Taking a deep, calming breath Loki willed himself to relax. All was well, there was no danger.
“Please, my dear Sigyn, there is nothing for you to apologize for. My…” he hesitated, wondering how much he should tell her, “my past has made me… on edge and extremely… cautious… when I am…. vulnerable. I am the one who need apologize for my actions. You meant no harm, I’m sure. Please, will you forgive me?”
Her head flew up, eyes enormous. “I … forgive you? I should not have been so bold as to touch you.” Turning her face away and closing her eyes, she whispered, “Only, you looked so *fragile*. So … ” the word sighed out of her, “beautiful.”
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.