She knew it was going to happen, but that still didn't make it hurt any less. Sylvie thought she'd prepared for the inevitability that all of those who arrived this week without keys would disappear, but hope was something that was nearly impossible to stamp out after a good week. The All-Mother, Frigga, may not have been the one she'd known, but she still had that same aura of care, concern, and stateliness that Sylvie could remember even after all these years. It had opened a fresh new wound, but also given her a small sense of peace. Right now, the wound really hurt.
Worse than that, she knew that Loki would be reeling. He had spent how long trying to prove that he was a good son, that she hadn't made a mistake by taking him in. Sometimes a little too late, but never without that care. As much as this hurt Sylvie, she knew it had to be hurting Loki more.
He'd put on a good show this week, that he was okay with it. That he knew her time here was limited. That when the time came, he would have that peace, but Sylvie knew better. Lokis were tormented by their failures, and this had been Loki's biggest — directing Dark Elves toward his mother and not Thor.
So Sylvie went in search of Loki. It was unlikely he'd go to the roof, not when any one of the Lokis could be there. His room wasn't a safe haven. Anyone looking for him might go straight to the ice castle (cottage really) that Elsa had made him, which meant — in Sylvie's mind — that he would absolutely not be there. She went to the one other place she could think of: the spot in the basement of the theater. That practice room they both sometimes ran to when they needed to be alone.
On a normal day, she'd barge in, but today was not a normal day, and she had a friend to look out for. For now, her own complicated emotions were put aside. She knocked, just loud enough to be heard inside, but not so loud that it would be jarring. Then she left a pause before asking, "Loki? If you're in there, can I come in? It's Sylvie."
The music practice room hadn’t been his first choice for refuge from the rest of Derleth. His first choice had been the Green. Loki had a lot of mixed feelings about that place because of his death. But it had also been a location where important events had occurred. It was where he first met Sylvie. It was where he and Mobius got to know each other better. And it was a place that felt more like home to him than the rest of the campus. But today he didn’t want to be in a wide open space. He didn’t want to be in a public location where just anyone could find him. Loki was grieving. He didn’t want to be seen.
He couldn’t explain the incredible hurt he felt. It was a two-pronged pain. The utter relief that he’d received his mother’s forgiveness. The joy of seeing her again. Of being in her light and hearing her remind him of her love. To have her (mostly) all to himself without worrying that Thor would barrel in at any moment and take her attention away from him. And beside those feelings was the immense agony of regret. Of losing her. Of being separated again after such a beautiful reunion. Of knowing, with absolute certainty, that this was the last time he’d see her in life. That the only time they’d be in each other’s spheres again was in Valhalla. That crushed his heart. That hurt more than the day Julia plunged a sword in his chest. It hurt more than Thanos’s fingers on his throat. As it should. Emotional pain was always more devastating.
Loki didn’t know how long he’d been sobbing. Minutes? Hours? Years, more likely. But when he heard Sylvie’s voice he immediately swept an illusion over his appearance. One that didn’t look quite as broken.
He paused. If he was quiet she might assume he wasn’t there and go away. He’d told himself that he didn’t want to see anyone. And he didn’t. But Sylvie was different. Sylvie was probably also experiencing a similar kind of hurt. And Loki had promised his mother that he would try harder to be better. To go easier on himself. To be more of his honest self. He didn’t know how he was supposed to do that. But opening up to Sylvie would have been a start.
And maybe that’s what his mother meant when she said he had more love to give before he could join her. Where better to begin than with another Loki? Another Loki who was also grieving.
Loki wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, making certain that he looked more presentable, and then used a bit of magic to unlock the door.
There was no sound from the room for what felt like hours. Sylvie's mind went through a list of places that he could be once more, and she had finally settled on alone. She had drawn in a breath and turned to go back to her room when she heard the door click. There was so much emotion to that one little sound, the latch opening, that Sylvie held her hand on the doorknob for a few seconds before she allowed herself to open it.
It felt like acknowledgement. Recognition. Acceptance. Belonging.
She closed the door behind her softly, her hands behind her back, holding onto the doorknob just in case he changed his mind. It would be okay if he did, though she hoped he wouldn't.
Sylvie knew an enchantment when she saw one, but she said nothing. If he wanted to present that face, one of loss but not heartbrokenness, then he was allowed to. It was enough to be in the presence of another Loki feeling a similar kind of loss, though she knew it was much harder for him. She silently crossed the room and sat down on the floor next to him. There weren't really words to say that could help in any way; Sylvie knew that. She reached over and took one of his hands. It was a simple gesture of togetherness that she had only given to one other person before now, even though they shared the same face.
It had been a good week. It had been full of tears and ice skating, praise and affirmation. Bittersweet, of course, but the All-Mother had been upfront about her time in Derleth. Maybe not before the reset, but Sylvie was used to upsets. It didn't hurt any less, but it was expected. Sylvie exhaled a deep breath and leaned against Loki's arm.
Loki thought he didn’t need anyone. He thought the best way of dealing with his pain was on his own. That’s how he’d always done it in the past, after all. And that had always worked. He was still around. Still in one piece. Allegedly, that is. But the moment Sylvie sat down beside him and took his hand, he knew how wrong that was. And he knew that his stubbornness to suffer through everything on his own was probably part of why he’d been so unsuccessful in dealing with his emotions.
His fingers instinctively squeezed around her hand and he leaned into her as well. An almost mirrored motion of their postures, although he wasn’t cognizant of it at the time.
He thought that he should say something, but his throat was still thick from weeping. And what was there to say anyway? It had been a wonderful week aside from a few hiccups. Loki had been granted the greatest gift anyone could have given him. And he didn’t know if he had Derleth to thank or the gods or his mother, but he was grateful. For as sad and depressed as he was at that moment, he was relieved.
So much self-hate which he’d been harboring for far too long had finally been lifted off his shoulders.
Frigga had forgiven him. She loved him. She would be watching over him. And, most of all, she would see him again. She knew that as she knew so many things. They would be together again when Loki was ready to join her in the next life. When he finished what he needed to do here.
Loki cleared his throat with a cough and placed his head on Sylvie’s shoulder. “It’s going to get better from now on, isn’t it? For us both?”
Sylvie's mind was going through the last few disappearances. People who could have been friends, could have been more, people from her youth. Maybe she had it better than everyone else who had people to lose. The potential there was lost, and Sylvie wasn't sure that it was worth it.
Maybe it was better to be alone after all.
Then Loki put his head on her shoulder, and she knew that wasn't the answer. Connection with other people was. She'd lost that the moment Renslayer came into her playroom a thousand years ago on Asgard. Day by day, Sylvie had lost a little more of her hopes and dreams, and tucked those warm memories of family — of Thor and Odin and Frigga — into a cupboard somewhere in the back of her mind. She forced herself to not think about them, because the loss was too terrible, and in doing so, she'd resigned to loneliness and anger to fill those spaces.
"We got to see her again." Sylvie's voice was quiet, but she made sure she was heard. "That's more than most people will ever get, and she didn't ask for much in return, did she? She wanted us to feel better. I know it. In my heart. She came on purpose. It's like she knew what we all needed."
When Sylvie first arrived Loki had been very aggressive in his feelings towards having another Loki around. He didn’t like comparison. It was difficult enough seeing mirrored similarities in Ikol. But, for some reason, the faults he recognized within himself through Sylvie’s eyes had been much more challenging to accept. And knowing that she was close with another version of him, plucked out of time, added a peculiar level of intimacy to those faults. There had been a period when he didn’t think they’d ever be able to interact on the same level. Or even be friends, despite what they had in common. But that changed quickly. Loki couldn’t claim to really know Sylvie all that well. None of them could really claim to being very open. They were Lokis, after all. Openness and honesty weren’t in their natures. But despite not knowing her, he felt like he understood her. And he knew that on many matters, Frigga being the most prominent at the moment, they were on the same page.
Their mother leaving was heartbreaking for them both. And in that heartbreak, Loki found comfort. Not like he would a sibling, per se. Not like he did with Thor. But on a deeper level of connection. Like two threads weaving through the same garment and occasionally crossing paths. Similar but not the same. Not quite friends, siblings, or lovers. Neither romantic nor platonic. But an ease of kinship. A knowing.
Loki couldn’t quite explain it, but it was that feeling of congruence with Sylvie that allowed him to relax into her. And that unexpected satisfaction of not being the only one helped him to forget about how painful the last two days had been.
“She told me that I will be welcomed in Valhalla when my time here is over,” Loki said after a long pause. That wasn’t an admission he’d planned to say to anyone, but it slipped out naturally. Maybe he thought Sylvie deserved to know. Or maybe he just needed to tell someone. “Once I’ve finished what I’m here to do.”
Sylvie smiled a soft smile of reminiscence.
"You know, I'm not actually surprised by that." From her memories of the other Loki, the one who had been taken from several years before this one's death, she knew they all had it in them. The older Loki who just missed his brother and cast his last illusion to save the multiverse. The young child who protected an alligator version of themselves, and got Loki as far as he had. Ikol was trying to better himself too, to keep that pesky prophecy of his evil return away. Maybe there were a lot of Lokis who weren't looking to better themselves and the people around them, but she'd found the ones who were. "You'll get to see Thor too."
Most people didn't know about how close Sylvie and Thor had been as a child. Her sword carried runes of her loved ones, but Thor most of all.
"Did she say what it is you need to do here?"
It hadn’t occurred to Loki that if he achieved acceptance into Valhalla he would one day come face to face with his brother again. Perhaps it was because he sometimes forgot that he was dead. That this Derleth scenario wasn’t just another one of his tricks and deceptions meant to make everyone think he was dead. That was the illusion of lies his own mind wallowed in, you see. The facade that he had control over things. That one day he would just pop back into his timeline and greet Thor with another ‘surprise!’ and then they’d all be back to playing the game again. The game they always played.
Except that wasn’t true.
Unless Derleth brought Thor to the Void, Loki would never see him again. Not until they were both in the great hall of fallen warriors. Side by side in an eternal afterlife with their family and friends and fellow Asgardians.
Loki frowned at that realization. But it wasn’t a sad expression. No, no. It was more sympathy and nostalgia than anything else. And perhaps a bit of jealousy. Because Sylvie still had the opportunity to be reunited with Thor. Maybe not the one she remembered from childhood. But one of them. Perhaps she could even take his place on the so-called Sacred Timeline. Or maybe that didn’t matter to her. Maybe she just wanted to get back to him.
He raised his brows thoughtfully at her question. “She did. Well, sort of. In her own way. You know how prophecies and clairvoyance can be. Always a little vague on the details.”
You still have so much love to give. Frigga’s words echoed through his thoughts. But what had she meant? Love to give himself? To someone else? Or was that simply a generality? Perhaps it was a hint that his future was meant to follow a more honorable path. He should have asked more questions while he had the chance.
“But it won’t be easy. In fact, I imagine it will take me a long time to complete this particular journey.” Loki picked his head up off her shoulder and leaned back against the wall. He squeezed her hand. “I am so glad you had the opportunity to spend time with her though. I know she’s not exactly the mother you remember, but I hope she helped you. I hope she helped you feel … less alone.”
For a week, Sylvie hadn't felt alone. Strange to say that the only other time she'd felt so connected to the people around her was the week the Lokis had all awakened to their true purpose as Lokians. That special oneness could never be forgotten, and Frigga's time was truly a blessing for Sylvie. She hadn't felt a mother's love in so long that she wondered if she'd even remember it if she was in its presence.
She remembered.
"I don't actually know about prophecies and clairvoyance. Must have skipped that in the book aisle at Roxxcart." That one was full of best selling thrillers and self help books. And a lot of weirdly Christian religious books for a secular store. "I mean, I know about things like Ragnarok. Kind of a big one there."
She paused for a moment, remembering the few times she'd gone there. She hadn't seen Loki; she'd been preoccupied with trying to see Thor and snag as much Asgardian leather as she could. That meant Loki's wardrobe. And her sword, one time.
"I was there, you know. A few times. Couldn't do anything to stop it."
“Oh. Right.” Loki sometimes forgot just how young Sylvie was when she was taken from Asgard. He tried to be more aware of that when he spoke of his past, particularly of his time with family, but it sometimes slipped his mind. Perhaps it was a slightly conscious effort on his part. When he tried to imagine being taken from Frigga and Thor (and yes even Odin) at such an age, it hurt him. Just the thought of it caused a physical pain in his chest.
He didn’t know if he would have survived. In that sense he believed Sylvie to be stronger than him.
It was also a reminder of how different they were, despite all the similarities. That was something he thought about a lot, actually. The variations between the Lokis. Sylvie, in particular. Because she seemed more separate from the rest of them. And not simply for the obvious reason. There was something about her that was just … not Loki-like.
Because she’s Sylvie, he reminded himself.
But when she brought up Ragnarok his thoughts were interrupted. His brows pinched together in that pitiful look he often got when he reflected on the past. The sad, pathetic expression of a man who was sometimes more naive than he ought to have been. But Loki had never held much wisdom when it came to emotions. He’d spent most of his life avoiding experience in that field.
“You went to Ragnarok?” He shouldn’t have been surprised. And technically he wasn’t. But it was still strange to hear and to think about. He couldn’t imagine living through that more than once. He wouldn’t want to.
Loki shook his head. “No, I don’t suppose there’s anything anyone could do to stop that.”
"I wanted to see them," she told him, holding onto his hand just a little tighter. It was shortly after she'd realized that apocalypses could hide her. Most of them had to be natural disasters, and apocalypses could mean anything really. Basically, all life in an area had been destroyed, and if she tried to stop it in any way that might have any potential, it would have alerted the TVA. There was nothing she could do about any of them.
She'd tried at first. Watching people die was the opposite of what she'd wanted to do with her life. She'd wanted to be a Valkyrie, to protect her people from the dangers of the world. In some cases — those cases — there was nothing anyone could do. Sometimes, she still tried to give the people with hours to spare something to cheer them in their last moments. A chat here, a nudge there.
"She took his eye. I saw that from a few angles, and that was just not pretty." Sylvie was trying to sound a little nonchalant, but the truth was, anyone hurting her brother like that had earned Sylvie's anger. If she'd been able to do anything, she would have taken her head off. "I stayed away from you though. Didn't want to get caught up in any potential mishaps there."
Loki didn’t know what to say. He’d spent so many years of his life complaining about how bad he had it. Whining and agonizing over how he was always in the shadow of Thor. Of how no one understood him. Griping about being the outcast, while he did nothing to change that in the eyes of others. Everything had always been about him. Me, me, me. Loki, Loki, Loki. He’d been selfish and unappreciative. He just didn’t know how selfish and unappreciative he’d been until he met Sylvie.
Of course, she searched for Thor. Wouldn’t he have done the same had he been in her position? That must have been beyond traumatizing even if it wasn’t her Asgard or her Thor. Loki had never really allowed himself to wallow on that memory because Loki knew he couldn’t handle the deep pit of despair those kinds of emotions could take him to. When Frigga died he’d been destructive. Self-destructive. He promised himself he’d never let anyone or anything cause him to feel that much again.
It was a promise he knew he’d eventually break. Especially if circumstances in Derleth remained on their current course. But he still tried to abide by the promise, all the same.
“That was a difficult day.”
Yes. Very sad.
But Loki didn’t want to dwell on Thor or Ragnarok. Not after this week. He just wanted to appreciate the second chance he’d had with his mother.
“I didn’t get to attend my mother’s funeral,” Loki said after a long pause. “Odin wouldn’t allow it.”
Loki had been livid at the time. But in retrospect it had been his fault. He didn’t know if the All-Father shared that sentiment. He just assumed he had.
Loki took a deep breath and exhaled. “Are you familiar with the Asgardian funerary tradition? The final part of the ceremony?”
And that made Sylvie livid too. Whether or not Odin believed that Loki was responsible, denying your child the right to see his mother off to Valhalla was unforgivable in Sylvie's eyes. The rage was not unlike the kind she felt when the All-Father didn't come for her after all her begging and pleading as a child. It wouldn't be until later that she understood that they couldn't because they were gone. They didn't remember her.
But she remembered the rage completely because she'd transferred it from them to the Time Variance Authority for a thousand years.
Sylvie felt her jaw harden as she struggled against that rage. They were having a quiet moment that rage should not be a part of, she felt. Maybe she was wrong. It wouldn't be the first time she was wrong about how to feel in a given situation. But Sylvie had a devotion to Loki that went beyond her own feelings and appropriateness, she knew that. Anyone who took their anger out on him was taking their anger out on her.
"I went to a few when I was younger, yes. It's beautiful and sad and magnificent."
Loki hadn’t quite come to terms with his father’s decision that day. Was he still angry? Yes. Of course he was. He might always be angry. But Loki wasn’t completely innocent in that volatile relationship. He had used his magic to distort Odin’s memories and left him on Midgard, after all. Alone and powerless among humans. While Loki lived in luxury pretending to be his father.
There were a lot of challenging family dynamics among the Asgardian royal house. And sadly many of the problems would never be resolved. Not on the mortal plane, at least.
Loki sensed from Sylvie’s body language that he’d upset her. That’s not what he wanted. He simply wanted to provide a prelude to what he was planning to say next. He wanted to give context to his feelings and his wishes.
“I would like to honor her in that way. To finally send her off with an official goodbye. But that’s not something that should be done alone.” He turned his face so he could look Sylvie directly in the eyes. “Would you join me? Perhaps we could do it along the edge of the Void. Someplace where we wouldn’t run into others.”
And where they could send those brilliant balls of light, illusions in this case, up into the sky without attracting too much attention.
Sylvie thought about it for a little while longer than she thought was appropriate. She didn't want to jump into anything that was going to cause either of them more distress than they were already in. Sylvie had spent years rolling around in rage, and that's what was coming across more than sadness for her. But Loki...
Whatever Loki said, Sylvie knew an illusion when she saw one. He was hiding his grief. She didn't blame him. People often used other's pain against them. As if digging at someone when they were down made them any better, no matter what the other person had done. And if they were half as stubborn as she was — there was no telling the limits someone would go.
She wanted to tell him that he wasn't alone, and that he'd never be alone so long as she was there. (And Ikol and the alligator, but she couldn't promise on their behalf.) But that would steer this conversation away from the topic at hand. That could be brought up another time.
She gave him a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, I think I'd like that a lot. It's been a long time since I've done much of anything in the Asgardian traditions, and who better to do it with?"
Loki had always struggled to show his true self. Even when he wasn’t an emotional wreck, as he was now, he fought against allowing others to see him. The real him. Derleth challenged that pattern. He’d inadvertently shown more of himself since he’d arrived here than he had in his entire life. And while he still didn’t let his facade drop for everyone, there were a few who’d managed to see past his illusion.
Sylvie was like him. She was a Loki, even if no longer in name. And while he did his best not to let her see through him, he knew he couldn’t hide from her completely. In fact, the more he tried to cover up his angst and his hurt and his fear, the more she could probably see it.
He could fool many people, but even Loki wasn’t egotistic enough to think he could fool another Loki. His eyes—those deep windows into the soul—always gave him away. And to someone who was actually paying attention, the illusion wasn’t as good as he imagined.
He smiled when she agreed to join him. It was a small smile, but it was honest. Brutally honest. That was the answer he’d been hoping for.
Loki drew himself to a stand and offered her a hand. “There’s no one else I’d want to join me.”