"I know that," Sigyn said quietly, moving her cup closer to Tawaret in a silent plea for some alcohol as well. She could definitely use it.
"I know it," she repeated, "but knowing it here," she touched her temple, "and knowing it here," she put her fingers over her heart, "are two different things and I'm struggling. I'm trying though. At least, I've consciously started trying since talking with Hermod. Because I realize it's exactly as you've said, none of them are going to ever really understand."
There was a small pause, then Sigyn admitted, "I think part of my sticking point, what's giving me a problem, is that I know some of them have never really tried to understand. Or felt sorry for what happened. That takes a truly horrid person, to not care about the kind of suffering that was caused. And they got to live their lives, in Asgard, surrounded by friends and family. And Loki and I were left to suffer indefinitely. Frigg said she knew that we'd get out eventually, and I understand what she meant, but really, we were left there to essentially rot for thousands of years. The punishment far outweighed whatever they may have thought Loki did, but the people that killed my children were left to live their lives with no recriminations at all. That is an exceptionally bitter pill to swallow, and a hard thing to let go."
Looking down into the liquid of her cup, unable to meet Taweret's eyes, she asked in a little voice, "Is it so unreasonable to feel that's unfair?"