Loki had not expected interruption or he would not have drawn the book from its hiding place, but the curiosity could be bound no longer and he had been unable to resist finally reading through it properly. Much of it was nonsense. He could see Fandral's boasts and the drunken japes of many, telling tall tales about such nonsense as him birthing Odin's stallion.

Really?

Mortals would believe anything.

But some parts of it were more accurate, bits that tugged at everything inside him and filled him with a bittersweet longing, with flares of anger that burned white hot and then dimmed into loss. He had turned the page unsuspecting and been hit with tales of Frigga, Odin's wife, and just the sight of her name brought forth all the worst of what had happened. He missed her so dearly, and he detested himself for missing her. She had known the lie also, she had perpetuated it, why then did he miss her so?

"I believe I may be sickening with your cold." He had noticed streaming eyes were a symptom sometimes, perhaps she would believe such a lie. "It is nothing."

Loki shifted on the couch to make room for her to take a seat if she wanted to. He took the opportunity of his own movement to subtly wipe his eyes and take fierce control of himself, so that his expression could be managed into something more acceptable to be seen.

"What is it you have received? Good news, I trust?"