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Brisingamen
Loki had never gotten along very well with Heimdall. He always felt that the gatekeeper was too smug, looked at him as a lesser creature - it irritated him. Maybe he wasn't the heir, but he was still a prince, and he was still Heimdall's better. For it to be Heimdall who finally dragged him back to his father and to return Brisingamen; his pride ached as much as his body.
He was still seething about it, even as he was confined to his rooms - partially on his father's command, partially because he wasn't in the best of shape after facing Heimdall's 'justice'. One knee twinged when he put weight on it, one shoulder was an ugly shade of purple, and he suspected there was a cracked rib, somewhere, judging by the way his body complained when he moved the wrong way.
Loki was stretched out on a sofa, trying to move as little as possible. He was still in a terrible mood, and to top it off, he was fairly certain he had managed to make Sigyn angry with him - little surprise, since it was her mother's jewelry, after all. She wasn't usually cross with him, but he never quite knew what to do when she was - arguments with Angrboda had always been loud and explosive, shouting and throwing things and raging at one another, never quiet and seething. He knew how to handle that; he didn't know how to take Sigyn's quiet anger.
He was still seething about it, even as he was confined to his rooms - partially on his father's command, partially because he wasn't in the best of shape after facing Heimdall's 'justice'. One knee twinged when he put weight on it, one shoulder was an ugly shade of purple, and he suspected there was a cracked rib, somewhere, judging by the way his body complained when he moved the wrong way.
Loki was stretched out on a sofa, trying to move as little as possible. He was still in a terrible mood, and to top it off, he was fairly certain he had managed to make Sigyn angry with him - little surprise, since it was her mother's jewelry, after all. She wasn't usually cross with him, but he never quite knew what to do when she was - arguments with Angrboda had always been loud and explosive, shouting and throwing things and raging at one another, never quiet and seething. He knew how to handle that; he didn't know how to take Sigyn's quiet anger.
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It was not her nature. It felt unnatural for her to feel such anger towards anyone, especially her own husband. She would not seek revenger in honor of her her mother's name. She would not hurt him, though she supposed she could. What if he let her?
She sank against the door, the metal of her belt scraping against the heavy wood.
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One by one he tried each door, slowly making his way down the hall. When he finally made it as far as the study door and it didn't move, he stopped. He froze for a moment - what was he supposed to say? Apologizing wasn't something he did well, at least not sincerely - and he didn't like lying to Sigyn, not really. It was easier to fight and move on than to give an honest apology.