Sigyn keeps vigil over Loki's body in all weather, through sun, through rain, and all conditions between. She rarely sleeps more than four hours on end, pacing her rest through the day.
When she has pushed herself perhaps too far, she sleeps long, waking one afternoon to the sound of movement in her bathroom. She sits up slowly, reaching for the knife on the bedside table.
And then he steps into the bedroom, hair a mess, recently washed, clothing damp and clinging to his skin, "Oh. Hello. Sorry, I used your bath. I thought it best after that long asleep. They say it's been months."
"Loki..." she says, shocked.
"Yes. In the flesh. And alive."
She vaults from the bed, completely disregarding the fact that she is naked, and collides into his arms, first crying, then laughing, then doing both, her arms around his neck, her face buried in his hair. It smells like him.
"Tell me something only I should know," she says.
"There is a lovely little mark on the inside of your right hip that I only know is there because I've had my mouth between your legs."
She laughs, giddy, and kisses him, "I...I wasn't sure you would choose this. Or that you would make it if you did."
He rests on hand on her hip and cups her chin with his other, "My dear lady, I didn't really have another choice."
"But you've died before."
"And never once been given the option to stay or go. This was...different. And excruciatingly painful."
"You've only been back a few minutes."
"Just long enough for ritual. Then I came here."
"Why are you wearing clothes?" She tugs on the waist of his trousers.
He laughs, "I'll happily remedy that mistake."
But she has already unfastened them and they fall to his feet as he draws her in for another kiss.