Some have called me a god of fire; others have called me a type of Lucifer, a classical trickster figure. Even a spider. I am Loki Laufeyson, brother of Thor, father to a wolf, mother to an eight-legged horse, and the true god of mischief. It all began when Lady Fortune decided to turn her wheel…

My father, Odin, often held war councils to plan and strategise assaults on other realms - these often turned into drunken reveries and parties for all my father's friends, concubines and supporters. Most of the time their graces did not extend to inviting me, but I enjoy appearing uninvited.

The celebrations had already begun when I had entered through one of the side archways. Father Odin and Mother Frigg had long disappeared, leaving his children and their respective friends to drink long into the night. Similar to the Macedonians of old, drinking vast quantities of ale and behaving like wild animals are something Asgardians favour highly. My brother, poorly versed in the all-language that all Asgardians are supposed to know so well, and equally poorly read could drink and eat just about anyone under the table.

"Brother! Come and sit, by me, and, drink with me," Thor said, slurring his words a little. I sat beside him wordlessly. Warmth and sweat were radiating from his body, he smelt like stale beer, star, sweat and pine. Though my brother could be considered one of the greatest idiots known to any history, his warmth radiated from his heart, and his whole being emulated honestly. I had always been jealous of this characteristic, I am not one who can inspire others to be honest nor have trust in me. On the other hand, I'm rather convincing when the needs calls.

I was pulled to Thor's side, and he was whispering thoughts as they came to him, so they were not entirely connected.

"Is Sif not, look at her hair Loki - she's the girl that I want to w- she's beautiful isn't she," he said.

"She does look particularly fertile this evening," I agreed. Thor laughed heartily, so heartily he nearly fell off his chair. Sif, the golden-haired goddess, the ultimate woman of fertility, family, wedlock, marriage, and all those other chains of matrimony. The great woman warrior with hair like flaxen wheat and breasts full of mother's milk that would sag at the first sign of age. She would look uglier than a bull if I shaved her head - ha. That's not a bad idea…though I am more inclined to weave schemes like webs, some childish pranks of my own creation can be particularly scathing.

"More music!" Thor announced, clapping his hands and attempting to stand up. He did quite well, until he looked down.

"Nothing is enough for you Thor, you always want more, more ale, more music, more food, more women," Baldr said, lighting a cigar. I was quite surprised by this comment, Baldr was right. Bold; brave Baldr, lord of all men, the white, and the good, and the lightness of the day, the son any father would want. I hated him, everything that he was, everything that he had been and everything he ever would be. Faultless goodness is dangerous - and my brother considered him a friend.

"Speaking of women, why don't you join the dancers, Sif?" My question did not go down well with the blonde-haired maiden.

"I am a warrior, not an object to be fondled and jeered at!" She stood up abruptly and approached Thor.

"Why won't you dance, Sif? Is the music not pleasing to you? I will dance with you, come and dance with me," he said, as she pulled him away from the table.

"Do you not see Thor, are you eyes so hazed that your own brother has fooled you? He is trying to drive a wedge between us; I can feel it in my bones. Come back to my quarters with me now, you have drunk too much," she said standing closer to him.

"The party has barely started, my brother has only just arrived and he has done nothing but sit by me and be good company, my parents have left it is my responsibility as Thor, Odin son to carry this through. If these dignitaries do not have a good time they will refuse to become allies with my father, I have to make him proud first and foremost. I have to stay."

Quite a fitting speech from my brother I must say, and its result was entirely what I had expected. Sif left, knowing full well by her woman's intuition my plans for gradual destruction of their relationship and others, but lacking the fitting words to turn brother against brother. I had expected more from her, but then again, the night was not over. Thor sat himself down beside me again, and I joined him in a toast. Thor was one of the only Asgardians who would ever offer me a drink. Rarely was a place set for me. I looked around the room as I drank my ale. I wanted to seek out every sin in this room and set it alight. The seven sins would be sought and uncovered one by one, or all together, by the end of the night.

With the taste of yeast on my lips, I was feeling somewhat inspired. I turned my eyes towards my brother and wiped away some foam from the corner of his mouth with my thumb.

"If Sif refuses to dance, then I will," I said. I stood up and transformed my shape, my body shifted into that of a woman. A beautiful woman, no less. I considered this side of my self to be a great strength, for isn't the greatest fury of hell a woman scorned? And am I not one of those women? A goddess, with enough power and prowess to control the room with a swing of my hips, and an arch of an eyebrow.

I danced, at first with the concubines and other women, using their hysterical and frantic energy. I stepped onto the table of the great Odin and Frigg, stalking across it and surveying my kingdom as I went. Drunkards, prostitutes, drug-addled minds, exhibitionists, jades, frauds, gamblers, pock-marked eager teenagers, alcoholics, sodomites, fetishists and fighters all champions of the night sluggishly moving along in this heated room. I would rule them all, stringing out their flaws and secrets and lies one by one. Or all at once. Though all these people had titles of gods and warriors and great lords they were nothing more a sea of weakened faces, going on a fruitless crusade. I danced for them all.

There was one being who, though flawed, still had enough goodness in him, would rise above this sea of wretchedness. Not now, though, Thor was too drunk. I stepped down from my dancing; leaving the partygoers to slither amongst each other until the headaches kicked in and they fell into stupors. Needing more strength, I was once again male, carrying my brother out of the dining hall and across to a quieter room. I laid him down on a couch. His easy mind allowed him to sleep almost instantly, and I was jealous of his ability to silence his mind so rapidly and sleep so peacefully. In Asgard, it is not necessarily custom to sleep in a bed; many people sleep anywhere, on couches, chairs and other pieces of furniture. A bed is generally used for things like…sex.

After leaving Thor to sleep off his stupor, I walked into the path of Sif. Though we said nothing, her eye contact was enough to demonstrate how she felt towards me. My eyes betrayed nothing, though my action the next day would allow her to see how I felt about her too.

When she had fallen asleep, I returned to her room, with a comb in my hand. This comb allowed for soldiers to shave on the battlefield, it was light enough to carry and did not need water. A smirk crept up into the corner of my mouth. I stood in her dark doorway, feeling like a wolf, I approached her as she slept. The blood pounded in my ears, but I, too kept my breathing steady. I leaned over her, and began to slice away at her golden tresses. Soon she would know what it would feel like to be ugly. To not recognise yourself in the mirror. I felt, as I was cutting away at her hair, that I was taking away parts of her pride and her arrogance. My fingers and ears tingled. It felt so good to be bad. I had, just hours before, only intended to put my brother to bed, if I had not run into Sif, she would not have reminded me of my plans. Most of my mischief is not planned, but just as malicious. I knew this would mean war between us, but I did not care. It was only the beginning for me. I stopped when there was nothing left - I thought about shaving her eyebrows too but she turned before I had the opportunity.

Blood tingling away in my veins, suppressing the need to laugh, I left as secretly as I had come.

When I walked into the dining hall the next morning, Thor's rage was pouring out of him. And he was taking it out on the furniture. "That cunning, evil, wicked— he stopped mid-sentence when he had seen that I had entered. He made his feelings known to me quite clearly.

"I REFUSE TO CALL YOU MY BROTHER ANYMORE. I AM ASHAMED OF YOU. WHAT A WEAK-MINDED PERSON YOU ARE. YOU WILL APOLOGISE TO SIF, AND YOU WILL MAKE HER A WIG DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME OR I WILL NEVER SPEAK TO YOU AGAIN. YOU HAVE ANGERED ME ONCE, LOKI. ANGER ME ONCE MORE AND YOU WILL FEEL MY POWER."

"I refuse to apologise," I said coldly. It was true; I did not regret shaving Sif's head. "And you can call me many things, but weak-minded is not one of them! Out of the both of us I am the better brother but purely because I am different, because I am dark I am an outcast in my own family. Go on, go and make your father proud and drink yourself to death!" I was turning to go when Thor addressed me once more.

"I will no longer speak to you brother, I hope you know what you've done."

"No one acknowledges me anyway, no one ever sets me a place at the table, I am never invited, rarely does anyone use my name, and it will be a pleasure to leave you."

Sitting atop one of the towers of Asgard, I felt the heat of the sun on my back. I heard many more noises and pleas as Thor continued to destroy the family home. Flipped tables, overturned vases, holes in the ceilings. He was always remorseful after the fact but during those outbursts, his eyes were white with rage and not many were game to calm him. Arguments like that happened every day between my brother and I, we were purely so different but so similar, and with equally bad tempers. I still did not regret shaving Sif's head, but a small part of me did acknowledge that I had hurt what was precious to Thor. I was angry because it was she who was most precious to him. My brother in an argument would never defend me. I would always be left to stand on my own two feet, with my father picking his favourite son, and my mother occasionally smiling at me in pity. Pity, of all emotions it is the most irritating, but according to most one of the only emotions I deserved. It was in this manner, on one of the towers of Asgard, where I wallowed in my wrath for many hours.

The sun had risen high in the sky and lowered itself again before I approached my brother, who was sitting on the grass, facing a courtyard. It seemed he was looking at a tree that we climbed as children.

"My position has slightly altered," I began. "I will not apologise, but I will make Sif a wig as a compromise. Not for her." Only for you.

"My comments were out of line, brother. My blood was heated to boiling point, like a volcanic eruption. Please forgive me for being such an ass, and saying such hateful things towards you," he said, his voice quieting. We looked at each other, for quite some time, in silence. He seemed troubled, his eyes, usually laughing, were bright with wounds.

"I forgive you. I'm surprised we didn't come to blows. We usually do," I said. "You know how I am more than anyone, Thor. I am addicted to causing disruption, the adrenalin makes me feel so powerful, I am compelled to act this way - I cannot curb my desire to do so. Even if it was to hurt someone you love."

"I forgive you," he said as he put an arm around my shoulder. His outburst before had led him to sweating, so he smelled like an ox.

"I just don't want to end up hurting you, brother," I said, surprised by the tone of my own voice. He went silent for a long time and wouldn't look at me. He appeared to be thinking.

"You will, but I'll always forgive you," he turned his chin towards the setting sun. "Let's chase it, like we did when we were boys, shall we?"