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Prisoner.
Captivity had never agreed with Loki, but surviving certainly did. He'd fallen through space for what seemed like an eternity - long enough for the emotion from the display on the Rainbow Bridge to cool, and Loki's natural desire for survival to take over. When the Chitauri finally pulled him from freefall, they'd done things to him - painful, violent things, things that paled in comparison to anything he'd been through before.
But at least he was alive. If you were dead, there was no way things could improve, no way for you to rework your situation. But alive - even tortured and in pain - alive was a chance, alive meant that sooner or later, something would change, and Loki was no stranger to that idea.
Eventually, he gained the chance to strike a bargain with the Chitauri. He would be a king, be free from their torture, and in exchange he would give them Midgard. It didn't matter what he gave up - he only needed to get away, to give the Chitauri something more... imminent to deal with.
That was exactly what he did - he led their forces to Earth, and then let things unravel as they would. It didn't matter that he'd been taken captive again, and it didn't matter by who - it only mattered that it wasn't the Chitauri. Either Midgard's defenders, her "Avengers" would keep him (and defend him; who wouldn't defend their spoils?), or they would send him back to Asgard with Thor - Asgard, where he was disgraced, but he was still a prince.
Maybe he was a prisoner. They certainly made a point of showing him so - the chains at his wrists, the gag, the charm to supress his magic - but at least he was safe. Were anyone to go after a prince of Asgard, even an illegitimate and fallen prince, there would be hell to pay. So while maybe he was in captivity, he would seethe and swallow down his anger, purely to bide his time and wait.
At least this wait was in relative comfort - he was clean, if not dressed to his liking; he was fed, he was given relative peace while he waited. A blank, dull room, but at least he was alive.
But at least he was alive. If you were dead, there was no way things could improve, no way for you to rework your situation. But alive - even tortured and in pain - alive was a chance, alive meant that sooner or later, something would change, and Loki was no stranger to that idea.
Eventually, he gained the chance to strike a bargain with the Chitauri. He would be a king, be free from their torture, and in exchange he would give them Midgard. It didn't matter what he gave up - he only needed to get away, to give the Chitauri something more... imminent to deal with.
That was exactly what he did - he led their forces to Earth, and then let things unravel as they would. It didn't matter that he'd been taken captive again, and it didn't matter by who - it only mattered that it wasn't the Chitauri. Either Midgard's defenders, her "Avengers" would keep him (and defend him; who wouldn't defend their spoils?), or they would send him back to Asgard with Thor - Asgard, where he was disgraced, but he was still a prince.
Maybe he was a prisoner. They certainly made a point of showing him so - the chains at his wrists, the gag, the charm to supress his magic - but at least he was safe. Were anyone to go after a prince of Asgard, even an illegitimate and fallen prince, there would be hell to pay. So while maybe he was in captivity, he would seethe and swallow down his anger, purely to bide his time and wait.
At least this wait was in relative comfort - he was clean, if not dressed to his liking; he was fed, he was given relative peace while he waited. A blank, dull room, but at least he was alive.
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As for Sigyn, she kept mum, keeping to herself and mothering their children as promised. They were growing into young men and it was truly a shame that Loki could not be present to watch them.
When Thor returned to their realm with Loki in tow, Sigyn, forgetting herself, burst into the great hall, kneeling before Odin and asking for permission to see her husband. And, in due time, the wife had been granted permission to see her husband. A guard announced her arrival as she turned the corner and, if Loki would look up, he would see Sigyn standing before him, hands behind her back, flushed and shy and nervous, but never without a flicker of hope in her eyes.
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The only extraordinary kindness he'd been allowed were books (he suspected Frigga had played a part in that; even when he was small, she would bring him books, even if he were in trouble). At present he was curled in a corner, hunched over the book in his lap. He didn't look up at first - the guards' voices usually were nothing interesting, nothing worth responding to - but as soon as the words filtered through, he reacted.
His back went stiff - while he wanted desperately to see a friendly face, he was very nearly ashamed to face Sigyn. He had never been very considerate, and it embarrassed him to think about how little he'd considered how his actions would affect her. He had thought about it - but he'd decided that her own standing as one of the Vanir, their sons' status as - even illegitimately - related to the Allfather, that it would protect them from most of the fall out of his plans.
Loki met her eyes, but only for a second before dropping his gaze to the floor. It was bad enough that she had to suffer the repercussions of being married to him, but to have to see him like this - still too-thin from his time with the Chitauri, still dark and hollow - that was just... unfair. From anyone else, the idea that he was a source of shame would make him angry, full of that bitter rage that had fueled so much of his recent actions - but from her, it just made him marvel at the unfairness of her situation. She'd done nothing wrong, yet here she was, being faced to deal with the shame of her monster of a husband.
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It isn't pity that formed on her face but concern. She had always carried an air of melancholy, an air that had only thickened when Loki left Asgard and entered the void below. She had suffered much, but Loki had suffered even more. Not only could she see it etched over his features, but she could feel it in her very core.
She wanted him to meet her eyes again, and gathered her skirts to kneel in front of him, sitting back on her heels. "Loki, please," Sigyn requested quietly, extending a hand, hovering over his forearm. Would he allow her to reach for him or would he shrink away? She feared that reaction.
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He wanted to apologize to her, apologize for everything he'd done and everything he'd put her through - but even without the gag, he wasn't sure he would be able to; Loki had never been good at apologies.
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With no intentions of leaving any time soon (or until she is called away once more), Sigyn makes herself as comfortable as she could on the floor, shifting her weight so she no longer sits on her feet. She tilts her body slightly, in hopes of catching his lowered gaze, hands folded over her lap, pressing down the light, bronze-flecked fabric of her dress.
"I have missed you," she says honestly. But then again, she always does.
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His restraints made it a bit difficult, but he reached out to touch gently her face, careful of keeping his chains back. The expression in his eyes was definitely hesitant still, but at least he was responding to her now.
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Each clink of the chain pulled at her heartstrings and, with eyes still closed, she frowned. Sigyn lifted a hand and curled hers around his now that she knew he would respond. "There is so much I want to ask you," she sighed, "but I suppose it will all wait until we are able to truly speak again."
Another pause. "The boys have been asking about their father."
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Once she took his hand, Loki gently tugged her towards him, gesturing for her to sit with him on the bench - something about the submission displayed in sitting at his feet bothered him, somehow. He watched her intently, listening carefully to all of her words - this prison was better than the alternative, but he couldn't pretend he didn't miss her company terribly.
The mention of the boys made him bow his head again, shame creeping back. He was good with children, but he had never been especially good with his boys - somehow he'd never felt like a father for them to be proud of, certainly not now. He was looking down at the floor again, but he was still listening; he kept stroking her knuckles with his thumb, making sure she knew she still had his attention even if his eyes were elsewhere.
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Perhaps she should not have mentioned their twins, but they would have wanted her to bring them up in conversation. Parental presence or not, he was still their father and they were still curious to learn of his whereabouts and past indiscretions.
"You are even more damaged than when I last saw you," Sigyn whispered, voice wavering slightly. "You should not have kept me in the dark, my heart, I would have helped you."
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I had to,, he wanted to tell her - he had very little choice in his escape from the Chitauri, and his return in chains had been his first time back in Asgard since the unfortunate incident with the Bifrost. His trick against the Chitauri was risky enough, without trying to involve anyone else or trying to get messages out. They'd been in his mind; it had been all he could do to keep his intentions from their notice, let alone trying anything more complex.
Loki made a soft noise in his throat, just a quiet hum. He gently tugged his arm loose from her grasp and raised it, offering the spot against his chest as best as he could - assuming she ducked his chains to get there.
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Words and confirmations spread through the realm like a disease and she could hear whispers wherever she went, around every corner. It was true that he had done much wrong, but how could they not at least try to understand this pain, this lifetime of being misunderstood and cast aside?
"I do wish I could hear your thoughts," she said finally, closing her eyes for a moment to try to focus on the beat of his heart, as she always did. There it was, right where she last found it.
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'Soon' was the first word, one rune at a time. He paused after that, raising an eyebrow and looking her way again, trying to gauge whether or not she'd understood what he was trying to communicate.
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"Soon," she repeated, nodding. She did purse her lips nervously at that assurance, wondering how long 'soon' truly meant. It was more of a question regarding their fates, she realized quickly, never doubting Loki's abilities to find a solution.
And, in the end, the question was: would they find a solution?
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'Thor', this one said. As best as he could tell, his most likely chance to get that damned gag removed was going to be Thor, whether he liked it or not. Thor was too trusting and too bullheaded to believe in the trouble Loki could cause without a gag; and he had enough authority that he might be able to have the guards remove it.
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Sigyn frowned thoughtfully. Playing to his brother's trust never sat well with her, but it also made Thor an easy target and if she wanted him freed ... She sighed and nodded, understanding. The gag made her uneasier than the prospect of toying with Thor, and she took a quick glance at the contraption before focusing on their hands.
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Settling against him, she simply spread her palm against his, minding the cuffs, linking their fingers together. His hand nearly engulfed hers, but that was no surprise. It had simply been too long since she had held his hand. She felt a swell of pride, learning of his plans before they were put into action.