Spaces Between

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•Chapter Eleven•
Wyrd Speak And Shenanigans
(ASGARD)

Third Person P.O.V.

Morally, there were many things that Malki did not do and there were rules he followed.  He respected those around him, he spoke not to hurt another but to help, he held women on the same level of respect that he would expect to receive, but most importantly, Malki did not believe in striking a child.

Malki had raised four children, each returning the respect he showed them—from his oldest at twenty-eight to his youngest at ten.  Not once did he ever raise a hand or strike one of his children.  And still, he had raised four that were so polite and level-headed that not for one second, would he even doubt the leadership of his youngest.

So when the day that his son and Lorien went to Midgard and Lord Alder had snidely said he would order a whipping for them both over a simple accident if it were happen again, Lord Malki had walked away on bad terms with the other Lord.  He could not even fathom what he would have done to Alder if he raised his hand or a switch to either of them.  And the same went for Loki when Malki told him what had been said.

Malki dreaded what he was going to have to do,  but Alder was an evil man even if he wasn't planning treason.  And that eased his conscious enough to approach him in the hall.

"Ah, Lord Malki, what a pleasure.  We haven't spoken face to face, in what?  Nearly two weeks I believe."  Lord Alder said, a charming snake smile sat on his thin lips.  Two male ambassadors from his homeland stood behind him, twins from the looks of them.  Amber eyed, dark skinned, and stick thin.

Witnesses would make this harder, but he could make do.

"Yes, it has been some time."  Malki bit out from a fake smile of his own.  He was praying to Forseti that Alder would not see through his ploy and that he could get what he needed.

Alder's black eyes were darker then the blackest onyx on a star less night, Malki found no humility there. 

"What can I owe this sudden visit too?"  Alder suddenly said, motioning his pale hand to walk with him.  Malki held his breath, falling in step with the taller Noble.  His ambassadors followed at a distance behind them.

"Actually, I was on my way to speak with Lord Salen.  Still, this is pleasant meeting."  Malki started, he hadn't yet used his gift yet.  "I had heard he was worried about the displacement of his people and where they would be housed.  I was going to offer shelter in my domain, have you heard anything like this from him?"

Alder, paused briefly as if thinking back, and looked at Malki.  "I haven't."

"You are friends, correct?"  Malki asked, slowly, he willed his gift into his words as he spoke.  It was subtle enough at first. 

Alder nodded his head, slow—almost suspicious.  He folded his hands behind his back.

"Perhaps you may speak with him, on my behalf?  I would search him out but I figure you'll find him before I do.  You both are awfully close since these meetings have begun."  Malki wished he could take the words back as he spoke.  It was too forward.  His head was murky and his Wyrd Speak was faltering. 

And it wasn't until Alder looked back at him, he realized his mistake in coming here.  The Lord had expected suspicion—Malki could see it in his eyes—and he had just given himself away.

Alder started coolly, "is this an interrogation, Lord Malki?" 

Malki felt his heart sink.

"No, that was not my intention."

Alder froze mid-step, whipped around to face Malki and seethed through his teeth, "I thought you, out of all the others, would know not to use your Wyrd Speak on me."

If Malki had not shot back the Lord's steely gaze, he was sure he would have gone pale.

"You are mistaken," Malki clipped, keeping his voice steady, "I have been simply asking you questions.  My apologies if I was speaking of sensitive matters."

Lord Alder looked taken back, almost as if he was not expecting Malki to bite back.  Alder was not the only one with a bark, the only difference was that with Malki's, you didn't know about until it was too late.

Lord Alder cleared his throat, his onyx eyes still burning. 

"You must excuse me," he sneered, all the while motioning for his ambassadors, "whether or not your actions were intended, I believe this conversation is through."

Malki frowned, "I suppose it is."

And with that, Lord Alder turned away from Malki and stalked off—shoulders back with the twins following after him.  An uneasy feeling shot through Malki at their departure.

He may not have gotten a confession, but Lord Malki knew he had gotten proof, for himself, that the Lord was up to something.

~*~

Lorien's P.O.V

Several days had passed since our shopping adventure—which ended with us hauling home at least two hundred dollars worth of clothes for both Alrekr and Tove and two bags of Letter fridge magnets.  The last item was more like smuggled into the tower, by me.

Don't ask questions.

From there we spent the rest of the day playing board games that I found in one of the living floor's storage closets.  Tony must have stashed them there at some point and forgot about them.  I learned very quickly that that it wasn't a good idea to challenge Tove to round of checkers.  They apparently had a game similar to it in Asgard, (one that Tove was very very good at), and she completely dominated me.  Then Alrekr when she challenged him.

Also, it's a very bad idea to start a game of Monopoly with two Asgardians, two assassins, and a talking wolf.  Allies were made, things were thrown—we don't talk about it anymore.

After that, the next several days passed without much chaos.  Tove became attached to Natasha's side whenever I wasn't in the room and then when I was training with Natasha, she clung to either Alrekr or Käro.  She was starting to warm up towards the others but she had a while to go.  Alrekr, on the other hand, became fast friends with Clint and Steve.  The former was who I was worried about.

Ever since the shopping trip—where Clint helped him pick out a variety of dark jeans, graphic tees, and several nice button downs—they had been buddy-buddy.  And honesty, I still couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.

I had yet to ask about Bucky.  The stranger with the metal arm had been less then absent the past days and whenever he was around, he was quiet and with-drawled from everyone—especially me.  Since talking to him about my arm and then the few times he spoke that morning at breakfast, he hadn't said a word to me—and an almost shame filled  look covered his face whenever he looked at me.  I was still working up the courage to either ask Steve, or even Bucky himself about his story.

And I figured it wouldn't be too much longer until my curiosity peaked.