I am so sorry for how long this took, but there was an attack of the funk and it still resides here. But more important: Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone for the reviews, favs, and for just reading this thing. For those who've left me some concrit on style/grammar, I thank you and I take your comments to heart. Now enjoy some light-hearted Thor fluff.

"By Valhalla and all those within, child, go and play!"

Frigga thrust her son out into the corridor and with a light slap on his bottom sent him on his way. She'd allowed him to remain by her throughout the day, but after his fifth dramatic sigh of despair she'd had enough. Thor had found plenty to do before Loki had come into their lives and he could do so again.

Unfortunately, the stubborn boy did not want to.

It was not as if he didn't know what to do with himself, there were many games his imagination could supply and his classmates to play with should he want them, it was that most of these had lost their allure. Loki was magic, both literally and (if Thor had known the word) metaphorically.

When Loki was in a playful mood it more than made up for his generally cranky nature. Thor and Loki would sit on the balcony at night and Loki would reach out and move aside nebulae and stars to get a peek at the pale blue dot that was Jotunheim as he told Thor of his home. He could reach up and pluck the moon itself from its place in the night sky, multiply it, and juggle them for Thor's amusement before returning it to its dark perch.

Illusions all, Thor knew, but no less wondrous. What else in Asgard could compare to that?

Best of all, sometimes he would find Loki reading in the library or on the window seat in his room, and while Loki would sigh and roll his eyes in the image of suffering he would let Thor climb onto his lap and read to him until he fell asleep. It wasn't fun, not like playing a game, but he loved listening to the cadence of Loki's soft voice and the steady beat of his heart under Thor's ear.

But it would be days at least until his father and Loki returned, perhaps longer if things did not go well with the Alfar. Thor sighed, so long and mournful that it echoed down the empty hall and followed him for hours until his first set of lessons.

Winter was behind them and the days were growing warmer, but very, very wet as Asgard's rainy season settled in. Today was the first in many that Sol did more than peek through the heavy grey clouds, but thrust them aside entirely and bathed the shining city in her light. Steam had wafted from the roads and earth in the morning, but by the time Bragi ushered the children outside into the gardens the grass was dry. On days such as this he believed it a crime to keep children locked up indoors; the beauty of nature inspired the poetic mind more than any classroom ever could. It did require extra effort to settle his students, however.

Thor always enjoyed Bragi's lessons. The old skald would tell grand epics of valor and victory, sweeping tales of love, and sorrowful tragedies that were not mere fancy but the history of the Aesir themselves. Again and again he would recite this wondrous poetry, that the young ones would memorize it, and yet he spoke in such a way that it never grew tiresome. At their age, any one of his students could tell these stories, but it was recounting of events only, not the flow of words that so inspired the Aesir to song and passion in the feasting halls. By the time the children reached these halls themselves, the poetry would be written into their very bones and they too could recite them with such reverence and power, as well as their own exploits as men and women.

"Remember, my little Lords and Ladies, that it is the spirit of the tale you must know. Speak in confidence, and do not fear the remembrance of every word. Use another, let the poetry fly living from your tongue, never to sour in your belly because you have forgotten a rhyme or phrase. That is a crime!"

Thor sat enraptured. He did not believe his strengths lay in words, but that did not mean he did not love them. What good was the glory of battle and the height of a man's courage if no one could hear tell of it? Between the lesson and the warmth of the sun on his fair head, the moodiness Thor had gripped so tightly throughout the day slithered from his fingers and seeped into the dirt to be purified. What it left behind was a playful giddiness that matched Thor's fellows in a desire to run and tumble about the lawn as soon as they were able.

That time came when Bragi finished his lesson and departed in the wake of the children's well practiced and proper farewells. That trained manner impressed upon the children of the court by their elders dissolved as soon as Bragi was out of sight and they leapt on one another, squealing in delight and released energy. The girls separated from the group, their arms linked and swinging each other in gaiety and song, while the boys expressed their fondness for their friends by sitting on them and rubbing their faces in the dirt. Thor turned to the nearest boy, ready to leap into the fray, and instead got a palm in his face, a hand holding him where he stood and pushing so that he fell backwards onto his rump with an annoyed yelp.

"What? The mighty Prince Thor's decided to grace us with his attention?"

Glowering, Thor pushed himself to his feet. He still had to crane his neck back to look up at the elder boy. "You dare speak so to the son of Odin, Arkin?" he said, trying to mimic the speech of his father.

Arkin was one of Thor's cousins and the eldest of the students, though by very little. But the children were of the age where a mere season meant all the experience in the world and so many followed him in his endeavors. He flaunted that power when he could, and the opportunity to lord over the Prince of Asgard was too much to pass up.

"I dare," Arkin declared, puffing out his chest and lifting his chin to exaggerate his height over the other boy, "because you don't play with us. We're not good enough, you'd rather go play with old Loki Lackeyson!"

Thor froze. No one called Loki by his patronym in Asagrd. The name of Laufeyson would reveal his origins and Odin wished those to remain hidden. No one knew save the royal family and a chosen few, but Arkin knew, and he mocked it.

The children had gathered around the two boys, their spinning and tumbling forgotten, and they laughed. Several girls linked arms and danced around singing "Lackeyson, Lackeyson," while not knowing what it meant.

"Don't call him that!" Thor shouted at them all, stomping his foot.

Arkin grinned down at him in triumph as the children continued to laugh. "We're not supposed to know what Loki is, but I know, my father told me."

A lump of ice fell into Thor's stomach in the same instant his face grew hot. He clenched his hands into fists and began to shake. If people found out Loki was a Frost Giant, they might try to hurt him, maybe even kill him. From there, Thor's thoughts launched from fear into the absurd, though he did not consider it so. Images of Loki being banished from the city, chased through the woods like a wild animal to be caught and skinned…

Loki's bloodied head on a pike in the garden.

Arkin turned his back on Thor, smirking at him over his shoulder as he quieted the children again. "Want to know a secret?" he said to them, his voice hushed, and they huddled down close in excitement. "Loki's not like us, he's really a-"

Thor screamed and launched himself at Arkin, catching the older boy by surprise and slamming him to the ground. Arkin yelped and tried protecting the back of his head with his arms and Thor took advantage by jumping up and kicking him onto his back. Thor dropped back on him heavily, straddling his cousin and landing unforgiving blows to Arkin with his little fists.

While Arkin was older and taller, he was not very strong and none would ever call him brave. Had the fight remained between the two cousins, Thor would have easily come away the victor, but Arkin had allies and they all lunged for the prince at once, pulling him from his opponent and landing blows of their own. Arkin sat up, wiping blood from his nose with his sleeve and joined them. Outnumbered four to one, Thor fought on, kicking, punching, and biting once when someone made a fool grab for his face.

Then another body joined the battle, but against the bullies, fighting their way to Thor to aid him. Thor's savior managed to relieve him of the boys' attacks enough that the prince could focus his attentions on his cousin once more. The two fought valiantly against four and the remaining boys who stood aside leapt into the fray in the name of their prince.

It ended quickly then, with Arkin's allies abandoning the battle and the instigator himself underneath Thor's little boot. Facing his cousin's wrath alone, Arkin yielded. Thor stepped off him, but did not help him stand so that he continued to tower over his elder cousin.

"You," Thor began, his voice as deep and powerful as he could make it, "will never speak ill against Loki again, who is the All-Father's brother and a hero of Jotunheim! None of you!" he shouted, turning to the others as well. "And you, Arkin, will not speak of him at all, you are not worthy to even say his name!"

Arkin sniffed and wiped more blood from his face. When he did not reply promptly, Thor kicked him.

"I will not speak of him!" Arkin yelped.

Satisfied, Thor dismissed him with a wave of his hand, much as he had seen his father do, and Arkin slinked away after his allies.

Thor looked to the others of his class and frowned. They had come to his aid only after the tide of the battle had changed, like cowards, and they knew it. The children began to disperse, finding elsewhere to play and Thor had no desire to follow them anymore. Only a girl remained, staring at him as he brooded. It was Sif, the half-sister of all-seeing Heimdall.

"Sif," Thor said, realizing she was not going away, "can you tell me the boy who was brave enough to help me?"

"There was no boy," she said, confused.

"Of course there was! I didn't defeat Arkin and his friends alone, did I? Someone helped me now tell me his name!"

Sif huffed, hands on her hips in anger. "It was me, you dolt!"

Thor almost laughed at such a ridiculous idea, but the very state of her said otherwise. Sif's shift was torn, covered in dirt and grass stains, and her golden hair was wild. She stood not like a little maiden, but with her feet planted wide in readiness, and her knuckles were bloody and split from the force of her own punches.

Instead, Thor's mouth fell open in a fashion his mother always told him was rude. "You?"

"Yes, me! I am no coward."

"But...you're a girl!"

Sif's face twisted in a very un-ladylike manner. "That doesn't mean I can't fight!"

Actually, as far as Thor was concerned, that was exactly what it meant. But Thor was the son of wise Odin, who had often instructed his son on the dangers of being inflexible, both on the battlefield and off. Thor was also the pupil of Loki, who said the same thing but with more eye rolling.

Well, alright then.

"Thank you, Sif. You have helped me and I won't forget it."

She shrugged and kicked a rock, trying to hide her smile. "Someone needed to give Arkin the beating he deserved."

Thor nodded but said nothing. A long moment passed as the two awkward children stood across from one another, Thor staring after the others with whom he no longer wished to play. Their offense would be forgotten by tomorrow and they would cheer for Thor, the prince who stood against Arkin, and he would accept it. But for now he was alone again, save brave Sif who fought like a boy.

Chewing at his thumb in hesitation, Thor asked, "Do you want to play with me?"

Sif beamed so radiantly that her smile outshone even the beautiful gold of her hair and the two children dashed off into the garden together.

"You want to be a warrior?"

"I don't see why not. You get to be, and you're no bigger than I am."

"But you're a girl!"

"That's all I hear, over and over, but why does that matter?"

"Because…" Thor began and then realized he had nothing more to say. Whatever reasons there were for keeping women from the battlefield were as yet beyond his ken, so he did not consider they could exist at all. He said nothing more, and the silence fell into the space between them.

Sif and Thor had chased each other through the gardens, tumbling into the grass when Sif proved the faster. They stayed there, sprawled out and watching clouds drift overhead to dissipate at the edge of Asgard beyond their sight.

"I hear that all the time too. 'Because' and 'it's tradition.'" Sif said bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest in childish indignation, "I think they're lying. They just don't want me to, because they think I can't. There really isn't a reason."

Thor believed that tradition was reason enough, he was taught of its importance often. Yet both his father and his tutors had stressed to him about the folly of blindly following old traditions for their sake alone. It hindered change, which was necessary for growth. 'Stagnation,' Loki had called it.

"You're right," Thor said.

Sif turned her head and stared at him. "Really?"

"Yes. There's no reason you can't be a warrior if you're proven capable, and you already proved that to me today. Think of it! Lady Sif, Warrior of Asgard!" Thor cried, tossing his hands into the air.

Absently tucking a lock of hair into her mouth, Sif looked up into the clouds, her eyes drifting as though it was the first time she truly did imagine it. Her mouth twitched upward into a smile, only to fade as reality reasserted itself.

"It doesn't matter, I'm not allowed in warrior school. Punching bullies isn't enough when fighting against a Jotunn."

A Jotunn.

Thor sat up, a sudden idea flushing him with excitement. "I know! You can train with me and Loki!"

Sif looked at Thor as if he were a loon. "Loki?"

"Yes! He's teaching me to focus and alterna…alter-native ways to fight. When he's not busy, that is. But I'm sure he'll be happy to teach you too! It's fun, he's really funny sometimes." Thor stopped and thought about that a minute, then leaned in close and whispered, "You have to get his humor, though."

"Loki's the slinky one, right?"

"Slinky?"

Sif sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees, chewing her hair. It was the most vulnerable Thor had ever seen her, as if she had been carrying a shield forever and was only now lowering it enough for him to peek over. A girl who wanted to be a warrior couldn't afford such a display.

"I don't think it's allowed…"

"It doesn't matter," Thor puffed out his chest and lifted his chin in pride, "Loki answers only to my father! He won't care what the school says."

Sif spat out her hair, choosing to tug on the damp lock instead. "All right."

Thor nodded, problem solved, and slumped back into the grass, arms folded behind his head. "And when I'm King of Asgard, you'll be one of my mightiest warriors, and nobody can say anything against it."

Smiling, Sif flopped back into the grass with him, wriggling into a place of comfort that just happened to be a little closer to the prince.

"Thor?"

"Yes?"

"Can we be friends?"

It was Thor's turn to smile, and he reached over and took Sif's hand, swinging it upward. "Never shall there be two such as we!"

"Thor and Sif, defeaters of bullies, wherever they may hide!" Sif cried.

Their laughter echoed throughout the garden.