She leaned into his strength and desperately tried to stop trembling. “You do me far too much honour, my prince. I only tried to protect you. Please, do not praise me for something so simple.” His arms were warm and safe around her, and she wanted nothing more, right now, than to rest in their comfort forever.
Tipping her face up, she pressed her mouth to Loki’s softly, letting her eyes fall closed.
He kissed her, raising one hand to her cheek and tightening the other arm around her. A quiet moan came from deep in his throat and his mind became a muddle of thoughts. Thankfully, thoughts of their battle were quickly becoming replaced by thoughts of Sigyn and only Sigyn: the first time he saw her, nearly plowing over her, their escapades in his chambers, what he wished to do to her next and then the doubt came flooding over him.
He pulled back slightly to look into her eyes and ran his thumb gently near her eye. He smiled sadly and sighed almost soundlessly. “I fear you are not real, dear Sigyn. These two days have been… too much like a dream…” He smiled again and ran his hand through her hair.
“I don’t understand, my lord.” Sigyn frowned. “I am real, I am! I — how can I prove this to you? Surely your waking life is not so terrible that … that the presence of someone as unworthy as I seems a dream?” She bit her lip, looking at him with fear and pity and a whirling, confusing sense of a pit opening up at her feet.
Loki said nothing but hugged her tightly into his chest. He had no answers for her nor any for himself. He felt as if he had been given another chance, but the hope… the hope made him waver. If he had no hope, nothing could be taken from him, none could hurt him. He knew all too well how much hope could kill your soul once it was decidedly terminated by someone or something. He didn’t know if he could handle this feeling right now. He didn’t know much of anything. He closed his eyes, resting his head on hers and held her as tightly as he could.
Sigyn blinked, deeply troubled by Loki’s silence and the way he was clinging to her. Although it was she who was wrapped in his arms as in a cocoon, she felt he was clinging to her for comfort. “Please, my lord,” she whispered, insinuating her arms about his waist, “I will not let you go.”