A/N: 150 words exact.

I just keep drabbling! It's a type of fic I'd never thought I'd write, but I'm kind of enjoying tailoring the word-count and playing around. Hope you enjoy this. I wasn't in a Loki mood for fic this week, but he's never far from my mind. So… ;)

Disclaimer: if Loki belonged to me, do you think I'd be writing fanfic? Seriously?

As a child, he never liked the sun.

The golden summers of Asgard found him in the cool corners of the palace libraries, nimble fingers tracing long lays of knowledge in the pages of sagas older even then the All-Father.

Summer was Thor's hour—days without silence, nights without chill.

The winters were Loki's time, for ambitious ventures followed by repose—long treks across the silver plains of snow, until the sweetness of weariness claimed him and he lay beneath the deep night sky, where stars pinned back the darkness between the realms and snowflakes stung his cheeks with dagger-like kisses.

Then Mother called him in, worried that he would be cold. Worried that he would be afraid of the dark.

And he followed, back to the warm glow of light.

He had never thought that his love of the darkness meant he must hate the light.

Not until now.