Loki: Where Mischief Lies

I wish I could make your world want you," Theo said. "Yours too," Loki replied.

Perhaps the future was only inevitable once you began to shape all your actions to fit it.

You know," Loki said, toeing a volume that had tumbled from the pile. "You'd have more room if you kept fewer books." Theo hung his cane on the edge of the grate beside the small fire place and began to stoke the ashes. "I'd rather have books than space.

You're very clever." "I have my moments." "Many of them. You are made of moments.

You're already the villain in everyone's stories, Loki," she replied, dropping her veil over her face. "Why not start playing your part?

I am not weak," Loki said. "I am not your villain, and I am not your fool. I am a protector of my homeland." He thrust his hand in the air. "For Asgard!

Theo looked away first, turning back to the tea-kettle. The firelight pocked and hollowed his face. 'Do you have a preference? Between men and women?' 'I feel equally comfortable as either.' 'No, I don't mean . . . not all of us can change our gender at will.' 'I don't change my gender. I exist as both.' 'You're not . . . That doesn't make sense.' 'It does to me.

He could be the witch. He could be the villain. He could be the trickster, the schemer, the self-serving God of Chaos, prove the mythology books right. Prove them all right in what they had all thought, that he was rotten from the start. He would serve no man but himself, no heart but his own. That would be his choice. He could be the witch. Be the witch, and know everything.

Perhaps you could find something more accurate. You could call yourselves the Society where Hospitality is Ignored Totally. Or, for short—

Loki didn't know what to say. He knew what it was to be cast out and unwanted and taunted for the fabric you were stitched from. To want to find strength and pride in the things that made you you in spite of the world telling you that you should hide them. It was a particular kind of dissonance that was hard to understand until your ears rang with it.

The man gave him an appraising up and down. "You look like a witch." Loki looked down at himself. He'd forgone the glamoured clothes he'd been wearing and purchased an actual suit on the way here to save energy — all black, complete with a tiny dark pin through the tie and the highest-heeled boots that Paxton's had for men — disappointingly quite low. "Thank you." "Witches are girls." "Does that make it less of a compliment?

Who says I want a place in the court of a king who hits himself in the face with his own hammer?" "That was one time!" "And yet it's burnt in our hearts forever.

No one gets to decide who you are.

the rules would never be the same. Darkness moves in a different way than the light. It is always there before the light. It has to be faster, and smarter, and stealthier.

In my defence, I was left unsupervised.

It's nice..." Theo repeated, his thumb skimming the rim of his teacup. "To know that there's somewhere out there in the cosmos where people like me don't have to be afraid.

Do you have a preference? Between men and women?" "I feel equally comfortable as either." "No, I don't mean... not all of us can change our gender at will." "I don't change my gender. I exist as both." "You're not... That doesn't make sense." "It does to me." "Well, all hail Asgard, then.

Earth is so determined to make everything that's hard for a man doubly hard for a woman.

Is he afraid of me?" Frigga smiled. "Such heavy questions." "They shouldn't be.

His own heart always twisted no matter how high he raised his chin in defiance.

It wasn’t the best strategy for dealing with emotions, but it was his strategy.

I've never met anyone who didn't know who Shakespeare was. So he was a poet, sort of, but he also wrote the most frequently performed plays in the history of performed plays, and there have to be a certain number of syllables in every line, and at the ends of all of them — the plays, not the lines — the lovers either marry or they end up dead." "Isn't that how all love stories end?" Loki asked. "Well, I think history does have less extreme examples.

Darkness moves in a different way than the light. It is always there before the light. It has to be faster, and smarter, and stealthier. Loki was not his father. He was not his brother, or his mother. He was Amora, and she had been led away in chains and banished to Midgard. He had to be smarter and stealthier than she had been. He had to learn everything he could, and never let on how much he knew. He did not feel like a prince. He may never be king. He wasn't made to be a soldier, and he wasn't certain if he wanted to be a villain. He wasn't certain if he had any say in that matter. The only thing he knew for certain was that he was powerful. Powerful enough to end the world.

You had decided I was not to be trusted, that I was slippery and cruel and wily, because of a lot of old stories you had read about me? How disappointed you must have been when it was me who showed up instead of my brother with sunshine spurting out of his ass.

He knew what it was to be cast out and unwanted and taunted for the fabric you were stitched from. To want to find strength and pride in the things that made you you in spite of the world telling you that you should hide them. It was a particular kind of dissonance that was hard to understand until your ears rang with it.

What am I supposed to see in this closet? More skeletons? Don't you humans have a saying about that?

I think we are all capable of things we'd never imagine." Her voice was light but layered as pastry. She knew what it was like, to live with a birthright that felt precarious and fragile.

Loki was convinced everyone loathed the feasts but no one dared say so for fear of appearing small-minded. Being quite confident of the size of his mind-large-and his ability to walk in heels, he was comfortable saying it.

The room was made even smaller by the fact that two walls were stacked to the bottom of the window frame with mismatched books. "You know," Loki said, toeing a volume that had tumbled from the pile. "You'd have more room if you kept fewer books." Theo hung his cane on the edge of the grate beside the small fireplace and began to stoke the ashes. "I'd rather have books than space." "Well, when the floor caves in, don't say I didn't warn you.

It's difficult to be a lady in any professional field, but particularly one no one believes exists. It's amazing the way men find to box you out of even imaginary places.