He wanted to know who she was.

  She had blonde hair, almost white, like tangible sunshine. Dark, sorrowful eyes that glanced at him before flitting away as quickly as a lost daydream. She never talked. She just brought the books, showed each one as he said yes or no, and then was gone, taking the rejected with her, as if she were one of his illusions, one moment real and the next a mere manipulation of the light, never there at all.

  The girl loved books. With some people, you can just tell - the almost reverent way they were held, the way her long, elegant fingers brushed against the worn covers. Some people knows what books really are - in many ways, the key to immortality.

  When she offered some of the books, she looked faintly distasteful and raised an eyebrow minutely if he selected them; with others, and most were these, there was a certain glimmer in her chocolate eyes and the faintest of smiles.

  She had some of the most beautiful smiles he had ever seen. Each one was a blessing, and a thousand times better than the last. Shy ones that accompanied glances, delighted ones at her favourite books, farewell ones that left him remarkably more cheerful as he began on the first of the novels, but with a little twinge of bitterness that she was gone. Smiles that, not to be cliché, made him feel as if the sun was suddenly shining, a sun he hadn't felt for a long time.

  And part of him scorned this. Sentiment? What are you, your weakling of a brother?

  The other part of him wanted to know who she was.

  One day, curiosity got the best of him. Curiosity killed the cat. Then he remembered how he'd always answered his mother's gentle but teasing reprimand - but satisfaction brought it back. "Guard." A voice that spoke with the authority of someone who's used to getting what they want.

  One of the guards shifted, turning to look at him with a look of plain disgust on her face. "What?"

  Loki glowered. He was the rightful king of Asgard, and these guards ought to be in their rightful place, attending to his every whim. Patience. "Who is the girl who brings the books?"

  Another guard answered; a man. "Ela? She's one of the librarians. I'm told she's insane, has crazy fits of some kind. And she's unable to speak."

  "My sister works in the library, and she tells me she has to speak in gestures," the female guard continued. "She prefers to be spoken to in them as well." She made a strange movement with her hand. "Apparently this is a greeting."

  Loki nodded, deep in thought. So her name was Ela. She didn't look insane. "Thank you," he said absent-mindedly.

  Both guards raised an eyebrow at this, glancing at each other, but wisely said nothing.

When the girl came again, Loki attempted the strange movement. She looked a little confused, but then a thought seemed to strike her and she cautiously came over. Her emotions were incredibly easy to read on her face, which would probably make her a terrible liar. She stepped closer, feet very light on the floor as if she would run away at the slightest movement, and crouched down at the sitting god's side. Gently, she moved his hands to form the correct shape.

She nodded, then moved back sharply from him as if to avoid being hurt. She smiled, softly, shyly, then lifted the first of the books from the basket.

The girl was afraid of him. This was only natural, he supposed; he was meant to be the villain, even though he had only been taking what was his. But somehow she was still kind, even after all he had done, and that was very, very rare among people. In fact, that counted to 2 people - her, and his mother.

The next day, she brought a book teaching sign language, and he accepted.