S2230, L1160
S2230
It was a chilly day in New Asgard, with the grey skies above threatening rain. Most are inside, but there is a lone figure, female with white-blonde hair, visible.
Her name is Sigyn Freyadottir.
Most think she is mad, grieving a man they say could never have loved her if he tried.
They don't understand.
Sigyn's mother, Freya, is the most vocal about her daughter's supposed insanity, claiming she always thought that the Second Prince of Asgard, while still a prince, was bad for her daughter and would lead her astray. Her sisters, Lofn, Nanna and Idunn, will claim they always told Sigyn she ought to run away.
But Sigyn never did. No matter what, Prince Loki was always her man.
And now he was gone.
She had watched his death, watched the Mad Titan lift him up in that gauntlet-clad fist, almost choking the life out of her beloved before brutally snapping his neck. And those words. Sigyn heard them every night, haunting her when she drifted between the states of wakefulness and slumber. No resurrections this time. The deep rumble of his hateful voice always prevented her from truly sleeping, causing Eir to prescribe a sleeping draught. It didn't work. It only made it harder to escape the Titan's voice and the nightmares that followed when she did sleep.
The cliffs were hard to navigate in the howling wind which whipped the thick grass everywhere and blew her hair into her face, but Sigyn persevered, regretting her choice to wear a dress.
Atop the cliffs, the view was magnificent. Miles and miles of the grey, churning sea were visible, blending with the dark sky so well it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. The wind was blowing directly at her, and Sigyn told herself she'd claim it as the reason she was crying if anyone found her.
Down below, the waves crashed and pounded against the bottom of the cliffs, the surges momentarily revealing black, jagged rocks just under the surface before more water rushed to conceal them once again.
Sigyn peered down, her eyes still watering from a combination of the salt spray, the ferocious wind and her own grief, and wondered how fast her end would come if she let herself fall. The fall itself wouldn't end her (the perks of being Aesir-Vanir), but those rocks and the currents no doubt lurking beneath the surface would surely send her to Hel.
She wondered what her mother and sisters would say when her body was found washed up on one of the beaches or tangled in a fishing net. Would they mourn? Would they grieve for her the same way she grieved for the only love she had ever wished for, or would they be glad to be rid of her? The annoying daughter, her mother had called her, the ugly sister, her sisters had said, the weeping widow, the insane one, the one we do not mention... the one who sees his ghost, yes she was a burden.
Sigyn pressed her lips together, her heart breaking more and more as though someone were stamping on the shattered fragments. No, they would not miss her, she decided. Nobody would. She walked closer to the edge, only stopping when her toes were over the drop. All she had to do was lean forward a little and... no, a voice in her mind rang out. No, this is not what he would want. You must live for him, flourish, and make sure you are happy before you reunite with him in Valhalla. Leave.
Not quite sure where the voice had come from but agreeing with its sentiment, Sigyn started to walk down the cliff paths.
She didn't make it very far before she heard an odd noise.
Turning around, she saw an orange glowing rectangle had appeared, and three people had stepped out of it. All were wearing something resembling Midgardian military clothes, and they had individual numbers and letters painted on their helmets. A petite woman with C-20 on her helmet was dressed all in black while the two men, E-333 and U-463, had panels of orange-beige mixed in. Was it some kind of hierarchy?
"Variant S2230, I'm arresting you for crimes against the Sacred Timeline," the petite woman, C-20, announced.
Sigyn shook her head, unable to do anything else out of shock as E-333 placed a collar of some kind around her neck and U-463 grabbed one of her arms.
"Come quietly," C-20 told her as she stepped through the orange rectangle. After being pulled along by U-463, Sigyn followed. She looked behind her (and winced, since the movement tugged at the hair trapped against her neck by the collar) just in time to see E-333 come through the orange rectangle before it disappeared.
They appeared to be in some kind of administration or lobby area, and as C-20 pulled her along, Sigyn got a glimpse of something on the floor, a possible clue. She didn't see much, but it looked like an hourglass, a sword and scales, and words carved around it. She didn't get to read the words.
C-20 marched up to the desk and said something to a bland-looking man with an enthusiastic voice. Sigyn would have liked to hear what they were saying, but U-463 began pulling her again. A doorway bearing some resemblance to a Midgardian elevator opened, and she was shoved inside.
The room was small, with oddly damp walls. Sigyn almost had a heart attack when an odd-looking robot grabbed her shoulder. She flinched, and a tinny voice said "HOLD STILL."
She was about to ask why she ought to hold still when what could only be described as a beam of some kind of light vaporized her clothes, leaving her shivering, shocked, naked and outraged. It wasn't about the dress. It was one her mother had picked out, therefore it was too ugly for words. If there was any outfit she would have wanted dissolved into nothing, it was that dress. It was more the audacity these beings had, to think they could strip an Asgardian and not suffer the consequences.
Before she could begin plotting her revenge, however, the floor opened beneath her and she fell through into another small room. Almost instantly, she tried to strategically place her arms but then discovered she was wearing an ill-fitting and ugly jumpsuit. There was no slack anywhere but the end of her legs, where the material pooled because she was too short. Clearly it was a one-size-fits-and-flatters-nobody kind of affair. And somehow worse than that dress.
"Please sign to confirm this is everything you have ever said," a man intoned in an almost bored voice. Sigyn blushed as she mumbled an "I beg your pardon?" The man didn't seem to notice, only moving when something whirred on the right side of the room and a piece of paper was produced. The man added it to the pile on the desk and placed a standard biro on top of the pile. Not wanting to be rude, Sigyn signed the paper. But no sooner than she had put the pen back, the floor opened under her again.
This time, she twisted her ankle as she landed, and spent several seconds leaning against some kind of post connected to another post for support, her face reddening further from the effort of not crying out. "Please confirm that, to your knowledge, you are not fully a robot, were born an organic creature and possess what many cultures would call a soul," yet another male voice said in a flat monotone, clearly not caring about her pain.
"What would happen if I was a robot?" Sigyn asked through gritted teeth, tentatively putting weight on her left foot. It didn't seem so bad. Thank the Norns for quick Asgardian healing. There wasn't exactly much else Sigyn had to be grateful for at the moment.
"The machine would melt you from the inside out, now please move along," the man answered, still sounding bored.
Sigyn stepped forward tentatively. She knew for a fact she was Aesir-Vanir, but that didn't stop her from being a little wary of a machine with the capability to melt her from the inside if she wasn't. As she stepped through the machine, a sound like a photograph being taken made itself know. The man pulled out a picture of some seemingly random colours. Sigyn decided she didn't want to know.
"Please move along," the bored-sounding man told her as the door opened. Sigyn breathed a small sigh of relief. So the floor wasn't going to drop out from under her again. Thank the Norns.
There was a line of creatures, all in the exact same jumpsuit as her, and none of them seemed to fit, like hers. Hmm. So she'd been right when she assessed that the jumpsuits fit and flattered nobody.
The space was larger than the room she'd been in previously, but the ceiling felt much lower and the lights... there was some kind of black stuff on the bottom of the bulbs, making the circular lights resemble a sea of eyes, observing everything. Sigyn felt naked, like she was back in the first room again. The whole low ceiling was taken up by these eye-bulbs, so it felt like you were being constantly watched. She went up to the start of the queue, and a man who wore the same uniform as E-333 and U-463 said "Take a ticket."
It wasn't an offer, but Sigyn would have felt rude if she refused. So she took one and got into the line behind a... a raccoon? Norns, was this all a bad dream?
The raccoon must have felt her staring, because it turned around and snapped "Before you ask, I am a RACCOON! Not a rabbit!"
"I-I never said you weren't," Sigyn answered, not entirely sure what else to say. This was so bizarre.
"And don't forget it, jackass," it muttered, turning back around.
And that was when, to complete the weirdness that convinced Sigyn she had to be dreaming, an adorable orange cartoon clock showed up on the screens hung on the walls and began speaking, in a Southern American accent no less, about something called the TVA. It said the TVA was where they were now, and that it was created to stop some kind of multiversal war and spouted something about a 'Nexus Event'.
"What is this balderdash?" Sigyn asked, quite forgetting her manners.
"The same shit they've been showing every hour," the raccoon told her sulkily. "The 'variant' they've got in there now, he's apparently causing a fuss. So we've all got to wait out here while some jackass who probably can't tell his elbow from his arse goes off."
The raccoon was silent for a minute, then said "You've got the same accent as him, and you speak funny too. All those old words, it just makes you sound dumb."
Was the raccoon trying to say that there was another Asgardian in wherever 'there' was? Sigyn was afraid to ask, afraid to get her hopes up that there might be someone who could help her. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to work out the best course of action. Should she demand to see this other Asgardian? Wait patiently? What if he wasn't even another Asgardian, just someone with a similar accent and style of speaking?
The video featuring the adorable clock was shown twice again by the time the queue got moving again.
Whomever this variant was, he was obviously troublesome. Maybe he had magic? No, Sigyn had tried using her magic between the second and third showing of that video, and it didn't work. Maybe he was strong? That could be it, innate abilities, ones that didn't require magic to work, seemed to be functioning. Sigyn had recovered from a twisted ankle quicker than any human, which was the proof she was going from. Maybe a Frost Giant? The raccoon hadn't confirmed that the variant was Asgardian, just that he had the same speech patterns and accent as Sigyn, which applied to any creature in the Nine not of Midgard. And the Frost Giants had that thing where nobody could touch their skin unless they wanted frostbite, so it would make sense. The soldiers hadn't really been wearing gloves, after all. It fit.
Eventually, Sigyn reached the head of the queue. After a while, during which she heard several crashes and curses come from the room ahead which had to be caused by the raccoon, she was called in. After the door closed, C-20 grabbed her arm the way U-463 had, leading her up to a semicircle which she stepped into. Sigyn looked up nervously, seeing a regal woman in a brown coat with a red sash looking down at her.
"Freyadottir, Variant S2230, otherwise known as Sigyn Freyadottir, charged with sequence violation 64-80-91," the regal woman read out, sounding as though she didn't care. Well, Sigyn reasoned. Why should she care, this is probably normal for her.
"How do you plead?" the woman asked.
"What did I do wrong?" Sigyn asked.
"Sequence violation 64-80-91," the woman told her. Then, seeing Sigyn's confused expression, she added "You were supposed to die."
The words hit Sigyn like a punch to the gut. Supposed to die? she mouthed silently, unable to comprehend what had just been said. She was supposed to jump off a cliff and be killed by the rocks and currents below? She was supposed to enter Hel, home of the unworthy dead, and supposed to forsake her chance to see Loki ever again, even in the afterlife?
"You're lying!" she screamed, bracing herself on the semicircular structure, for she felt she would collapse without support.
"I don't lie, Miss Freyadottir," the regal woman told Sigyn casually, ignoring her outburst. "You were supposed to die, supposed to commit suicide just outside New Asgard, your body found tangled in the net belonging to next week's catch."
Sigyn couldn't take it. To the horror of her dignity, she began sobbing, large, wracking sobs that shook her frame. She was supposed to die. Supposed to jump off those cliffs, contaminate the next week's fishing with her bloated corpse. What would her mother say? Even in death, you are a nuisance. She could hear those words now.
"How do you plead, Miss Freyadottir?" The regal woman asked, sounding almost annoyed.
"Guilty," Sigyn whispered through her tears, remembering something about Midgardian courts letting someone off easier if they pleaded guilty because it saved time and paperwork.
"Variant S2230, I sentence you to be pruned. Take her away."
"No, wait!" Sigyn cried as E-333 and U-463 from earlier took her arms and began dragging her away. "Can't you just send me home?" she pleaded.
The regal woman gave her a cold smile.
"Universe 283 no longer exists. That timeline was pruned because it deviated from the Sacred Timeline. Now stop causing a scene. You're as bad as L1130 was, and you haven't got a Mobius to save you."
Sigyn stopped struggling, unable to believe any of the information reaching her ears. First she was supposed to commit suicide and have her body be tangled up in a fishing net, now her home no longer existed. She couldn't help it. Tears still fell from her eyes, but she began laughing. Maniacally cackling like the Midgardian effigies of witches they put up on their equivalent of Sanhaim, she was taken from the courtroom.
"Any last words, you crazy bitch?" E-333 asked sarcastically, twisting his baton. With a snapping sound, the end in the air glowed the same orange as the rectangles they travelled through.
"I'll see you in Hel," Sigyn told him, unable to think of anything wittier.
The last thing she saw as she felt her body dissolving the same way her clothes had was the smug face of E-333. Norns, she'd have punched him if her fist hadn't already been disintegrated.
>◇<
L1160
Most variants called the Void the TVA's dumping ground, where it sent all of its rubbish. L1160, otherwise known as Loki Laufeyjarson, preferred to think of it as a treasure mound if you knew the right place to look. Today (he counted days as the time between going to sleep and waking up) he had found several rings, yet another set of throwing knives, new boots and a dress. The dress was ugly, but he'd taken it anyway, despite it being far to big for him (or her, as he would have to be female and desperate to ever consider wearing such a thing). If anything, he could return it to its owner.
He was standing on the bow of the Carpethia, looking out onto the rubbish mounds and trying to decide whether or not they were worth exploring when a hole opened up in the sky. Nothing new. But the woman tumbling out of it was.
Believe it or not, Loki had never seen another person come into the Void before. So he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing when he climbed down from the variant Carpethia and started running towards her.
By chance, he found her quite soon, while she was still unconscious from having the molecules of her body being dissolved and reassembled in the Void.
While she wasn't awake, Loki took the chance to assess her. She was in one of those awful TVA jumpsuits, though the collar had been removed. Her hair was platinum-blonde and there was a light spray of freckles across her nose. She was pretty in her own right, but the kind of pretty people always seemed to think would look better if a little weight was lost.
Loki shook his head, unsure where that thought had come from, and focused on checking she wasn't injured. If she was, that would make fleeing Alioth even harder. She seemed fine, and was starting to stir. With little to no warning, she sat up suddenly, head-butting him in the chin.
Trying not to make any noise himself and covering her mouth with his hand, Loki glanced at the sky. It didn't seem any more cloudy than usual, which meant Alioth wasn't near.
"I'm going to take my hand off your mouth, but you need to be quiet, understand?" he said to the woman. She nodded, her grey-blue eyes wide and scared.
"I'm sorry about head-butting you, I woke up suddenly and you were just... there. I know it isn't and excuse, but..." she trailed off, touching the area of her throat where that wretched Time-Twister collar had likely been.
"All is forgiven, but we must begin moving," Loki told her. She nodded again, and accepted the hand he held out to pull her to her feet. She didn't ask questions, but still looked fearful.
Fine. Fearful was good. Fearful meant on guard, which meant less of a chance for Alioth when it came to sneaking up on them.
"Come on," Loki told her, and she followed him like a dog follows its master. He wasn't sure if she was naturally shy and submissive or if she was still in shock from whatever the TVA had done to her. And he told himself that he didn't want to find out. They didn't go straight back to Loki's camp. First, they went to check one of his snares, and found a Void Turkey trussed up in it. So there would be something for dinner tonight.
As they headed to the camp, the Void Turkey slung over Loki's shoulder and making that annoying squeaky sound, the blonde woman asked "Who are you?"
"That depends," Loki replied. "I've been called many things, and I'm not quite sure who I am. Evil trickster or lovable rogue? Irredeemable philanderer or loving father and husband? Sidekick or the oft-overlooked main character? The villain of the story or the greatest victim of all? I could be anywhere on any one of those scales, constantly sliding between shades of grey."
"That doesn't answer my question," the blonde woman pointed out. "Though you are good at avoiding answering, just like-"
"Just like a Loki?" Loki interrupted. "I suppose it'd be a crime if I wasn't, given that I am one of them."
The woman's eyes widened, a hand going to her mouth. Hmm. Normally revealing he was a Loki to any variant he happened to feel like being nice to made them beyond his own run off screaming, attracting Alioth. Normally, the reveal did not provoke silent tears or... staring at him in such a way that he felt uncomfortable. Unless...
"Are you a Sigyn variant?" Loki asked, both to find out whether or not it was that which made her react the way she did and because he was curious. He'd never met another Sigyn variant besides his own, before they were variants. This one was the moon to her sun, but somehow recognisable. It was an odd feeling. And it explained why he'd thought she was pretty.
The Sigyn variant nodded, now looking unsure, even guilty. Loki could guess why. It was probably because he wasn't her Loki. And - who knew - maybe he looked as different from her Loki variant as she did from his Sigyn. The more he realised, the more it explained.
There was silence from both of them as they trudged back to his camp, where Loki gave her the dress he'd found and told her she had the choice of changing in the tent if she wanted. She took him up on his offer, unsurprisingly. Figured. Those jumpsuits were uncomfortable.
Loki started a fire by snapping his fingers, broke the neck of the Void Turkey, and began cooking it. After a while, Sigyn re-emerged from the makeshift tent in the dress he'd given her. It still looked as ugly as when he'd found it, but it was marginally better than the jumpsuit.
She sat opposite him in front of the fire, her eyes reflecting the flames as she stared into them.
The silence was getting to the point of awkwardness when Loki asked "What was your Nexus Event?"
It was usually a harmless question, but Sigyn began tearing up, hugging her knees.
"I was supposed to die," she whispered in a voice so quiet Loki could barely hear it above the crackling fire. He figured the quietness of the statement had nothing to do with not wanting Alioth to overhear.
"I gave birth to a horse," Loki confessed, trying to cheer her up. He wasn't good at sadness.
It seemed to work, because Sigyn gave a small laugh. Yes, it normally sounded comedic. Until he gave details.
"I was supposed to be distracting a builder, but I couldn't think of a way to do so without breaking the terms of a contract the gods entered. So I decided I would hinder his greatest asset: his stallion, a beast that answered to Svadilfari. I-I turned myself into a mare in heat, and galloped past him. He broke free from his master, but I wasn't fast enough. He... let's just say that Sleipnir is no ordinary horse, shall we? Or, at least, that his mother was no common mare. They came when I was in the woods, tending to my son after the birth. I was too weak to fight, they took me, they took a mother from their child, the ultimate crime, and they sent me here..."
Loki sniffed, staring up at the sky. "I'd give anything to have seen my son grow up. Even if he was trapped in one form, even if I had never planned for his... less than ideal or consensual conceiving, I have wanted him from the moment he was but a mere flicker of consciousness in my belly. But that won't happen..."
He didn't know why he was telling this Sigyn variant this. It was never something he would normally choose to share. Too traumatic, too painful, too sad. Maybe he was trying to make her feel better that her divergence was living when she was supposed to die?
They ate the Void Turkey in silence, avoiding eye contact. Well, Loki avoided eye contact. He'd bared his soul to a Sigyn variant he'd known for less than three hours, what was he supposed to say?
After the Void Turkey was gone, Loki looked at the sky again and saw a dark patch moving near. Alioth.
"Help me pack up," he muttered to Sigyn, all awkwardness forgotten when facing potential death.
She did as she was bid, taking down the tent while Loki packed up the cooking supplies. Everything was shoved into the bottomless satchel Loki was wearing, and the two variants snuck away from the living storm as quickly and quietly as possible. After hours of walking, the sky was a light grey again with no patch of purple like an angry bruise.
Sigyn didn't question running away from the storm, only helped him unpack the tent when they reached a safe spot.
She went to sleep almost instantly, but Loki lay awake, hoping she'd forget what he'd told her.