Thor had always been popular. Big and strong and good-natured and about as bright as your average Labrador, he was a man the Folk could admire without feeling threatened by his intellect. I was just the opposite: no muscles, but too damn smart, and the Folk mistrusted me.

All that changed after Thrym, though. We were now a double-act. People stopped us in the street and demanded their favourite anecdotes. His muscle and my brain were suddenly a winning combination, and I have to admit that I for one felt a certain amount of pressure to duplicate our most recent success.

No, I hadn’t forgotten how much I resented the gods. But being a part of the popular crowd was a new experience, and in spite of everything, I was rather enjoying it. I despised them still, and yet I now had a kind of reflected shine; an unexpected attraction; an aura of celebrity. Doors that would have been closed to me were suddenly flung open. Total strangers gave me gifts. Women offered themselves to me – and with their husbands’ blessing. I found that I could get away with all kinds of misbehaviour for which I would have been condemned before – drunkenness; deception; acts of malicious vandalism; theft; outrageous practical jokes – and when the culprit was revealed, people shook their heads and laughed and said: ‘Oh, that’s so Loki’, and actually seemed to be flattered when they found out I’d taken advantage of them.

This unexpected tolerance even extended to Asgard. There, too, I found my behaviour was suddenly more acceptable. People smiled at my antics, rather than took offence at them. Thor told the story of Sif’s hair as if he’d seen the joke from the start and bellowed with laughter as he did, roaring and clapping me on the back. Bragi reworked the ballad of Idun and her apples so that my character came across more as a victim than a traitor. Even my dalliance with Angie and tales of our monstrous progeny had only served to reinforce my reputation as a sexual athlete. Meanwhile, my twin sons were growing fast – the image of their father now, with my red hair and weird eyes. Not that I felt any more paternal for that. But it kept Sigyn happy, which was all to the good, besides raising my status among the gods.