Author's Note: Serious trigger warning for self-harm in this chapter, so please read accordingly.

It's said that no one can hear you scream in space.

He screamed his throat raw, screamed until no sound came out, until he thought he'd lost his voice for good, lost it in the space that surrounded him, only to find himself still screaming later, his voice back, or maybe it'd never left in the first place-

Someone heard Loki scream. And they plucked him out of space.

And now he wishes they'd simply left him there to continue drifting until he died.

He wakes up screaming, screaming in horror and pain so loud that his throat aches, because Thanos was there, the Other was there, and there was such searing pain ripping through every bit of his being, not just pain, agony, sheer blinding agony, and there's no blood because that's not how they operate, they get under his skin and into his mind and they do it all without spilling a drop of his blood and he would admire them if it weren't for the pain and the darkness and then-

And then Thor, shouting at him, shouting at him to look at the destruction, and through the pain of the punches his brother had landed on his face, he realizes, oh gods does he realize what he's done, he'd always known what he was setting out to do but as he glances around at the city, he realizes, and the knowledge of it all cuts deep to his core and-

And there is no going back from that at all-

He stabs Thor and chooses to continue going down the path that leads to his death and the muzzle-

And Sigyn's there, no, how can she be, a creature such as herself does not belong in this darkness and the Other finds her and no no no no not Sigyn please and her scream of pain echoes even in his dream and vibrates in his bones and he can't do anything can't save her no he was the one who led her to this and-

And-

Loki wakes up screaming, the sound vibrating in his mouth as the muzzle muffles it, and he's thrashing and someone's yelling and it's a woman but it's not Sigyn and his chamber is dark-no too dark too dark he needs light because the Other does not dwell in light it's too dark and-

He throws the woman aside roughly and he sees the gold of the healer's robe briefly and she shrieks as she hits the wall, and then the guards are coming in and calling for more and he lashes out and it all passes by in a blur but then there are guards lying scattered on the floor at his feet and some are bleeding and some may be dead and he tears the muzzle off his face, bending the metal and twisting it and screams-

"Where's Sigyn-"

-And another guard tries to approach him but Loki kills him too and the door is open and golden light shines into the darkness of his chamber and the echo of pain is still there in his bones and then-

"Loki!"

He stops, looks in the doorway, and there she is, in a white nightdress, her hair out of its braided bun and flowing freely across her shoulders and the light frames her so beautifully and then he collapses to his knees and he's not screaming, not anymore, but he's muttering under his breath and blood seeps into his breeches and it's still warm and then she's there, leaning down next to him, and without any hesitation she pulls him into an embrace and then says something to another guard.

"Loki," she says, right next to his ear, her voice soothing, and he wonders how she can even bear to be so close to him after this, when he could just as easily hurt her, and he's clinging back to her, fingers digging deeply into her skin, hard enough to draw blood, but she doesn't gasp, doesn't pull away, doesn't stop him. "Loki, listen to me. You need to calm down. Listen to my breathing and do what I do. Breathe with me."

It takes him a second, but then he manages to focus, listens to how she breathes, feels how her chest rises and falls, and he slowly begins to imitate that, taking deep breaths and holding them for a few seconds before letting it out, and soon his body is lax save for the trembling, his heart slows down, and the pain is not entirely gone but he's calm, as calm as he ever can be, and Sigyn's warm and her skin is soft against his and she's whispering calming things in his ear and running a hand through his hair and he sighs, closing his eyes briefly and coming back from his nightmare.

"Loki," she says after a long while, and she pulls away slightly to look at him, to look him in the eyes. He hesitates before meeting her gaze and somehow it surprises him that there's no judgment in her expression, only concern, compassion, kindness, calm, and-

Love?

"You're fine," she says soothingly, then her gaze flickers down and she pauses. She runs a hand along the edge of his mouth and her fingers come away red. She frowns, puts her fingers back to the cuts that he can't even feel, and closes her eyes. Before he can ask what she's doing he feels it, her magic, seeping into his skin and deep into his body and oh, she's powerful, she's just as powerful as he is, her magic is meant for far greater things than simple healing spells because she is a sorceress, not just a healer, and her magic is warm and calming and so different from his own harsh, freezing magic.

She heals his cuts, then the wounds left by the guards who'd managed to hit him, and when it's all said and done a sliver of her magic lingers in his body, warm and comforting, and the pain is no longer there, all he can feel is Sigyn running through his veins and muscles and etching herself into his bones, and he realizes he's not thinking entirely clearly just now but it doesn't matter, doesn't matter at all, because Sigyn doesn't care and she didn't hesitate in coming to him and holding him and-

And damn this woman for being so good and gentle and kind when he does not deserve it, should not want it but does, he so desperately does.

"Loki," she says after a while, after the healing, and he looks at her blankly. Time has passed, he's not sure how much, and he finds himself feeling... numb. As if, after having gone through every gamut of emotion in as short a time as possible, he has nothing left to feel butnothingness. He's on the bed, his breeches are clean, and the bodies are nowhere to be seen. The floor gleams golden and shiny, the blood long since gone. Dawn shines into his chamber, warming it.

Sigyn sits next to him on the bed, still in her white nightdress, her hair still undone. There's no longer any blood on her dress and before he can wonder how she got rid of it, she holds up a small glass bottle with liquid in it.

"You need to rest again," she says, and there's an apologetic note in her tone but Loki knows no matter how sorry she is about it, it still needs done and she'll do it. "If you drink this, it'll help you rest. You don't have to do it, but-" Here she pauses and he stares at her, waiting, and then she takes a deep breath. "But I would very much like for you to drink it. I want you to rest for a while, Loki, and when you wake up I promise I'll be here, and we can talk then. So, please."

Well, how can he refuse that?

Numbly, Loki lays down against the pillows and Sigyn leans forward, opening the bottle and pressing it to his lips. He drinks, barely registering the taste of it, something sweet and cool, before she pulls it away and closes it again. She sets it aside, then looks back at him and brushes his hair out of his face.

"Thank you," she says quietly, handing trailing down his cheek. Absently he leans into her touch, closing his eyes, and then he puts his hand on hers.

"Stay?"

There's a pause before Sigyn moves up to lay on the pillows next to him. The bed is so small there's barely enough room for the both of them on it, but she disregards propriety and presses close to him to keep from hanging off the edge of the mattress. He glances down at her, smiling slightly at the sight of her laying next to him, her hand still in his.

"For as long as you want me to."

"A dangerous promise, my dear," he says slowly, drowsily, and he recognizes the effects of the potion she gave him as they start to take hold, making his limbs heavier and his mind duller as the seconds go by.

"I don't think so," Sigyn says quietly. "There are dangerous promises to make, but I don't believe this is one of them."

He may kiss her hand then, he doesn't know, doesn't really care if he does, because then sleep takes him, and the last thing he's aware of before darkness closes in on him is the warmth of her body next to his and how right the closeness feels.

Loki wakes sometime later, the effects of the sleeping potion still strong, still making him drowsy and heavy headed. The sun is still shining, though not through the windows of his chamber, and he's not certain how long he's slept, only that it was a deep slumber with no dreams, nothing, just peace.

It's been a while since that's happened.

Loki blinks a few times and then rubs his face, trying to wake himself up, and then he notices the lack of heat next to him when he could have sworn he fell asleep with something warm and soft beside him, and then he looks up and Sigyn's sitting on the edge of the bed, looking out the windows, and the expression on her face is so full of longing and sadness that it stops him short, makes him hesitate, because this is the most honest and bare he's seen her since they met. She always wears that mask of kind politeness and calm, except for when she smiles, and even then her smile is tinged with sadness at times and he can't quite figure out why.

Then she seems to sense him staring at her and shifts, turning to look back at him, and the expression is gone. She smiles and he notices that her hair is loosely tied back, a few strands escaping the binding. She's still in her nightdress, though there's a robe over it now, falling down her shoulders, and she's beautiful, and he could get used to seeing her like this, get accustomed to waking up to her in bed next to him and falling asleep to her comforting heat next to him.

"Hello again," she says quietly, moving so she's facing him more easily. "How do you feel?"

He takes a moment to answer, thinking, frowning when he realizes that something happened before he fell asleep, something just beyond his grasp, beyond the fuzziness of his own mind. He glances around the chamber, taking in how clean it looks, realizing Sigyn wouldn't have stayed in her night clothes if something hadn't-

Then he remembers. In vivid detail, the blood seeping through his clothes and pooling on the ground and the Other and Thanos and-

"I'm fine," Loki lies. He keeps his expression carefully calm, not wanting to give her any hint that what he says is anything less than the truth, though perhaps she doesn't expect the truth from him of all people. Still, he's always been magnificent at convincing people he was telling the truth, and it was simply their own fault when they fell for it. "Sore and still tired, but... I'm fine."

Sigyn stares at him for a long moment and he knows he isn't fooling her. "We should talk," she says at length, disregarding his lie, and his heart sinks because that is the last thing he wants to do. For once he wishes she would simply leave, just leave him there and never come back, just so he wouldn't have to explain what happened. "Loki, earlier today you had a slight... I suppose the only word for it is break down. You were screaming in your sleep and the guards called for a healer to come and see to you." She glances away then, guiltily. "I could not make it in time, so Ádísa came here ahead of me. And then you woke up."

She looks up at him then but he can't meet her gaze. "Loki, you were frenzied. You acted as if you were fighting for your life." She leans in and he hates that he can't see any judgment in her expression. Just concern. Just caring. She leans in and touches his hand and he doesn't pull away from her. How can he? "Please, speak to me. I just want to know what happened. That's all. I-" Here she pauses, takes a breath, then continues. "I'm worried. For you."

He stares down at their hands and absently takes hers in his again, rubbing his thumb against the smooth skin. How to explain what happened? He can't, Loki realizes. He can't explain anything.

"It was a nightmare," Loki says at length. "Nothing more."

Sigyn frowns and moves back on to the bed properly, sitting next to him. "Nightmares are powerful things," she says quietly, not moving her hand from his grasp. "Are you certain it was only that, though?"

Loki forces himself to meet her gaze properly. "It was."

After a moment, Sigyn sighs and brushes the few strands of hair back behind her ear. She's quiet for a moment, staring down at the bed, before saying, "I can't help you if you aren't honest with me."

Loki pulls his hand from hers roughly and, ignoring the heaviness of sleep remaining in his limbs, stands up. "I never asked for your help in the first place," he all but growls. "You were pushed on me by others and I had no choice but to accept your presence for however long I'm kept here." He should stop, he realizes, but he can't, because she's trying to find out the one thing that can't ever be found out. She can't know about Thanos, about what lurks outside of the Nine, about what they did to him.

Even if she did find out, even if he did break down and tell her, what could she do? Nothing. He could explain what happened all he liked-how long he drifted in space, where he fell to, who found him, who kept him in darkness and silence and pain until he finally agreed to a mad plan just on the slimmest of chances it would get him free-and it would mean nothing. She wouldn't believe him. Odin wouldn't believe him.

Never trust a liar, even one who was once neverfamily. Or worse, Loki fears, he would tell them, maybe even plead and beg for their protection, but they would not offer it, simply because he isn't family, he is Laufey's son, not Odin's son, and he has committed many crimes in their eyes.

It would mean nothing.

He turns to face her then, taking in her shocked expression and wide eyes with a pang of guilt that he resolutely pushes away. It's better like this, he thinks. "Why should I tell you anything?"

"Because I want to help you," Sigyn says, her voice rough. She gets off the bed and marches around over to him, cheeks flushed with anger. "Because you need help, Loki, because you do not have to go about this alone even if you're stubbornly determined to do so. I was not pushed on you, I came of my own free will-"

"Only because you want to know how I learned your name," Loki hisses. "Why would you care about me, after everything? You only care because I caught your curiousity, and once that's sated, you'll leave."

A silence falls between them briefly and Loki takes in Sigyn's hurt expression, which she doesn't bother trying to cover up. "Do you truly think me so awful as all that?" she asks, her voice quiet. "Do you honestly believe I would simply leave you here after finding out what I want to know?"

"Yes," Loki says, feeling whatever ties they'd begun to form cut clean between them.

Sigyn stares at him. "What in the Nine have I done to make you believe that?"

And that's the thing, Loki thinks, she's done nothing. Everything about her is honest, innocent, and pure. It's impossible that someone like her should exist. In Loki's experience, no one is ever that good. But she can't needle into things she can't ever know, things Loki can't ever tell her, and if he must push her away to ensure this, well...

Something in him falters but Loki keeps on, as he's always done. "And what have you done to make me believe otherwise? Your duty. That is all. You're a healer, doing your duty, tending to the monster marked for death. Did you think us to be friends?"

"Yes," Sigyn says. "I did. Or at least closer than this."

"Then you thought wrong."

There's another tense silence before Sigyn looks away. Realizing her robe is open, she closes it around herself and crosses her arms over her chest, almost protectively. "If you can't tell me what happened, or why you did all this," she begins, "then you could have simply said that. I would have understood."

Loki stares at her, watches her as she gathers a few things and, with another brief glance at him, she leaves. He doesn't turn to watch her as she does so, simply stands there and feels her walk past him and hears the door open and close behind him.

For all that he was so determined to keep her near him, he's ruined that completely. She truly will leave him now, and he'll be back to where he was: Without her, without her warmth, kindness, love.

Loki picks up the small vase of Asgardian wildflowers she set out the day before, holds it briefly, then hurls it at a wall where it shatters, pieces of glass and dying flowers falling to the floor.

He wakes up to the sound of the door opening and he doesn't bother to turn around to look at it, to see who Sigyn sent to replace her in her duty. Night has fallen and his chamber is dark, almost too dark, and he's stayed in bed ever since Sigyn left him. He can't quite find the motivation to move anymore.

The person lights up the few candles scattered around his chamber, washing it in flickering light, and then goes over to the table. Loki keeps his eyes closed, not paying attention, at least not until the person comes up to his bedside.

"Loki?"

His eyes open in surprise as he takes in Sigyn, standing beside his bed, looking down at him in the candlelight. She looks beautiful as always, but the candlelight makes everything softer, dimmer, and it glows off of her in a mesmerizing way. Why was she here? She shouldn't be, she couldn't have been, maybe this was just a dream to torment him, and if so his mind is a very cruel thing indeed.

"Can you manage something to eat?" she asks, her tone polite, and no, she's not a dream, she's truly right there,

He sits up, still staring at her, uncomprehending. She returns his stare before motioning over to the table.

"If you can, please do so."

It's then he realizes that while she may be back professionally, she's not back at all emotionally. She's withdrawn again and irritatingly polite and it's different from how the last few days have been between them, how the day before had been between them, when he'd clung to her and breathed with her and kissed her hand as she laid down next to him and promised to never leave.

He's lost her.

With that knowledge heavy in his heart, Loki stands and goes over to the table without saying anything. He sits down, begins eating his meal, and after a moment Sigyn sits down at her usual place. He wishes she wouldn't, wishes that she'd just go and leave him alone or something, instead of this heavy silence filled with the echoes of their argument earlier, of the words he'd thrown at her and hurt her with.

He could do it, he realizes. He could apologize. He rarely ever apologized in his life and never meant it when he was forced to. But he would mean it this time, would mean it with every fiber of his being, would mean it entirely, for her. He regrets it all-his doubt of her, how he'd panicked and fought to push her away instead of trusting her enough to know that she wouldn't push things if he simply said let it be.

All it would take is a simple "I'm sorry" and maybe, just maybe, she would forgive him and things could go back to how they were.

The words stick in his throat, though, when he opens his mouth to say them. What if she didn't forgive him? Just like Odin, just like Thor, just like everyone else, maybe she had been pushed too far and so would now no longer accept any apology from him, no matter how much he meant it. Or what if she wasn't here by choice anymore, was simply forced to come here because she couldn't find a replacement just yet? What if she was only doing her duty now and no longer cared about him?

What if, what if, what if. Those two words keep him from saying anything, make him look back down resolutely at his plate, makes him choose silence and the evil he does know rather than the evil he doesn't. It would be better to simply leave it be, because if he does apologize and she doesn't accept it, he's not sure how he could recover from that. It was better not to and just wait for her to leave him forever, instead of facing the truth of the matter. This, at least, he is used to.

Loki makes his decision, and the silence grows heavier between them.

When he finishes his meal, Sigyn simply gathers everything up. He doesn't look at her while she does so, doesn't turn to watch her as she leaves, ignores the hope in his heart that she'll say something before she goes.

At the sound of her voice, his heart jumps and his body stills completely. "Remember to blow out the candles before you rest again," she says quietly, politely. "Goodnight."

And then she's gone, the door closing and locking behind her.

Yet again, he's alone. And yet again, it's his own fault.

He was a fool for expecting anything else.

In the morning, he expects a new healer to arrive to begin helping him. He hasn't decided how he's going to act yet; he finds he's lost the motivation to do much of anything once again. Perhaps he'll let the healer do her or his work, won't put up much of a fuss, let things progress smoothly, simply until his execution.

But then, it isn't in his nature to be simple.

He's staring out the window when the door to his cell opens and closes, and he's not ready for this, not at all, but then he hears familiar footsteps and he turns quickly to see Sigyn standing behind him, carrying two plates. She sets them down on the table and glances up at him and gives him the smallest of smiles.

"Good morning," she says, sitting down. "Please eat, if you're able."

He doesn't go over to the table, simply stares at her. "Why are you here?"

She raises an eyebrow at him as she cuts her meat. "Why do you think?"

He pauses to consider. "Because it's your duty."

She chews for a minute, staring at him, before answering. "No."

"Because you made a promise." She struck him as the type to always keep her promises, and she had promised to never leave him.

"No. True, I made a promise, and I always try to keep my promises-" He allows himself a small bit of pride at having guessed right, even as his heart hammers in his chest at where this was all leading. "But if you truly wanted me to leave, I would have."

"You believe I want you here?"

Sigyn is silent a long moment. "I think you must have a very low opinion of yourself, if you think I wouldn't bother with you for any good reason."

Coming from anyone else, that would have been laughable.

"So then," she continues. "Why do you think I'm here?"

Loki thinks on it and when he comes across what he believes to be the answer, he has to pause a moment. Then he says, "Because you want to be."

Sigyn smiles a little and nods. "Because I want to be here. That's right." She motions to his food with her fork. "Your food's getting cold, Loki. You should eat. No more games for now."

Loki sits, a sigh escaping him, the tension leaving his shoulders. He picks at his food in silence, staring down at it, mind reeling. She's here because she wants to be here. That's what she said, that's what she meant, and how else can he take it? Even after everything, she still wants to be here, still wants to be with him, except no, that's not right either, because they aren't like that even though he wishes they could be.

And isn't he a sorry sight, having grown restless and bored and sad without her around? He rejects the thought that he needs her because he does not need anyone or anything, but... perhaps it wouldn't be a lie to acknowledge the fact that he's gotten used to having her around. And it is not a lie to admit that he doesn't want her to leave again.

Loki considers his options. And this time, he chooses the evil he doesn't know.

He looks at Sigyn, waits until she meets his gaze quizzically, and says, "I'm sorry."

Sigyn blinks, the only sign he'll get that she's taken aback, before she smiles and takes his hand in hers. "I know, Loki. And I forgive you." She gives his hand a squeeze before turning back to her breakfast, smile still on her face, and Loki takes in the sight of that.

"So you'll stay?"

She nods. "I will." Then she pauses, her smile faltering. "But, Loki... if all that happens again, you know I have to ask you why. I want to help you. Truly, I do. I can't do that unless I know what's wrong, though."

Loki looks down at their hands, which are still entwined, and knows that while they may have moved past what happened, the reason for it still cannot be spoken of. "Sigyn," he says slowly, carefully. "Please. Trust me when I say that I cannot tell you, and that I have my own reasons for such. And it is not something you can help."

Sigyn stares for a long time, her gaze pondering, before she slowly nods. She's not happy with it, he can tell, but she nods all the same. "I understand. And if the time comes when you are able to speak to me about it... you will, I hope?"

He smiles at her and, for the first time in a long while, begins to feel the first spark of happiness in his chest. "I will." That time will never come, but he knows that if it did, he would. He absolutely would. "I will, dear Lady."

She scoffs lightly, still smiling. "Don't call me Lady. I'm not."

"You ask me to neglect showing you the proper respect?"

Sigyn's still smiling, but something in her expression makes him pause. "I've no aspirations of greatness, Loki," she says. "I'm not a noble lady, not a courtier. I'm simply the daughter of an Einherji who happens to have some gift with magic and became a healer." She shrugs, unbothered. "You can respect me without calling me something I'm not."

"Hmm," Loki says, leaning back in his chair, wondering how far to push this, now that they've returned to their familiarity with one another. How to put it into words, he wonders. Imagine that, his silvertongue failing him when he most needs it, most needs to tell her how much she's won his respect-and that is not an easy task, anymore. It never was, but it goes doubly so now, after everything.

He admires her. He laughs slightly at the realization, catching her attention, but he does not explain his sudden mirth. He admires her, admires her because she's everything he can never be and doesn't want to be, admires her for being his opposite in so many ways and yet so very similar to him, admires her simply for existing, and he wonders that she should have fallen on that side of his feelings instead of the other-hatred, jealousy, envy. The one so many others have fallen into.

He should hate her, but he finds he cannot. How strange a creature he is, how strange they both are.

"How best to show my respect for you then, my dear?"

Sigyn ponders it quietly, finishing her water. "You don't have to," she says at length. "I don't want there to be any... pretense between us. If you start treating me like a noble woman, I'll have to start treating you as a prince."

Loki frowns, and Sigyn smiles in return. "Exactly. So please, let's not. You've told me you respect me, so now I know, and you've no need to repeat it or do anything to prove it. I believe you."

"As you say," Loki replies. "You do not even care to know why?"

"No," Sigyn says. "You have your reasons, and even if I cannot fathom them, I won't ask you to divulge them either." With that, she stands and gathers up their things and goes to hand them off to the guards. Loki watches her as she goes. There's a pattern forming here, he realizes, a way she says things that makes him pause, or an expression on her face that he catches before she hides it away beneath a smile. He wishes he could simply focus on these things until he figures it out, but she comes back and his attention sadly cannot be taken elsewhere.

"I may be late tomorrow evening," Sigyn says lightly as she replaces the broken vase full of herbs with a new one, giving him a brief look. "I have... well, my parents are having a gathering, and I must attend."

"Must you?"

"It's meant for me," Sigyn says, "so unfortunately, yes. The reason for the gathering can't very well not show up herself, can she?"

"She could," Loki says. "It would make everyone leave faster, certainly."

She laughs, shaking her head and giving him a grin. "To have that sort of freedom would be wonderful," she says wistfully, teasingly. "As much as I'd like a quiet evening spent reading, I cannot disobey my parents."

Ah. Yes. Until she was married, her parents still held some sway over her. Not very much, if Loki suspects right-who could ever hold this woman down for long?-but enough so that she's still expected to play along to their rules.

The thought of her marrying someone makes him think of the Einherji, and that effectively ruins his good mood, what little he had of it.

"Is it a betrothal celebration?" Loki asks, his voice tense.

Sigyn stills, gaze on the herbs, before pulling her hands back to lay at her sides. "No," she says flatly. "My name day is approaching."

He senses no lie in her words, and yet he knows he's struck a nerve somehow. Sigyn stares hard at him, frowning, a look in her eye like she's trying to figure something out.

"Why do you ask?" she finally says. She's giving him a chance to tell the truth, to be open to her, and Loki clasps his hands together to keep them from trembling.

"I merely wondered if the Einherji I saw with you in the corridor has made his offer yet," Loki says, his voice failing at being light, unbothered. He is bothered. He is deeply bothered by this, by all of it, because she belongs to him and he is hers and no one, nothing, should ever come between that.

Sigyn glances away to the table before sitting down stiffly. "He did that a while ago," she says quietly.

Of course he had. "And did you accept?" Loki asks, already knowing the answer.

"I did."

"You don't sound pleased."

She traces something on the surface of the table, thinking. "He wouldn't be my first choice for a husband," she says finally. "He isn't... awful, but he is far more interested in me than I am in him." She shrugs. "I tolerate him. But I would prefer to feel far more than mere tolerance towards my husband."

This openness takes Loki aback, slightly. Up until now, while she's trusted him in a way not many others have done before her, she's never talked openly about her own life. Not to him. A part of him wants to take advantage of this, make her give breath to all her secrets so he can store them away, hoard them until he has use for them later, just like he used to.

He pushes that urge aside, though not completely. He does intend to keep everything she says in mind. But it will be only what she tells him freely, and nothing else.

"Can you not simply call it off?"

"No," Sigyn sighs, rubbing her forehead. "It's complicated. I-I would very much prefer to leave it alone for now, please. This... this place is sort of like an escape for me, in a way, and bringing these matters up here feels wrong. I would rather we not speak of it again. Not in here."

Loki blinks slowly, tilts his head, before nodding. How strange that what's a prison to him has become a sanctuary for her.

And if that's so, then what is he to her? Is he just as important?

"Thank you," Sigyn says quietly, then she takes a deep breath, recomposes herself, and smiles. "So. What shall we read today?"

Loki allows her to change the subject, to put her mask back into place, because after what's happened between them-the hours he spent sick to his stomach because he was convinced he'd pushed her away for good, the night spent fearing he'd never see her again-he doesn't want to push his remaining luck, however much it is. Not for now, at least. She may tell him in her own time. She may not. Loki will simply have to be content with that and, most terrifying of all, trust her to come to him when she's ready.

And until then, he'll be planning how to best take care of the Einherji.

Loki paces in his chamber the night of Sigyn's name day celebration-naturally it comes on a beautiful, sunny day in Asgard. Anything else would be too out of place for a day celebrating Sigyn, he thinks. She had come in the morning and then for the midday meal, but as the sun begins to set and her usual time of arrival for dinner comes and goes, Loki finds himself growing restless.

He knew she would be gone, of course, she'd told him, but...

Loki shakes his head, laughing ruefully. He's like some lovestruck fool, pacing in anticipation that his true love would show up sometime soon and end his miserable loneliness. Just like an idiot in a song or story. He forces himself to sit down, but then finds himself messing with his hands, his leg twitches, and soon he's back up and pacing.

Briefly, he wonders why Sigyn hasn't sent another healer or at least a servant to bring him his dinner. That starts off a wave of worrying. What if something happened to her? What if she was hurt? Or, more likely, everyone simply forgot about him.

When the door opens a while later, Loki nearly collapses in relief. Then he stops short of falling back into the chair and pretending to be relaxed and simply stares at Sigyn as she comes in.

Her hair is down. That's the first thing he notices, the first thing he'll always notice. It's not tied back into a braid or a bun or anything-it's down, it's flowing freely around her shoulders, slightly curly and thick. As he looks closer he can see that two small silver hair pieces do keep it out of her face, but the rest is free and down with little ornamentation, as befitting an unmarried-betrothed, Loki reminds himself-woman.

He notices everything else after. She's wearing a deep purple gown with a neckline that wasn't scandalously low but skirted that edge, and she wasn't wearing a drape over her shoulders to cover herself, either. Her sleeves were made of sheer and thin fabric, and as she walks over to him, the flow behind her slightly.

She's beautiful. Absolutely beautiful, and he wants to tell her that, wants to make certain she knows it, but the tired look in her eyes stops him.

"Are you well?"

She manages a smile and nods. "I am. It was simply a long evening. I got away as soon as I could, though you'll have to accept my apologies for appearing like this. I didn't have the time or energy to change into something simpler."

Loki merely nods, at a loss for words. She sets down one plate of food and then takes her usual seat, sitting down heavily and with a quiet groan.

"You didn't have to come," Loki says, ignoring his food in favour of staring at her instead. "You could have sent another healer, or a servant."

She shakes her head. "This is my duty. And besides, I..." Here she pauses, seems to second guess herself, then shakes her head. "I don't mind doing this."

"You're exhausted."

"I am," she says. "But not enough to miss out on this."

He recalls what she said the previous day about her liking it in this room, and his own realization that it was a peaceful place for her, and lets it go. Truthfully a part of him had been hoping that she would admit to wanting to see him, but perhaps it was better that she didn't.

"Don't rush yourself," she says after a moment. "Take as long as you need. I'm not in any hurry to return home just yet." She takes out her hair pieces as he eats and sets them down on the table, and he stares as her hair falls down over her shoulders. It's so long it goes past her waist, and Loki resists the urge to reach over and run his fingers through it, to entangle his fingers in it and-

Loki looks away to his food and tries to focus his thoughts elsewhere.

"How long have I been here?" he asks suddenly, out of nowhere, and it makes Sigyn look at him sharply in surprise.

"Hm?"

Loki picks at his food, staring at it. It's something that's begun to weigh on his mind for a while, ever since his little accidenta few days before. He's never expected Thor to visit him past those first few days, of course, and he prefers it that way, but as he begun to think about it, Loki realizes that something isn't right. It's taken too long for the Council to gather, for Odin to bring him out to trial, for his death to greet him a second time and perhaps make it permanent this go round. And this makes Loki wonder.

"How long have I been here, in this chamber, Sigyn?"

Sigyn pauses, shifts slightly, and he thinks she's about to lie to him before she says, "A little over a month. Thor saw to you for the first week, and then the duty was handed over to me." Before he can say anything else, she continues. "You're wondering why you're still here?"

He doesn't answer, though that in itself is an answer. Sigyn nods slightly.

"There's been... trouble, elsewhere," Sigyn says. "Thor's had to go to take care of it. And the Allfather has been preoccupied with it as well."

"So I've been forgotten," Loki says, and his voice is oddly calm. Just as it's always been with him and his family. He shouldn't have been surprised.

"No," Sigyn says. "Not forgotten. Truthfully, I think your family took any chance they could find to put off your trial for as long as they could." She stares at him intently. "They don't want to do it, Loki."

"Do they intend to keep me locked up, then?" Loki asks, and if that's their plan, if that's what they want, they are fools. It would be better off to kill him, he thinks. Because he wants it, and because one such as himself cannot be trusted to live long. No telling how soon he'd return to his ways and be a danger to everyone.

Sigyn seems to struggle with the answer for a second. "I don't know," she says at last. "It's not for me to say. I cannot say what the Allfather is thinking."

"But you do feel comfortable saying they don't want to sentence me to death?"

"Yes," Sigyn says. "They mourned for you, Loki. Frigga's eyes were red for months from crying, Thor would stand at the edge of the Bifrost for hours, and the Allfather-"

"Stop," Loki says harshly, and Sigyn does. They stare at each other as Loki clenches his fists and tries to control his anger. "It doesn't matter what they did, after my death. All that matters is what they did before it, and that? That was not enough." Wasn't enough, could never be enough, and what was more, after everything, he does not want their mourning. He doesn't want their tears.

It doesn't change a thing.

"Did you mourn me?"

He gives voice to the question before he can stop himself, and he immediately wants to take it back. He doesn't want to know the answer and yet, he does, he desperately does. He knows he will get nothing but the truth from her, and he wants to hear what it would be in this case.

-We all did-

Sigyn sits back in her chair slowly, studying him, before nodding. "I did."

Loki smirks, feeling a wave of spite come over him. "Did you mean it?"

"As much as I was able to, when I didn't know you," Sigyn says evenly. "Forgive me, but you were nothing more than my Prince back then. We had never met. I only ever saw you from afar, and you... did not notice me."

Another piece fits into place in the mystery that is Sigyn, and Loki feels his smirk fall slowly. She had seen him before that day in the corridor, and for all the times he hadn't so much as glanced at her, one day he did. And that was enough to catch her attention. Centuries of being ignored and then, one day, she wasn't.

Of course she was curious about him, given that. Loki struggles to sift through his memories for a second, trying to remember if he truly never did see her before he returned to Asgard-before he saw her thanks to the Tesseract-and after a while he decides it's true. She never caught his attention.

He feels strangely guilty for it.

Sigyn shifts in her chair and continues. "I mourned for the Prince, for the second son of Odin and Frigga, for Thor's brother and Asgard's Master of Magic. But," she says slowly, "I did not mourn for Loki."

It stings a little, but Loki finds himself glad for her honesty. He would have hated her more for lying. He leans forward, close to her, and she does not move back, just as she never does. "Would you mourn for me now? Would you mourn for the Loki whose acquaintance you've made?"

Something in her expression softens, and the moment becomes far more tense than he thought it would be originally, and he's all too aware of her breathing and the rise and fall of her chest and how the deep purple of the dress looks against her olive skin.

"I would," Sigyn says softly, and there's a hint of something in her tone that makes his breath stop in his throat. "I would mourn for you, Loki, and deeply."

They stay like that for a while, staring at each other, before Loki raises a hand and brings it to her face. Her eyes slowly widen in surprise, but she doesn't move away as he brushes her hair back behind her shoulder, out of her face, and then moves up to tuck it behind her ear. His fingers brush her neck and he resists the urge to smirk when he sees her visibly shudder.

"Thank you, Sigyn."

He doesn't move his hand away, and Sigyn seems too stunned to do anything except stare at him. He moves his hand down her neck, to her almost bare shoulder, to the strap that holds her dress up, savours the feel of her heat against his cool skin and then he lets his hand fall away as he moves back into his chair.

He's quite satisfied with himself when he sees how hard Sigyn's breathing and the nice flush that's risen to her cheeks, takes a moment to appreciate how the flush makes her freckles stand out a bit more. He remembers how Theoric had done just this, the day he saw them both in the corridor, how he had tried to brush her hair back and how she had moved away from his touch.

She hadn't moved away from Loki's touch. Not at all. And Loki was going to relish that fact for a very long time.

"I-" she starts, then clears her throat and shifts in her seat again, rubbing absently at her neck. "You don't need to thank me, Loki."

He waves that off and watches as she slowly recomposes herself. Once she has, Loki begins to speak, his tone light. "So what is this terrible threat that Thor must go run off and destroy?"

Sigyn takes a drink of his water and shakes her head slightly. "The Dark Elves," she says after a moment. "I'm not really privy to the Council meetings, so I can't say anything past that. But it is them."

Loki files that away to think on later, though there isn't much he can do with it. Locked as firmly away behind Gladsheim's walls as he is, the Dark Elves and his once brother are just a tadout of his reach. He can only mildly hope that they don't kill Thor before he gets a chance to.

"If you're done," Sigyn continues quietly, "I should go. It's getting late." She gathers everything up in silence and gives him a small smile before standing up. She turns to leave, stops and then looks back at him. "And if you're cold, I could convince the guards and the Allfather to let you have a firepit in here to help warm the room."

Loki doesn't react save for a slight rise of his brow and a shrug. "I'm fine, for the moment."

Sigyn stares at him, her expression unreadable. She knows his lie, he knows she knows it, but she does not call him out on it. Instead she merely nods and says, "If you're certain."

He is certain. Certain that he can never tell her.

"Goodnight, Loki," Sigyn says quietly. "I'll return in the morning."

"Goodnight," Loki says, watches her leave, then sighs and looks down at his pale hand.

Once, his body had been warm. Odin's lie had worked well, far better than any lie Loki could ever weave; his body was warm, his blood red, his breath visible in the freezing air of Jotunheim. But then he'd fallen drifted wanderedbecame so lost that not even Odin's will could reach him anymore, and so the things that held his work together slowly came undone.

It hadn't been noticeable at first-being tortured did tend to keep one's mind off trivial things like how one's body felt-but then one day he realized his body had become cold, or at least chilled, and he spent the rest of his days with Thanos awaiting the time when his skin would become that horrific blue again and his eyes would be red, not green.

It never came. Odin's spell would be harder to break than that.

He is warmer now than he was with Thanos or on Earth, but it's still cool, cooler than an Aesir should be, cool enough for Sigyn to finally notice-

No. She had noticed a long time ago. It only just now occurred to her that it might mean something more.

Well, she could wonder all she liked. Loki would not tell her the truth, not about this. He would rather tell her the truth about Thanos than he would this, because as much as she likely wouldn't believe him about Thanos, she would believe him about his true parentage, and like so many other Aesir, she would be disgusted by him. Hatred of Jotuns ran deep in Asgard, the hatred ran in their very blood, and Sigyn would be no exception.

Loki stares at his hand, remembering the disastrous day everything changed, remembering the look of his own arm turning that dark, cold blue. Revulsion courses through him, threatening to make his dinner return on him, but he swallows thickly and keeps it down.

After a pause, he reaches into the space he keeps his daggers and pulls one out, looking at it. Then he presses the blade against his palm and slowly drags it across his skin, cutting into it, biting into it, relishing the pain that burns up his arm and makes him hiss slightly, and oh, how relieved he is to see the red begin to drip from the cut, stain the Uru metal of the knife, hide the gleam of the silver underneath the dull shine of the blood, and he watches it drip on the floor for a long time before putting the blade to the top of his forearm and cutting there as well, and again his blood comes out run, and he drags the knife up his arm just to make certain and each time he fears that instead of red, it'll come out blue, Jotun blue, the bright blue their blood is-

At the end of it, Loki's arm is aching with a dull pain and he has several new cuts decorating his skin, almost like Jotun lines, and he looks at the blood on his arm and on his dagger and on the floor before nodding in satisfaction. He's not a monster. At least not visibly. Odin's lie is still firmly in place. He sends his dagger away into the negative space again, uses a face cloth to clean up his arm and stop the bleeding as much as he can, and washes it out before using it to wipe up the blood from the floor.

Then he goes to rest and, strangely, thinks of how disappointed Sigyn will be with him when she comes the next morning and sees the red lines etched into his arm. But it is still better than the truth.

Loki shifts uneasily in his seat as he steals another glance at Sigyn, who is eating her breakfast beside him as normal. Her disappointment is palpable in the very air, making it heavy and tense and, quite frankly, awful. She'd come in early as usual and the look on her face when she saw the cuts almost made him feel guilty. She hadn't said a word, though, simply set down their breakfast, came over, and healed his arm for him.

She then proceeded to go over his entire room, checking under things to see where he was hiding the instrument he used to cut himself. When she didn't find it, she simply looked at him and he had stared back and she sighed, taking the glass vase of flowers out of the room.

Her silence on the matter won't last long. He knows this. He keeps glancing down at his arm, which is now healed completely, not even a scar left to show what happened. Then he glances back at Sigyn, who seems lost in her own thoughts, and hates the waiting for what he knows will come.

Finally, when they're both finished with their meal, Sigyn sits back and looks at him. "You know we need to talk about it," she says, her voice deceivingly calm.

"We don't needto," Loki says, just to be difficult.

Sigyn sighs slowly, brushing some hair out of her face. She's wearing her hair slightly different today; instead of a braided bun, she has it back in a simple braid that reaches down to her waist. She looks beautiful, even if he'd rather have her in her purple dress instead of her plain golden healer robe. Still, he likes to think that maybe he's part of the reason why she's wearing her hair looser today.

He gets the feeling now is not the time to mess with it, though, like he did the night before.

"What did you use to harm yourself with, Loki?"

"Something sharp."

She gives him an unamused look, and Loki smirks back. "We don't need to speak of it. It won't happen again. I was merely checking something."

"Checking to see that you could still bleed?" Sigyn asks, incredulous. Loki thinks on it a moment, gaze drifting elsewhere, before nodding.

"More or less."

Sigyn sighs again, rubbing her face with both her hands. "Why?"

Loki's smirk fades and he can't meet her gaze, not now, so instead he looks to the table. "I have my reasons."

"Loki," Sigyn begins, moving her chair closer to his. "I know we haven't been exactly strict about the healer and patient thing, but in circumstances like these, I need to be your healer, and you need to tell me what's going on so I can help you."

He doesn't answer, doesn't look at her, and after a moment he feels the warmth of her hand on his. He doesn't pull away from her, merely glances down as she gives his hand a squeeze and he holds hers as well.

"Tell me what you want from me," she says softly, leaning in to look at him imploringly.

It takes a moment, but finally he reaches forward with his free hand and puts it on her cheek. She closes her eyes briefly and, if he isn't mistaken, leans into his touch slightly.

"Trust," Loki says. "Last night was not a regular occurrence, at all." He hadn't done it for the pain. That had simply been a happy side effect. He'd done it to make certain Odin's spell still held, and it did, and he would not feel the need to check again. Not before his death. "Trust me when I tell you that it will not happen again."

Sigyn stares at him, then puts her free hand on top of his hand that presses against her cheek. Her hand is a little rough against his, the result of washing them so often as healers must, but he finds the feeling of it far more wonderful than anything else.

"I do trust you, Loki," she says, and he wants to laugh at how stupid a decision that would be had she been anyone else.

He brings her hand up to his face and kisses the back of it, gently, no hesitation even though he knows it's likely a mistake, doing this. Sigyn watches him, a slight blush rising to her cheeks, but she doesn't stop him.

"You are most kind, dear Sigyn," he murmurs against her skin, and she smiles slightly before letting it fall.

"But do you trust me?" Sigyn asks, and the question takes him aback so much he looks up at her in surprise.

"What?"

"I trust you, Loki, we've established that," Sigyn says evenly, "but do you trust me?"

Loki absently rubs the back of her hand with his thumb as he thinks on this. Or rather, he thinks of how to answer. "My trust is not so easy to win, Sigyn," he says at length, partly stalling and partly because he wants her to know this, to know just what she's accomplished where others have failed.

"Neither is mine," Sigyn replies, her tone blankly matter of fact. He finds this hard to believe at first, then after a moment of thought, sees that it might be true. Kindness did not necessarily mean she trusted easily.

It takes him a while, but he finally says, "I trust you, Sigyn."

She studies his face for a moment and he briefly thinks that if she expects to find a hint of his lying in his face, she doesn't know him as well as she thought, but then she glances down to his hands in hers. "You trusted me before I ever came here," she says slowly. She wasn't studying his face for a lie, Loki realizes, but because she was seeing the truth. "I was told you might not welcome me, that you'd try to push me out or even harm me. Or that you'd act indifferent. But you trusted me before I ever set foot in this room."

His skin prickles pleasantly where she runs her fingers against his skin, and the sensation crawls up his arms and down his spine in a shiver. He's watching her carefully, though, knowing where this thread of thought is heading, knowing what she intends to bring up.

"And I never understood why," Sigyn says, and her expression becomes so sad Loki immediately wants to make it go away, do something to make her smile again, and the hint of overwhelming loneliness he sees in her face hits him like a punch to the stomach. Then it's gone, as it always is, as she always sets her mask back up before anyone can notice what she's hiding beneath it. "I suppose I'll never understand it."

And simple as that, he understands. There are two meanings to what she said, the first of course being that she doesn't expect him to explain why he trusts her, why he knew her name, why he glanced at her that day in the corridor when he'd always ignored her before.

But the other meaning is that she simply doesn't expect to be so important to someone, so special, that they'd act this way about her in the first place.

He understands that more than anyone would know.

"Sigyn," he says slowly, then stops, because once again his silvertongue fails him. "You know I have my reasons. And you know I cannot tell you."

"I know," she says, without a hint of bitterness. "And you must know how difficult that is for me."

"I do." Though truthfully, he had only thought about it so far as playing on her curiousity and knowing it would make her irritated. He hadn't quite given it much thought past that. On a whim, he leans forward and kisses her forehead, and she doesn't react at first but then she does, she pushes him back and stands up abruptly and he's blinking, wondering what he's done wrong, when the chamber door opens.

"The Queen is requesting your presence, lady," the guard says, and Sigyn hesitates.

"I cannot leave my patient," Sigyn says firmly, no waver in her voice. "Please give my deepest apologies to the Queen, and explain that due to circumstances beyond my control, I will not be able to leave this chamber for a day, at least."

The guard seems reluctant but, after a moment, nods. "I'll relay this to the Queen."

"Thank you."

Sigyn sighs and relaxes her shoulders when the guard closes the door and shakes her head, sitting back down. She looks at Loki, who is looking at her. "I didn't mean to push you away because of..." she trails off, then shakes her head. "I heard the lock coming undone. That's why I pushed you away."

It takes him a minute to realize she means the lock on the door, then he nods. "I see."

She rubs her arms despite the fact that it's rather warm in the room, the sun shining in through the windows and heating it. Loki finds himself feeling rather frustrated, restless, and desperate to draw attention away from what he just did. "Why do you have to stay here?"

She gives him a look that he can't read before saying, "While I do trust your word that it won't happen again, there are... certain rules I must follow when this sort of thing happens with a patient." She means the cutting. Loki bites back a groan. "One of those rules is observation. So. I'll be here to observe."

"Where will you sleep?" Loki asks suddenly, looking at the small bed that can't hold both of them comfortably through the night.

"They'll have to bring in a mat, I suppose," Sigyn says, waving away his concern.

A while later, after Sigyn sent guards to fetch her some supplies, she approaches him hesitantly. "Loki?"

"What?"

"I..." she trails off before sighing and shaking her head. "The guards have returned with the things I need. But before they can come in, I need to make certain you can't escape or... harm anyone."

Loki glances at her, remembering the feel of the muzzle pressing into his skin. He doesn't know what happened to it after his nightmare. He remembers tearing it off, but that's it. Sigyn never brings it up, either. "I suppose my word won't be enough of a guarantee?"

Sigyn manages a small smile. "I have my orders. I must follow them, in this instance."

Loki stands without further comment, merely looking at her. She motions over to the far wall, opposite the door, by the windows. "Over there," she says quietly, leading Loki over. She presses his back against the wall and he thinks of how much he'd enjoy this if the circumstances were different. Then she puts her hands on both of his wrists and puts them against the cool metal as well, and then-

Loki jumps as he feels her magic forming against his skin, warm and buzzing with energy. Then it's done, and Sigyn eyes him for a moment before nodding and walking off.

"That's it?" Loki says, moving his wrists against the magic. He glances down and sees rings of her magic encircling his wrists and attaching to the wall behind him.

"You may try to break them if you wish," Sigyn says, distracted.

Loki does just that. And finds that he can't. He tries again, sending his magic down to counteract hers, but no matter how hard he pokes and prods and pries at her magic, he can't find the weak spots in it to break the bindings. True, his magic still isn't fully recovered from the time spent elsewhere, from his attempt at death, but something tells Loki that even if he were at full power, he would not be able to break Sigyn's bindings.

He files this information away to think on later and watches the guards carefully as they bring in a mat for Sigyn to sleep on, watches as they eye him nervously and look at the bindings with doubt. They leave and as soon as the door closes, Sigyn's in front of him and breaking her spells with ease.

"It seems your many talents are wasted with your occupation, my dear Lady," Loki comments lightly as he steps away from the wall, away from the windows that he does not wish to look out of anymore.

Sigyn gives him a long look. "I think not. Healing is my talent, the kind of magic I'm best at. Everything else is... well, I saw no point in not learning how to develop it, but I rarely have much use for it."

"You could be a sorceress," Loki presses on. "Not just a healer."

"Just," Sigyn repeats, narrowing her eyes. "I'm quite happy being justa healer, Loki."

He stays silent, unable to really comprehend that. Perhaps once, long ago, he would have been happy simply being Thor's advisor. But all that is very long ago and far from here, where he is now, who he is now. He craves something so much morethan that. He craves to be out from under his once brother's shadow. He craves power. For so long in his life he lacked it, and once he had a taste of it, he wanted more, like a starving orphan given the feast of the gods and gorging himself on it, only to throw it up later because he was unused to such delicacies.

Only now, instead of his body rejecting everything he swallowed, his craving and lust for power has led him to his own death. It was so poetic, Loki thinks with a smirk.

He realizes Sigyn is staring at him and he focuses his thoughts on her again. "Would you not want to be something more?"

She hesitates. It's so little a thing, but of course Loki always notices those, and in it he sees everything: She does. She very much does.

"What would I do with that much power?" she muses, looking away.

"Anything you like."

She gives a quiet laugh, more breath than voice, and focuses on spreading out a blanket over her tiny mat. "While that sounds tempting, I think I'll pass on that. My work is important, and I love it. I've no need of power."

Well, Loki thinks, that makes one of us.

Night falls, and Loki watches Sigyn as she reads by candlelight over at their table. The day passed without incident, as he knew it would, and he's wishing time would slow so she wouldn't have to leave again in the morning. He has gotten usedto having her around, and that scares him more than it should; how could he have latched on to her so quickly? She is a sorceress in more ways than one with how she has magicked her way into his good graces. He should hate her, he should, but he cannot.

Loki watches her, studies her, and finds himself in some kind of peace, through the slight terror she makes him feel. Perhaps that is why the thought of her scares him: He has not known peace in a very long time, and for one woman to bring it to him so willingly and so simply... it couldn't be. It should notbe. There would have to be some other motive behind it. Nothing is ever that simple or that pure or that good.

Still, Loki watches her, because he cannot look away.

Her hair is still in its braid, though strands of it have fallen out and she hasn't bothered to redo it, so now it's slightly messy, and a shawl is wrapped around her shoulders as she reads. The candlelight illuminates her softly, throwing a warm glow on her skin, and she's absolutely beautiful. He wishes to see her like this more often, relaxed and slightly messy and not just the healer but Sigyn, as she is outside of her duty and as the people in her life know her.

"Is there something you need?"

Loki blinks, focuses, and furrows his brow in confusion. "How do you mean?"

Sigyn smiles at him, somewhat teasingly, almost... affectionately. "You've been staring at me quite intently for the past ten minutes."

"Can I not appreciate a beautiful sight when I see one?"

She pauses then smiles again. "Do you say that to all the ladies you wish to woo?"

"Oh, my dear Sigyn, if I wanted to woo you, I would use material far more original than something you would hear from the likes of Fandral."

She laughs, her head tilting back, her voice filling the room. "I'm certain you would," she says after she's done, her voice still carrying a hint of a laugh. "Fandral did try something similar on me once, in the healing rooms. The other healers wouldn't stop teasing me about it for the rest of the day."

Loki frowns briefly, thinking of Fandral going after his Sigyn. "Did you take him up on his offer?"

"No," Sigyn says, looking as if she's about to laugh again. "Why would I? He's a pleasant enough person but I wouldn't take him up on any offer to bed him."

Despite himself, he sees an opening and he wants to poke at it, draw out the secrets she's hiding from it. Loki shifts, clasping his hands together, and quirks an eyebrow at her. "And what sort of person would be enough to entice you?"

She gives him a look like she can't quite believe he asked that, then pauses to consider it. "I don't know," she says at length. "I never truly thought about it."

"Truly?" Loki asks with a knowing smirk, leaning in. "Never?"

She's silent for a long time, picking at the edge of her book, before saying, "I've been betrothed since I was young. Even before we were betrothed, it was just assumed we would marry one day." She shrugs, almost defeatedly. "Therefore, I never gave it much thought. It doesn't do to go thinking about things you can never have."

A heavy silence falls between them until Sigyn stands, blowing out the candles and drawing her robe closed around her. "We should sleep," she says. "It's been a long day."

It hasn't, not truly, but Loki recognizes this for what it is, an attempt to take the focus off of her and embarrassment at having spoken so personal a thought out loud. He allows it, lets her focus somewhere else, and watches as she goes over to her mat. She looks back at him, expectant, and it takes him a moment to realize she's waiting for him to look away so she can take off her robe.

He could argue that he's seen her in her nightdress before and he wouldn't mind seeing it again, but all he does is turn away, listening to the rustle of fabric as she takes it off and then settles underneath the blankets. He lays down and blows out the last candle, a small shiver going down his back at the blinding darkness that falls over the room. Then his eyes adjust and he relaxes, just slightly.

"Loki?"

He shifts to glance back at Sigyn. "Hm?"

She smiles at him, something he can just barely see in the darkness of the room. "Goodnight."

He's silent for a moment, wondering at the almost normality of this all, before quietly saying, "Goodnight, Sigyn."

In the morning, after another night of little to no sleep, Loki watches the dawn break over Asgard as he listens to Sigyn's quiet breathing. This is what his life has become, he supposes; an endless cycle of boredom, broken apart only a few times each day by Sigyn's presence, broken apart only by his own mind sometimes, and he finds it dull and refreshing in equal turns.

It's better than being at the mercy of the Other, of which the creature had none.

There's a shifting from Sigyn and then a sigh, and he waits a few minutes until he hears her sit up with a quiet groan. He waits longer still until he hears her put on her robe, then turns around.

"Good morning," she says, pleasantly surprised. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did," Loki lies. "And yourself?"

"Yes, I was fine," she says, though he sees her rub at the back of her neck absently and wince a little. "Well, I'll get us some breakfast."

He stands, intending to get dressed while she talks to the guards, but he stops when he hears the door open and Sigyn gasp. He turns, tensing like he expects a fight, then stops.

Frigga stands in the doorway.