Skyld
At first there is only darkness.
A heavy pressure on his chest and deadly silence that blankets every sense, until nothing remains but a quiet acceptance of annihilation.
It is a glorious nothingness, this shapeless, color stripped state of numbness, which blots the horror and violence staining this once soft and pastoral ground.
Loki is so tired, so sick of fighting.
It would be oh so easy just to give in, to surrender to that blissful void and let it all slip away.
Then comes the pain.
The searing, grinding agony of life as it explodes like a supernova and everything rushing into stark relief. Reality reforming like flames below his fingertips.
Loki gasps, crushed lungs screaming for air as consciousness returns with vengeance. The instinct to survive overwhelming all else.
He pushes with all his might against the felled tree that lies haphazardly across his body, his considerable strength rising just enough to budge it off his frame to free his chest.
The relief is instant, the rush of oxygen a heady high of euphoria as he collapses on his side and takes in great gulping breathes. The agony abating just enough for Loki to pull that precious air within.
But the darkness does not fade even as all other senses spark into action, awareness growing. He can feel the sodden ground below him; he can hear the soft hiss of distant, smoldering fires and smell the tacky, metallic odor of blood on the wind, the land sullied by it everywhere. But Loki still cannot see, his failing vision a thick mass of black, even as he tries to open his tender, stinging eyes.
He is blind.
"Am I dead?" He croaks to no one in particular, sensing no living creatures beside him in the wreckage of this silent battlefield. His hands search the trampled grass below, patting wildly for any trace of his friends amid the detritus of their noble efforts.
A burning dread settling in the pit of his stomach when no familiar voice answers him as his body scrambles artlessly along the ground, wincing in pain as his joints protest even the smallest movement.
His trailing left hand suddenly meets a warm, solid mass, unable to hold back a gasp of relief as a human chest rises beneath his fingers. His right hand quickly joins the first as the unknown survivor groans below him.
"You’re not dead Loki.....but you soon will be if you don't take your hands off my tits right now" Wanda gripes sourly, pushing him away.
Loki can feel his cheek starting to burn as he recoils as though he’d been slapped, a hard shiver of mortification making him stutter.
"F...fff...orgive me Wanda....I was only.....ehmmmm....I....”
He hears Wanda snort in reply, a small hand coming to rest on his shoulder as she quells his rising embarrassment with another bemused chuckle.
"No harm, no foul.....just don’t do it again” she teases. Loki shakes his head vigorously in agreement, his face still aflame as he shifts uncomfortably beside her.
He feels her eyes on him as she removes her hand, humming quietly to herself as she ponders something over.
“You can't see anything can you?" Wanda asks after a beat, her tone low and somber.
"Not a whit" Loki answers honestly, shaking his head as he sighs unhappily.
"It's the blood" Dr. Strange announces plainly, startling them both as he strides across the near silent meadow with little warning.
"The eyes cannot see through it......here"
Loki hears something heavy fall close to his feet, the telltale sound of liquid sloshing the only clue of what it is.
“Run some water over his face and he’ll be fine in a moment....or maybe he won’t” he adds with an almost bored sigh.
“Well hello to you too Stephen, how nice of you to join us.” Wanda drawls mordantly, reaching for what Loki imagines is the laden flagon of water as he hears another slosh of liquid by his head.
Dr. Strange simply scoffs and moves off, no doubt in search of other survivors.
“You know I am perfectly capable of doing this myself” Loki mutters unhappily, unused to willingly accepting help from others. He scowls in Wanda’s general direction, hoping she will just hand over the water without argument.
No such luck this time.
“Yeah well......think as this as payback for the groping earlier.”
Before he can utter, let alone, think of a retort, Loki is doused from head to toe, his hair sticking slickly to his forehead as the water rolls down his face.
“Norns that is cold!” he exclaims indignantly “couldn’t you have heated it up a bit with magic first before soaking me!”
“Aren’t you a Frost Giant?” Wanda shoots back, handing him what feels like a reem of soft cloth, torn from her own cloak it seems. He takes the cloth and squeezes it petulantly in his hand.
“What’s your point?” he grumbles back, wiping gingerly at his brow and eyes as the mass of dried blood slips of his skin.
“You don’t get cold.”
Loki scowls again, muttering sourly under his breath as he continues to clear a path around his eyes.
Loki is once more doused in water as Wanda pours another round from the flagon, the frigid downpour making him grit his teeth as he huffs in irritation. He scrubs this latest flood down from his forehead, finally clearing the worst of the gore from his face.
The world returns in a fuzzy, over bright mess, as he slowly opens his eyes to find well known, friendly face looking back him.
“Better?”
“Very refreshing, thank you so much” he says drolly, giving Wanda a sardonic grin as she shakes her head at him.
“Worked didn’t it.....”
“You could have used magic.....I could have used magic”
“More fun this way” Wanda smirks cheekily before patting him amiably on the shoulder and rising to her feet.
“Wretch” he chuckles to himself, uttering the insult with little venom as he watches her go.
Loki sits there a moment, taking a breath to allow his eyes time to adjust as the low sound of activity surrounds him, the volume rising as more and more survivors make themselves known. Dr Strange helps where he can, barking orders at his remaining sorcerers and mending with his hands, all that cannot be treated with magic alone.
There is an odd peace to it, sitting here amongst the remnants of that bitter, final battle, as hope is found amid the chaos and horror of it all.
Loki closes his eyes a moment as he lets the relief wash over him, exhaustion now starting to set in as the high of adrenaline ebbs away.
He’s alive, and in relatively one piece, save some cuts and bruises.
But Norns, is it a struggle not to collapse back into the sullied grass and sleep for a thousand years.
Yet.
Kang is gone.
It would be a waste to let this moment pass him by for the sake of weakness.
“Did we win?” a warm familiar voice asks breezily behind him, snapping Loki’s full attention back to present as his tired eyes immediately fix on the man now in front of him. A version of a man, Loki has not seen in weeks, the Void a distant but happy memory.
“Mobius?” he chokes out in surprise, taking in his friend’s disheveled appearance with wide, uncertain eyes. Mobius’ usually drab, but neat brown suit is ripped all over, dirt and blood staining the starched white of his shirt, while his trusty tie is nowhere to be found.
There is a cut above his forehead freely bleeding down his cheek, while his right hand looks badly broken as he cradles against his chest, but Mobius looks in high spirits despite it all.
“Hi there buddy.” he drawls with a grin, very much enjoying Loki’s dumbfounded expression. The demi-god laughs in disbelief, before leaping to his feet and pulling his friend into a crushing hug.
“Easy there.....watch the hand” Mobius winces as he pats Loki’s back half- heartedly before returning the hug with a smirk.
“I’m an old man remember.”
“Right....sorry” Loki replies sheepishly as he releases him with a flush.
“Nahhh don’t be....at least I know for sure you missed me”.
Loki returns the smile after a beat, not giving Mobius the satisfaction of an answer.
“It’s good to see you my friend, but I have to ask, what the hell are you doing here?”
Mobius shrugs, surveying the mess in front of them with that characteristic nonchalance.
“Oh you know, same as you.....saving the multiverse.....overthrowing a tyrannical regime....just run of the mill stuff.”
“A bit pedestrian isn’t it” Loki smirks back.
“Oh yeah, totally unremarkable!”
The friend’s share a knowing look before Loki lets out an unexpected bark of laughter and Mobius grins back.
“By the way” he begins with little tact, his gaze tracing Loki’s utterly destroyed Asgardian battle leathers with a flicker of amusement “.....you sincerely look like shit right now, is that your blood or....”
“Honestly, I have absolutely no idea.” Loki answers with a comically confused sigh, staring down at his blood-soaked breast plate and cloak in bewilderment.
“I’m hoping it’s mine?”
“It’s not a good look.”
“Thanks.....I find it so comforting we’ve reached this point of brutal honesty in our friendship”.
Mobius snorts loudly, shrugging his shoulders in reply while Loki shakes his head at him. There is a vivid flash of green as Loki uses magic to clean himself up, his armour and long Asgardian robes swapped for a plain black suit and matching shirt.
“Better?” he asks with a dramatic arch of his brow.
“Much”.
Mobius looks down at his own tattered appearance for a moment before smiling up at Loki hopefully.
“Maybe you could help a guy out?”
“Not a chance.....you’re on your own” Loki scoffs back with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Spoilsport”
There is a beat of silence as Mobius stares Loki down, arching his brow in challenge before the God of Mischief rolls his eyes and sighs in defeat, waving his hand with little enthusiasm to return the former analyst to his usual self.
“Thanks” Mobius drawls cheerful, straightening his tie with a triumphant grin.
“Don’t mention it.”
Just then, there is a low, tremulous boom by the edge of the woods on the far side of the battlefield, the troubling din erupting close to where Wanda and Strange are searching through the debris of a fallen ship. It immediately put them all on edge, weapons drawn in an instant as they watch the smoldering remnants of a bionic soldier slump to the ground as it tumbles from what is left of the hull. Maximoff and Strange fall back behind their conjured shields as another loud and thundering roar rips through the hazy morning air, the ground rumbling violently as the last fuel cell explodes. The force of the blast blowing apart anything that could cause them any real problems. The tyrant’s forces utterly decimated now.
Loki exhales loudly as the threat of danger quickly passes, his daggers gratefully returned to where they belong. Beside him Mobius searches the smoldering wreckage with unease, his thoughts perturbed by the shock of this final eruption.
“Who got Kang? Are we sure he’s gone.....or that he’s the last of them?” he asks shakily, his tone grave as his eye trace the rest of the burning carcasses of the Kang’s fleet.
“He’s definitely the last one, the arrogant bastard did us a favour and killed the rest of his variants before he attacked......it was Captain Marvel that finally got him” Loki murmurs back, gesturing to the brusque, blonde to woman chatting to a young man in the mid-distance, a young man Loki thinks is called Spider Boy or something else equally inane.
“She blew up his ship when he tried to make a tactical retreat.....”
Mobius follows Loki’s line of sight to a large, black crater close to the centre of the carnage, the grass around it scorched to charcoal as thin plumes of smoke rise from deep within the site of the crash.
“The blast vaporized half his forces and some of ours before it knocked me out.....I don’t know what happened after that.” Loki adds sullenly, knowing how lucky he’d been to have missed the worst of it.
“Nothing left but ash and dust it seems.” Mobius sighs, sticking his hands in his pockets as he surveys the damage.
They stand there is silence for a time, each lost in their own thoughts as the high of survival fades and price of it is paid in a bitter and creeping guilt.
It is Mobius that breaks the deadlock first, clearing his throat awkwardly as he kicks at the dirt, his head hung low.
“I heard what you did.....for Sylvie”
Loki’s thoughtful mood disappears in an instant, his jaw tensing as he chews on his lip.
“Yeah....well” he mutters bitterly “....it seems maybe I was little hasty sending her away.”
Mobius glances around the meadow, shrewd eyes cataloguing the very few mortals that rise from the spoiled ground alive or unscathed. The odds do not look favorable that both Sylvie and Loki would have made it through together.
He sighs and gives Loki a wistful look.
“Maybe.....or maybe you did what any one of us would have done. People do crazy things to keep someone they love safe.”
Loki nods softly, his eyes glassy as he fights the tears that well in the corner. He feels overwhelmed by the numbness he feels inside, knowing there is a desolation to come later once the shock of survival fades and all that is left is a wave of regret to crush him entirely.
In a twisted way he welcomes it, to feel that flaying pain of loss as it strips him to the bone, because at least the pain is real and visceral.
And exactly what he deserves.
“She won’t remember me....but..... at least she got to go home” he murmurs thickly, his voice cracking as he swallows back that welling rush of sorrow in his throat.
“That’s more than most of us get.....to go home” Mobius urges softly, his eyes full of compassion and understanding as they meet Loki’s glassy, dejected ones.
“You did your best Loki, that’s all anyone can ever ask.”
He lays his hand on his friend’s shoulder and squeezes lightly.
Loki shrugs in reply, chewing on his lip until his teeth draw blood along the cracked, dry skin. It does not make him feel better, these gentle words of his friends, instead, it makes it harder not to cry as that pit of emptiness scours his chest out clean.
But made his choice, and now he had to live with it.
Looking across the once beautiful, summer’s meadow, now torn asunder beyond recognition, Loki is struck by a new sense of loss as a niggling thought burrows in his mind. It feels like ruin, and yet, it also strangely feels like triumph.
He has fulfilled his glorious purpose.
Loki has given Sylvie back her childhood, returned her hope and everything that was stolen from her so cruelly by the TVA.
He has helped save the multiverse from desolation and freed trillions from a tyrant and fascist regime.
The TVA is gone, Kang is dead and Sylvie.....she is safe if nothing else.
Loki has fulfilled his glorious purpose.
And now for the first time in his adult life, he doesn't know what the hell to do next.
He is lost.
“What do we do now?” he asks in a quiet, uncharacteristically meek tone. Mobius studies him a moment, sighing deeply before laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder once more.
“Start again, rebuild, heal......” his serious expression twists into a bemused smile as a happy thought strikes him.
“Maybe finally ride a jet ski or two, then retire to a tropical island with lots of beautiful, friendly women....”
He pauses, this bewildered yet ecstatic look on his face.
“In truth, whatever the hell we want.”
Loki snorts despite the heavy weight in his heart, giving Mobius a genuine grin in return.
“Sounds glorious. When do we start?”