He was injured worse then he ever would've admitted, to himself and even more so to her. And she knew, oh, she knew. And she hadn't said a word above a thank you to Frandral and a request for water from her maid. All he did was watch her as her hands busied with tying her strewn hair away, and getting sponges, and bandaging.
Their chambers were warm and quiet and darkened, a few candles lite and the fire burning lowly. It was late, very late, the children thankfully sleeping. That comforted both mother and father. To have them see him so battered would not do.
"Sigyn ..." he began, voice hoarse from the silent and lack of water.
"Don't, Loki," commanded, and she worked at removing armor that had been just scarce of mutilated.
They had been in battle with a tribe of borderlanders, folk who pledged aligence to the Allfather but had been without rule and even more unruly. Thor and his brother had been given such a task by the Asgardian court to tame them, with a small allotment of warriors, amongst them the Warriors Three and Sif. And they'd been gone near a fortnight; no word and message had reached Asgard, they had been left to only worry and surmise.
Until the herald had sounded and they'd returned.
The leather and cloth were worse, but when she finally reached the wounds, sharp breath filled her and widened eyes went glossy.
"Oh, Loki..."
"Now, now, I've been hurt worse then this..." He tried to persuade her, perhaps himself, but she silenced him yet again.
"What have they done to you?"
It remained unanswered, he could not speak. She sank to the floor, just between his knees and worked on. A thousand staves were ripping at his flesh every moment dried, bloodied cloth tore. Breath caught and hissed through bared teeth, when he could not retain the pain anymore, and her little hands shakily moved away, "Forgive me, I am sorry, my love..." quickly upon her tongue.
Loki shushed her lips with his mouth.
It might've cost him more pain then pleasure, though; he wouldn't dwell upon that. The sigh she put into his lips, was enough, oh, enough to ease a million pains. And what seemed like a million days without this warm little soul he was doomed to love beyond every reason he ever would conceive. Strange, he had not realized what thirst he had until she was there, had not understood the terrible longing of missing her.
At last he murmured, "...the only one at fault is myself, being so careless," half into her still parted lips. She sank closer to him.
Shoulders moved as a chuckled hum filled her. "You, careless, my lord? Whatever will the realm say of that?" brushing messy and tousled hair away from his tired face.
"Ah, but you wedded this careless idiot, dear lady."
"Be silenced or I shall be made to use that sleeping spell you taught to me."
Playful mischief, all too akin to his own, faded and seriousness had taken her tone and she began work again. He caught her eyes and wanly chuckled, then coughed, a rasping breath shuddering and racking his frame, a hand coming to cradle his ribs.
"Silly man, now you've hurt yourself..." She laughed in spite of it all, all the hurt and pain she felt for him, and he grimaced.
When, at last, she'd done with washing, tending and bandaging wounds, he was quiet and still, half numbed with exhaustion. Her hands pulled him up and to stand, steadying the tottering and she heard a chuckle, softly breathed into her hair. She'd only half realized his hands and arms just bandaged and far from healed, held her.
"Oh, I missed you," languid lips muttered.
Warmth from the lite fire's burning embers softened the room and blushed across the little Vanhir's skin. Blue eyes looked questioningly up at him, and he did'nt remember them being so very bright. And all in a blink he was wrapped within a warmth, which surpassed the fire's glow, as her little presence swept him into an embrace. All he wished was to drown, and fall into, and breath this moment. Even pain that he'd endured was muted, a little. He hardly could stand alone any longer, chest heaved slowly, then fell from the weight of pain.
"Sleep, darling, you must rest."
Sigyn pulled him slowly, crossing the room and he sank with sighed relief onto the deep mattress. She quietly fluffed pillows and when he'd sank upon the silken sheet and pillows, she murmured, "I must go and ge-"
But words quieted then left, completely, when fingers caught her wrist.
"Don't go, you need rest as well, little one."
Why did all her reasons and will melt when such endearment came to her ears? And, ah, she has missed him, loved him, worried for him, so terribly. And one look into half closed, glowing green eyes, she was lost. She sighed. And sank gently beside him, pulling silk over them.
"Swear to me, Loki, you will be more careful," head nestled . Little fingers tracing just under the cut across his cheek , "If-if I should lose you, if the children shou-" but stopped.
She had not meant to show the fear she'd kept silenced all for the right reasons since he left. There was nothing of weakness in it, only remembrance of old, past things. And, how selfish it was to do so now when he was so bruised and battered, suffered such pangs already.
"If I swore it, would I keep such a promise, little one?"
Eyes blinked, and, just a moment, she felt angered. Then saddened. Then weak, bandaged hands came to gather her closer, and salty tears slipped and slid. Unaware, he was of them, until they wet the tips of his fingers.
"But I swear all I do, will be for you."
"Oh, Loki, I-..."
"And for Narvi."
A soft kiss across her forehead.
"And Vali."
Upon wet cheeks.
"And Nylokis."
At last, her mouth. A murmured profession of love against freckled skin, and he slept.
Spent and torn, he did sleep endless hours, and never once did she stir from him. And home was more felt then seen, as it always is and has been.
Their chambers were warm and quiet and darkened, a few candles lite and the fire burning lowly. It was late, very late, the children thankfully sleeping. That comforted both mother and father. To have them see him so battered would not do.
"Sigyn ..." he began, voice hoarse from the silent and lack of water.
"Don't, Loki," commanded, and she worked at removing armor that had been just scarce of mutilated.
They had been in battle with a tribe of borderlanders, folk who pledged aligence to the Allfather but had been without rule and even more unruly. Thor and his brother had been given such a task by the Asgardian court to tame them, with a small allotment of warriors, amongst them the Warriors Three and Sif. And they'd been gone near a fortnight; no word and message had reached Asgard, they had been left to only worry and surmise.
Until the herald had sounded and they'd returned.
The leather and cloth were worse, but when she finally reached the wounds, sharp breath filled her and widened eyes went glossy.
"Oh, Loki..."
"Now, now, I've been hurt worse then this..." He tried to persuade her, perhaps himself, but she silenced him yet again.
"What have they done to you?"
It remained unanswered, he could not speak. She sank to the floor, just between his knees and worked on. A thousand staves were ripping at his flesh every moment dried, bloodied cloth tore. Breath caught and hissed through bared teeth, when he could not retain the pain anymore, and her little hands shakily moved away, "Forgive me, I am sorry, my love..." quickly upon her tongue.
Loki shushed her lips with his mouth.
It might've cost him more pain then pleasure, though; he wouldn't dwell upon that. The sigh she put into his lips, was enough, oh, enough to ease a million pains. And what seemed like a million days without this warm little soul he was doomed to love beyond every reason he ever would conceive. Strange, he had not realized what thirst he had until she was there, had not understood the terrible longing of missing her.
At last he murmured, "...the only one at fault is myself, being so careless," half into her still parted lips. She sank closer to him.
Shoulders moved as a chuckled hum filled her. "You, careless, my lord? Whatever will the realm say of that?" brushing messy and tousled hair away from his tired face.
"Ah, but you wedded this careless idiot, dear lady."
"Be silenced or I shall be made to use that sleeping spell you taught to me."
Playful mischief, all too akin to his own, faded and seriousness had taken her tone and she began work again. He caught her eyes and wanly chuckled, then coughed, a rasping breath shuddering and racking his frame, a hand coming to cradle his ribs.
"Silly man, now you've hurt yourself..." She laughed in spite of it all, all the hurt and pain she felt for him, and he grimaced.
When, at last, she'd done with washing, tending and bandaging wounds, he was quiet and still, half numbed with exhaustion. Her hands pulled him up and to stand, steadying the tottering and she heard a chuckle, softly breathed into her hair. She'd only half realized his hands and arms just bandaged and far from healed, held her.
"Oh, I missed you," languid lips muttered.
Warmth from the lite fire's burning embers softened the room and blushed across the little Vanhir's skin. Blue eyes looked questioningly up at him, and he did'nt remember them being so very bright. And all in a blink he was wrapped within a warmth, which surpassed the fire's glow, as her little presence swept him into an embrace. All he wished was to drown, and fall into, and breath this moment. Even pain that he'd endured was muted, a little. He hardly could stand alone any longer, chest heaved slowly, then fell from the weight of pain.
"Sleep, darling, you must rest."
Sigyn pulled him slowly, crossing the room and he sank with sighed relief onto the deep mattress. She quietly fluffed pillows and when he'd sank upon the silken sheet and pillows, she murmured, "I must go and ge-"
But words quieted then left, completely, when fingers caught her wrist.
"Don't go, you need rest as well, little one."
Why did all her reasons and will melt when such endearment came to her ears? And, ah, she has missed him, loved him, worried for him, so terribly. And one look into half closed, glowing green eyes, she was lost. She sighed. And sank gently beside him, pulling silk over them.
"Swear to me, Loki, you will be more careful," head nestled . Little fingers tracing just under the cut across his cheek , "If-if I should lose you, if the children shou-" but stopped.
She had not meant to show the fear she'd kept silenced all for the right reasons since he left. There was nothing of weakness in it, only remembrance of old, past things. And, how selfish it was to do so now when he was so bruised and battered, suffered such pangs already.
"If I swore it, would I keep such a promise, little one?"
Eyes blinked, and, just a moment, she felt angered. Then saddened. Then weak, bandaged hands came to gather her closer, and salty tears slipped and slid. Unaware, he was of them, until they wet the tips of his fingers.
"But I swear all I do, will be for you."
"Oh, Loki, I-..."
"And for Narvi."
A soft kiss across her forehead.
"And Vali."
Upon wet cheeks.
"And Nylokis."
At last, her mouth. A murmured profession of love against freckled skin, and he slept.
Spent and torn, he did sleep endless hours, and never once did she stir from him. And home was more felt then seen, as it always is and has been.
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art piece I did for it (here)
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