Loki, the lord and master of mischief, must admit that he has never seen a little thing as pretty and devoted as you. Which inevitably causes his ego to inflate and machiavellian ideas to begin to form in his mind.

First he came to you in the form of an old woman, drawn by the curiosity of knowing how far your devotion to him goes. Days later he turned into a dog, watching your every move and sniffing the air to learn your scent. And finally he turned into a helpless child who asked you to teach him things about Loki; of course, without you knowing that this child was the god himself.

“Loki is said to be the father of Hela, Fenrir, and Jörmungandr,” he says in his child form, tugging at your robes in an incredibly innocent way to get your attention. “Isn’t that fantastic? One of his children is a wolf!”

And then you start talking about legends about him; all engraved in your mind like a book. Your eyes sparkle when you talk about him, and damn, Loki loves that look. Your endless devotion to a god who is not loved among the other gods. And it brings out a tingle in his belly that makes him want to laugh.

Loki, in the form of a child, watches as you turn away, choosing some other little animal to make the blót offering on his behalf.

He watches your form from behind, the way a breeze caresses your skin and makes it stand on end. And Loki can't resist it anymore. He just wants to see how surprised your face will be and how you will fall to your knees in front of him when you see that he is Loki.

His form changes; turning into the god. And grabbing your hips, he places his chin on your shoulder; brushing one of his pointed ears against your cheek.

“That one there,” Loki points to a poor sheep. “It’s fine for me, dear human.”