Scene 14, training court, the next day
"I've been thinking... maybe you'd like to give this a try. It was my sister's."
Loki stares at the sword Breka is presenting to him.
"You can't be serious."
"Afraid of being mocked for using a woman's blade?"
"Breka, I've stopped caring about mockery a long time ago. But this must have enormous sentimental value to you. What if I break it?"
Breka chuckles.
"Oh don't worry. It's a lot like you."
"Annoyingly sharp?"
"Yeah, that too. But actually I meant 'a lot stronger than it looks.'"
Loki gives him a look and a smile. He accepts the sword with a gracious little bow. After a few experimental moves he looks up, surprised at how good it feels. Breka is smiling widely.
"I thought so. It fits your style."
"What do you mean my style?"
"The way you fight. It's very different from my own or anyone I've ever fought."
Loki's shoulders sag.
"I know. I'm trying!"
"No, that's a good thing!"
"I'm not sure the all-father would agree."
"An adversary whose moves are unpredictable is almost impossible to defeat." Breka is picking his next words very carefully. "I don't think it's wise to try and morph a strength into a weakness for the sake of conformity."
Loki starts to smile.
"So not a blacksmith's vocabulary!"
Breka grins and shrugs.
"Trying to keep up with present royalty. My mother picked up a thing or two serving the queen."
He turns serious.
"I mean it though. There's more than one way to do things."
"Not in my father's book. Or my brother's. Or my teachers'..."
"What about your mother?"
Loki's eyes turn soft.
"She's different. She's a lot more like me. Or I'm like her, probably. It's beyond me how she can stand living with my father," he adds with a sigh.
Breka chooses not to comment on that.
"Anyway," he says, drawing his sword. "You're a lot faster than me, a lot lighter on your feet, and you're ambidextrous. Not to mention your magic. What a waste not to use all of that to your advantage."