Your Majesty - Loki x OC

8: Keep Your Guard Up

FREYJA

There is a good reason I don't babysit children. In all good self-awareness, I have no patience, lack the friendliness and am entirely too busy.

Eira knows all these things, and somehow I still got stuck being guardian to the god of mischief.

"Is there anything exciting to do here?" He asked me in a slightly whiny manner as he followed me down the hallways. "So far I have done nothing even remotely interesting."

I laughed dryly. "Welcome to the revolution."

I had to refrain from punching him in the stomach as he stepped in front of me so I couldn't move. "What do you even do all day?"

"Important things that you have no business in." I growled. "Now get out of my way."

I put a hand on his shoulder and roughly forced him to the side, storming past him and towards my destination.

Every other day in the training room, I am expected to train the rebels in their combat. It's grueling work, and takes experience and discipline.

Which makes me an excellent teacher.

I walked in, the prince on my heels and saw that most of my class had already arrived. I didn't get to work with them two days ago, for that was when the council meeting took place.

"Quit standing there and looking like fish out of water." I ordered, taking my jacket off and folding it on a bench. "Grab a sword and start warming up."

The rebels all immediately did as they were told, getting the training weapons from a rack and breaking into pairs for sparring.

"And you," I drew my sword and pointed it at Loki. "Sit there and don't touch anything."

He looked me in the eyes, reached over to his left and gently placed a finger on the shaft of a spear. "Or what?"

I tilted my head, a smirk covering my frustration. Two can play that game, Butter Knives.

"If you're so insistent upon handling weapons," I said smoothly, straightening my cotton shirt and trousers. "Grab a training sword and a partner. The only rule is no intentional injuries other than welts and bruises. When hitting someone, use the flat of your blade. And under no circumstances are you to use magic. Understood?"

He seemed caught off guard. "Now I'm in on this?"

"You wanted excitement. Go blame yourself. I said am I understood?"

"Yes." He scowled but removed his calf length leather jacket and began testing the weights of the training swords.

This is a bad idea. A little voice in my head warned, but I shoved it down and began to stalk between pairs of fighters, giving small corrections on their forms and techniques.

"If you keep holding your sword that tightly, your hand is going to cramp before warm ups are finished. Loosen your grip, not enough to let your opponent knock it away, but enough so you don't strain yourself." I told one man I passed.

My gaze drifted across the room, pausing briefly on every face. Every person here had been hurt by Odin in one way or another.

For a moment, I simply relished in the environment. The sounds of clashing swords and the occasional grunt met my ears, the stench of sweaty bodies flooding my nostrils. The air in the room was hot and heavy from the physical activity.

You have a job to do. I reminded myself, continuing my observations.

I spotted Loki about fifteen feet away, sword fighting with a man around his age. To my surprise, he was abiding by every rule I gave him and actually wasn't a half bad swordsman. I could tell from the somewhat awkward way he handled it that he wasn't used to using a sword, but he seemed to have little problem blocking his opponents blows and delivering a few of his own.