“I would not leave you alone to suffer the injustice of living
          without a partner.”

Loki is equal parts hushed with admonition, and 
wounded at such an accusation of recklessness.

         “You’ll not be Loki’s widow for the whole of Asgard still
          ripe with Odin’s hatred to mock.  Let them try and make
          you doubt our bond, and the fact that it is stronger still
          than any mortal threat.  I shall show them better.”  

He kisses the tops of Sigyn’s soft round hands.  

          “My faithful one.  Whatever it may be that Thor has in 
          store for us on this quest to earth, I shall continue to defy fate.”

  Long cold fingers the hue of alabaster glide down 
the front of Loki’s black Gucci, as a charmed smile
dawns on his features. 
    
           “Flattery will get you nowhere,” he declares–while sashaying
            over to his wife and slipping those fingers around her waist, 
            to serenely nuzzle her. 

Send 💙 to put a blanket on my muse.

       “Well hello.”

Mischief turns a fondly amused look on Constancy, 
and instantly opens the warm loamy scented fur to
his wife.  

      “I can’t possibly enjoy this properly without you.”