[ Nor do you have a head for raising wolves, he thinks -- his guess, of Faolan's alternate form -- but reminding them both of Loki's wolf-son will do no good for either. That is centuries to the past, besides. ]

Then come to me, lady warrior, and I will throw myself upon your spear. You may slice my head away and display it for all -- see, Loki, murderer. See the one who indulged a fantasy of being a hero, and met his end for it.

Come, Sif. Try me.