Note: Sigyn has never been one to talk much about her feelings. And old habits die hard. This story takes place approximately 15 years after kid!Loki happened, and Sigyn and Loki have reunited.
Sigyn knows it doesn't matter to Loki. (Like most things that are of such vital importance to her.) It will happen and he will be pleased and then go about his day as if something monumental had not shifted within her. As if she should ignore the impulse to lock herself in a closet and fold in on herself until her heart calmed and her belly stopped quaking.
There had been times, of course, when she had felt the impulse to give voice to her feelings. But the words always died in her throat. She knew all her reasons for reluctance seemed perfectly valid and important at the time. But now that he was back, again, she found herself gripped with fear at the idea that he might die, again, and she would be left, again, with the sickening regret of having never said such simple words.
Words that did not matter to him, but would represent such a monumental shift to her.
She decides to practice in anticipation. She whispers the words to herself when she is apart from him, closing her eyes and imagining his face, pressing her fingers to her lips and breathing the words softly like a prayer.
Then she tries to say it when he's in the apartment. She glances at him out of the corner of her eye to make sure he's preoccupied and then mouths the words silently. He almost sees her a few times, turning to ask something or call her over or springing up impulsively for a kiss.
Finally, she waits until he is asleep, which is exceedingly rare. But sometimes his passion exhausts him, and he lies in her arms in a deep, still slumber. And then she presses her lips to his forehead and breathes the words into his hair.
She trembles as she does this, blinking tears from her eyes. He stirs and awakens. "Something wrong, love?" He asks, folding her close in his arms. The word slipping easily past his lips. Because it doesn't really matter to him.
"No," she says, pressing her face to his chest, hoping he will do her the courtesy of ignoring her damp lashes. "Everything is fine."
She clings to him, and when her trembling eases he drops off to sleep once more. "I love you," she whispers to his heart, her lips brushing the cool skin. "I love you."