It is always strange to walk the streets of Paris, so Loki generally prefers not to. Memories of Serrure, the boy who never really was but is still a part of him, haunts him as he makes his way to the hospital. If there had been any other way to recover Sigyn, he would have gladly taken that option instead. But the others are all traveling other realms. Except Nori, who is in no condition to be doing much of anything, much less Sigyn's job. Or tracking her down.
He does not have time for this. But he knows that Sigyn would never have stayed in Paris of her own free will as Asgard imploded. He also knows that she will not be pleased to see him, a fact which already stings and is not going to get better. He runs the tip of his thumb over the inside of his ring finger on his left hand, feeling the absence where his wedding band should be, and wonders if Serrure would have loved her, as well.
Pausing outside the doors to the hospital, he extends his consciousness, searching for her. He quickly locates her unmistakeable presence, the fierce unyielding strength of her, but flickering like a weak pulse. There is no time to waste. He opens a portal and transports immediately to her bedside.
The sight of her stuns him for a moment. She is tiny and fragile and pale. They have strapped her in to the bed, and she fights against the bonds even though she is clearly drugged, her eyes glassy and unseeing and her movements jerky. There are bruises on her arms from what appears to be the injection sites.
His rage is indescribable, it is all he can do to not ignite the building in a blaze of helfire.
She focuses on him and her confusion only grows. "Loki? Will you help me, please?" She asks in Aesir, her voice weak. "Something is wrong."
"Of course I will, m'lady." There is a hollow feeling in his chest as he goes to her and begins unbuckling the straps. "I apologize for my tardiness." Of course, he could not possibly have gotten there any sooner, but that does not stop the sick feeling of failure. What tortures and indignities had she been subjected to at the hands of the mortal physicians?
"The guards will not let me leave and I do not know what they are saying." There is a tremor in her voice. She flexes her fingers as her arm is freed.
"Guards?" He looks up just in time to dodge the attack. Sigyn cries out and shields her face with her free arm. He grabs the guard by the arm and the throat and throws him into the wall. "Asgard will not tolerate this insult!" He declares in French. "You have detained my wife illegally and I will free her."
The other guard stares at him, then at Sigyn. "She has not been released. And attacked a doctor."
"Loki, what are you saying?" Sigyn's voice trembles on the edge of panicked tears. "Who are these people? Where am I? Something terrible has happened." The last bit she says more to herself than to him, lost and afraid.
"We will leave here, now." Loki tells the guard, his voice low and menacing as he strokes Sigyn's hair, trying to soothe her despite the white-hot rage burning in his blood. She calms slightly, and peers up at him with confusion clear in her eyes. "The only question is whether or not you will survive."
He watches as the guard struggles with his conscience for a moment, and then lifts his hands in surrender. Loki hides his relief. It is going to take the rest of the magic he has to transport them back to New York, he has none to waste on subduing thugs. He works quickly to free Sigyn. She assists as best as she can, her fingers fumbling. He realizes they must have dosed her with a staggering amount of sedatives to incapacitate her so thoroughly, and has to fight the urge to kill both guards despite their current cooperation
"Oh, thank the ancestors for you, your highness," Sigyn says, her voice hitching as soon as she is free. "I hate to impose, you have assisted me so much already, but can you help me go home?" She tries to get stand and nearly collapses.
He catches her and holds her close. She stiffens in his arms for just a moment, and then curls her fingers in his shirt and presses her face against his chest. "Of course I will help you, m'lady." He says quietly as he opens a portal.
"You are most kind." She clings to him as they move. He marvels at how small she is, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder. She looms so much greater in his imagination. "I do not know how I will repay you."
"You do not owe me anything, Lady Sigyn." He pauses just a moment outside the portal and breathes her in. Under the smell of antiseptic and sedatives is the smell of her. Warm honey and paper and ink and the forest when it is covered in first snow. "You do not owe me anything."
They step through the portal together.