The Prince of Lies

Some words were good, and some were not. That was easy; there was an infinite number of combinations in which you could arrange them. This word good, this word bad; fine. Loki could use that to his advantage.

But he had never quite gotten the hang of lying.

He'd said as much to Thor once, when they were children, and his brother had laughed. Why? Like words, were so many of them; calling someone's hair golden, a bedtime story, his father hiding the truth of his origins. Where was the difference?

Loki had no idea. So he used them all.