#pumped to watch those matches and i might give the men's chamber a try

[biancabelairs]

hearing the women's chamber was the best out of the two and that rhea vs nia ruled. today, i won

[sidrisa-blog]

Power and Magic

Read it here on AO3

Pairings: Loki x Reader and the lightest Sif X Thor

Chapter: 11/104 Hope

Warnings: the usual: sex, death, and violence with light smatterings of misogynoir

Summary: The princes come with their exalted Father arriving amidst a hail of pomp and pageantry all parties would rather forgo. This is war, where men die, their blood purchasing land and peace until it's time for more men and more blood. But your mother adheres to the old rules of hearth and hospitality. The Lords of Asgard must be given their due despite the grim business precipitating their arrival. It is too bad they don't deserve it. There is nothing to recommend him, Loki, Prince of Asgard. He is rude and cold and childish. You try to find some merit in him. You find none. Exactly none. But maybe, after trial and tribulation,

You will.

He paces his rooms, a caged animal, every minute that passes with no word of you is another minute spent in Hel. He hasn’t heard from anyone in his punishment, not Frigga or Thor, he can’t even get the servants to tell him what’s happened to you. It drives him mad.

This is ridiculous. He shouldn’t care so much about you, the bloody Horse Girl, that he starts to lose sleep, wondering if you’ve indeed been sent back home.

He thinks like a murderer in his confinement. Figuring out what would happen to you if he was your uncle. Loki wouldn’t kill you right away. That’s foolish. He’d need to figure out some pretense or plan to murder you so it wouldn’t look suspicious. That might might take a few weeks, time enough for him launch a rescue.

He reminds himself that even though others don’t believe it--and precisely because others don’t believe it -- he has honor. And that it’s only his honor and your own that compel him to save your life anyway he can.

It is the honorable thing. That’s it. That’s all.

He won’t let you fall, for honor’s sake. Nothing else.

A week later, Frigga returns to a room nigh destroyed by a restless prince. “My son, what has happened?” she feigns surprise. Yes it’s cruel to keep him in the dark so long but she considers it her own punishment.

You should never lie to your mother, especially about being in love.

Loki doesn’t answer, bolting past her to sprint down the halls to the infirmary wing.

Frigga smiles as she watches him run.

**

The door to your room is open. He calls for you but you don’t answer, instead he sees a little girl crying on your empty bed in your empty room.

“Who are you? Why are you crying girl?” He barks. She’s young, and she’s new. She doesn’t look like one of your nurses, she’s dressed as a servant instead.

“She’s gone.” The girl answers through her tears muffled into the pillow.

Loki’s heart, in one of those times he allows himself to remember he has one, stops dead.

“She’s gone and she’s never coming back!”

It makes sense. It’s why Frigga kept him in the dark for a week. She couldn’t face him.

No. He refuses to believe… He’s only been locked away for a week, you can’t be dead yet. He has time, he remembers, you can still be saved.

He will save you.

“No.”

“Yes!” The girl wails, persistent in her sorrow.  “Manmae is dead. And she’s never coming back!”

The fight and the fear drain from him so quickly he physically deflates. The tension in his shoulders snaps like a frayed rope cut and all the air escapes from his chest in the heaviest sigh. He’s pretty sure you don’t have a child and if you did, you definitely would have mentioned it by now.

Still, something's familiar about what the she said...

“What did you say girl?”

The crying child finally pulls her head from the pillows. She looks like you, he thinks. Has the look of your people, dark brown skin with hair in neat little braids capped with colorful beads and shells. They clink together when she wipes her eyes with her hands.

“My...my Lord? I’m sorry.” She rises and starts to smooth the bed clothes. “Please don’t tell Mistress Aleene. She’ll scold me.”

“Stop!” He yells and the girl freezes in place, hands hovering over your pillow to fluff it. “What did you just say? Who is dead?”

“Manmae...err...it means ‘mother’ in my homeland.”

“And where is your homeland?”

“South..t-the low countries.”

“And how did your mother die?”

The girl blubbers with such a direct question, fat tears sliding down apple cheeks that have seen too many of them.

“Killed.” Her breath hitches. “I barely escaped.”

He presses the girl with hard questions. Not his finest moment, tormenting a child, but he has to be sure. “From where did you escape?”

She blinks, she doesn’t understand.

Loki almost screams with frustration. “Were you in your house? Were you out? Where!?”

“Oh! I was in the palace. Manmae worked in the palace.”

“And how did you escape?”

Her face brightens immediately. “That’s easy. My Princess saved me.”

**

Your new room is a palace within a palace, far nicer than anything you’re used to. Your only request was a large westerly window that you can sit in and soak up the sunsets but Frigga found you something with windows that spanned the walls, bracketed by cushioned sills deep enough to sleep in.

You have a bathing chamber that looks carved out of a mountain of ivory marble with iron pipes that pump in hot water from huge heated cisterns below. Your vanity is topped with fancy oils and soaps and perfumes and your closet is filled with too many clothes you don’t own that you’ll never wear.

Lady Frigga has been too kind to you in all this, perhaps to disguise the fact that every time you ask after Loki she waves off your concern by simply telling you to wait.

Well you’re done waiting. It’s been a week. You are finished with waiting!

You mean to find him. And if you have to beg Odin’s mercy to let him go--well you just hope Loki won’t be there to see it.  

You bend to pull on your boots flexing your legs. They’re stronger yes, but a few steps still tire you. It doesn’t matter, you mean to find him!

You search through a cloud of silks to find something decent to wear until you kick a chest in the bottom of your wardrobe. Inside you find your black leather armor, hidden from view to ostensibly spare you the memory of the last night you were in them.

You reach to pull them on and your fingers slide through a tear in the chest, just under the swell of your left breast, big enough to fit your balled fist through. These are the holes, still crusty with blood, from when Fa’Rey took her blade and...

You scratch her from your memory. And Fa’Dan! You need to find Loki and you can’t get distracted by--

There’s a knock at your door, timid and tentative until it strengthens into a constant rapping.

“What in the bloody nine realms--!”

The door opens and a girl walks in, a girl you know. Suddenly the bloody holes in your armor don’t matter any more. Fa’Dan and his thrice damned daughter disappear from memory. The pain in your legs is a distant throb and the pain in your heart is supplanted by joy.

This is the girl you saved.

“Se’risa!”

“Princess!”

She runs, arms stretched toward you and wide open, her beads clicking as she flies into your arms wailing. “You’re alive! Princess you’re alive!”

You knew this girl. You knew her mother. You knew her father and her brothers. Se’risa was always sweet, always curtsied so cutely. Her mother made your favorite pastries, made sure Hava packed them in your gear for whenever you went out with the Cavalry. Now she’s here, and you feel a hole in you somewhere, well up and seal closed.

Full.

“Se’risa. How?”

“The filly gets a foal, and now the stables are full.”

Loki. He leans in your doorway as though without a single care, like his imprisonment meant nothing to him. He casts himself in ice, holds himself aloof, lying with every part of him, concealing the terror he felt for you. He won’t tell you how he paced the floor wearing scuffs into the marble. He won't tell you the dread he felt for the few agonizing moments he thought you were dead. Those were the grave secrets, unknowable even under threat of death.

“I found her, crying. It was so pathetic reminded me of you.” He lies more. He knew the moment he realized she was one of your countrywomen that he would restore her to you. “ A match well made don't you think?

You want to sigh and roll your eyes, but can only smile.

“Se’risa, how did you get here?”

“I listened. You told me to run for the Servant's corridor. I did. And I followed it outside. Then I found a road and I walked for a very long time. Nice people found me and they brought me here. I clean chamber pots and sweep hearths. If they were yours, I'd be happy.”

She holds tight to you, and for a young girl her grip is strong. But you pull free of her and kiss her forehead. “You will stay with me now, okay?”

Se’risa nods knocking loose her last few tears, jangling her beaded braids. The Prince will never understand just how much he’s given you. Se’risa is more than a familiar face, she’s hope. This girl is a kingdom unto herself, your kingdom. And Loki told you nothing’s yours unless you can defend it. So you’ll defend this girl will everything you are until one day you can give her her home back.

And in so doing, reclaim yours.

Se’risa is hope, the very word means ‘hope’ in your language. There’s hope in your heart now, it makes it feel light, feel joy.

It makes it very easy for you to do this.

You cross your room towards him, until you’re there before him.  But he takes a step back, you're after the dagger of course. Why else would you be so close?

“I don't think so Princess, that trick won't twice.”

“No trick,” you say before you kneel.

Hand over your heart, eyes closed, you dip all the way to the floor until your knees touch the marble.

“My Lord Loki. Please accept my humblest gratitude.”

You kneel. He expects--he doesn’t know what he expects but it wasn’t this. You kneel, give him the gratitude he thought your stubborn pride would always deny him. But here you are, bowed before him because you want to be. Not because you were forced, or tricked, or obligated or honor bound or frightened into it.

But because you want to.

“The horse girl humbles herself. Why?” When he calls you names there’s a teasing lilt to his tone. Light and musical, you can tell he’s intentionally being a bastard.

That’s gone from his voice, it’s flat and heavy. Weighed down by something that pulls you down with him--you don’t know where you’re going. And you don’t care.

“You saved my life, you restored Se’risa to me. It is the least I could do.”

You forget about that little girl in the room when his hand settles under your chin and lifts. Two of his fingers is all it takes for you to rise back to your feet, your two gazes meeting, clashing--just like they did the night you met. Something breaks in his heart, shatters it. Maybe it’s a lock or a cage of ice, but whatever it is, your eyes breaks it.

“No Princess, that is not the least--”

You’ll never be able to remember who did the least the most.. All you know now is the touch of his lips against yours and nothing else. You’re clueless and thoughtless, mind unable to process anything but how close he is, how strong he feels against you. How much you love it.

He thinks your hair smells sweet, you smell sweet, not like the heady flowery perfumes the other ladies drench on themselves hoping to attract mates like bees, but something subtle that he can't name but he assuredly wants. You. All of you.

“Princess? Uhh...are you...should I...um…”

Se’risa. Now you remember her.

You release him, wobbling a bit. It’s not your legs that are weak now but your head. Standing for too long makes you a bit dizzy but you’re sure your lightheadedness has nothing to do with that. But his hands find your arm and keep you upright. You weren't going to fall, but he made sure you didn’t anyway.

‘Don’t let her fall.’ He thinks.

“Thank you,” you repeat. “You have no idea what this means.”

You have a smile and a voice. When it’s not screaming or shouting at him, when it’s not threatening to geld him--Hel even when it is --it’s pleasant. He wants to hear you say his name with that voice.

“So easy to please with such a simple serving girl.” The bastard is back, the moment's done. He is sorry for its loss but he is breathless with notion of making more . “I shall have them bring hay for the both of you.”

“My Lady is not a horse and neither am I!” Se’risa leaps to your defense, pushing between Loki and you-quite done with all this... yuck!  She only reaches his elbow, but she stands as though she towers over him.

“Calm yourself little foal,” He pats her head but she bats his hand away. “My, with such a fierce protector what need have you of me Princess?”

You're not ready to answer that question seriously, so you give the semi-serious answer. “I need my dagger back.”

He melts a little bit, just a little, his smile warm enough to soften some of his ice.

“Then you’ll just have to take it from me. I look forward to your attempts.”

“I bet you do.”

“Oh, I do.”

OH MY GOD Se’RISAAAAAAAAAAA

I don’t believe in the original concept of this fic, she was planned. But here she is and she’s one of my better strokes of genius. I love her so very very much

[mastcomm]

For Novak Djokovic, the Goal Is Still Titles, but ‘More Than That’

MONTE CARLO — Outside an office building not far from where Novak Djokovic resides, a Lamborghini was parked on a street lined with luxury hotels, restaurants and sports cars.

Inside, Novak Djokovic was talking about hard times.

“Ten Deutsche marks, I remember 10 Deutsche marks,” said Djokovic, the 16-time Grand Slam singles title winner who went into the Australian Open this week as the reigning champion.

As he spoke, he slammed his hand on a conference room table, just as his father, Srdjan, had once slammed a 10-mark bill on the kitchen table of their cramped rented apartment in Belgrade.

This was during the violent breakup of the former Yugoslavia in the 1990s. Djokovic does not remember precisely when, but he remembers his father’s words.

“Ten Deutsche marks was like 10 dollars, and my father said, ‘This is all we have,’” Djokovic said. “And he said that more than ever we have to stick together and go through this together and figure out the way. That was a very powerful and very impactful moment in my growth, my life, all of our lives.”

By 1999, Djokovic and his family had found a way for him to leave Serbia at age 12 for Niki Pilic’s tennis academy in Munich, the start of his journey toward the top of his sport.

Djokovic has shown remarkable resilience and drive, spurred by the memories of growing up in the midst of conflict, privation and uncertainty.

But at age 32, after earning more than $100 million in prize money and hundreds of millions more from sponsorships, he is in a very different time and place.

He explained that he and his wife, Jelena, and their children — a 5-year-old son, Stefan, and a 2-year-old daughter, Tara — start their mornings in Monaco by greeting the day on the balcony of their apartment, which overlooks the Mediterranean Sea.

“We wake up early, because I take my son to school, so we prepare our juices in the morning in the kitchen, and then we go out and watch the sunrise, and then we do our hugging session and singing session,” he said. “And we do a little yoga.”

Djokovic chuckled, a bit self-consciously. But he believes the private ritual reflects how he has changed. In his view, he is no longer playing tennis to prove himself but to improve himself and the lives of those around him.

For the first 15 minutes of an interview last month, there was no need (or opportunity) to ask a question. Djokovic, who rarely gives in-depth interviews about his personal life but speaks in long, sometimes meandering paragraphs, shook hands firmly, took a seat and started riffing, apologizing intermittently for the monologue.

“Everybody talks about trophies, achievements, records, history, and I’m really blessed to be in a position to be one of the guys in the mix and in the midst of these kinds of conversations,” he said. “I am really grateful for the career I’ve had, but for me right now, tennis is more a platform than an obsession about individual achievement.”

And yet the tennis world is perhaps more focused than ever on individual achievement as Djokovic, Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal jostle for history and championships. Collectively, they have dominated men’s tennis for a decade.

Nadal has won 19 Grand Slam singles titles, just behind Federer’s 20, the record for men. Djokovic’s 16 rank him third, and he has a good chance for more if he continues to move, compete and serve as well as he has recently. He is nearly one year younger than Nadal, and six years younger than Federer.

Djokovic, like Nadal, is playing down the title race even if, unlike Nadal, he has made it clear that Federer’s career record is an objective. He recognizes that the numbers and his staying power present an opportunity.

“I don’t see tennis anymore only as I’m going to go there, and I’m going to win the trophy, do everything possible to achieve that, and once that’s done it’s done, and that’s the only reason I’m playing,” he said. “I’ve finished with that kind of chapter in my life. I guess through the evolution of my life I came to the stage where it’s more than that.”

He and Jelena want to grow their family foundation, which is focused on early childhood education. They want to finish a book on wellness and help answer the questions Djokovic says he gets about how to live a purposeful, healthy life.

Djokovic at this stage is speaking similarly to another champion when he was in his early 30s: Andre Agassi, the once-tormented American who found new energy for tennis after founding a school in Las Vegas, his home city.

Djokovic was never as conflicted about tennis as Agassi. But Agassi, now 49, helped coach Djokovic during one of the most difficult periods of his career — 2017 and early 2018 — before an elbow operation finally helped him shake free of a funk. Agassi, who never had a formal contract with Djokovic, has said he thought his friend was too slow to have surgery. But the two remain close, and Djokovic said he sees parallels in their lives and careers.

“He was one of the very influential people in my life, who actually allowed me to come to all of these realizations even more,” Djokovic said. He added: “If you see things from a larger perspective, it’s quite interestingly the same in terms of understanding what the next step in life is. I will eternally be grateful to him.”

Two of the current Big Three are relatively easy to label. Nadal is the fighter, the supreme in-the-moment competitor. Federer is the pleaser, preternaturally elegant on the move or at rest. But Djokovic, less beloved on a global scale than his rivals, has been harder to pin down. Perhaps his description should spring from that elusiveness. Call him the searcher.

“He is a searcher,” said Marian Vajda, his longtime coach and confidant. “It seems that the things are perfect, but suddenly he wants to change in some way.”

Through the years, Djokovic has switched to a gluten-free and dairy-free diet, practiced meditation and visualization and tinkered repeatedly — and not always successfully — with his service motion. He has used a personal hyperbaric chamber during tournaments. Most recently, he split with an analytics consultant in part because Goran Ivanisevic, one of Djokovic’s coaches, believed they needed get to back to “more basics” and not rely on “all these numbers.”

But Djokovic is committed to experimentation.

“There are so many athletes, so many tennis players, who play so well in practice, and then it comes to the match, and it’s a different story,” he said. “You might have a good match or two or a good month or two, but how can you consistently be there? That tonic or formula of success is like a holy grail for any athlete. How can I really optimize everything and be in a balanced state of mind, body and soul every season for the rest of my career and really be able to peak when I need to?

“I think the No. 1 requirement is constant desire and open-mindedness to master and improve and evolve yourself in every aspect. I know Roger has been talking about it, and it’s something I feel most top athletes of all sports agree on. Stagnation is regression.”

For Vajda and for Djokovic, the restlessness helps explain the pull of the philosophical. Djokovic is trying to channel some of his innate fire and temper it, too.

“There were the years when he was very impatient,” Vajda said. “All the time, he was saying, ‘When, when, when am I going to be No. 1?’ And I would say, ‘When it arrives, just be patient but we have to do certain things in a proper way in order to get there.’”

Djokovic can be a challenging pupil and a challenging personality. On the court, there are still times when he seems most effectively and evidently fueled by anger.

But there is also an emerging side, reflected in his marathon victory over Federer in last year’s Wimbledon final, when he saved two match points and prevailed in a five-set duel that for all its brilliant points of light and fight, felt above all like a battle of concentration with neither player wanting to break out of his tennis-sensei bubble to give the other any emotional fuel.

It was a strikingly different vibe from that of another epic final: Djokovic’s 2012 Australian Open victory over Nadal, which was full of fiery fist pumps, bulging eyes and grinding rallies that, after nearly six hours, left neither man able to stand at the awards ceremony.

“The Australian Open was an out-of-body experience,” Djokovic said. “But in Wimbledon I was more conscious of what was happening to me.”

It has been just about an hour since the interview began, and there is a knock on the door. Djokovic gets up as the door opens to reveal a slightly stooped figure wearing a sweatshirt with the hood up: Agassi.

He is in Monte Carlo, advising another player, Grigor Dimitrov, and they have the conference room booked for a team meeting.

Agassi and Djokovic do a double take.

“Do you believe in coincidences?” Djokovic says in a booming voice.

“Never, never, never,” Agassi says.

They exchange an embrace and news, including an update on Agassi’s son with his wife, Steffi Graf — Jaden, a talented pitcher who has committed to play baseball at the University of Southern California.

“The Yankees were in the house the other day, so the draft is always possible,” Agassi says. “It’s scary, different than tennis in that you don’t eat what you kill. The next level has to believe in you to get a chance.”

Agassi makes it clear he still believes in Djokovic.

“Life’s not done, and I understand everybody is still playing,” Agassi says of the Big Three. “But he’ll be recognized as the best.”

Djokovic says it helps to have a clear purpose, even if it is a different purpose.

“I had to find my reason,” Agassi says. “It’s so important to have that reason.”

Agassi soon excuses himself, and Djokovic begins speaking about parenthood. He knows he will not be slamming a 10-euro note on his kitchen table. He wants his children to know about his childhood but not to be burdened by it.

“I definitely don’t want my kids to go, ‘Oh my God. Here he goes again, saying I didn’t have this, I never had that, and you have everything,’” he says. “I don’t want that because my kids are born in this family in this way and these circumstances, and I respect that.”

There is soon another knock on the door. This time it is Dimitrov. They need the room, and Djokovic needs to pick up Stefan at school.

Down the stairs, into the street and past the Lamborghini, Djokovic breaks into a run, dodging traffic with a backpack slung over one shoulder.

from WordPress https://mastcomm.com/sport/for-novak-djokovic-the-goal-is-still-titles-but-more-than-that/

[biofunmy]

For Novak Djokovic, the Goal Is Still Titles, but ‘More Than That’

MONTE CARLO — Outside an office building not far from where Novak Djokovic resides, a Lamborghini was parked on a street lined with luxury hotels, restaurants and sports cars.

Inside, Novak Djokovic was talking about hard times.

“Ten Deutsche marks, I remember 10 Deutsche marks,” said Djokovic, the 16-time Grand Slam singles title winner who went into the Australian Open this week as the reigning champion.

As he spoke, he slammed his hand on a conference room table, just as his father, Srdjan, had once slammed a 10-mark bill on the kitchen table of their cramped rented apartment in Belgrade.

This was during the violent breakup of the former Yugoslavia in the 1990s. Djokovic does not remember precisely when, but he remembers his father’s words.

“Ten Deutsche marks was like 10 dollars, and my father said, ‘This is all we have,’” Djokovic said. “And he said that more than ever we have to stick together and go through this together and figure out the way. That was a very powerful and very impactful moment in my growth, my life, all of our lives.”

By 1999, Djokovic and his family had found a way for him to leave Serbia at age 12 for Niki Pilic’s tennis academy in Munich, the start of his journey toward the top of his sport.

Djokovic has shown remarkable resilience and drive, spurred by the memories of growing up in the midst of conflict, privation and uncertainty.

But at age 32, after earning more than $100 million in prize money and hundreds of millions more from sponsorships, he is in a very different time and place.

He explained that he and his wife, Jelena, and their children — a 5-year-old son, Stefan, and a 2-year-old daughter, Tara — start their mornings in Monaco by greeting the day on the balcony of their apartment, which overlooks the Mediterranean Sea.

“We wake up early, because I take my son to school, so we prepare our juices in the morning in the kitchen, and then we go out and watch the sunrise, and then we do our hugging session and singing session,” he said. “And we do a little yoga.”

Djokovic chuckled, a bit self-consciously. But he believes the private ritual reflects how he has changed. In his view, he is no longer playing tennis to prove himself but to improve himself and the lives of those around him.

For the first 15 minutes of an interview last month, there was no need (or opportunity) to ask a question. Djokovic, who rarely gives in-depth interviews about his personal life but speaks in long, sometimes meandering paragraphs, shook hands firmly, took a seat and started riffing, apologizing intermittently for the monologue.

“Everybody talks about trophies, achievements, records, history, and I’m really blessed to be in a position to be one of the guys in the mix and in the midst of these kinds of conversations,” he said. “I am really grateful for the career I’ve had, but for me right now, tennis is more a platform than an obsession about individual achievement.”

And yet the tennis world is perhaps more focused than ever on individual achievement as Djokovic, Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal jostle for history and championships. Collectively, they have dominated men’s tennis for a decade.

Nadal has won 19 Grand Slam singles titles, just behind Federer’s 20, the record for men. Djokovic’s 16 rank him third, and he has a good chance for more if he continues to move, compete and serve as well as he has recently. He is nearly one year younger than Nadal, and six years younger than Federer.

Djokovic, like Nadal, is playing down the title race even if, unlike Nadal, he has made it clear that Federer’s career record is an objective. He recognizes that the numbers and his staying power present an opportunity.

“I don’t see tennis anymore only as I’m going to go there, and I’m going to win the trophy, do everything possible to achieve that, and once that’s done it’s done, and that’s the only reason I’m playing,” he said. “I’ve finished with that kind of chapter in my life. I guess through the evolution of my life I came to the stage where it’s more than that.”

He and Jelena want to grow their family foundation, which is focused on early childhood education. They want to finish a book on wellness and help answer the questions Djokovic says he gets about how to live a purposeful, healthy life.

Djokovic at this stage is speaking similarly to another champion when he was in his early 30s: Andre Agassi, the once-tormented American who found new energy for tennis after founding a school in Las Vegas, his home city.

Djokovic was never as conflicted about tennis as Agassi. But Agassi, now 49, helped coach Djokovic during one of the most difficult periods of his career — 2017 and early 2018 — before an elbow operation finally helped him shake free of a funk. Agassi, who never had a formal contract with Djokovic, has said he thought his friend was too slow to have surgery. But the two remain close, and Djokovic said he sees parallels in their lives and careers.

“He was one of the very influential people in my life, who actually allowed me to come to all of these realizations even more,” Djokovic said. He added: “If you see things from a larger perspective, it’s quite interestingly the same in terms of understanding what the next step in life is. I will eternally be grateful to him.”

Two of the current Big Three are relatively easy to label. Nadal is the fighter, the supreme in-the-moment competitor. Federer is the pleaser, preternaturally elegant on the move or at rest. But Djokovic, less beloved on a global scale than his rivals, has been harder to pin down. Perhaps his description should spring from that elusiveness. Call him the searcher.

“He is a searcher,” said Marian Vajda, his longtime coach and confidant. “It seems that the things are perfect, but suddenly he wants to change in some way.”

Through the years, Djokovic has switched to a gluten-free and dairy-free diet, practiced meditation and visualization and tinkered repeatedly — and not always successfully — with his service motion. He has used a personal hyperbaric chamber during tournaments. Most recently, he split with an analytics consultant in part because Goran Ivanisevic, one of Djokovic’s coaches, believed they needed get to back to “more basics” and not rely on “all these numbers.”

But Djokovic is committed to experimentation.

“There are so many athletes, so many tennis players, who play so well in practice, and then it comes to the match, and it’s a different story,” he said. “You might have a good match or two or a good month or two, but how can you consistently be there? That tonic or formula of success is like a holy grail for any athlete. How can I really optimize everything and be in a balanced state of mind, body and soul every season for the rest of my career and really be able to peak when I need to?

“I think the No. 1 requirement is constant desire and open-mindedness to master and improve and evolve yourself in every aspect. I know Roger has been talking about it, and it’s something I feel most top athletes of all sports agree on. Stagnation is regression.”

For Vajda and for Djokovic, the restlessness helps explain the pull of the philosophical. Djokovic is trying to channel some of his innate fire and temper it, too.

“There were the years when he was very impatient,” Vajda said. “All the time, he was saying, ‘When, when, when am I going to be No. 1?’ And I would say, ‘When it arrives, just be patient but we have to do certain things in a proper way in order to get there.’”

Djokovic can be a challenging pupil and a challenging personality. On the court, there are still times when he seems most effectively and evidently fueled by anger.

But there is also an emerging side, reflected in his marathon victory over Federer in last year’s Wimbledon final, when he saved two match points and prevailed in a five-set duel that for all its brilliant points of light and fight, felt above all like a battle of concentration with neither player wanting to break out of his tennis-sensei bubble to give the other any emotional fuel.

It was a strikingly different vibe from that of another epic final: Djokovic’s 2012 Australian Open victory over Nadal, which was full of fiery fist pumps, bulging eyes and grinding rallies that, after nearly six hours, left neither man able to stand at the awards ceremony.

“The Australian Open was an out-of-body experience,” Djokovic said. “But in Wimbledon I was more conscious of what was happening to me.”

It has been just about an hour since the interview began, and there is a knock on the door. Djokovic gets up as the door opens to reveal a slightly stooped figure wearing a sweatshirt with the hood up: Agassi.

He is in Monte Carlo, advising another player, Grigor Dimitrov, and they have the conference room booked for a team meeting.

Agassi and Djokovic do a double take.

“Do you believe in coincidences?” Djokovic says in a booming voice.

“Never, never, never,” Agassi says.

They exchange an embrace and news, including an update on Agassi’s son with his wife, Steffi Graf — Jaden, a talented pitcher who has committed to play baseball at the University of Southern California.

“The Yankees were in the house the other day, so the draft is always possible,” Agassi says. “It’s scary, different than tennis in that you don’t eat what you kill. The next level has to believe in you to get a chance.”

Agassi makes it clear he still believes in Djokovic.

“Life’s not done, and I understand everybody is still playing,” Agassi says of the Big Three. “But he’ll be recognized as the best.”

Djokovic says it helps to have a clear purpose, even if it is a different purpose.

“I had to find my reason,” Agassi says. “It’s so important to have that reason.”

Agassi soon excuses himself, and Djokovic begins speaking about parenthood. He knows he will not be slamming a 10-euro note on his kitchen table. He wants his children to know about his childhood but not to be burdened by it.

“I definitely don’t want my kids to go, ‘Oh my God. Here he goes again, saying I didn’t have this, I never had that, and you have everything,’” he says. “I don’t want that because my kids are born in this family in this way and these circumstances, and I respect that.”

There is soon another knock on the door. This time it is Dimitrov. They need the room, and Djokovic needs to pick up Stefan at school.

Down the stairs, into the street and past the Lamborghini, Djokovic breaks into a run, dodging traffic with a backpack slung over one shoulder.

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