Chapter 2
"Let me guess… they are classified," ventured the God of Mischief, sounding exhausted in spite the mundanity of his tone.
The librarian, in return, only stared at him from over the edge of her spectacles before lowering her sight back to her keyboard as she continued typing. Loki exhaled an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes; even though he had only been dealing with bureaucracy for as long as he had been castaway in that wretched place, already he had grown beyond sick of it, yearning for the days in which he would have been able to turn to his magic, using it —like he always had— to bend the rules of reality in his favor.
Time did indeed run differently there, he realized as he walked towards the shelf carrying the one and only file to which he had ever been granted access, unable to extract any other without suffering retaliation. Despite feeling like he couldn't have been residing in that place longer than a week, already as he muttered to himself all the wreck he would unravel upon them all were he able to use his powers, he could imagine Mobius' reaction to such a claim: Had he been walking alongside of him, he would have reminded him, "Well, but you can't". Just imagining that hypothetical scenario annoyed him even further.
Once he had caught sight of the file in question, he reached out to grab it; however, his hand never made it to its destination. Just as he reached his hand towards the shelf, a second one grabbed him abruptly by the wrist and, before the God of Mischief had had a second to realize he was being intercepted in the first place, his arm had been twisted into a painful contortion and pressed against his back. Having been caught off guard, he couldn't keep himself from grunting painfully as he was shoved against the shelves. A moment later, nevertheless, he was exhaling an amused —slightly strained— chuckle.
"It was never in the Asgardian nature to like me very much," he commented in a whisper, his boastful way of showing his attacker he had already identified her without having set eyes on her. His little jibe, however, only earned him an aching twist of his arm, a very clear warning, and so he was forced to grunt against gritted teeth.
"I swear, if this is just another of your deceits..." Sigyn threatened him in a whisper.
"Let me guess... you'll kill me? Not the first time I've received that threat, oddly enough."
Maintaining a mirthful attitude got him nowhere. The hand keeping his wrist pressed to his back tightened in an attempt to wipe that smug smirk away from his face, for it only angered her more that he insisted on exteriorizing such a nonchalant mannerism. "I don't know what you're talking about," confessed Loki with just a smidge more of seriousness.
"And you swear you have no idea who I am?"
"Haven't the faintest."
Still not necessarily one hundred per cent convinced of his innocence, Sigyn released him from the lock of her grip nonetheless. Almost as though he had perceived his counterpart remained very much en garde, Loki turned around to face her with particular —and intentional— abruptness; just as he had expected, she flinched, not out of fear, but readying herself for a fraction of a second to attack again until she realized his sole intention had been to startle her.
"But you know me… I presume."
After all, he had only witnessed such an ability to anticipate his actions in Thor, who knew him far better than he ever would have cared to admit— that had been the first time, he realized, in which he had thought of his brother since he had borne witness of that projection of him where he confessed having always been fond of him.
"Not you exactly it would seem," answered Sigyn, still eyeing him up and down with distrust, thus retrieving him from his train of thought.
"I see. A mere copy of me, then."
"A variant, you mean" she reminded him.
"I'm sure he was."
”You are."
"I'm—"
His jaw tensed as he pressed his lips together in restrained annoyance and this time, it was her turn to smirk, for she was pleased to confirm she was sufficiently familiar with him to know how to struck a nerve in his every version regardless of which one stood before her. As he turned his gaze towards her, Loki too realized there must have been a universe out there—or a timeline or however they wished to call it— in which Sigyn knew him very well indeed. If the Loki she knew was anything like him at all, he thought, he would have most likely reckoned she knew him far more than he would have liked, for already she seemed far too knowledgable for his liking.
"I don't suppose you'll tell me where I'm supposed to know you from."
"I don't suppose I will, no." He hummed in response, nodding his head comprehensively. "Besides, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Oh, I wouldn't be so quick to underestimate me, I've heard plenty of crazy things before."
"Hm, figures... I suppose when someone over-estimates themselves as you do, everything else must seem like underestimation in comparison."
This time, it was her who reached out a hand, abruptly and unannounced, and it was Loki who reacted instinctively, succumbing to the preventive reflex of grasping at her forearm before exhaling a quick breath to release the tension induced by the sudden rush of adrenaline, having realized he was actually under no threat.
She raised her eyebrows and proceeded to conclude her motion, slowly reaching over with her other hand towards the shelf behind him. After having extracted a file, she pressed it to the Prince's chest, revealing that had been her only intention all along.
"See what I mean?" she said in reference to his tendency of overestimating himself to the point of being in a constantly defensive state.
Glaring daggers at her, Loki brought a hand down to the files she was pressing upon his chest, offering a tight, obviously sarcastic smile of gratitude.
"Perhaps you'll answer me this," he added on second thought. "assuming the— Sacred Timeline…" He rolled his eyes as he called it so. "is right, I should have died without having ever met you."
"So?"
"So who are you?"
"I'm an asset."
"Is that what you call yourself because you refuse to accept the fact you're nothing but a variant?"
Immediately surrendering to the instinct of physical retaliation, much to her misfortune, Sigyn tugged at his hold, but having anticipated it, Loki only t tightened his grasp around her forearm, which he still had not released. He grinned triumphantly, which only displeased her further and made her try to free herself all the more enthusiastically.
"Ooh…" he teased. "Does every version of myself get under your skin so effortlessly or do I just have a natural talent for it?"
It was only after she had ceased to struggle, although she continued to glare menacingly at her companion, that Loki released her at last. Alas, he recalled Mobius' words —"if looks could kill"— and he pretended he hadn't just repeated them to himself as he stared back into her eyes, most likely in a different way.
"I was removed from my timeline, same as you," she revealed at last. "Where I'm from I used to know Loki, that is all."
"I'm Loki."
"Another Loki."
"Right."
"A better Loki."
"Yes, that's quite all right, thank you," he snarled.
Sigyn smirked, raising her eyebrows. "Does everyone get under your skin so effortlessly or do I just have a natural talent for it?"
"I didn't go as far as trying to attack you, now did I?"
"Oh, but I can see you're dying to," she challenged him.
"There you go again, assuming you know me so well. It seems the Loki you knew and I are either two separate people or one and the same when it suits you."
"The only difference between the Loki I knew and you is me."
"So I'll take it's your Loki we're after."
"It's not."
"Then what exactly makes you an asset?"
"I've helped the TVA catch variants, it's what I do."
"Your Loki included."
"No."
"Then where is he?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she proceeded to swallow her feelings yet again, glancing away from him momentarily in hopes that he wouldn't notice it. To her misfortune, however, he did, and as was his nature, he did not hesitate to point it out.
"I see," he whispered.
"No, you don't, don't patronize me," she vexedly replied.
"Oh, I wouldn't dare," he sneered in amusement.
They stared at each other in silence. Much as they both tried their hardest to deny it —although each for very different reasons— there was a magnetism to that rivalry, an alluring quality to all that disagreeing. Sigyn had experienced it before —in fact, she had been experiencing it her entire life— and by now, she had grown to resent it, despising the easiness with which she found herself drawn back to him despite being perfectly aware of the fact he wasn't the person she knew. Having such a connection survive parallel realities was all the more infuriating. Loki, on the other hand, hadn't experienced it at all; he was no stranger to chemistry, of course, or general attraction or allure.
This was —as Sigyn would have been able to testify— a very particular connection... then again, being special did not by any means signify that it was also good. If anything, thought the God of Mischief, it made him restless to realize just how curious he was about it, how ready he was to explore it further. By then, his hold over the file she had extracted for him had loosened and she, eager to put an end to that lingering silence, pressed it to his chest a second time, inviting him to take it off her hands once and for all.
"Enjoy your homework."
After having exchanged visibly false smiles, Loki glanced down momentarily, a reflex in order to make sure he had a proper hold of the file as the other released it. In doing so, however, he saw the last thing he had ever expected to see again under these new circumstances. Just as Sigyn was turning to walk away, he grabbed her by the wrist, lifting her hand up between them.
"What's this?"
"My hand."
"Very funny."
"It's a ring. I imagine your timeline has got them as well?"
Loki was no longer in the mood for teasing; in fact, all trace of amusement or smugness had abandoned his features now that he had unexpectedly come across a tether to his life before the TVA, the life he was told he would never be able to re-join, the life that was moving on without him as they spoke. Recognizing the solemnity in his expression, Sigyn dropped her joking demeanor as well.
"What about it?" she asked.
"Where did you get it?"
"None of your business."
"It is my business because this isn't yours," he disagreed, his voice having lowered to a menacing whisper.
"Yes, it is!" she insisted, snatching her hand free.
At the end of the aisle where they stood came poking in the head of the librarian, who extended them a stern frown before she brought her finger up to her lips and shushed them.
"Sh!"
Loki glared at nothingness as he clenched his jaw, very visibly containing a wrathful response to being hushed like a child. Sigyn only cleared her throat and lowered her gaze. The librarian disappeared behind the tall bookcase.
"That ring," the God of Mischief went on in a serener tone, pointing towards the woman's hand. "belongs— belonged…" His throat tensed as he paused for a second. "—That’s my mother's."
"Yes, I'm sure it is, so was this one. Until it was given to me."
"She promised I'd be the only recipient of that ring and I know for a fact I never would have given it away to anyone."
"Well, I suppose the Loki who gave it to me did not think of me as simply 'anyone'."
"Then that Loki is a fool."
"And yet you're the one who got himself caught by the TVA."
When Loki acted in spite of himself, advancing towards her as a reflex and not because he had any genuine intentions to attack, and even though she stepped back the same distance, Sigyn took a defiant stance, glaring at him in a way that almost dared him to try to take that ring away from her. He respected it just as much as he resented it; he stood down.
"I've got work to do. And so do you," she reminded him, glancing at his files and back at his face. "Isn't that the goal?" she added, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Playing by the Time Keepers' rules and working your way up?"
The God of Mischief's eyes narrowed in both annoyance and distrust; on the one hand, he detested to be so easily read... and yet, on the other, the fact that she had been able to do so in the first place —he was known to be many things but never transparent— rendered him suspicious.
"And what is yours?" he called after her as she walked away.
"To stay away from you," she replied without even bothering to turn her head.
"Oh, I look forward to it."
She laughed and this time, having reached the end of the aisle, she turned sideways and looked at him.
"Please... You're nothing without me."
She disappeared behind a bookshelf.