Divided Chapter 49

Colin appeared in the kitchen doorway just as Beth looked up from her tablet.
“Getting out of the line of fire?”
“Aye,” Colin walked over to the long worktable, set his mug of tea before him and sat down across from her, “They've both gone quiet now but for all of me, the stony silence is almost worse. I'm going to finish my cuppa then head to the longhouse.”
Beth glanced down at her tablet, “Mmm, I'm going to finish up here and get to cleaning the kitchen. Gretten should be back from Cole by then.”
Colin stole a look at the tablet, “Yer final paper?”
“Yeah,” Beth punched the button atop the tablet once, twice, clucked her tongue, “Darn it.”
Colin took a sip of his tea. With everything else going on, Simon's defection, the coming start up of portal two, the games, he was loathe to add another issue to the agenda but Brenna had seen to it that he had no choice when she'd arrived back home a few days ago. He'd returned from the longhouses and retreated upstairs to change into a fresh set of clothes, meeting up with her outside her bedroom door. She'd given him a hug and they'd fallen to talking about the state of the household while she'd been on holiday. How the children had been behaving, Edie's continued progress, small talk. Then almost as an aside, she'd mumbled to herself, “I wonder how Beth is getting on?”
The statement alone wasn't strange in and of itself but her reaction when he asked her what she meant told a different story.
She'd blushed crimson, stammered a number of replies while he stood there, his arms crossed and she'd finally dragged him into her bedroom, confessing to him what Beth had told her.
“She told me in confidence, Colin. Please, please do not make trouble for her!”
Colin had shaken his head, “I'm thinking she's made her own trouble, wouldn't you agree?”
Still, he was oddly nonchalant about it. He promised Brenna he wouldn't call her out. Hell, he hadn't called her out when he found out about her dalliance with Gretten in the first place but depending on how far along she was, when it came time for her to return to Earth, she'd cut a pretty obvious silhouette.
“Final papers are a headache,” She sat staring at the blank tablet.
“Mmmm.”
The front door slammed shut, echoing throughout the house.
“I'll bet it's Lord Loki who's off.”
Beth rolled her eyes, “Naturally. Men always stuff their heads in the sand when there's an argument on. Pussies.”
Colin chuckled, “Women are the stronger sex are they?”
“Yup,” Beth threw her shoulders back, “My momma always said if men were the ones who had to have the babies, our species would have died out long ago.”
It was as good an in as any.
“Speaking of babies....,” He took another sip of his tea.
To her credit, she was quick to realize what he was getting on about. Neither did she struggle for an excuse, cry, scream or carry on, merely put her head in her hands and let out a huge sigh.
“News travels fast.”
“That it does,” Colin set his cup down gently, “So what do you think I should do about this?”
She shrugged, her forehead touching the table, “I don't know. I honestly don't know. Gretten's ready to follow me back to Earth if he has to but I'm going to bet I've got a better chance of being the next Queen of England before they'll grant him approval to leave Asgard.”
“He's the family chef here. They'd be loathe to part with him, I'll wager.”
The front door opened, slammed shut again, louder this time.
“My time is up on New Year's eve,” Beth sat up, twirling her ring around her finger, “But if he's not coming with me, I'm staying.”
Colin set his cup down and clapped his hands together, “That's grand. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to the longhouses.”
He stood from the table and carried his cup to the stone sink.
“That's grand?” Beth turned about on the bench, “That's all you have to say?”
“Aye,” Colin walked back to the table where she now sat staring at him in disbelief, “Yer a big girl. You can make yer own decisions, right?”
“Uh.....” Beth put her hand over her stomach, “I can?”
“Of course. You tell me how you want to proceed, I'll back you up. Deal?”
Saying the words, he realized how wonderful it felt to throw caution to the wind. He held out his hand to her.
A slow smile spread across her face as she reached her hand up to him, “Deal”
As their hands met, a small current of electricity danced across their palms and they both stared open mouthed at her hand.
“What the fuck?”
Beth let his hand go, bringing the ring close to her face, “This is the fifth time it's happened. What the hell does it mean?”
Colin backed away from her, “It's glowed like that before?”
“Mmmhmm and a strange looking crack appears in the center of the stone. I can't see it under normal circumstances.”
Beads of sweat had broken out on Colin's forehead, “Odd. Must be.....be....something about the atmosphere perhaps. Maybe you should take it off.”
Beth clasped her hand to her chest, “It's my grandmother's ring. It's not leaving my finger. I'll have to ask someone why it does that. I wonder would Loki know?”
“Atmospheric....definitely atmospheric,” Colin nearly shouted at her, “I can have Stark do some tests on it...”
“He'd dice it into little pieces!” Beth shove her hand beneath one plump buttock, “No thanks. The next time it happens, I'll show it to Loki.”
“Okay, well.....suit yerself. I've got to be getting on..unh,” He'd backed into the wall, missing the doorway entirely, “Going to be late.”
Colin stood in the dining room, staring at his hand. Was Simon right? Had they been drawn here for a higher purpose? Where did Beth fit into it all? Did he dare pay a visit to Trena? He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, turned and headed through the sitting room to the foyer
He laid his hand on the front door handle and was about to lift the latch, when a voice came from the second floor landing.
“Where are you going?”
He ran straight into the door before flopping around, his back against the wall. Eidra stood at the second floor railing, looking down at him, Brynn in her arms. He coughed, a thick watery sound as she patted his back.
“Begging yer pardon, Milady but fecking hell, you scared me out of a year's growth!”
She glided down the stairs to the foyer, setting Brynn down on the floor.
“Mama, can I have a biscuit from Gretten?”
Eidra bent down, “You may have a biscuit, I shall be along in a moment.”
Colin watched Brynn race from the room as Eidra called to him, “Do not run!”
As if in answer, they heard a deep cough from the sitting room.
“He's in a tight spot again, isn't he?” Colin tilted his head the way Brynn had headed.
“He is,” Eidra turned to Colin, “Are you participating in the games three days hence?”
Colin wanted to bolt out the door, hop on Agathon and ride hard away from the manor. He could well understand why Loki retreated to his horse to ride when he was frustrated or confused. Racing down the road with a powerful steed between your thighs, you almost felt as if you could outrun your troubles.
“I thought I might try a game of skill or two but only.....,”
“Why!?” Eidra cried, “Oh Good Freyr, why? I had hoped I could impose upon you to speak to Loki. Tell him how foolish he is being.”
The evening before, Loki and Fen had strode into the sitting room where Loki announced his upcoming participation as a sparrer in the upcoming games whereas Eidra had stood from her chair and stomped up the stairs to their bedchamber without a word. Instead of following her as Colin expected him to do, however, Loki had stayed in the sitting room, discussing the games with Fen and Colin, acting as if she'd merely stepped out for a minute. Of course, later that evening, Colin could hear raised voices in their bedchamber, though later it grew quiet but if Colin expected the argument resolved, he was sadly mistaken as their disagreement resumed at the morning meal.
“Milady......Eidra, he's a man.”
When Eidra crossed her arms before her and glared at him, he held up his hands in defense, “ ...aand...and he's always lived in the shadow of Thor. Ya know, giant bear of a brother?”
“Yes and Loki feels he must always show the King he too is a fearless warrior....even at the expense of his own well being,” she bit her lip hard and Colin saw tears start to sparkle in her eyes, “He ignores the distress it causes me, says I am being a foolish woman, that all men strive to enter the games because they only come once every tenth season...”
Colin put his hands behind his back, “Yer son is as hot for it as the rest of 'em, you know.”
Eidra stamped her foot angrily and once again Colin was reminded of Brenna, “Why thank you so much Master Denehy, I had quite forgotten this fact. How kind of you to increase my concern tenfold.”
He had to bite his tongue hard to keep from laughing at her sarcastic comment, “I'm just saying,  Milady, nothing I'm going to say is going to make any difference if they won't listen to you.”
Her hands slid up to cover her face as she moaned, “I know, oh how I know. He swore he would join in the games this season. He said he had not competed in them since he was a young boy. I tried to explain to him he was far from a young boy now, endeavoring only to warn him he might not recover as swiftly from an injury. Instead, he felt insulted. “So now you think me old?” he cried, “I should make haste to prepare my funeral bier for the gods know this will likely be my last chance at the games!” Of course his statement vexed me far greater than I already was,” She gripped his arm then, “Will you watch over him? Keep him safe?”
If Loki was in the middle of a sword fight with an opponent, or at the mercy of a wrestler in a stranglehold, there was pitiful little he was going to be able to do to help but he patted Eidra's hand, “I'll do me best. I promise. I'll even try to turn the argument around for you, alright?”
Eidra smiled wanly as she released his arm, “He is hard headed but you may try. Thank you Colin, you are a good man.”
Colin opened the door, peered out into the morning sunlight, shivered. There was a dusting of snow on the ground, “I like to think I've a good heart. I'll return by evening meal,”
There was a spate of hoarse coughing and Eidra turned to see Brynn trotting back to her, a biscuit in his hand.
“And I'll ask the encampment doctor if there's not something we can give to Brynn for that rattle. Yer good on the meds?”
Eidra nodded, pulled Brynn to her side again and Colin was struck at how pale the boy looked against her dark skirt.
“Right, then. I'm off.”


The gray twilight, frigid air was replaced with bright sunshine, near tropical warmth as he stepped out from the circle of cedars. Menyir's deep voice still echoed in his head.
“..and for your traitorous acts against the throne, you are thereby and henceforth exiled. Chose your destination wisely for it will forever be your home.”
He had chosen Asgard. There at least, he would be able to live among the people as one of them. Now, however, as he listened to the birdsong, scanned the surrounding forest, green pines, late autumn's bare trees, he wanted only to turn about and slip back through the rift but he knew were he to return, he would be run through and left to die alone.
There would be plenty of time to reflect later, now he must hurry before he was seen as he appeared now. He unlatched the first metal cuff from one wrist, dropping it into his pack, then  working the other cuff free. Only then did he begin to diminish in size, the cerulean blue start to fade from his skin along with the intricately lovely ancestral lines, blending until they were translucent against the ivory shade he'd now become. Angry tears formed in his eyes. Forced to be human, Menyir had given him little choice in the end. Viceroy Reval had suggested he choose Muspelheim.
“At least you would be among our brothers.”
He'd spat at the ground in reply to the suggestion. He would no more be able to tolerate the torrid heat they craved than the summer-like climes of Asgard, yet here he now was. He reached into his pack, shrugging off the old tunic and long breeches he'd been wearing, watching them drop to the ground as he held up the garments he'd been given.
“Half my size, nearly half my size,” he groaned as he stepped into the breeches, tying them at his waist, pulled on his tunic, then squatted before the pack again. Inside he could see a handful of quartz crystal discs, amounting to fully a half season's wages in the mines, useless in Asgard unless he could barter them for some Asgardian coin. If asked where he'd obtained them, he could claim to have found them, buried, perhaps? Ah no....from a trader....he would say he'd bartered them from a trader. He would need sustenance eventually. He looked to the pile of clothes. He would have to hide them lest someone come across them and recognize their origin. With a grunt, he stood. There was nothing for it except to begin his journey.


“Sir,”
Colin nodded to Chase, making every effort to ignore him as he continued past the silent portal toward Stark's office though Chase trotted along after him.
“Excuse me. Sir?”
“What is it, Wells?” He growled, “Spit it out for feck sake.”
“It's about Brenna. Since we don't have AT&T here in Asgard, could you give her a letter for me?”
Colin stopped short, felt Chase bump into him, “You can't give it to her on her next visit?”
Chase took an envelope from the inside of his jacket, “It's about our next visit, Sir. So that's a negative.”
Colin snatched the letter from Chase's hand, “You know, you might try not sneaking around behind Loki's back for a change. He's far from ignorant and I don't like being involved in subterfuge.”
Chase smiled at him before he headed back to his desk, “Yes sir. I'll keep that in mind...thank you for your help.”
“Thank you for yer help,” he grumbled as he knocked on the door to Stark's office.
“Enter.”
Colin stepped into the office, closing the door behind him and setting his satchel on the chair in front of Stark's desk. Stark was reclining in his own chair, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands, staring at a hologram projected before him, hovering over the desk.
“We're going to have to go back to Earth, get a new bank of batteries. The original ones aren't holding a charge as long as they're supposed to anymore. Even the best technology wears out eventually. If they'd have approved the reactor design, we wouldn't even need the batteries but sorry, Mister Stark, if the reactor ever fell into the wrong hands.....and yet here we sit beside these portals, an accident waiting to happen..”
Colin opened the satchel and took out his tablet, “Mmmhmm. Hey have you seen Loki today?”
“Destructo? No why? Should I?”
Colin set the satchel on the floor as he dropped into the chair, “Nope, just a question. He and Eidra were having a row and I was just ticking off spots,” he nodded to the hologram, “Topographical map?”
Stark sat forward, “Yeah, neat huh? We did the mapping about six months before the start of the project. Under strict supervision of course from the big guy. We came out to the longhouse site, sent a drone up about twenty thousand feet, scanned the landscape, created the lay of the kingdom, Alfheim as well, and a small corner of.....damn it, what's the other realm called? Muscleheim?”
“Muspelheim,” Colin tapped the screen of his tablet, “So what are you doing, scouting for more sites? And please tell me you aren't. We've not even got portal two up yet..”
Stark took another sip of his coffee, “Nothing like that, no,” he pointed to the hologram, “I'm just checking up on Simon. See that little bright green...”
“What the bleeding hell did you just say?” Colin stood up, leaned forward over the desk to stare through the hologram at Tony.
Stark waved at the hologram, “I said I was checking up on Simon. I think I did anyway. I should switch to decaf once in a while. That little green light there? That's Simon.”
Colin pounded a fist on the desk. This was turning out to be a banner day.
“Hey that's solid Mahogany, take it easy...”
“Mister Stark,” Colin moved forward until he was bathed in the green glow of the hologram, “Do you mean to tell me you've known all along where Simon Foster is? All this time?”
“Well not all this time, no. I actually had forgotten about the site badges being chipped with locators in case of an emergency. Pretty clever huh? I mean if I'd remembered in time. So I turned on the tracker, same kind of tracking tech we use with the markers, typed in Simon's code on the off chance and pinged him right away. He wouldn't have taken it on purpose I don't think, so it's probably zipped into a pocket of his back pack or some odd place and he has no idea.”
Colin sat back into the chair, put his head in his hand, “And no one else remembered the tech either? When it mattered?”
Tony let a smile play about his lips, “Who can say? These guys here at the longhouses, they got so much to keep track of, so much to do, things slip their minds.”
“So how long have you been watching him then?”
“Oh I'd say a week, week and a half at the most,” Stark clapped his hands together and the hologram winked out.
“And the big question now, who gets to fetch him?” Colin groaned.
“No one,” Stark stood up, walked around the desk, “We're going to leave him on his grand adventure.”
Colin stared up at Stark, dumbfounded, “You were the one who was about losing his mind over Simon's disappearance and now yer saying he's fine, leave him alone?”
Stark reached in his pocket and pulled out a micro drive, “Do you keep your journals still, Colin? We all do don't we? It's protocol in case of....emergencies, problems with dates and details. When Simon left all his work, his notes and things, he left his journal on the drive as well and I've been doing some reading..”
“Those journals are private,” Colin cried, “Why?”
“Ah but this is the reason they're kept, when something like this happens. We were trying to figure out just what he was planning, which was nothing, surprisingly enough, but this didn't just happen out of the blue. He's been struggling with what he claims is his heritage and something else called the rune elementals....,” Stark nudged him with the toe of his shoe, “And he also mentioned a friend of his whom he said seems to have family ties to Asgard as well.”
Damnit, goddamn it.
“He's bollocking mad...” Colin muttered angry at how weak his retort sounded to him, “What did he say?”
“He said you were connected by heritage too though you wouldn't tell him how. He did say you'd also talked to the crazy woman, Trena and she'd given you the rundown on your ancestors. That coupled with Coulson's warning about your research into your family names on his computer when you were home says to me you know more than you're saying too and that's why we're going to keep an eye on Simon and let him do what he needs to do. I'll just keep tabs on his whereabouts until he returns.”
“If he returns,” Colin sighed, defeated, “Does that badge tell you the health of the owner?”
Stark pursed his lips together, “.....No...,”
“So for all you know, Simon's pack could be traveling about Asgard.....,”
“Actually Alfheim to be exact...,”
“Fecking Alfheim....on the back of a troll and Simon could be a pile of clean picked bones in the woods.”
Stark shrugged, “The chances you take when you up and run off with a pretty girl. I'm going to err on the side of luck, however, and say that green blip is Mister Foster, still alive and well.”
What's in this for you anyway?” Colin eyed him, “Simon's raving journal, my supposed secret ancestry..?”
“Not so secret, remember. Maybe you should ask why Fury hasn't taken you off the project instead. They've had to do the math from what Super Phil showed me, still since the shake up, the agency hasn't been what it used to be. You ask me whats in this for me?” Stark laughed, patted him hard on the shoulder, “Mister Denehy, there's so much you don't know about this project and frankly, if you did, you might be as tempted as I am to load  these goddamn longhouses to the rafters with explosives and blow them to hell. For the longest time, I've been sitting the fence.”
Stark leaned over his desk, slid a drawer open and pulled out a thick manilla envelope, slapping it down on the table, covering the front of it with his hand, “I reported to Fury last week....now don't look at me like that. He still thinks Simon has recovered from his breakdown and is supposedly hard at work again. Fury has informed me that he's received orders to have portal two up and running by the new year....and that's not all....,” Stark pushed the folder across the desk to Colin who took one look at the cover and held up his hands.
“Now wait a minute, this is way over my clearance level......,” Colin tilted his head first one way, then the other, “....I'm not reading those dates right am I?”
“Open the folder, Denehy.”
Colin reached toward the folder, hesitated, then inched his chair forward, flipping the cover over to the first page, “Phase two?”
As he started to read, his heart began to race, thundering louder with each paragraph, each diagram, map..
Colin put a hand to his mouth, “They intend to build another four longhouses in Asgard.........by twenty thirty-one....within two years? I was under the impression these portals were purely experimental, to test the technology....,”
“Which is just what they did..,” Stark added.
Colin returned to the sheaf of papers, gasped, “They want one of the longhouses beside the outer wall of the city? The King would never agree to this.”
Stark had wandered to the glass wall separating his office from the longhouse interior, now he stood staring past his reflection at the technicians just feet distant from them, “Whoever's pulling Fury's strings now believes he'll do just that. They're going to present the new longhouses as embassy portals.”
“Embassy portals.....why does this sound wrong?”
Stark smiled grimly, “Imagine a longhouse filled with so called goodwill ambassadors from Earth to maintain a scientific presence sent to conduct more research into Asgardian culture. Flip forward a bit, go on, you'll be glad you did.”
“The hell I will,” Colin muttered though he did what Stark suggested, “Christ.....”
He read the paragraph to himself, his mouth unwilling to say the words out loud for fear they would come true....

..each longhouse will be equipped to maintain a ten person science team, four agents, and a military squad to maintain the integrity of the site perimeter for a total of roughly twenty seven individuals per site...

“The army....I was told agents were about as heavy as we were going to get here in Asgard...”
Stark glanced over his shoulder, “Actually I'm pretty sure the U.N. Is involved there somewhere, as I surmised from Fury's reaction when I took a wild guess. He won't confirm it..”
Colin sat back in the chair, “I need a drink.”
Stark gestured toward a tall cabinet behind his desk, “Bottom shelf. It's unlocked. Help yourself.”
Colin moved to the cabinet, grabbed, with trembling hands, the bottle marked Stolichnaya and a short glass, returning to his chair where he poured the vodka to the halfway mark and sat back clutching the glass to his chest.
“There's a Phase three you know,” Stark murmured, listening to Colin's long groan, “You asked what was in it for me? Letting Simon roam the countryside unaware, unencumbered? The satisfaction of knowing at least one of us is out from under the thumb of this travesty of justice. There's another angle as well. The more Midgardians....ha, off-worlders who come here during this initial phase, learn to love this crazy realm and want to stay, the more prepared Asgard might be in case Phase Three becomes reality.”
“Prepared, how?” Colin put his head against the back cushion of the chair, “And what's Phase Three?”
Stark shook his head, “I can only tell you this much. The portals in Longhouses one and two are small.....miniatures.”
Colin drained his glass, grimaced at the burn as the vodka slid down his throat.
“I made a deal with Fury. I'd get Portal two up and running for him if I could have Pepper here with me for the time being. She's arriving here tomorrow.”
Colin grabbed his satchel, stuffed his tablet inside, “I'll fudge the report later. Right now I've got to get out of this insane asylum, maybe take a ride in the country to clear my head.”
Colin reached for the door handle as Stark turned to him, “How long before you join Foster yourself, Denehy? Go native as it were.”
Colin twisted the handle and stepped out into the cavernous longhouse, not daring to so much as hesitate, knowing Stark would be watching him through the glass. Go native? Christ, the truth be told, he'd gone native months ago, he just hadn't taken it to extremes like Simon had. Once outside, Colin pressed his forehead against Agathon's side and closed his eyes.
“What say we take the long way home, just you and me boy?”
Agathon regarded him, pawed the ground as Colin pulled himself up into the saddle and took up the reins never more eager to be finished with a day as he was this one.



CRACK! The vibration traveled along the staff to his hands. CRACK! Thrust, step, thrust, with a low whoosh the staff split the air, swung around. CRACK! He winced, the pain in his hands, across his back between his shoulder blades fueling the rage, the speed of his next move. CRACK! He struck the pole again. CRACK! Again. CRACK! Again. Felt the burn of muscles long unused, frustrated at how little effort it was taking to reach the point of exhaustion.
“Loki, you are not as young as you used to be...”
CRACK!
“...when you are lying on the ground in the arena defeated....or worse, what then?”
CRACK! Turn, CRACK!
“....could you not think only of yourself....just this once?”
CRAAACK!
The staff splintered, one half flying through the air to the hard packed dirt floor of the arena. Loki leaned against the pole, chest heaving, eyes closed, flexing his shoulders against the pull of the scars upon his back. Unbidden, the murmuring hiss of ages past came to him....the voice of the Council representative as he read the decree...
“....and for his crimes against the realms of Midgard and Asgard, it has been determined that his punishment shall be as follows....two hundred lashes upon his person in recompense for the lives he has taken...”
The murmuring of the witnesses in the stands died away.
“......thereafter, he shall be remanded to the prison cells below the palace for the remainder of his seasons.”
He could feel the cuffs dig into the flesh of his wrists, the hatred in his heart as the guard yanked the chain through the iron ring above his head until he was balancing upon the balls of his feet, cheek pressed to the pockmarked wood of the pole, his arms stretched high above his head.
The arena fell silent, as silent as it was now, the tromp of footsteps behind him. He raised his head to peer around the pole up into the stands where Odin stood at the royal viewing stand.
“I hate you..”
At Odin's nod, there was a hiss and crack behind him, then a strip of fire across the skin at the small of his back. He grimaced though he kept his gaze trained on Odin.
“I loathe you..”
Another strike, like the bite of a snake, sharp, at the edge of his ribcage and he shuddered, jaw tight. Odin would not have the satisfaction of his voice.
Another strike, then another.
“why did you not leave me to die?”
Another strike. Warm wet trickles of blood had started their travels down his bare back to the coarse breeches he'd been given to wear. The pain was unimaginable, mind numbing. Another strike and he groaned.
“Why are you not the one behind the lash?”
Strike after strike. His vision began to swim. In the shadows behind Odin, a great hulking figure rose. Odin turned to look behind him as the figure left the stand to ascend the stairs out of the arena, returning his gaze to Loki with a shake of his head as Thor disappeared at the top with a swirl of his red cloak.
Another strike, deeper this time, pain shooting across his shoulder blades, traveling up his arms as he pressed himself against the pole, his body instinctively looking for a place to hide itself away from the assault of leather on flesh.
Another strike as his head lolled back and he stared up the pole to the dark night sky dimmed by the torches lit about the stands.
Another strike. He brought his gaze back to Odin, the agony consuming him, his balance failing as his knees buckled, leaving him to dangle by his wrists.
Darkness was closing in upon his mind. How many lashes had been delivered? Twenty? Fifty?
Another strike, another, another.
He tilted his head to the sky, “FATHER!”
As his vision faded, piss darkening the pole, the front of his breeches, his last sight before consciousness left him was Odin's unwavering stare....

“Brother?”
Loki's eyes flew open. He looked to the ground at Thor's shadow, tall in the waning light of the late afternoon sun.
“What are you doing? Are you taken ill?”
Loki pushed himself away from the pole to stand, squinting up its length to the sky beyond.
“No....I was remembering.”
Silence, then a great arm crossed his chest. He felt Thor's forehead against the leather tieback in his hair and he cursed the blond oaf for knowing his thoughts even as he welcomed the comfort engendered in the gesture.
“It was another lifetime. You are not the man this day that you were then.”
“I was younger...” Loki muttered.
“We were all of us younger.....and more foolish. Some of us have never stopped being naïve.”
Thor let him go and he turned around, “What mutter you?”
Thor only smiled, however, “Ah let us close the door on such serious matters. The games are imminent. Only a few mornings hence now. Shall we spar a bit?”
Loki shook his head, “No, I've some correspondence to write to King Freyr then I am retiring to the manor. Perhaps on the morrow.”
Loki clapped Thor on the shoulder and headed toward the archway exit, picking up the other half of his broken staff as he went, the old anger fading until it was but a ghost trapped inside the walls of the palace grounds.