The mirror was just larger than his palm, and Loki glanced at it, into it, confused, curious -- and he froze, immediately.

It was reddened eyes that gazed back at him. With the hint of ice and storm, of fire and power and bright lines tracing the curves of Yggdrasil.

Brother-killer, he thought, and he flinched away, his breath sharp-inhaled. He buried the mirror deep, in a pocket, and held his hands tight in fists. Shaking. That she could confront him with the terrible truth, now, of all times --

Loki turned away. One breath, another, and then he had enough control to go.

If any seek him, they may find him with the horse that he has claimed as his. Forehead pressed against her neck, eyes closed tight.