Loki slammed a hand into the side of his thigh. "Why won't my legs work?" He growled in frustration, but given his age, the growl was more of a squeak. That made him even more frustrated. Baldur and Frigga sat on either side of him. It had been a month since Thor and his young friends had begun their warrior training, a month since Loki should have begun his training for the challenge.
Odin and Thor visited but rarely; Baldur and Frigga spent as much time as they could with him. Baldur would act out the adventure stories as Frigga and Loki read them. Frigga would make lights dance in the night sky. They were trying to distract him, to entertain him, and while Loki appreciated it, he could not forget how much his life had been sidetracked because he had followed Thor up that stupid mountain. His childhood was gone, and he still wasn't a man yet.
An errant breeze tickled the hair at the back of his neck; it was a particularly sensitive spot for him and the air was not moving anywhere else. "Please stop, Mother. I am not in the mood for games." Frigga sighed, and the tickling stopped.
"Loki, your legs took the brunt of that fall, along with your lower back. The doctor is certain that, with time, they will work again. In the meantime, you must continue your therapy to keep the muscles active."
Loki heaved a big sigh. He was feeling particularly morose today. "Why should I bother? At this point, I can't train for Mt Drengir, so I won't be a warrior."
Baldur kneeled in front of Loki, taking Loki's chin in his hand. Despite years of wielding a sword, Baldur's hands were unmarked by callouses. "You WILL be a warrior, Little Brother. If it takes you a year longer, so what? In the grand scheme of things, a year matters not at all. And you will have something the others do not—a core of the most solid iron, stronger than anything forged by the dwarves."
"And in the meantime, I will give you another gift that the others will not have. I will teach you the ways of my magic." Frigga put a hand on his arm.
Loki's jaw dropped. "Volva magic? You would shame me so, Mother?" Loki loved his mother, and respected her magic. For her.
Frigga drew her brows down. "Shame? You find shame in wielding magic?"
"Magic is for the weak, for those not strong enough to fight." How many times had the older warriors said something similar? He loved his mother's magic, but it was for women, and for entertainment, not for fighting.
"Do you think me weak?"
Baldur raised his brows at Loki, silently pleading for him to keep his mouth shut. Loki stared back at his brother, uncowed, but answered his mother without meeting her gaze. "Of course not, Mother. But you are the Queen."
"I see. So a person who uses every weapon at their disposal to gain the victory is a weakling? Unless they are a queen?"
"That is not what I said."
"It most certainly is. And you sound like your grandfather when you say such. Bor was a mighty warrior, but not a quick-witted man. Did you know I bested him in battle?"
Loki's jaw dropped again. "You never did!"
Baldur nodded. "It's true. Or at least family legend." He grinned and winked at Loki as Frigga continued.
"I did. Some would say it was not a fair fight, but I brought the mighty Bor to his knees using my magic, my wit, and the element of surprise. Only after that time did he accept my battle prowess. But it was to be a secret, so you must never tell anyone."
Loki shook his head adamantly. "I will never."
"So what say you now to learning magic?" Frigga raised her chin.
Loki smiled. "I would be honored if you taught me your ways, Mother."
Baldur clapped his arm and smiled. Frigga nodded. "Then let us begin."