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Loki, as all boys his age (and a few of girls), had been enrolled into battle practice. For now, theory and the basics only, he was in the youngest group. Thor and Sif decided not to come to every practice, so as not to show favoritism. Thor offered his support by asking Loki how each session went and what the group had been learning that day. Sif didn't bother, still unsure how to even speak to Loki most of the times. The boy didn't seem to mind too much. While he spoke fondly of the other children in his group, the training itself he didn't seem to be enjoying. Thor worried about that, but Sif thought Loki would get used to it with time. He was being trained as they had been trained and... perhaps she should investigate.
So, a week after Loki's first training session, Sif came by to observe Loki's practice. And she did not like what she was seeing.
The children were paired up and each one had a training sword in their hands. They were doing their best to wield them against each other, but only the bigger children were managing. The slimmer ones, Loki included, had less luck. The training swords were heavy, made of solid wood, and Sif remembered just how difficult they were to handle in the hands of a novice. A child novice even more so. The smaller children kept dropping the swords, to the merriment of the others.
Sif wasn't the only one watching. Some of the other parents were present, as well a few onlookers curious about the newest trainees. Some of them were commenting on the skills of the children, especially those too weak to hold the swords. Loki was a particularly fascinating topic, it seemed.
“Good thing Thor and Sif are raising him.” Sif overheard one of them say when Loki stumbled. “They will certainly make sure he receives a traditional upbringing, not that womanly magic nonsense. And it'll do him some good to fight with swords, like a real man should. No cowardly knives.” They laughed.
Sif, on the other hand, felt a tightness in her chest. Traditional. She had despised the word as a child. Tradition dictated that her place was in the household or the birthing chambers. Tradition allowed her only to be trained enough to protect her future children and home. Tradition forbid her from seeking any glory for herself and banned her to the shadows of a husband she most likely wouldn't have been allowed to pick.
Sif had spent her life denying tradition and fighting to live as she wished. And as she strove to succeed in her pursuits, Loki had been fighting similar battles. He studied magic, tricks, and preferred old books to the company of wise men. He lied to get his way and didn't care for the boundaries of what was considered honorable.
For that, he had been ridiculed just as she had been ridiculed. But Sif had not seen the similarities between them, had not recognized a kindred spirit. She had been desperate to prove she was not just a girl. She had craved with all her being to be accepted on the training grounds by the men who had the power to banish her into more 'feminine' tasks. So when they had mocked Loki, Sif had gleefully joined in, glad the attention was off of her.
As Sif thought back on their youth, she concentrated on what she knew were facts and not her biased opinions. Loki had been ridiculed for his magic, but none could argue that his sorcery had no equals. He had been scorned for his preference towards books, but his intelligence and wit were legendary. He had been humiliated on the training ground each time they'd had sword practice, but put a staff in his hands and he would take them all down.
This little Loki was the same. He loved books, practiced his little spells and could talk his way out of many situations. He also had a penchant for getting into trouble, but AllFather Thor was much more lenient than Sif remember AllFather Odin being.
Sif watched Loki struggle with the training sword and pursed her lips. Frigga had never objected to how her sons had been trained, at least as far as Sif recalled. But as she watched Loki strain to keep his wooden sword straight and steady, she was unsure whether she could remain as stoic as her. She swept her gaze over the other children, comparing their performance to Loki's, and her lips pursed in disapproval. She tried observing the training with cold indifference. She tried to justify what she was seeing with cold facts of tradition and proven methods. But then she thought of the skills she had honed and the wisdom she had gained as a seasoned warrior.
The two did not fit.
So when Loki once again dropped his training sword and everyone laughed, Sif got up and marched down to the training ring.
“Tyr!” She called, halting everyone in their tracks. She walked over to Loki and took his sword from him. “Has your eyesight left you in your old age?”
Tyr frowned at her. “Do you object to the training session, my Lady?”
“I do. I fail to see the merit in forcing children too small to lift a sword properly to battle with said sword.”
Tyr looked pointedly at Loki and smirked at her. “You have been absent from the training arena for too long if you've forgotten how proper warriors do battle.”
Her expression tightened in anger, but she refused to rise to the challenge. She was Queen now, she held the title of AllMother. And mothers, she reminded herself, don't like their children being treated unfairly.
“They are not proper warriors, they are children who are beginning their training.” She pointed out, with a stubborn twist to her lips. “Every warrior knows that before attempting the sword, children must first build up the strength in their arms and shoulders. I did not see you spend any time on that basic practice.”
“It is not always necessary.” Tyr argued.
“It is when you are dealing with children who lack the necessary muscle mass.”
Again Tyr glanced pointedly at Loki. He looked back to Sif and leaned closer. “It will do him some good to struggle a bit. He will build up muscle mass soon enough.” he murmured, his tone patronizing to the point of insult.
Sif stiffened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “You said the same when we'd been children, and we both know how that prediction turned out.”
Tyr pursed her lips at her defiance. He'd always resented his students arguing with him. Mostly her and Loki. “If you show such favoritism towards Loki, it will not set a good example, Lady Sif.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I see at least six children here as slim as Loki and they are having the same problems. In a group of ten that number should tell you something.” She pointed out, authority like steel in her voice. Tyr looked around the boys and girls and refused to answer. Sif flared her nostrils at him. “If you are unable or unwilling to train the children as they should be and without bias, I think you should leave.”
“Lady Sif-”
“That is an order.” She barked, standing tall and regal as a queen should.
Tyr finally remembered that he was speaking to the Queen of Asgard and not the young girl she'd once was. He remained silent, back stiff.
Sif huffed through her nose. “Go. I will take over your class.”
“My Queen-” Tyr began to protest, but she cut him off.
“Do you doubt my skills?” She demanded, crossing her arms across her chest.
Tyr gave her a disgruntled look, but finally obeyed and left the arena. Sif watched him leave then turned to the children gathered around her. “Go place the training swords back on the racks. Now.” Some of the boys seemed reluctant,but she stared them down till they obeyed. Loki and the rest of the group obeyed without question. Within a few moment, they were all gathered back around Sif.
She looked them over and clicked her tongue thoughtfully. She pondered how best to start, then decided to go with the regimen she had used herself as a child.
“Stand in two rows.” She directed. “We'll start with push-ups.”
*~*
Later that day, Thor entered the Royal Family's sitting room and stopped in bemusement. Sif was sitting by the large windows, once again attempting to embroider something. Judging by her expression she was failing, as usual. Her skills lay more in crocheting, but she was determined to learn embroidery as well. That wasn't the odd thing. What had Thor scratching his head in confusion was the sight of his little brother. Loki was lying on the floor, face down and arms splayed limply to the sides.
“Loki?” he called, walking further into the room.
“Hi, Thor.” Loki answered, his voice muffled by the floor.
“What are you doing?” Thor asked, cocking his head to the side as he stood over his brother.
“Sif made us do push ups and pull ups till we vomited.” Loki answered, still not moving his face from the floor.
“You did not vomit.” Sif pointed out, hissing in annoyance at the crooked stitches.
“I was close.” Loki countered sulkily and Thor chuckled. He gathered his brother into his arms and stood, the boy hanging limply from his grasp. Thor shifted him around so that Loki rested comfortably against his chest, then sat down on the plush chair opposite Sif's. He stretched his legs out with a deep sigh and settled Loki across his lap.
Sif tsked when she pulled the thread too tightly. Thor watched her work (or struggle, depends on your definition) for a minute or two. He then kicked her lightly in the foot to get her attention. “Tyr came to see me today. He was none too pleased that you threw him out of the training arena.”
“I was not pleased at all about how he was training the children.” Sif replied, putting her put down her embroidered abomination. “He had them using weapons they barely had the strength to lift.”
Thor nodded and glanced down at Loki. “Tyr started us on weapon training quite early too, if I recall.”
“Yes, I remember.” Sif leaned back in her seat. “I also remember that Fandral broke the bones in his foot when he dropped his sword on it.”
“Good point.” Thor leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of Loki's head. “Tyr is old and set in his ways.” He mused.
“He always had problems with training those that didn't fit his ideal image of a warrior.” Sif countered, looking down at her work. She bared her teeth in displeasure at the crooked stitches. “His methods never were that proper for children.”
“He trained us well.” Thor argued, but it was half-hearted. “But I see your point. He'd never been that fair to you or Loki, nor to any other child that didn't meet his standards.”
Sif snorted. “Remember how he ignored Hogun because he wasn't from Asgard? Your father had had to talk sense into him.”
Thor wrinkled his nose at the memory. “Who would train the children, though?” He wondered aloud. Older trainees followed their own regimens and clashed often to test their skills. The youngest children needed a teacher, there was no way around it.
Sif looked thoughtfully out the big window. It needed to be someone who knew how to deal with children. Someone who would manage a group or rowdy students, but be fair of their abilities. Someone they could trust. No one sprung to mind.
Thor tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling, also thinking over their options.
“I like Volstagg.” Loki pipped up, looking from Sif to Thor. “He's nice and he always gives me tips when I practice with Kjeld and Gyda.”
Thor smiled and gave him a gentle squeeze in lieu of a hug. “An excellent thought, brother, but-”
“Wait, Thor.” Sif tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Volstagg as a trainer for the younglings has merit.”
Thor thought it over. “Well, he is good with children.”
“And he's raised enough to know what children are actually able to do at each age.” Sif added.
“And he's nice.” Loki joined in, kicking one foot against the armrest.
Thor smiled at him. “It seems he's perfect. I'll speak to him today, then.”
“Yey.” Loki grinned and made a valiant effort to lift his arms joyfully.
Sif picked her embroidery back up. “What will we do with Tyr?”
Thor pursed his lips. “I think I'll have him train the guards. He will be able to be as strict as he wishes, and palace security can only gain from his expertise.”
Sif nodded. It was a good idea. “Want me to arrange the transfer?”
“No, I shall manage. Dealing with Tyr will be easier for me, he won't let his resentment show too much.” Thor inclined his head at her. “Thank thee for the offer.”
“As always, husband.” Sif smiled at him, then looked down at her embroidery. She grimaced.
“What are you making today?” Thor inquired and Loki wiggled around to be able to see as well.
Sif held up the canvas and presented a crooked and slightly jagged oval. “I thought I'd try something easy this time.”
Thor squinted at the pattern. “Is it an egg?”
Sif pursed her lips. “It's supposed to be the sun.”
“...ah.” Thor wisely didn't comment further.
“At least it's yellow. You got the color right.” Loki pointed out helpfully, shifting a bit on Thor's lap.
Sif stuck her tongue out at both of them.