Deffence...

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Loki’s Point Of View

        I was down in the fighting arena with Thor and my children. I knew Thor and I had been down here since we could walk but I didn’t like Zane and Evangeline down here. They could get hurt too easily. I stayed close to them just in case.

        “Do you know how to fight Zane?” Thor asked my son. I shifted uneasily not liking were this was going, but knowing that he would have to learn how to fight sooner rather than later.

        Zane grinned at Thor.

        “Yes I do. Mom taught both Evangeline and me to fight. Or at least she has started teaching us.” He said eagerly. My daughter shook her head at Zane. She was quiet, but when she did decide to say something, it was worth listening to hear what she would say.

        “She did not teach us to fight Zane.” She said in a scolding tone. She turned to Thor as to inform him of this. “She taught us how to defend ourselves. She told us not to fight if we can avoid it.” She looked at me with my eyes and then turned to our father, who had just approached us.

        “Momma always says that the best kind of fight is the one that is avoided. We should never start a fight because that would make us just as bad as the one that was trying to fight with us.”

        The Allfather nodded in agreement.

        “Your mother sounds like a very smart woman.” He said to the little girl. She beamed at us and my heart melted instantly. Thor was right. Evangeline was the most beautiful child I had ever laid my eyes on.

        “Even you know how to defend yourself?” I asked her; amazed that Natalya would allow this. Evangeline nodded.

        “I didn’t want to, but she said that if something happened and Zane couldn’t protect me, I would need to know how to keep myself safe.”

        “How well have you been taught? How well can your mother fight?” Thor asked Zane.

“I do well enough for myself.” Natalya said from behind me.

        I turned and there she was looking up at me with those pale blue eyes, so accusing. She was stunning in a dark blue gown, given to her by my mother, no doubt.

        “You shouldn’t have to fight to defend yourself.” I said softly, wanting to reach out and take her in my arms and protect her from everything.

        “But I do,” she said shortly, “And I have had a lot of practice at it, years and years of it.”

        I winced; the feeling of helplessness was creeping up my spine. I was losing her and there was nothing I could do about it.

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