She had, of course, heard of him before. A god of many names, many faces and many, many troubles. Tyr spat his name with bitter anger. Hela sighed it with resigned suffering. The dead cursed and gnawed and writhed it from putrid lips like posion.
Still, as the young boy smiled at her, spouting silly flattery like a hapless young magician weaving his first spell, she could not reconcile the two. Loki he may be, but surly this Loki wasn't what they claimed.