I'M STUPID. Posted chapter 17 twice. So sorry. I'm blaming the heat.

I know there are WAY worse things out there right now. Hurricanes, for example. But it's SUPPOSED to be 60 degrees out this time of year, and it is 90. I'm so done. I was not built from this. (cue 'Immigrant Song')

Once again, so sorry. I'm a dumbass.

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Years passed.

Asgard prospered. The Realms prospered.

Bor mongered war and conquest and when those were not to be had he feasted and caroused and challenged warriors in the streets. He had never been fit to be a king.

Frigga told him to be gentle with his father. Bor was an old man, lost in a world of his own making with no connection to that of reality.

And the truth of Odin's own work, all the good he had wrought as King, soothed him.

Odin continually went away, to the dark places, to seek the guidance of the dead and to fuel the gifts he had purchased across the realms. To enhance the power of his spear and his kingship. His ravens, Hugin and Munin, flew each day across the realms and they told him of relics of great power, things that ought not be lost, things imperative to safeguard from the hands of those who might use them for ill. Odin went himself for these things. Or he sent those of his warriors whose ability he trusted.

More and more often he grew to be forced to send others.

He was weary. When he stood the realm swayed beneath his feet. His hands lost the steadiness of youth. His eyes dimmed until sometimes they were washed with black that he was hard-pressed to push away that he might see. When he lay down, sleep fled his eyes.

Frigga worried over him.

Finally, he went to the places. He asked what might be done.

These gifts were not given thee freely

They hissed

Didst thou think thou should be allowed their keep free of charge?

And they laughed at him.

"What should I do?" he asked.

What does the weary man?

They jibbed

He sleeps.

After that they would not answer him.

So Odin returned home. He did what was needful. The proper rites, the proper protections. Frigga was afraid. He could see that. But she kept it behind her eyes. It did not color her voice or the steadiness of her hand.

He left the realm to her.

And without any word to his father, he fell into the dizzy, whirring workings of the things he had pursued from the beginning. And he did not know if or when he might come back.

Or even what might come back in his place.