “Alone...I mean seriously? Alone?”
She nodded, a grim smile rising to her lips, “Someone has to see this through....hasn't she?”
Lelia dropped back to the mattress, facing away from him again.
“Lelia, you have too much faith in my ability to adapt to this...realm. It almost gives me the strength to carry on...”
Her body shifted as she pressed her back to his. He closed his eyes, dug his fingernails hard into his palms, praying, wondering how she couldn't feel the thunder of his heart.
“An' that be enough,” she murmured.
After some time, lulled by her closeness, her warmth, he drifted off to sleep, his last thought, that he would walk the whole of the nine realms if it meant he could stay in this moment, locked in time, by her side for the rest of his days.