Loki knit his eyebrows together and licked his lip, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“Fragile?” he spit out under his breath. What did she mean by fragile?
He was a Prince of Asgard, he was a warrior, a master of magic, his intellect rivaled by very, very few. He had very nearly destroyed not one, but two realms, he led armies, he had survived unspeakable horrors in the Abyss and she thought him… fragile?
“You would ridicule me so early in the morning, Miss Sigyn?” he ran his tongue across his teeth. “There is some breakfast for you by the bed. I have matters of the court to deal with. I will send an attendant to assist you in finding your chambers.”
He turned and walked towards the door.
The abrupt blaze of anger stabbed Sigyn. Too honest, too much, too open … she cursed her tongue, that meant to confess and wounded instead. “No, oh no,” she half-sobbed, “please, my prince, I am sorry!” Utterly heedless for the first time since they had met, she threw herself at his feet, reaching for his hand.
“You have been so kind, forgive me, I took advantage and spoke out of turn,” she babbled, desperate only that he should not leave in anger. Let her never see him again, let her be sent in exile for her temerity, only let him forgive her mistake.
“Please,” Sigyn whispered, starting to cry.
Loki hesitated, confused, so confused by her reaction. He felt her hand grab his, heard her pleading words and wave after wave of doubt, anger, bewilderment, heartache and guilt swept over him. The torrent of emotions left him paralyzed for longer than it should have. He felt his body straining, vibrating, terrified of letting even one drop of this vile mix of feelings out into the open.
It took him a while to gain back control. He let out a ragged sigh of release and shook his head almost imperceptibly. He still had his back to her, her hand holding his. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and looked down at her over his shoulder.
“I shall forgive your transgression only if you forgive my misinterpretation and over-reaction to the perceived slight.”
The tension, the frozen stillness of his body, his silence, cut her to the heart. Sigyn laid her cheek against the back of the hand she held, wishing she could take it all back and wake up again to the day. “There is nothing to forgive; I have already forgotten. Please, may we pretend you have just awakened, and I have just awakened, and start over?”