Loki had always preferred the library to any other chamber in Asgard. It was quiet here—peaceful. The rustle of pages and the faint scent of parchment were a welcome reprieve from the noise of the palace. It was his sanctuary, the one place no one dared disturb him.

Until her.

He hadn’t given her much thought when Thor first returned from Midgard with her in tow. She was just another mortal to him—another fragile creature whose lifespan was a blink compared to his. Beautiful, perhaps, but hardly remarkable.

And yet, for the past week, she had been here. Every afternoon. Sitting in the tall window’s alcove, sunlight spilling over her hair, nose buried in some leather-bound tome she could barely carry. She never asked for his company. She never tried to speak to him. She simply… existed there.

In his place.

Today was no different. Loki stepped into the library, a book already in hand, only to find her there again—curled against the glass, feet tucked beneath her, a picture of serenity that somehow grated against him.

He arched a brow, approaching with deliberate steps. "You are aware," he drawled, voice smooth yet laced with irritation, "that you are occupying my seat… are you not?"

Her head lifted slowly, and for the first time, he caught her eyes in full. Midgard eyes. Clear, defiant, and entirely unbothered by his presence.

Interesting.