Unexpected
"Look who it is!"
Sif freezes, feeling her frame stiffen and her jaw clench tight.
Her eyes roll to the sky above her.
Not this again, she thinks, angry and bitter.
Underneath, there's a vague sense of something like fear, but she doesn't allow herself to dwell on such things.
This has only begun recently, this... she supposes the word is bullying, though it seems an absurd word to her in relation to herself.
She may still technically be considered a child, but she knows her skill as a warrior is equal and superior to any of her peers. Even some of the older trainees. She consistently and routinely bests bigger and older boys in the training rings, and has always been well respected among them all, though, she knows, grudgingly so from some who were at first more skeptical of a girl fighting alongside them as an equal.
But these boys... well, they're practically men, the five of them. Over the last fortnight, they've been waiting for her here, at the training rings. It's been her routine for longer than she can readily recall now, to come here on her own every early evening, determined to work and hone her skills to their utmost, beyond the standard training required of all warriors.
Somehow, these boys had discovered her habit, and had, every few days now, begun coming around, harassing her. Verbally. They haven't physically attacked her, though Sif is constantly overcome by the sense that they're very near to doing just that.
It scares her, though again, she won't allow herself to consciously admit that.
She doesn't know, in truth, how to handle it.
Bullying isn't something that happens to people like... her. Not to respected warriors. Not to close friends and confidants of the Crown Prince.
Bullying is something that happens to the weak. To those who aren't strong enough to defend themselves. Bullying is something that happens to, well... to someone like Thor's younger brother.
Loki is constantly being bullied, which, though it had always left Sif with an uncomfortable, even embarrassed feeling, given Loki was the son of Odin All-Father and a Prince of the realm, had always, in a way, seemed natural.
Loki simply wasn't like the rest of them.
He was small and frail, constantly falling ill and being confined to bed, and more interested in reading his books or trailing after his mother's skirts than in weapons training. It was always an effort on Thor's part to convince his little brother to join them on their various quests and adventures. Another way Loki was unlike them. He was... well, he was shy. He hardly spoke, hardly looked anyone in the eye. In truth, it was more than slightly difficult to engage with him, and frankly, Sif little enjoyed his company when he was about.
She never really took part in it, and Thor she knew would react badly if ever he found out, but Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg at times took to bullying Loki too, just like everyone else. Sif found it distasteful, but she as well understood it, and never interfered.
Loki was just such an easy mark. So easy to push around. He never fought back. Even if he were so inclined, there seemed little he could do to stop it, he was so much smaller than the rest of them. Smaller even than herself, despite them being very near in age.
Sometimes he would talk back, but most usually, he would simply say nothing and walk away. Or, at least, try to. Sometimes his tormentors wouldn't allow it, roughing him up good before they'd let him go.
Sif would be lying to herself if she didn't admit it sometimes made her feel sorry for him. She didn't particularly like him. But then, beyond his harmless and generally good-natured pranks, he'd never given her much reason to dislike him either.
He was just sort of... there. A shadow to Thor, following him around, always at his heels. It could at times grow irritating. Most usually, though, she and the others simply took no notice of him at all.
Clenching her fists, refusing to look up at the five boys standing near the rings entrance, she decides the best course is simply to ignore them, as she always does, and go about her business.
Only, as she's moving past them, suddenly she feels a thick, strong hand at her shoulder, and abruptly she's shoved back, hard, nearly causing her to lose her footing and tumble to the ground. She manages to catch herself, just barely, and immediately a rage of anger and trepidation erupts inside her and she looks up, glaring viciously as she can at the boys.
They're smirking down at her, their own eyes gleeful and hungry, and the trepidation inside Sif worsens.
"Move." She bites out, trying to keep her voice steady and hard, to not allow any of her fear to show.
One of them, the seeming leader, snorts in amusement, his smirk widening to a grin.
"Why don't you make us, girl." He replies.
Sif's frame stiffens further, pride now mixing with her rage and fear.
Her teeth grit.
"Any one of you I could defeat." She spits. She can't help but be a little proud of how sure she sounds, even while in her mind she doubts very much she could best any of them. They all tower above her, their bodies thick and muscular in the way only a man's would be.
Whatever pride she'd felt in that moment though dies quickly away as the leader steps suddenly forward, until he's mere inches from her, looming.
It takes everything in Sif's will not to step back.
"You like to talk." The boy says, still grinning. "I think maybe you've forgotten your proper place. Forgotten what you are."
Sif sneers, crossing her arms over her chest, forcing herself to maintain eye contact as she glares up at him.
"Oh?" She asks, flippant. "And what would that be?"
His grin turns lascivious, and Sif feels her stomach drop out from under her.
"A right cunt," he says. "good for fucking."
Sif feels the extremities of her hands and feet go numb, a coldness at once working through her.
Unthinkingly, she steps back. Her legs feel abruptly weak, and she stumbles, unable this time to maintain her balance.
She falls to the dirt packed earth, her heart hammering sickeningly in her chest.
The boys explode into laughter.
"What's the matter, lovely?" One of the others asks, stepping closer. "You that eager?"
"S... stay away from me." Sif stammers, unable to help the tremor in her voice.
She feels ill with fear now.
"Well what's the matter, beautiful?" Another of them comes nearer, licking his lips. "I thought you wanted to play with the big boys. If you want to play, you must be willing to sacrifice."
Sif's eyes widen as all five of them move then, closing in around her.
She's got to get up, her mind screams at her. She's got to get to her feet and... and get her hands on a weapon. Or just... just get out of here somehow. She's got to...
"Leave her alone."
Her thought's are disrupted by the sound of a familiar voice, and at once, both overwhelming relief and thick confusion cloud in her mind.
She sees the five boys around her look up, their own expressions first reflecting her own befuddlement, and then breaking into gleeful amusement.
She feels her heart sink, and turning her head, she sees him standing there, a few feet away, arms crossed over his small chest, staring back at the group of boys unflinchingly.
Loki looks positively defiant, in a way Sif isn't sure she's ever really seen on Thor's younger brother.
"Ohhh, look what we've got here!" The leader of the group crows after a moment, laughter thick in his voice.
Sif has by now used the distraction to get back up to her feet and put some distance between herself and the boys.
Loki, by contrast, steps nearer, his face set. He looks, bizarrely, both calm and angry in equal measure.
"It's the little runt!" Another of them hoots excitedly.
If Loki is at all intimidated by their mockery, he shows none of it.
Sif looks at him as he comes up astride her, and then closer still to the group. She swallows thickly, her heart still beating uncomfortably, wondering what it is he's thinking.
"You think that honorable?" Loki asks, and he sounds so young and so oddly mature, like he always has. "Five nearly grown men against a single girl just barely out of her first childhood?"
Sif feels a spike of indignation at the second Prince's assertion, her pride slightly wounded. But her relief at Loki's arrival and intervention still dominates inside her mind, and so she says nothing, watching anxiously.
One of the boys laughs loudly, throwing his head back.
"You're one to talk of honor, little prince. Do you not find yourself always bested on the training grounds by this very same girl?" He nods towards Sif, and Sif curls her lips, glowering at the boy in disgust. "Now there is a shameful circumstance. A son of Odin, no less, and he is too weak to beat a girl!"
It's true, Sif thinks in dismay. Loki has yet to best her on the training fields, though he's been coming closer of late. He has speed in abundance, but he is very weak of arm, barely able to lift their practice swords even, his technique clumsy and ofttimes desperate. And he is so small of stature and weight, that Sif, let alone the other boys, has little difficulty in throwing him to the ground and pinning him there.
He's good with throwing knives. But Tyr doesn't allow Loki the chance to use them in their sessions.
Sif has wondered often how Loki has become so adept at their use, when she's never seen him actually practice at it.
"Better that than the cowardice you and your lot have most recently displayed." Loki bites back. "You are a disgrace to your Realm and your people, and should feel deep shame for yourselves."
"Shut your mouth you little maggot!" The leader snarls, his face turning red with his sudden anger.
"I think not." Loki answers coolly. He then cocks his head to the side, as if studying the group before him. "You truly are pitiful, the whole of you. No woman will have a single one of you, and so you resort, cravenly, to forcing yourselves onto a child. Indeed, I could report the lot of you to the All-Father, and wouldn't it then be interesting, to see what becomes of your sort in the palace dungeons, among all the renegades and war criminals. Indeed, I've heard there be Frost Giants even. Mayhap I will request specially you be placed in with them."
It's the leader that strikes first, lightening quick.
Sif gasps loudly, eyes wide and shocked, watching in paralyzed horror as the boy takes hold Loki by his short, black hair, tearing at it as he throws the Prince violently to the ground.
Loki makes hardly more than a choked sound, before the five boys are on him, kicking and hitting him viciously, screaming insults and obscenities more disgusting and degrading than anything they'd said to Sif.
Sif doesn't know what to do.
She stands for a long moment, unable to move.
They're beating him savagely, and she can see Thor's younger brother curling in on himself in some hopeless attempt to defend, his face already bloody from the blows, his simple tunic and breeches doing nothing to protect his small body.
Sif knows she should do something, has to do something, but she's frozen with fear, her mind halted and her limbs numb.
It seems to last forever, Loki falling, eventually, still and unresisting, until Sif feels an agonizing dread that they've killed him.
In truth, the beating lasts barely more than a minute, before the group of boys, breathing heavily and sweat pouring from their brows, at last cease, stepping back and staring down at Loki, a broken heap of limbs at their feet.
Sif feels herself nearly black out with the relief when she sees, after long, torturous seconds, the Prince move, pushing himself shakily to his hands and knees.
Blood is pouring from his nose, and when he spits out onto the ground, it's pure red, turning black with the dusty dirt beneath.
"A... are you q-quite finished?" He asks, looking up at the boys, and grinning wickedly, his teeth smeared with blood.
The boys look in even measure horrified and repulsed.
One of them lashes out a last time, kicking Loki full in the face, knocking the younger boy back to the ground, another spitting at him, before the group of them turn and run off, as if it's them who are frightened.
The moment they're gone from view, whatever had been holding Sif in place seems to snap, and she lurches forward, towards Loki, practically falling to her knees at his side and reaching out for him.
"Oh, gods," she breathes, her eyes stinging with tears as she pulls him up by his shoulders. "oh, Loki."
His face is already starting to swell and bruise badly, eyes already partly closed.
With the boys gone, whatever bravado he'd displayed seems to have fallen away, a violent tremor working through is skinny frame, his face bearing clearly the pain of his beating.
"Loki," Sif breathes again, unable to keep the terror out of her voice. "wh-why... why did you do that?! Why?!"
He turns away from her, pushing at her hands weakly where they hold his shoulders.
"I'm alright." He says flatly, almost irritated sounding.
"No," Sif presses, her fear growing worse as she looks him over, seeing his clothes torn, and beneath those tears, she can see flashes of his pale skin, cut up and bruising just as his face. "no, you're... they... they hurt you. Oh, Loki, why did you do that?!"
Loki tries pushing her hands from him again, starting to stand. But it's obvious he's overwhelmed by dizziness, as a moment later, he falls back to the ground.
"Loki," Sif tries again.
He shakes his head, not looking at her.
"They were going to hurt you." He says at last. "They won't now... They won't bother you anymore. They'll be too fearful of me following through on my threat."
"But..." Sif starts, confused and frightened. "but you didn't have to pr-provoke them the way you did."
"... It took their attention from you." He says simply after a moment, as though it's the most logical explanation in the world.
It only confuses Sif further.
She doesn't understand. Doesn't understand why Loki would do such a thing for her when... when she's never shown any particular kindness towards him. When she, at times even, has been purposefully unkind, laughing at the jests other made at his expense, or making clear to him that he wasn't wanted in their games. Even... even being excessively rough with him in the training yards when such force wasn't at all necessary.
She's pulled from her swirling thoughts when Loki again attempts to push himself to his feet, his movements stiff and pained, though this time he manages to keep his balance.
"Loki, you sh-shouldn't move. You need to wait before..."
"I'm alright." He repeats, still keeping his eyes from her. He takes a step away, wobbly and uncertain. And then another. "You... you should go back to the palace for today." He says. "And request Thor to accompany you if you wish to train on your own as you've been doing. At least, for a little while. Those boys shouldn't bother you again, but it's better at times to take precaution."
Sif stands, stepping after him, then stopping, unsure.
"Al... alright." She agrees. "But... but what of you? Won't you come back with me? You should see a healer about your wounds."
Loki shakes his head, taking another step from her.
"No, I... I've business to attend to elsewhere. I shouldn't delay further."
Another step away, and Sif feels a surge of almost panic.
"Loki..." she starts.
"Please, just... return to the palace. Return to the palace Sif." He cuts her short once more before, abruptly, he turns, and limps away.
She tries calling out to him again, but he only ignores her, continuing to go, until he's disappeared from her view completely.
Sif can't even say why, only finds herself again lost when her throat tightens suddenly with awful, suffocating pain and she feels tears stinging painfully against the backs of her eyes.
She doesn't try to stop them then, as they slip free, sliding uselessly and silent down her cheeks.
And she doesn't understand.
She doesn't understand any of this at all.