Disclaimer: ... see previous chapters.

Understanding… Well, Kinda

You'd think that because I am amazing with knives of almost any width and type, I would at least be good with a sword.

You would be dead wrong.

I'm laying on my back in the middle of the sunlit practice courtyard, staring up at the blue, star covered sky, panting and trying to capture my short breath. I had just been thrown on my back by Sif after my failed attempt at charging her head on. She threw me back using her small shield and pure muscle. Sif is only an inch or so shorter than I am, but damn is she much stronger. She wields her shield and her sword as if they are extensions of her very body. I can do the same with my daggers, but this sword that I have in my hand is so freaking big and heavy. We've been practicing for most of the morning, but I still can't get used to its weight.

Sif walks over to me and watches me as I attempt to relearn how to breathe. She smirks down at me in pure amusement. "Not so easy, is it?" she asks.

"How is it," I pant, letting the handle of the weapon fall from my grip, the metal clanking against the stone floor for a moment, "that a sword can be so much more difficult to wield than a dagger?"

Her smirk grows into a genuine smile. She takes a seat beside me, giving me time to catch my breath. "Well, for one, the weight is greater in a sword than in a dagger or even a short sword. Not only that, but you have to deal with much of the weight residing in the blade rather than distributed evenly between the handle and the blade. Other types of blades are usually designed so the blade and the handle are equal in weight and thus easier to use. There are swords that have a good balance, but most are broken easily when crossing against a heavier weapon." She pauses for a moment, her gaze traveling over the rest of the courtyard and the people sparring around us. "Also, using a sword is harder than using a knife. A knife can easily be switched between hands and positions, can be thrown. Swords cannot."

I nod. I know all of this already. You just don't realize this until you actually have a sword in your hands and have to face all of those problems. I definitely prefer the flexibility knives can afford me. "So, why does Fandral use such a thin sword?" I ask, genuinely curious. I've seen his sword before: it looks like something a fencer would use on Earth.

"Fandral's sword is made of a denser element than just iron," Sif replies. "This allows his weapon to stay strong against any weapon."

Huh. Interesting. Silence envelopes us for a few minutes. My breathing is finally starting to return to a steady pace, thank god. It's sad how I'm the only one winded here. Sif doesn't even look like she broke a sweat. So not fair.

Once I get my breathing back to a manageable level, I sit up, crossing my legs in front of me. I look over to her. "So, does your weapon have any magical ability like Uncle Thor's hammer?"

She looks down to her shield and the sword that is sheathed in it. "Yes, they do. My shield mends any damage done to it almost immediately and my sword can become a double sided blade. It can also create an electrical current. Not like Mjolnir, mind you. The hammer is able to create lightning and conjure storms. My sword can only cause an electric shock. However, the intensity of the shock can range from mild to fatal, depending on how much I wish to destroy my opponent." She glances back up at me. "All weapons are forged to have a magical power to them, ranging from small to great."

"Is it the weapons themselves that have the magical ability?"

"Not quite." She looks off to the side, as if trying to figure out a way to explain something in a way that I will understand. "I overheard Thor explaining it to the Lady Jane like this: we all have magic within us. Asgardians are taught when we are children to bring it forth so we can harness it. However, unless we study for extensive periods of time or just have an inherent skill at it, most of us have a difficult time bringing out. Our weapons are able to better take our magical ability and manipulate it for our benefit."

I blink. "So, if I'm understanding this right, your weapons are just taking the magic you all possess and harnessing it in a way that will help you in battle."

"That is exactly right."

I nod. "But what about when you're not battling? Do you use magic then?"

She sighs quietly. "Not many of us choose to. Like I said, harnessing our magic comes as a challenge for most. Magic is not a substance that is like a limb or organ that simply comes out and acts if we will it. Magic is more volatile than that, almost with a mind of its own. It takes extensive study and hours of practice to use and control it in even a small way. Most Asgardians study the art so they can use magic in small ways off the battlefield, but abandon these studies eventually. Those that do not are usually scholars." She glances around the busy courtyard. There are many people out practicing today with various types of weapons. Many are giving off sparks and the ringing of metal on metal can be heard bouncing off the stone walls. Other than the electrical charges, I don't see any other forms of magic being thrown about. "The two biggest exceptions are Lady Frigga and Loki."

"Exceptions?"

"Lady Frigga is the most well-learned magic user in the realm," she explains, a small wistful smile tugging on her lips. "She taught us all as children about magic and the importance of it in our blood. She encouraged us to always learn and utilize it in our lives." Her smile falls away and her face becomes serious. "Loki uses magic like a weapon itself. His ability with magic has always been far superior to any of us. He is cunning and sly, just like the element he so freely wields."

I watch her for a moment before responding. "You make it sound like many don't like magic that well."

She sighs. "Many do not. Asgardians believe in attacking dead on with brute and honest force. Magic is often used to do the exact opposite." She leans back on her elbows and looks up to the sky. "I suppose that is why people have always been so wary of Loki, even before he tried to take the throne."

Well, now my interest is piqued. "What was he like before everything?"

She smirks. "Quiet." I laugh. That wasn't what I was expecting to hear. She laughs as well. "I suppose I should elaborate," she continues, still grinning. "Compared to Thor, he was as quiet as a mouse. He didn't really stand out. And he wouldn't. He was not big and brawny with a big weapon to swing around. He usually kept to himself with his books. But we all knew that if there was a battle to be fought, Loki would have to be there. He was and is deadly smart with a tongue like quicksilver. His magic and his wits have been invaluable in many battles and saved our lives more than once." She pauses, her eyes staring off into the distance, unfocused. The mood shifts to a serious one again. "We all picked on him but never too seriously. We all knew that he was Thor's favorite. If Thor had to pick one person to go into battle with, he would have picked Loki every time."

"Do you think Uncle Thor still would?"

"I do not know. Loki has been grounded since he was brought back to Asgard with almost all of his magic stripped away. Thor has been forced to take other warriors in his brother's place because of his restrictions."

I furrow my eyebrows in mild confusion. "Wait. I thought you said magic was in your blood."

She nods once. "It is."

"Then, how could his magic be stripped from him?"

Her eyebrows raise in understanding over my confusion. She sits back up. "Magic is in our blood," she says. "However, it is not nearly so contained. It is its own force that tends to reside in our bodies. The Allfather has the power and knowledge to strip that away, as well as our heritage and semi-immortality. You are familiar with how Thor originally came to Earth?" she asks and I nod. "It is similar. It is basically a process that stripped Loki of his magic and the Allfather had it contained so Loki could remain in the palace and not locked away."

"Why wasn't he locked up?" I ask. "I figured after all that he did on Earth that he would be locked away for the rest of eternity."

"Did Thor never explain it to you?" she asks, her grin somewhat crooked. At the shake of my head, she shakes her own, a look of annoyance crossing her face. I get the feeling she is more annoyed at my uncle rather than me. After all, I wasn't told any of this. "The Lady Frigga appealed to the Allfather to stay his hand and allow her the time to bring Loki back to where he was before. She could not do that if he was locked away. Odin agreed as long as Loki had no access to his magic and was never to leave the palace without an escort."

I hum. I wish I could say I was surprised that it was because of Frigga that Loki was still wandering about, but I'm really not. It's been plain as day that she truly loves Loki and what mother wouldn't try to save their children any way they could?

I hear Sif sigh and my gaze jumps back up to her. "As it stands, Loki was granted the gift of his magic back to him only a few days before your arrival. I do not doubt it was because of you that he was allowed to have it back."

"Me?" I question. I watch as she stands up and picks up the sword I was using. She slides it back into its sheathe and offers a hand to me. I gladly accept her help and she pulls me up effortlessly.

"Yes, yours. Do you honestly think it was a coincidence that you arrived and he was made your guard?" She raises an eyebrow at me. "The King and Queen knew of your arrival a few days before you actually arrived. I believe they came to this decision long before two days ago."

That makes an awful amount of sense. Especially considering Uncle Thor believes I am supposed to help with his redemption. So if his parents really believed I could help, then of course they would make that decision way before I actually arrived. I still don't see how I am supposed to help with that though. Especially after the disaster that was yesterday.

Sif hands me the sword and I grip it in my hands. We both turn towards the interior of the palace, walking through the massive archways and begin the long walk back inside. We walk in the general direction of the public dining hall. "Speaking of Loki," I start, twisting the sword in my hands, "how am I supposed to get along with him?"

Sif laughs. "Yes. Thor told me of yesterday's escapades."

My face falls into a flat expression. "Frigga told him, didn't she?" At her nod, I sigh. Figures. "Well, I'm sure you didn't hear about the whole day." At her curious look, I fill her in about everything that happened yesterday, from when he barged into my room to when I punched him. She seemed to find the majority of it highly amusing. By the time I was done, we were seated in the dining hall, fixing ourselves lunch at an empty table in the immense room. After that arduous morning, I was very hungry and everything looked so good. I didn't know where to start.

I finish telling her what Frigga had told me the night before, absentmindedly building myself a sandwich. She was nodding her head in agreement as she chewed on her own. "I know that I should try and compromise with him, I just don't know how. I will not just follow his commands like a common slave." I take a savage bite out of an apple and watch as she lowers her eyes to her plate in thought.

She swallows and looks back up. "You both have been put into an unwanted situation: he certainly did not want to take time away to guard a mortal, and what you know of Loki has made you wary enough that you want to keep your distance from him, which is understandable. However, picking fights with him is not a wise decision." I open my mouth to protest but her stern look shuts me up before I could even start. "You may not want to admit this, but it is nothing more than his restraint and honor that was preventing him from hurting you yesterday. It is easy to blame him for the unpleasant situation, but it is not true. And it is just as easy for him to blame you. The only advice I can give you is to confront him with no more than your words. No sarcasm, no higher motives. Find him and speak to him."

I sigh. I munch on the apple for a few minutes, chewing slowly. I know she's right. I was awake the entire night before thinking about it all. I know I was being entirely too childish. I may be twenty-four, but I still get shocks of pure immaturity that can rival that of a spoiled brat. I was taking my frustration and anger of the situation out on him. It didn't help that he treated me like crap when the news broke out, too. He basically solidified himself as a scapegoat for my anger. Not that that is any excuse for my actions. If anything, I owe him an apology.

I just really don't want to seek him out.

I groan and hang my head. "I'm gonna have to be the bigger person, aren't I?"

Sif chuckles. "Yes, that would be a wise course of action."

I sigh and lift my head back up. "So, all I have to do is find him, apologize, and see what happens?"

"It would also be a good idea to take the time to set some ground rules with him that you can both agree on," she adds, lifting her goblet. "Compromise will not be easy, but setting a routine may be a good idea until you both are on more solid ground with your new relationship."

I nod. Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Maybe I can get him to stop commanding me around, at least.

God, I really am Tony Stark's daughter.

The conversation pauses for a second so she can sip from her drink. "As it stands, I would like to continue your training." Her eyes narrow at me for a second, her eyes darting to stare at the sword sitting on the table next to me. "I believe it would be a better idea to get you trained on a short sword before moving on to a heavier weapon. It may come more naturally to you, as well."

"How big is a short sword?" I ask, somewhat warily. Now that I haven't been using the heavy weapon for a while, my arm is starting to complain. Loudly. I can practically feel my muscles start to become sore. It's been a long time since my arms protested from practice or training.

She smiles at my obvious discomfort. "It is no longer than your forearm. It is longer than a dagger though, so it will take some time and practice to really master the weapon. Lady Frigga is also well versed with the weapon, so she could also help you in case there are weeks I cannot come."

I cock my head to the side in confusion. "Why wouldn't you be able to come?"

"The realms are not always peaceful. There are times when us warriors are sent to settle skirmishes to the realms that request our aide. Even so, I intend to train you every week at the same time as today. If I should be called upon to fight, you can ask Lady Frigga to train you or you may run through some drills I will give you to practice on your own."

"Okay," I agree. Seems simple enough.

I spend the rest of the afternoon in my room reading on my balcony—after I stretched, of course—and avoiding the task I had set upon myself. I placed the sword in my closet with the rest of the weapons in there and promptly ignored the nagging voice in the back of my head telling me I should just get the confrontation over with. Nope, I am going to put if off for as long as I possibly can. I watch the sun set beneath the ocean and watch the pinpricks of stars shine even brighter in the twilight sky.

Okay, I don't think I can put this off any longer. If I don't do it now, then I will never do it and we will have another catastrophic day tomorrow. Sighing, I close the book in my lap, stand up, and head out of my room. I stop in the middle of the golden hallway. I have no idea where he might be. I seriously wish JARVIS was here—I could just ask him and I would have an answer immediately. As it stands, I'm standing in the middle of a vast hallway looking like an idiot and not knowing where to start.

I suppose I could look for him at the library. He seems to spend most of his time there anyway. However, that requires me leaving the private wing of the palace and I can't do that without my guard. Well, I could, but then he would probably get in trouble which would lead to him blaming me and then another miserable day. I would really prefer not having to deal with that, so I won't go to the library. I'll just check the dining hall and see if he's eating.

After making the short trip, I come to discover that no one is in the dining hall. Sigh. I walk back and think about asking one of the random people walking by to just give him a message that I want to speak with him. Maybe they will be able to find him? I throw that idea away, though. I don't want to inconvenience someone else simply because I couldn't find my guard. I look at the doors speckling the hallway and my eyes are immediately drawn to the green door across from my dark blue one.

I can be really dense sometimes.

Shaking my head at my own stupidity, I walk towards his door and knock. If he doesn't answer then I'll just leave him a note. I wait a couple minutes before the big door swings open. There isn't anyone on the other side. I roll my eyes at the blatant display of power and walk in, the door swinging shut behind me.

His room is as big as the other rooms in this hall. Meaning, it's as big as my room. It's layout is similar to mine rather than Uncle Thor's and Aunt Jane's suite. It's way more cluttered than my room, though. I don't mean messy—I mean he's got a lot of stuff. Just like my room, he has a wall filled with books and tomes of various sizes and languages covering the expansive space with a fireplace centered in the middle of it. He has a desk and a massive bed as well. However, that is where the similarities end. There are weapons of all types decorating the empty spaces of the walls, as well as maps of Asgard and other various worlds. Columns are placed strategically holding what I can only assume are valued pieces of art that he has collected over the years. His desk is the only messy area of the room: it is covered with piles of books and written documents, all strewn about haphazardly on the surface of the desk. It appears he just dumps those items there rather than actually using it.

And the color scheme is green, black, and gold. Big surprise there.

I spy him sitting on one of the chairs by the lit fireplace. He appears to be reading casually, but I have no doubt that his entire attention is on me. I walk over and continue to look around his room. He has a lot of cool stuff. The doors to his balcony are open and a breeze causes the sheer green curtains to billow slightly. I trace the Celtic knots that adorn a supporting column in the middle of the room as I pass it. I come to a stop beside his chair and wait for him to acknowledge me. I'll try not to be rude as I am in his domain. There may be a trapdoor under my feet and I would never know it.

After what feels like an eternity, he looks up at me, his eyes rolling up to stare at my face but his head remaining bowed to the book in his lap. His eyes are cool and a shiver runs down my spine at the coldness of his stare. I take a deep breath and start what I came here to do. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday. It was childish and immature and I took my anger and frustration out on you." This manages to get his full attention. He turns his head to look at me completely and shuts his book. Well, at least I know he's listening. "I realize that this arrangement is not only hard on me, but you as well. I'm sorry that I forgot that."

Pops would be so proud of me.

Loki stares at me for a moment. I'm trying really hard not to squirm under his intense stare. He seems to come to some conclusion because he bows his head, accepting my apology. A breath I didn't realize I was holding escapes me and I relax a little. Well, step one is now complete. On to step two.

"Considering this is not something either one of us can get out of, I suggest we figure out a schedule of some kind."

"A schedule?" he asks, eyebrows lifting in apparent surprise. Or dislike. I can't tell the difference.

"Well, yeah," I say. I'm so eloquent. I take a seat in the chair in front of him, sitting on the edge of the green cushion rather than sinking into it. "It's obvious that you are studying something fairly important to you and I don't want to take you away from that. That would be cruel. And I want to do other things, like explore the palace and Asgard as a whole. I don't think it's fair if one or the other of us has to sacrifice their desires for the sake of the other. So, a truce."

"I am listening," he says, propping his head on his hand. And he really is. His eyes haven't left my face since I started talking. It's a little unnerving.

I look away, thinking. "Well, Sif wants to train me on this day every week, so you don't have to worry about looking after me unless she is gone. We could spend the mornings at the library so you can do your research or studying or whatever is it you do, and then we could spend the afternoon doing what I want to do." I shrug, my eyes jumping back to his. "Or something like that."

He gives it some serious thought. "And to be perfectly honest," I add, almost as an afterthought, "the likelihood that I will actually be spending my afternoons alone or with your family is pretty high, so you will most likely have the afternoons to yourself."

"I do not see how that could not be doable," he says after a short pause. I sigh in relief. At least he isn't fighting me on this. "However," he adds after a moment, "I will not be your guide should you feel the need to wander."

"I didn't ask you to be." I shrug. "Usually when I explore, I prefer not to have a guide anyway. So you just have to follow, I guess."

He nods in understanding. "I believe this arrangement will work just fine."

"Good." I stand up. "Thank you for speaking with me." I begin heading towards the door before one more thought pops into my head. "Oh, and Loki?" I turn back around and see that his eyes are still on me. "I meant what I said yesterday. If you want me to do something, ask it. Don't command me to do anything. It is a sure-fire way to get me to do the exact opposite." I pause and look down to the ground. "Besides, if you don't command me, I can promise I won't command you either."

I don't wait for a response. I'm not really expecting one. I turn back around and head towards his door. All things considered, this went pretty well. I was kind of hoping he would apologize for his words from a few nights ago, or even for his own behavior from yesterday. But I wasn't really anticipating it. He doesn't seem like the apologizing type. I can only hope that he will heed my warning. I swear if he does start commanding me again, I will punch him again.

Right before I turn the handle on the door, his voice rings out behind me. "For what it is worth, I am sorry as well."

My head whips around, my hand still on the handle. He is no longer looking at me. He is staring down at his lap where his book is resting. I can't help the small smile that pulls on my mouth. To say I'm surprised is an understatement. But I am pleased. Maybe we can be civil after all.

"Thank you," I mumble before turning back around and walking through the door, closing it solidly behind me. I walk back into my room, the smile still on my face.