The more he went over his interactions with her variant, the bitter he grew towards them. Little by little, line by line, gesture by gesture, he began to resent his behavior and almost resent the way in which Sigyn's variant gave way to his caprice and necessity to behave, well, like a Loki.
Sigyn was sliding her arms around his waist from behind. Since his arrival, they had barely been able to keep their hands off each other. During such time, Loki had gifted himself —perhaps a rather undeserving gift to begin with— the bliss of thinking not of the past, of making up for what had felt like lost time because, how fortunate had he been that he should come to remember all about the love of his life just as he was beginning to fall in love with her all over again?
He couldn't remember when exactly he had began to be awakened in the middle of the night by guilt weighing on his chest like a dense brick, but ever since he would spend most of the night staring out the window, remembering, not what Sylvie had restored into his consciousness, but everything that had led to that moment.
Sigyn must have been sleeping in (since she was spending all of her time with him doing little else, he could only assume —rightfully so— that she would be taking a short break of her routine for the same reason he had put a pin on his own matter) and would therefore think nothing of the fact that Loki was always wide awake by the time she rose other than he had always been an early riser.
Needless to say that despite how much it sickened him to his stomach to think of how he had behaved with Sigyn's counterpart and all of the realization it brought about, he couldn't seem to be able to bring himself to keep apart from her. As her arms slithered around him, he placed his own on top of them, his concerns melting away momentarily as he felt her press a kiss to the back of his shoulder.
"You look deep in thought."
"I was."
"Care to share?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he continued to stare out the window and at the ocean, taking a deep cleansing breath.
"Or not," she added.
Loki's heart skipped a beat.
"I'm sorry…"
"You understand you'll have to share eventually?"
And he knew he would. He had never been able to keep anything secret from her for long, and even if he were to try and make this an exception, this concerned her, and so it was inevitable that she should become involved.
"Is it something you've seen?" she asked, evidently having changed her mind about giving him any space on the matter anymore. "Is it something that happened to you, did something happen to you?"
Loki wanted to reassure her; there was nothing he wanted more than to bring her peace, to reassure her that he was but a few nights of deep contemplation away from making sense of his own thoughts, which would enable him to come up with a solution to the predicament weighing down on his heart.
For the time being, however, he found himself uninspired as to how to express it. Words failed him, his thoughts were suddenly matted, he knew not where one ended and the next began, even if he had tried to speak up, he would have but stammered.
So he only shook his head.
Sigyn sighed. She didn't seem irritated, however, like by something she'd seen in his eye or something she'd been able to perceive in his aura, she'd been reassurance that his silent, while determined, was not necessarily voluntary.
"I need to go into work today."
For some reason, that relieved him. Not because he wanted to spend any time apart from her —had it been up to him, he wouldn't leave her side for one moment— but because… he wanted her to spend some time away from him. Oddly enough, that was the first thought to make some sense to him in a while.
He drastically came back to his senses.
"When you say work, you mean…?"
It had only just occurred to him that in all the time they had spent together, it had never dawned on him to ask what it was what Sigyn did every day.
"Oh, I'm a historian of sorts," she answered as she reached for a cardigan hanging from the back of a chair that she slid into. "When Asgard was destroyed, its written history and lore was destroyed with it, so I work down at the local library and transcribe everything I remember."
"That is… quite fascinating, actually."
"Why thank you."
Such, Loki thought, was an ideal occupation for her. Sigyn had worked down at the Royal Archives for years, she was an avid reader and a self-taught scholar, it was only logical that she should have been chosen to preserve Asgardian literature. He wouldn't say it out loud because what good was his opinion anyway, but he was actually rather proud of her.
He wished he could have seen her. Images of her scribbling ceaselessly, of her staring out into space as she tried to remember the tales of Odin, his father, his father's father before his time, the mythologies and folklore that Frigga would retell… even the story of his brother. Had it been up to Loki, he would have remained right beside her and just watched her write it all down. But Sigyn had managed so far without him, it was only logical that he should stay behind as she returned to her routine.
Sigyn was smiling. She got on her tiptoes so she could press a swift kiss to Loki's lips. It only made him all the more guilty that he was in such foul a mood while she seemed radiant and ever cheerful.
"Are you all right?"
He must have been doing a much lousier job at concealing his true feelings than he cared to admit.
"I am. Why?"
Turning things back on her was always something Loki was known to do, especially when cornered. Sigyn was, thankfully, rather graceful about it, responding only by eyeing him suspiciously yet dropping the matter at once, instead walking away to fix herself a cup of coffee. A pointless task, one might think, since the substance was hardly potent enough to serve an actual purpose on a metabolism as advanced as was an Asgardian one; however, it had become part of her routine, and something about it, most likely it warmth and familiar flavor made it easier for her to face the upcoming day.
Loki watched her. Everything she did as of lately, he found absolutely mesmerizing, like she had never looked more beautiful when in fact her behavior was perfectly mundane. Perhaps it was that very mundaneness that he found beautiful.
"I'll wait for you," he decided.
"Oh, nonsense, you're coming with me," Sigyn disagreed at once, walking up to him, now carrying a mug of hot coffee with milk in one hand. "I'll be interviewing elders today, it might just be the perfect opportunity to re-introduce you… maybe even pay your brother a visit?" An invitation which, under any other circumstances, would have been irresistible to him.
"Oh. Well, I was, um… To be perfectly candid, I don't… I suppose I'm not quite ready. Not yet anyway."
She was surprised. It showed in the way she pulled away despite having leaned in and even brought a hand up to his chest, and studied him suspiciously yet again, except this time she seemed far from ready to drop the subject so thoughtlessly.
"Not even to see Thor?"
"Especially not to see Thor. As a matter of fact."
Again, she looked surprised. Almost like she was able to tell he was lying. Almost being the key word, fortunately for Loki.
"All right."
"I'm sorry."
"No, no." She shook her head. "If you're not ready, it'd be cruel to… drag you into it. You take your time."
Her understanding, her kindness, her patience, only made guilt weigh all the heavier on his chest.
"I love you," he felt the need to confess, if only to make up for his sins.
Furrowing her brow, perhaps confused, she returned the sentiment. He kissed her.
Loki looked out the window as Sigyn walked away from her home and towards the town.
I am not yours to save… I am so tired of existing according to you… I am so sick of being your damsel in distress or… the Wife of Mischief.
Those words still echoed in Loki's mind, lingering in his subconscious and torturing him day and night, even as he watched a different version of her walk away and fade into the horizon.