Bellona did not address his question head on, instead suggesting his people, and himself, were weak. Such taunts did not affect Order, for he knew she was only trying to get an emotional response from him, an action only weak warriors took when they knew they were at a disadvantage. An attempt to rile him, to put him off his guard. Tyr was too good for that.
She managed to glance him once, a minor wound, as all the while he blocked her spear with his sword, countering her shield with his other, well-padded arm. He managed contact between his sword and her flesh, but like her own attack left no real damage. Despite her rash moves, Tyr held an almost carefree stance, relaxing into the sword. His weapon was an old companion, and was almost an extension of his arm. They moved together with a grace few could match or understand. He withstood her attacks and her taunts easily.
Until she had to mention Loki's son.
It was not a moment in his past he was proud of, but he had long since come to terms with the necessity of it all. At least in the front of his mind. But to have this Roman woman, with no understanding of the truth, put such a twist on the situation, brought it rushing back to the surface. There was much had happened that night, most of it unexpected. Even so, Tyr still felt a lingering guilt, one that if he followed the trail of led to an even deeper remorse. Yet this...this bloodthirsty excuse for a goddess was suggesting that what had happened to the boy was nothing short of murder. Which it was certainly not.
Again, those were the thoughts he held in the front of his mind. In the back of his mind, and that small spot somewhere deep inside him, knew otherwise. No, they had not intended what happened to the boys. But Bellona was right- they had been little more than a crazed mob when they brought the children into it. More blood, more suffering, all for the sake of stopping the future from happening. Justice could be cold.
Even as he continued to fight, barely registering she had tossed the spear and now held her own sword, in his mind's eye he could see the boy...now the wolf...then the other wolf. The accusing eyes. And something in Tyr began to heat up, to want to fight against the memories, and the woman that dared to force them to resurface with nothing more than cruel jabs and ill-placed humor.
"YOU SHOULD NOT SPEAK OF THAT WHICH YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT!"
He raised his sword, drawing it down with speed and precision...