Chapter 9
"I believe that is five more points for me," Thor says, sending me a triumphant smirk.
I groan, but smile. "Yes, yes it is. How are you so good at this?" I scratch five more lines under the T drawn in the dirt. Tossing my second to last pebble, I watch as it lands in the outermost ring of the target. I glare at Thor when he let's out a cheer then draw one line under my F.
"It seems"—he tosses his final pebble and it lands in the dead center of the target—"that I have won."
I scuff out the target and scores then turn to Thor who wears a smug grin. "You have beaten me at everything. How are you so good at all these games? Tic-tac-toe, rock paper scissors, Go Fish, throwing a stupid pebble at a target drawn in the dirt."
He laughs. "It seems I have a natural gift for these simple Midgardian amusements."
"Seems so," I say. "What shall we do now? Another game? Figure out why you have a hundred percent success rate at destroying me? Or figure out a way to make Loki help us?"
"I've had a thought, and it is much more enjoyable that all three of those options," Thor says.
"What? My children's games aren't fun for you?"
"They are far too easy for my level of talent. If I were not so gifted, perhaps they would be more interesting." Thor laughs.
"Okay, smart ass. What's your idea, since all of mine are dull?"
"You must be growing tired of having nothing to pass the days..." he begins.
"Yes...you are five hundred percent correct," I say. "Keep going."
"How would you like to see the Armory?"
...
...
"Holy—" A glare from Thor cuts me off. "I was gonna say, 'crap.'"
"I'm sure." He leads me into the large hexagonal room. All the weapons I could possibly imagine cover the walls. Sheaths of arrows hang one after the other next to dozens of longbows. Another wall is covered in long swords, shorter swords and in-between swords. Next to them hang golden shields, silver shields and coppery ones. Spears and maces and other weirder-looking sharp things cover the remaining walls.
I walk over to the bows and pick one up. It is made of wood that has been smoothed and glossed over. In the bow itself, as if it had been infused into the wood, are thin veins of silver and gold.
"Would you care to try?" Thor says from behind me.
"With this? No! I'd probably break it...or break me." I set it back gently.
"No, definitely not," he chuckles. "I would not start you out with an actual bow or sword for fear of you harming yourself or someone else."
"We both have no faith in my abilities," I mutter, touching the bow once before turning to follow Thor.
He leads me through a door into another, smaller room. Hanging on these walls are wooden training weapons and dull metal swords that look like they couldn't even chop a banana. He pulls two wooden long swords off their hooks and grabs a small training bow and a sheath of arrows from a box then walks out another door.
We walk out into a small patio outside the castle.
"Welcome to the training arena." Thor raises his arms wide, taking in the whole of the stone circle.
"Whoa..." I spin slowly. Targets painted on the walls or hanging from posts surround us and dummies with red dots marking fatal spots stand in clusters. A hill leads down and away to my right. Through the large opening between the corners of the castle and the armory, I can see the forest and the distant villages.
Thor hands me one of the swords and tells me where to stand. "Now, there are four basic stances, but once you begin to learn this fighting style more, you will learn that each stance can be altered at any moment depending on the situation." He spent the next several minutes describing each stance, demonstrating them for me and telling me why they are used. Eventually, after about an hour, I finally got to do things. Every few minutes he would tell me what I'm doing wrong or how to perfect my stance.
After two hours, I have been told how much my concentration and my defensive stance sucks. Thor didn't literally say: "Freya, you suck," but I got the idea due to the amount of times I heard him sigh, groan and laugh at me.
...
...
"Remember," Thor says for the sixty-eighth time, "forehead, across, across—"
I roll my eyes.
"Forehead, across, across, waist, behind, thrust, guard. Yeah, I got it." I raise the sword up so that the flat part of the blade is facing my forehead, bringing my hands that are wrapped around the hilt near my right ear and bend my elbow. I crouch slightly, the way he showed me. Across, across. I lower the sword and hold it parallel to my body. Then I slash the sword in front of me twice and I swing it out, like I'm pushing an invisible sword out of the way. I lower my hands to the right of my waist, the tip sticking out away from my body, pull back and stab forward, immediately swinging the sword so that it rests diagonally about a foot in front of my chest, flat part always facing my body (so the enemy doesn't slam the edge into you, according to Thor).
"Good." He claps twice then crosses his arms. "Now reverse, then we shall do it together. I will be the attacker."
I restart with a groan. This time I start from the other side so that instead of the hilt starting to my right, it begins to my left and so on and so forth.
"Perfect," he says once I've finished the second set. "I believe it is time for you to practice with a partner." He picks up the other sword and stands across from me.
"I promise to go easy on you," I say, grinning.
"And I you." Thor bows slightly and I curtsy, rousing a chuckle from my opponent. "Get in your stance, pupil!" he bellows a moment later, pointing at me with the wooden sword, and trying to keep from laughing.
"Oops, right! Okay, sorry." I spread my feet apart and crouch a little.
"Forehead!" Thor chops down and I block it. "Across, across!" He swings quickly and I block one, but duck as the other swing comes hurtling towards my head. I bounce up, block at the waist, then thrust towards him. He bounds back, grinning. "Very good, Freya, very good indeed." He thwacks my sword like some sort of high five. "Again!"
We do this over and over until it's almost second nature. He adds in little tricks that I fumble to block, but block nonetheless.
"So"—across, across—"about your brother." I thrust forward.
"What about him?"
"I know we've talked about this since I went to see him, but"—waist!—"I don't know what to do. Should I go talk to him again? He hasn't summoned me to his cell yet. I don't want to go back and act desperate."
Thor smiles and nods as he tries to smack my side. I knock his sword away, one, two, across, across, without thinking about it.
"And even if I do go back to talk, he won't listen. I've only met him once and he already hates me."
Thor let's out a short laugh. "Do not take it personally, there are few my brother tolerates."
"Who does he tolerate?"
He's quiet for a moment, freezing mid-swing. "Our mother."
"Frigga?"
Thor nods.
"Thor, can I ask you something?" I ask, lowering my sword.
He does the same. "By all means."
"How did Loki become what he is now?"
"That will be a long explanation."
"I don't know how long I'm gonna be here for, so I've got enough time to hear it," I say.
Thor presses his lips into a thin line. "You will not understand."
"I've come across a lot in the last week and a half that I haven't understood. Lay it on me."
He sighs, nods, then motions for me to follow him. "Come, sit." We walk over to the edge of the hill and sit down. Thor pulls up some blades of grass and begins to absentmindedly tie them together. "When Loki was indeed mischievous, always pulling pranks, telling jokes but the things he did were no more than innocent jests. It was around the time he found out he was adopted that his antics began to turn darker."
"He was adopted?" I ask.
"Yes. My brother was taken from the Frost Giants by my father when he was only an infant. Odin did not wish to tell him; he did not want Loki to feel different. But, due to his reluctance, Loki found out on his own. When he learned his heritage, my brother became increasingly power hungry. He tried to prove himself by destroying Jotunheim, the realm of the Frost Giants. He wanted to show my father he was truly worthy of the throne, just as I was, but he failed to do so just as he failed to destroy Jotunheim. That was the same day he fell off the Bridge and for a year the whole of Asgard presumed him dead. That was until he presented himself in your New City of York. When he fell, he found his way to the Chitauris and Thanos. We could only get so much out of my brother before he refused to speak, but what we have concluded is that Thanos promised Loki a Chitauri army to take over Earth if Loki brought him the Tesseract."
I frown into the distance for a second, mulling over what Thor had just said. "Was Loki under Thanos' control?"
"I do not know. I would like to say yes. But I believe it was the lust for power that drove him to create that level of devastation. He would do anything for a throne, not excluding obliterating an entire city."
"Was Loki under the Tesseract's control? Wait, what is a Tesseract?"
Thor furrows his brow, thinking. "It is one of six Infinity Stones. And no, it does not have the power to control a being. At least not that I know of. The only stone I know of that has the power to be absorbed by a person is the Aether."
"Oh," I say pretending to know what he's talking about.
We're both quiet for a moment, then I ask, "When I first met you, you said that you and Frigga both believed that Loki could change for the better, right?" I ask.
Thor nods.
"Do you still believe that?"
He stares out over the forest, looking at the far away villages. "I do not know how I feel about my brother. In the past he has occasionally done things that have surprised me, made me think that there is still something...good deep within him. Maybe he will surprise me again. Maybe not."
...
...
Loki paces and watches the other prisoners while away the long days in their dank cells. He should not be here. He does not belong in a dungeon, he belongs on a throne. He deserves a throne. Loki clenches his fist. If his mission on Midgard had not failed, he would have that realm at his fingertips, the people would be at his disposal. But that plan had been interrupted and instead of having a whole planet, all he had was a very small, very boxlike room to call his own. If it hadn't been for Thor and the Avengers—Loki smirks at the name—he would be the king of that measly world, the world where that girl came from.
That girl, that irritating, foolish little girl. A smile plays across the god's lips as an idea begins to form.
Loki stops walking and stands facing the corridor. A guard finally passes and when he does, he stops to look at the man in green.
"What?" the guard asks.
"Summon the girl," says the God of Mischief and Lies. "Tell her I am ready to cooperate."