Loki: Where Mischief Lies

by Mackenzi Lee

He was baffled when Odin had not been delighted and proud as he expected, but rather so enraged Loki had feared his father might strike him. Instead, Loki was sent to his chambers to sit in isolation,

explained that it would be best if he did not use the magic he could feel vibrating through his bones, but instead dedicated himself to becoming a warrior like his brother. It would be best, she had said, for his future.

while Loki’s only skill seemed to be turning the mead in his brother’s goblet into slugs once he began to drink, and then back into wine when he spat it out.

this is so Loki of him.

He wanted to sit beside her, but somehow that felt too presumptuous, a bold assumption that he was interesting enough for her to want around.

“Asgardians don’t want their princes to be magicians. It’s not the sort of power they value.”

“I mean, yes, she is. But my father doesn’t want me to study magic.”

“You’re not a soldier,” she said. “You’re a magician. And someone ought to teach you how to be one.”

Loki and Amora had knit themselves into an inseparable duo that the servants whispered about and the courtiers disapproved of.

me and who?

He didn’t want to share Amora with his brother. He didn’t want to share her with anyone.

mAN?!

She was all his in a way no one had ever been. No one had ever wanted to be.