Loki stood at the steps, looking up at Sylvie and their despised creators of their shared destinies. Finally, Loki feels like retribution is in his hands. It’s the first time in his life that he feels that he did something; that he was able to do something worthwhile. It’s the satisfaction he’s been craving or that’s what he thinks he’s been craving. Loki knows he has a hard time wrapping his head around ‘feelings’; his dearest “dad” made sure of that.
However, he suddenly feels like he’s standing back on that precipice between worthiness and a steep fall into the Forgotten abyss as he stares at the mechanical head that just rolled to his feet. ‘No’, he thinks to himself, ‘No, not again. Not another failure’. He had gotten it right this time. He did. ‘Why did it turn out like this? What did he do wrong?’ He stands back, feeling like he’s a child playing a game he does not understand. A sense of doom that always lurked in the back of his mind decides it’s time to come out to play as his mental barriers collapse. This was the final straw; Mobius’s death was starting to come back to haunt him as he replayed the scene over and over again in his mind. ‘Has this all been for nothing?’ Loki thinks. Loki suddenly found it hard to breathe…
—
Sylvie storms down the steps, picking up the embodied head with enough aggression that the heat billowing off her could melt any winter wonderland. She was thinking the same as Loki however her thoughts were filled with far more vengeance than self-loathing. She didn’t have time for something as silly as feelings while her rage burned inside her. Another goddamn piece in a puzzle without any edges; the more she dwelled in her exploits for revenge, the more she feels she’s being led on by some sick fate.
She can feel the coolness of hands on her shoulders, looking up in her fire-fueled haze. Loki is gripping her shoulders, perhaps a tad too tightly for it to be anything comforting. He has a crazed look in his eyes that Sylvie is probably mimicking if not for the fact that hers is red-tinted and his has him seeing spots. Loki’s breathing is irregular, like he’s on the verge of panic, yet he tries to speak in between each breath; as if what he’s about to say is so important that he’d be fine if it was his last words.
“Sylvie,” he starts, looking right into her eyes, “I-I have to tell you something.” Sylvie almost pushes him away, obviously more concerned about what the fuck a robot is doing controlling the TVA. But, as soon as she returns his desperate stare with one of her own, she finds it hard to do much of anything. “Please Sylvie,” he pleads with eyes that shined in the dimness. “I can’t lose another like this,” he heaves a breath like he can’t get enough oxygen. “I can’t lose someone else who I’ve finally come to lo-“, his words cut short with a face of surprise. Sylvie looks up at him confused until she sees the golden light spreading across his chest, spreading until it leaves nothing left of Loki.
—
As Loki starts to disappear, he can’t help but let one last monologue run free — even if it’s only in his mind.
Of course he would be alone. When he finally found someone he could call his equal — no, that’s not right. Someone he could love, is a bit more correct. He lost someone he could call a friend and now he is going to die without ever knowing whether he could have possibly been in love. He can’t quite pinpoint what this love means and now, he’ll never know. Because he will die. Just like every other villain, every other Loki that skimmed through the timelines.
Did he really think that he would finally get to be the ‘good guy’ AND live? Come on… He’s the ‘bad guy’; the villain; they don’t get good endings and they die horrible deaths, especially when they finally decide to make the right choices. Like Mobius had said, “you make the other guys look better”. Loki was never meant to be good, he was born as the god of mischief — he was BORN to play the villain. For his brother, for the avengers, and now, when he finally decides to help someone other than himself, he dies like a villain — a cold, gruesome, a most-definitely-painful death. He should have known when he glimpsed at a possible future; when he had tried to fight Thanos and, in the end, was able to reply in one last quip before his demise. He had died in a state of powerlessness; he died in a cold, lifeless place; he had died in a place where his body could never be recovered. A perfect death for a villain. To be a tool used to better the real heroes. A perfect death for a Loki.