Valget
There are days Loki feels so homesick on Midgard, so wistful for the majesty of Asgard, his heart aches with the absence of it. But the home he once knew is long since gone, reduced to star dust and ash as it listlessly floats through the known Universe. There are moments he considers changing realities when these sentimental musings prove too much. There are fantasies of jumping through the multiverse to capture that feeling of home and belonging among the familiar streets and regal buildings of another’s time, but each imagining leaves him more and more, lonely.
His Asgard is long gone.
This restless is only exacerbated by the fact, in Loki’s opinion, there were very few places on Midgard to hold a candle to the beauty of Asgard. For the landscapes and sky is utterly uninspiring in comparison, the cities are loud and overcrowded, while the waters and seas, well, they are not even fit for vermin! So often murky and unsanitary, he shivers at the thought of ever entering them. However, even Loki had to grudgingly admit, there were the rare exceptions.
When Mobius had first suggested absconding to some random Island in the Pacific, he had been understandably dubious. What with his general distain for the homely, mundane backwater they called Earth, Loki had been more than little a unenthused by idea. However Mobius was not so easily discouraged. The former TVA analyst had persisted, grinding his resistance down until he was dragged to a remote slice of paradise in a fit of boyish enthusiasm and unwavering joviality. And truthfully, for once, Loki could not find fault nor muster no cutting complaints.
After the chaos of the last few weeks, the prospect of sitting quietly on a beach with cocktail in each hand and watching the world go by, was exactly what he needed
At least, it remained to be tolerable only when he found himself blissfully intoxicated and surrounded by eager company. His senses numbed, so he didn’t have to think of that absent figure no longer at his side.
For what use was sobriety when all it brought was pain?
It was better to forget, to bury oneself in the dulling comfort of sporadic ecstasy with whichever beautiful and willing partner took his fancy.
It was easier that way, to cure the symptoms and not the root.
It was easier to not think of her eyes every time he stared out to endless blue of the pacific, the hue of those waters reminiscent of something much wilder and untamed, he had come to love so deeply it scared him.
For the blinding oblivion of hangovers, was a much tolerable pain than that of heartache, for at least a hangover was an ailment he could sleep off like a cold.
But there was only so long such self-medication could stave off the well of sadness below. There was only so long he would remain benumbed to that turmoil within, that reality of a life now devoid of purpose. There was only so long it could be ignored.
And soon, the peaceful vista and friendly people that once soothed Loki’s trouble soul, does not nothing but provoke it.
Mobius does what he can, gently urges him to visit his brother and brave whatever storm Thor’s inevitable confusion would bring them both. Loki brushes off each suggestion with that same, pained nod of refusal. Its too soon, too hard, too painful to disappoint his brother like that. Still, Mobius endeavors to keep his spirits up, but even his dogged, and irresistibly good-natured zeal, is no match for a broken heart.
For this is no cure for the pain we cannot even name, but time.
The morning sun is blindingly bright as Loki sits under the parasol and downs yet another pina colada, the little umbrella held delicately between his teeth as he stares blankly out into the surf. Somewhere in the near distance, Mobius waves at him eagerly from his cherry red jet ski, overly long swim shorts billowing in the wind. As per usual, Loki is decked out in all black from head to toe as he lounges on his deck chair, pitch black wayfarers perched on his nose to guard his eyes against the morning glare.
He’s sure he looks a state, last night’s whiskey oozing from every pore.
There is a migraine brewing already at his temples as even the hair of the dog proves inadequate in staving off his hangover.
Loki sighs and signals to the bar, holding up two fingers as he orders yet another cocktail. To his left, Mobius slowly ambles to his side.
“You look like you’re going to a funeral”
“Maybe I am”
“Come on buddy, come crush a few waves with me. Feel the Jet Ski experience, the rush, the drama....”
“The unintended semi...?”
“Rude”
“Come one, come out on the water.....just once.”
“I would rather eat my own vomit.”
“Spoil sport.” Mobius snorts before flopping down on the chair beside him. He shifts awkwardly back and forth for a minute as he tries to get comfortable, his wet skin squeaking loudly against the plastic as he moves.
Loki's expression is unimpressed as their gazes meet, his eyes wincing at the sound.
“must you do that every time.”
Mobius smirks back at him impishly before squirming one last time.
“Is someone feeling a little tender this morning?” he needles as he pokes Loki in the side.
“You’re an intolerable bore, you know that?” Loki huffs grumpily, swatting his hand away as he glares over the rim of his sunglasses.
“I’m not the one moping around on a sun lounger like a depressed spectre”.
Loki sends him another withering look, lips pressed into a thin line as he snorts through his nose. Loki’s ire quickly slips away as a waiter appears by his side with a drink, his eyes alighting with glee for a moment before he catches himself. Knowing on some level how pitiful it is to admit how much he needs it to get through the day. The long glass is cool against his skin as Loki takes it in his hand, his nods of thanks accompanied by a tight smile before he takes a long gulp from the frosted glass.
“I see we’ve started extra early today" Mobius sighs unhappily, a look of worry replacing his previous mirth. Loki sighs wearily in answer, settling in deeper into his chair as he takes another drink and ignores Mobius’s fretful expression.
“Seriously buddy.......do you not think you should, maybe, think about cutting back?”
Loki’s jaw shifts furiously as he listens but does not respond to his friend’s earnest question.
He takes another long gulp of his drink, silently horrified when he suddenly reaches the end of the glass already, with very little effort. He slowly places the now empty, still frosted glass down on the small table by his side and stares steadfastly at gentle waves ahead. Mulishly avoiding Mobius’s probing stare as he festers in own dissatisfaction.
Mobius sighs and then shakes his head, turning his gaze ahead to watch the surf with little enthusiasm.
The two friends sit in stubborn silence for a while, neither man willing to break the deadlock and admit defeat as time drags by, second by second.
In the end, it is Loki’s pigheadedness that wins out this time around.
“I worry about you Loki” Mobius states plainly, his voice devoid of that usual jovial tone “The drinking, the bedhopping.....it’s not helping you.”
“I’m fine” Loki spits back, his blue eyes sharp and incensed by his friend’s words.
“Have you looked at yourself recently?” Mobius counters not unkindly “You look terrible.....you smell, horrific”.
“Charming as per usual.... maybe you should do into motivational speaking... I mean you could....”
“Lok.......enough!” Mobius interjects firmly, the desolate look in his eyes alone making the demi-god pause “......stop pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Loki shifts uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze, unable to talk himself out of this one, because, deep inside, he knows he’s right.
This coping mechanism cannot last.
“I know you miss her, I know it’s hard, but this.....this wallowing......this papering over the cracks.....it does more damage than good.”
Loki doesn’t even have the energy to argue, instead he simply looks back at his friend despondently as that buried grief surfaces for a moment.
“What would you have me do......”
Mobius stares at him quietly for a moment before he licks his lips.
“I reckon, you got two real choices here........try your best to forget all about Sylvie and try move on....”
Loki face twists in displeasure, but somehow, he keeps his temper under control.
“Or?”
Mobius smirks, his eyes softer now.
“Or you go get her back from wherever you sent her.”
Loki scoffs loudly and rolls his eyes.
“That’s your plan, your great insight to help me.....wow, how wise you are old man!”
“C’mon.....sometimes the simplest solution is the best solution.”
“And sometimes I sincerely question your sanity.”
Mobius exhales loudly before speaking again.
“Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t see her.”
“One.....I can give you fifty” Loki spits back “Starting with the fact, we replaced her memories Mobius”.
“You really think someone as headstrong as your darling Sylvie could be wiped so easily?”
“She’s not my Sylvie anymore” Loki hisses back, a stricken and deeply sad darkness falling over his features
“She’s…….someone else now.....it’s delusional to believe anything else ”
Mobius doesn’t respond for a beat or two, digesting Loki’s words as he contemplates the veracity of it.
“You can always hope for something different.”
“Hope is for fools who don’t know any different”
“You don’t truly believe that?”
Loki’s eyes are vacant as he stares at Mobius over the top of the frame of his sunglasses. His pain masked by the numbness he cannot seem to shake off.
It's crushing for Mobius to see in his once vivacious, trickster of a friend.
“I know you think seeing her will be hard, but maybe it’ll help assuage some of that self-hatred enough for you to actually get through a day without drowning yourself in scotch and beer.”
“How?”
“You get to see her thrive.”
“Even it is remotely possible....”
“Anything is possible Loki, if it’s probable is another matter altogether.”
“Fine....even if its probable....what if it makes it worse? Seeing her.”
“Then at least you’ll know.....at least you can move passed it and stop wondering if you made the right decision.”
Loki’s expression twists, torn by the thought of seeing the stranger that now inhabits Sylvie’s body and mind. The stranger he helped create.
It all seems too much to bear.
And yet, it could be the sweetest proposition.
“Strange is never going to let me do it" he answers flatly, even as his eyes brighten at the possibility.
“Screw Strange! Your magic helped make that place just as much as his and Maximoff’s.”
“But…”
“But nothing…..your god dang god of mischief Loki and you don’t anyone’s permission…..not when it comes to this ” Mobius insists, tone so fierce , Loki could scarcely believe he’d said it.
Such passions seemed wrong coming out of his mouth. Mobius sighs, scrubbing at his face as he tries to calm himself and let go of that indignant fervor.
After all the weeks he’s kept his mouth shut, held his peace out of respect for their friendship, the truth taste like fire on his tongue. That burning frustration quickly fades as he takes a loud, shallow breath.
“Bottom line is…..do you miss her?” Mobius mutters softly . Loki looks at him carefully before returning his question with a simple nod
“Do you love her?”
Loki looks uncomfortable for a moment, knowing nothing will dissuade his friend once he states the truth. He licks his lips before nodding once more.
“Yes….yes I do"
“Then go to her….go to Asgard and at least give yourself some closure”
Mobius’ expression softens, a fatherly affection in his eyes as he catches Loki’s downcast face.
“Trust me Loki…..you owe yourself that much“.
Loki sighs and takes off his sunglasses before pinching the space between his eyes. His fingers rubbing at the flesh as he tried to stem the hangover brewing at the edge of his temples.
“I’ll think about it.” He states plainly and with little conviction, already knowing Mobius argument has buried itself within his mind.
For things cannot continue as they are.
To his credit, Mobius doesn’t think to gloat or even comment further on their conversation. He instead sits back into his sun lounger and closes his eyes, suddenly exhausted by their head-to-head. He lets out a long and steady breath as his body begins to relax into the hazy heat of the lovely morning.
Loki is quiet beside him, his bearing perfectly still as he seems to mull over everything in his mind. A silence descends between them, for everything that was needed to be said has now been said. They stay like that for a long time, lost in stasis as the day stretches on around them.
Eventually it is Loki that breaks the deadlock, his lean, tall body lurching from his seat as he struck by an unexpected urgency. He peels his black shirt from his body and begins to remove his heavy, dark jeans before Mobius can even process what is going on.
Loki is soon stripped to his silken grey boxers, an unexpectedly steely look on his face as he stares down at Mobius with a sudden intensity. The older man gazes back, slightly agog.
“I think I’ll take that swim now” he mutters more to himself than his companion. Without another word, he turns on his heel and strides the small distance to the shoreline with little effort.
Mobius watches Loki pause by the breaking waves, the frothy white of the ocean gently washing over his feet as his hunched , tense shoulders begin to relax. His body shudders as more of his muscles go slack under the morning heat. He turns his face up toward the sun and closes his eyes, a smile breaking through as though finding relief for the first time in that pure, celestial light.
Loki begins to walk again, gliding through the water like a blade through paper until the shallow waves lap up and over his chest. His pale skin is almost luminous in the morning glare as his arms float listlessly in the water.
He stands there for the longest time, just feeling the comfort of that warm, ever churning ocean around him. Absorbing the power that sits just beyond the surface of those placid waves.
He dips below to join it, taking solace in the coolness that lies underneath the morning heat above. There is only silence beneath the waves, and it is the silence that Loki seeks in that moment. An absence from the boundless noise within his own mind.
It is a blissful nothingness, a void of sight and sound that allows him the numbness he has sought for weeks.
But he doesn’t want to be numb anymore.
As he rises from the water once more, it is as though a fog has lifted and great stain has been cleansed from his soul. Slowly, he raises both his legs and lets the ocean take his body, lithe frame floating in the wash as peace finds him amid the waves.
Mobius loses track of how long Loki floats upon the azure ocean that morning. The minutes slipping into hours as the sun rises high into the Pacific sky and douses the beach in brilliant white. However, there is one thing Mobius cannot ignore , for it is hard not to notice after the weeks of excess they’ve had– no further rounds of alcohol touch his lip that day. Even after he returns to the lounger beside Mobius and that haunted look remains in his eyes, he does not give into vice. He imbibes no further.
Not one drop.
The evening is another glorious one Sylvie notes as she watches the shades of magenta and crimson spread across the gossamer curtains of her bedroom. Outside these ornate walls, in the heart of her city realm, she can hear the sound of bustling night traders, raucous tavern goers and wandering minstrels plying their craft upon the familiar streets of Asgard.
She breathes deep, basking in the oddly soothing, ambient noise of those vibrant live outside the Palace. The simple pleasure to found in the low buzz of activity and joie de vivre of the common folk.
Her people.
Sylvie’s contented and introspective musings however, are quickly interrupted when a weary huff fans out across her thigh.
“Should I stop your majesty?” Sif’s husky voice sighs again with a hint of bemusement “you seem a little distracted this evening”.
Sylvie flushes as she looks down between her thighs at her old friend and often lover with remorse, ashamed Sif’s valiant efforts at pleasuring her have been for naught.
“No…..no you can keep going. Sorry…...I just.....have a lot on my mind. Keep going".
“Are you sure, because your cunny is drier than a well in Summer my Queen" she smirks back, her face and tone completely devoid of any malice or resentment “Somehow, I think this is doing nothing for you at all!”
Sylvie drops her gaze at the comment, a growing embarrassment heavy and insistent in her gut. She is livid her appetites have once more eluded her. But it is not as if she can do much to improve her condition, for her usually insatiable desire is notably absent despite her friend’s skillful tongue and fingers.
Her recent distraction and restless mood proving too strong to overcome, even with Sif’s enviable skills!
Damn it.
Sylvie’s cheeks are hot and red as Sif rises from her place on the floor between her knees and up toward the bed, a determined look upon her face. Sif’s body hovers over hers as her fingers reach and catch under the young queen’s chin.
“No need for that your majesty…..we’ve always known what this is. There is no place for guilt or shame between us….." She says kindly, pressing an affectionate kiss to her forehead “this is all just a means to an end”.
Sylvie’s lips twist into a soft smile, relief flooding her when she meets Sif’s eyes and finds no trace of anger, only a resigned understanding. She’s right of course, this thing between them has only ever been about scratching an itch and nothing else. Just two beautiful people finding pleasure and comfort with someone they trust completely. There is no love between them except the love of two old friends enjoying each other's lively company. Sylvie has always known when it came to Sif’s carnal cravings; she is simply a substitute for the Odinsdottir Sif really wanted.
The sister she really loved.
Sif had always loved Thora.
But alas it was never to be, for unusually for an Asgardian noble, Thora had proven to wholly and mundanely heterosexual. Women, it seemed, held no interest for her when it came to bed play. And for Sif, a deep and enduring friendship was as close to her heart’s desire as she could ever get. This obstacle of one-sided adoration a storm too far to weather despite her pure and enduring love for her. Instead, Sylvie had always been there to bridge the gap between them, to fill the void in Sif’s heart, so to speak.
Just as Sif had done for Sylvie, the young warrior providing a substitute for some great and consuming love she had not yet found. For Sylvie was as much using Sif as Sif was using her. They provided each other with the emotional support they needed, as well as the outlet for Sylvie’s passions that other lovers struggled to endure.
But it wasn’t love, not in the ways it mattered.
And it wasn’t as if the young Queen had refrained from bedding other members of her circle of friends, for at times her royal bed would contain all members of the Warriors Three at once. Plus, Sif too of course.
Sylvie was a hedonist after all.
But now, the emptiness of these substitutes for something sweet and pure and real, it did nothing but make her skin itch. Sour her favorite wine and turn food to ash in her mouth.
And now, it had stolen what is left her waning sex drive and effectively put in the nail in the coffin of her long and sordid affair with Lady Sif.
Yet she knew, eventually all things must fall apart, and all things must end. Now looking into Sif’s lovely hazel eyes, Sylvie knows, there is no comfort to be found there anymore. What more, Sif’s knows it too.
From now on they will need to find other ways to be. Other ways to cope.
It makes her sorrowful, but also grateful for good times they had together.
But now, they need each other in other ways.
Sylvie tries to seem cheerful as Sif sinks down into the mattress beside her, an amiable grin lighting her features. Sylvie returns the smile and replaces their discarded tunic back to their bodies with a flick of her wrist, the glow of her emerald magic warm against their skin.
The two friend’s lie there in silence for a while, staring at the darkening sky outside Sylvie’s lush bedroom. The magenta of before turning to a deep and rich aubergine as the night begins to fall. In the end it is Sylvie that breaks the pressing silence, seeking distraction from own turbulent mood.
“So........since mindless sex is utterly off the table for the foreseeable future….” she begins bravely “ how ever will be spend our time now?” Sylvie snorts, shooting Sif a teasing grin. The woman warrior looks aghast at her frankness for a moment, before a devilish smirk pulls at her mouth.
“I am sure we can think of a few things” she retorts, arching her eyebrows at Sylvie.
“Like what” Sylvie challenges, leaning on her elbow and looking at her with genuine curiosity. Sif’s brow furrows as she contemplates their options, her face relaxing all at once as the answers comes quicker than expected.
“A grand hunt perhaps".
Sylvie’s brow rises almost to her hairline, a smile spreading as the idea blooms in her mind.
“A hunt? And what, pray tell, will be the game?”
Sif smile in return is almost flirtatious, her expression enigmatic.
“That, my Queen, is entirely up to you.”
Sylvie’s lies back against her silk sheets, pondering the question.
“Perhaps we could hunt Volstaag in a bear costume” Sylvie says flippantly “Or Fandral as an Elk?”
Sif laughs heartily, her bright eyes sparkling mirth.
“Only if Hogun is a hog”
Sylvie roars with laughter, a warmth spreading inside, for she knows now beyond a certainty.
She and Sif are going to be okay.
That night, sleep does not come easy for Loki as the progress of the day seems to fall away. The memory of Sylvie’s plaintive eyes haunt him in that lonely darkness, her mouth downturned and trembling as he is forced, again and again to say goodbye.
That echo of their forced separation replaying ad nauseum until Loki’s very stomach seems to roil with the intensity of it.
For is torture, to replay her face fading from view and know, this is it.
Forever.
It is torture to miss her so completely and yet to feel in his soul, it is right to leave her be. It is right, to let her live her new full and happy life unimpeded by his chaotic presence. To let her feel the love and belonging that had been ripped away from her so callously.
Loki knows it is the noble thing to do, it is the honourable thing to do, but then again, when has he ever wanted to be noble. To be so foolishly sentimental and selfless, it hurts sometimes to breath with the pain of it all.
For he has never been so human when it came to his own battered heart. And Norns has Sylvie claimed all that is left of that damaged, ugly organ.
Maybe Mobius is right, maybe he should just bite the bullet and visit Thor. His brother’s gentle council would not go to waste in a quandary such as this. For he is virtuous to a fault.
But.
How can Loki even begin to explain his unexpected state of living or reason with his brother, before Thor's inevitable and righteous rage would take hold? Loki can only begin to imagine the pain Thor could inflict upon him for such an apparent, if not misguided, illusion. And if this circumstance were true, his death had been some awful and cruel trick to save his own skin, Thor would be more than owed retribution.
His brother had watched him die, seen him violently and inescapably perish when Thanos had throttled the life from his body. And five years of grief is an unimaginable burden and agony Loki can only just begin to understand.
No.
He is not ready to see Thor yet. So, it seems, for now, he is entirely on his own. Only Loki can make this unfathomable decision.
Loki tosses and turns in his bed as minutes bleed into empty hours, the humidity of the tropical night air doing little to help quell his turbulent mind. His thoughts remain in disarray until an unexpected and distant bang fills the once pressing silence of the night a cacophony of rumbling sound. There is a rush of colour through the cracks of his bamboo shutters as short flashes of red and green form long and startling lines of light across the shadowed hardwood floor.
There is another series of bangs, followed by more colour and illumination. It takes Loki’s dulled senses a moment to catch up and fathom what he is seeing, but as the pattern of noise and colour repeats, he finally understands.
Fireworks, they are fireworks Loki realises with a start as he sits up in bed, a ghost of a smile creeping across his mouth as the memory of something sweet and fleeting invades his thoughts.
His thoughts ghost over train ride to freedom and a song given new life by the faraway look in his eyes.
Sylvie had liked it begrudgingly, just as she liked his little magic trick to amuse her.
Loki can still taste the tart tang of champagne as the memory envelopes him. Sylvie’s eyes across the train booth were basked in red and greens as she watched his small display with unintended look of quiet delight.
That was the moment he truly began to fall, for he has been cascading ever since.
He rises from his bed and walks the few, short steps to the shuttered window, a heavy sigh leaving his body as watches the source of this impromptu show. Down upon the deserted beach he spies a small gathering sat by a roaring bonfire, their faces angled skyward as they whoop and holler at the fireworks exploding above.
There is a couple sat near the centre of the merry spectators, their arms wrapped around each other as they huddle against the evening chill. They are without a care in the world, even as their beautiful wedding garb gets more and more covered with pale white sand, the ends of their trouser wet and sodden with salt water.
A lump forms in the base of Loki’s throat as he watches their besotted smiles and small shows affection, a longing is stoked within him as he watches the couple’s easy happiness and simple love illuminated by each burst of wonderous colour.
And in that moment, whatever shred of resistance he has left, shatters like glass, for he cannot do this anymore.
He cannot deny himself one last look at her face.
Loki is not even conscious he is moving until he has already reached Mobius's door. His knuckles rapping against the teak with force and impatience.
His friend is slow to answer, footsteps heavy and reluctant as he drags himself from his bed and across the smooth, tile floor. It is very likely Mobius had not heard the earlier commotion on the beach, his room protected from the din by its Southern aspect. When Mobius finally opens the door, his eyes are small and glassy from sleep as he squints up at Loki in confusion.
"This better be good buddy, because I was having the most amazing dream about riding to Cabo on a jet ski with Charlize Theron” he drawls good-naturedly, totally unperturbed by the sight of Loki at his door in the middle of the night.
Loki doesn’t even answer him before pushing past Mobius and stomping into his pitch-black room without a word. He quickly flickers on the lights before pacing up and down by the small space at the end of the bed, guilt pulling at him momentarily as he spies the crumpled, well slept in sheets.
But his thoughts are too occupied by Sylvie to even form an apology or explanation for his intrusion, and Mobius to his credit, does not even think to ask. For it is clear as day that his friend is troubled tonight.
He sits on the edge of the mattress as Loki continues to walk up and down the tiles, a pensive look on his face as he waits patiently for the answer he already knows is coming.
Eventually the young God of Mischief stops, a determined set to his jaw as his eyes harden with certainty. There is a spark of his old self back in his stare as he finally looks up at Mobius’s impassive face with a surety he has been missing for weeks.
Loki has come to a decision.
"We need to go to New York" he says huskily, tone beseeching as much as it is resolute. He will do this with or without him.
Mobius’s lips curl into a gentle smirk as he laughs lightly.
“Do we now....and why is that?”
Loki’s jaw works slowly as his eyes drop to the tiles below for a moment.
“I think you know why Mobius” he answers quietly.
The other man sighs in mock resignation before rising to his feet and clapping his friend on the back.
“Well buddy.....I guess I better come help you convince the old Doc, heaven knows he’s not going to be happy about this” Mobius smiles teasingly, his grin broadening as Loki’s eyes brighten in relief and gratitude.
“Yeah......well....when is Strange ever happy?” Loki retorts, his own grin spreading as he shakes his head in amusement.
Mobius slaps his shoulder again, smiling at him jovially.
“See that’s the spirit.”
As is to be expected, the good doctor is not the least bit happy with their proposal.
“Have the both of you completely lost your damn minds?” Stephen Strange groans tiredly as he pinches the bridge of his nose and sinks into the nearest armchair. Loki and Mobius raise their eyebrows as they share a look, utterly unmoved by the Sorcerer Supreme's characteristically bearish mood.
“Do either of you have any clue what an asinine idea this is?”
“Come on now Strange…..what did you expect?” Loki grins sheepishly, his arms outstretched as he shrugs nonchalantly.
“ A modicum of common sense?” Strange splutters back sourly, a thunderous frown on his face.
“Or…I don’t know….an iota of forethought, a simple sign of a shared brain cell…..but clearly I gave you too much credit!”
“Hey!” Mobius interrupts with a firm voice, clearly affronted “there’s no need to be rude Doc!”
“Isn’t there?” Stephen glares up at him, twisting in his chair to face Mobius.
“Because from where I’m sitting, you two are not talking much sense.”
“It’s only senseless if what we’re asking is impossible…..are you saying you can’t do it?” Loki interjects, his expression still a mask of calm despite Stephen’s insults.
Strange sighs heavily, temper abating a little as a sudden weariness washes over him.
“No I’m not saying I can’t do, I’m saying I won’t do it. I won’t give you the key" he states coldly after a beat of heavy silence, his tone resolute and beyond argument. Loki’s face crumples at his words, a lump forming in the base of his throat as he blinks back a stray hot tear.
The sorcerer's refusal isn’t unexpected, but it doesn’t sting any less.
“Why?” he asks solemnly “why won’t you help me?”
A fleeting look of guilt flits through Stephen’s eyes before that steely glare returns.
“Because what you ask, it won’t do you any good.”
“How can you say that…..” Mobius argues, a short huff of frustration exiting his mouth as Stephen levels him a weary, look of derision.
He sighs as he shuffles in his seat.
“Look we’re just going in circles here, and frankly I’m bored of this argument already. Just trust me, okay......it’s best just to let her go. Sylvie is safe and happy there, she’s thriving undisturbed by this world and its complication....just, let it go Loki”
Mobius scoffs in disgust at Dr. Strange’s dismissive and frankly callous tone, while Loki’s morose expression deepens.
"And what if it were Christine?" Wanda says mutely, appearing suddenly from the shadows behind them. Her gaze is wistful as she stares at the trio in front of her, thoughts drifting elsewhere for a moment as an expression of grief replaces the steely determination she normally wears. Strange looks up at her with wide eyes; startled for a breath by her unexpected presence.
No one has seen her weeks; the Scarlett Witch having absconded to some dark and distant corner of the universe not long after the final battle with Kang had been won. Loki had heard she’d been trying to reach her boys, Tommy and Billy, the twins lost to some fractured pocket of reality that still remained elusive. For even Wanda’s powers had their limits when faced with infinity.
It seems her search has once again been fruitless, the desolation rolling off her in waves as her gaze drifts to Loki a moment.
"What if was the person you loved most?" She continues flatly, as though all joy has been leeched from her body.
"Its not that simple Maximoff...."
"Isn't it?” she hisses back, a stray tear winding its way down her cheek.
"Because given the option, I would sacrifice everything.....risk, anything, to see Vision again, to find my boys...."
Her eyes are red rimmed and empty as she stares Stephen down. Grief written across her face like twisting scars, marring her beauty with anguish.
"At least he knows where she is, that she's safe.....and loved...and...." her words trail off with a choke, emotion overtaking her a moment. She collects herself and looks over at Loki with a softer expression.
"I would challenge the odds if I had the chance to see them again."
Stephen sighs heavily, scrubbing at his face in frustration. He growls softly in defeat before glaring up at Loki and Mobius with little heat. There is no arguing with her, because in that very human, imperfect body of his, beats a very human, imperfect and sentimental heart. And it is sentiment that ultimately wins out.
"Fine.....but there has to be rules to this ridiculous endeavor. Understand me?"
Loki’s eyebrows jump up toward his hairline as his mouth softly opens in a quiet gasp.
"Wait...you will help me?"
"Doesn't seem like I have a choice not too" Stephen replies in a dour tone, jaw tense as he wrestles with his displeasure.
"Guess not...." Loki chuckles mordantly despite himself.
"You mentioned rules, what we talking about here doc..... just the standard rules of time travel? Or like, don't touch anything, don’t step on any bugs, because lord knows, Loki isn't one for following orders" Mobius remarks with smirk, shooting his friend a teasing wink. Loki rolls his eyes in reply, lips pursed in displeasure before he mouths.
'Really not helping’.
"Well.....he'll have to" Stephen huffs "One small, foolish misstep and he could collapse that careful house of cards down upon her head"
"Meaning?"
"The pocket dimension will implode in on itself.” he replies plainly, his experience somber as everyone in the library take in a sharp, uneasy breath. The fight knocked out of them in an instant.
“You see....my reticence to this plan is not without its reasons"
Loki’s brow darkens, a stricken look filling his features as he digests Strange’s words. He collapses into a nearby armchair, hands raking through his hair as he mulls over the unhappy truth.
"Her world will fall apart....”he mutters softly in growing horror “everything we built, it’ll all turn to dust?”
Strange nods, a sober expression replacing the initial irritation, for he cannot remain unaffected by Loki’s crushed face.
"It’s possible....the fabric of her new life could crumble the moment you set foot inside it "
"Sonofabitch" Mobius hisses to himself, his hands pressed onto his hips as his head hangs low. Wanda seems similarly disappointed, a knowing look passing over her face as she nods at Stephen with little enthusiasm.
“But it might not?” She asks carefully.
Stephen hesitates, expression torn before he nods again slowly.
“It’s possible.”
Loki exhales loudly beside them, none too convinced by those odds. His tone dejected as finally speaks again, yet he is determined to have all the facts before he throws in the towel.
"You mentioned rules Strange."
The good doctor shifts in his seat and leans forward as he looks at Loki earnestly. He licks his lips before speaking, voice low and monotone.
"Once a rift in her Asgard is opened, you will have until the next dawn to return or...."
"....it all falls apart."
"Yes" Strange nods, his gaze unwavering as Loki looks at him with little cheer.
"Secondly, you must not touch Sylvie.....even speaking to her could spell disaster."
Loki nods in understanding, fingers twitching unconsciously at the very suggestion of feeling her skin once more.
“So much as look at her too long in the eyes......and her whole psyche could split in two, lost between what was her past.....and what we made her past. Understand?”
"How can you be sure that will happen? The enchantments we placed over her memories are rock solid Stephen" Wanda interjects, indignant that he could even suggest they would break that easily.
"They will hold"
Stephen levels her a tired look, his mouth twisting into a retort before Wanda beats him to the punch.
"You seem to have conveniently forgotten Dr. Strange, that I enchanted a whole town! I created a whole world out of thin air, ALL by myself. One little Goddess of Chaos shouldn't be any trouble!"
Loki snorts all of sudden, his eyes shining with a strange sort of mirth.
"You don't know Sylvie" he says almost proudly "She's stronger than she looks".
Wanda's furious face softens as her eyes land upon Loki’s wane smile, her own smile soon following.
"All the more reason to proceed with caution...." Stephen sighs sorely, interrupting the small moment of camaraderie.
"Because.....a fractured mind, a confused mind like that....it’s a dangerous, dangerous mind Odinson.....no one knows this better than you".
Loki’s expression darkens once more as the memory of Thanos’ poisonous influence drives a shiver down his back.
"Understood" he murmurs back, expression solemn. To his right, he spies Mobius rubbing at the back of his neck, a pensive frown on his face as he loses himself to his own thoughts.
No one speaks for a while after that, each person reluctant to be the one to untangle this quagmire of complications. For the longer their thoughts linger on this mess of a situation, the farther away the solution appears.
There is no right answer.
In the end, it is Loki himself that breaks the deadlock.
“I need to some time to think” he mutters miserably to no one in particular, before striding away from the oppressive silence of that room and the despairing looks of understanding he receives from everyone present.
He dives into the first empty room he finds, letting his forehead flop against the wood of the door as he closes it.
“Dritt” he mutters softly, a sob erupting from his throat. Lamenting how unfair it all seems, to be so close and so painfully far from what he wants.
How can he make this decision?
Loki doesn’t dare leave the safe confines of that room for the rest of the evening, for outside those four walls, reality awaits.
“Dritt” he whispers again, slamming his fist against the wood of the door. Consumed by doubt once more.
The sky is a mix of brash almost violent colors the next morning as the New York dawn approaches, the dark silhouettes of those skyward buildings like shadowy spectres against the burnt orange and crimson light of the coming day. Loki watches the changing of the hour from the Sanctum's roof terrace with little thought, his stare wistful and dull as huddles his knees into his chest. The concrete slabs are cold against backside, the morning chill harsh even through his thick woolen coat and tweed trousers. Winter is on its way already it seems.
It’s been almost three months since that battle in the meadow, three months since......everything changed.
"Hey! Have you been out here all night?" Wanda murmurs softly, suddenly appearing by his elbow. Loki shakes off the immediate flash of panic he feels at her presence there beside him. It is a reminder, once more, of terrible choice he still must make.
“I couldn’t sleep” he mutters back plainly, his dead and tired eyes never leaving the cityscape canvas in front of him. Wanda snorts gently before easing herself down to the cold, concrete floor beside him.
“Yeah....me neither”.
“Bad dreams?” he asks softly, his gaze finally finding hers.
“Always” she replies with little emotion, the ghost of a wry smile on her lips “But what else is new?”
Loki gives a little smirk back in reply, choosing to bump his shoulder against hers gently rather than voice his thoughts on the matter. Unfortunately, Wanda is not interested in companionable silence that early morn.
“What about you? What’s got you so troubled?” she asks simply, already suspecting she knows answer he doesn’t want to voice. However, Loki surprises them both, his words unfurling bitterly with little effort.
“Oh, you know..... just the knowledge what I want most in this universe, could utterly destroy the person I love....... Trivial things really” he sighs glumly, eyes sharp as flint.
“But then again, when have things ever been easy for me.”
“Yeah” she murmurs sadly, her eyes glassy for a beat “I know what you mean.”
Wanda sighs heavily, her lip shaking slightly as she seems to swallow back something hard and uncompromising in her throat. She swipes at the corners of her eyes as she stares off into the near distance, unable to meet Loki’s careful gaze.
It makes it easier in the end to pour her heart out, this slight separation between them, it’s just enough for her to feel safe to be vulnerable for once. For in this grief, they are the same. Once more shattered by the realization, the tighter they hold onto the ones they’ve lost, the more damage they render upon themselves.
But to let go, it seems unconscionable.
Impossible.
And yet, inevitable.
Because, what if in finding those they love, they ruin them entirely?
Wanda’s voice is low and dispassionate as she speaks, hugging her knees closer to her chest.
“Sometimes I wonder whether trying to find my boys is selfish. That.....ripping them away from everything they’ve ever known and dragging them into this imperfect world, is the cruelest thing I could ever do.”
Wanda laughs bitterly, shaking her head at her own weakness as another tear rolls down her cheek.
“But then again, I don’t know how I could live with all these thoughts of what if. Because as much as I fear the thought of hurting them, I am even more terrified of leaving them alone and trapped in some empty world between worlds. Frozen in time, forever.”
She heaves another laden sigh, her chest heavy as the invisible weight upon it never seems to shift.
“If I could just find Vision......”
Her voice fails as another sob forces its way out.
“Gods if I could just talk to him, once, he’d know the right thing to do”.
Wanda jumps as Loki’s hand reaches out unexpectedly and covers her with a reassuring squeeze. He gives a small smile of understanding, the gesture of friendship as unplanned as it is a genuine expression of compassion and comfort.
He doesn’t offer any words or opinions on the matter, for it is not his place to comment or judge. It is an impossible situation, a decision so heavy in chance and responsibility, Loki’s own seems almost simple in comparison.
Wanda smiles back warmly after a beat, her fingers squeezing his in reply.
“You’re a better man than others you give credit for, you know that”
Loki’s grin is lopsided and slightly embarrassed as he slowly withdraws his hand from hers, a short chuckle escaping as the awkwardness he feels quickly turns to humour.
“Hardly! I am a rogue and a scoundrel, don’t you know.”
“And a good man”
“Demi-god ma’am, if you please” Loki retorts cheekily.
“Fine....a demi-god” Wanda laughs lightly.
Loki grins back before turning his attention to the approaching dawn, the deep red of the sky swiftly transforming to a vivid pink as more and more light floods the horizon.
It is Loki’s turn to jump as Wanda suddenly grabs his hand again and presses something into his palm. Looking down, he finds a finely folded piece of parchment cradled in his palm, the paper so old and thin, its yellow surfaces looks as though it could crumble in a stiff breeze.
Loki meets her eyes in confusion, words forming on his tongue that never come, for Wanda beats him to the punch.
“These are the runes you need.....to reach Sylvie.”
“You stole them from Strange?” Loki states more than asks. Wanda nods in reply, a conspiratorial smirk pulling at her mouth.
“In a manner of speaking....he was taking too much time deciding whether or not to give it to you......I took the agonizing decision out of his hands.”
Opening the parchment as gingerly as he can, Loki smiles as he sees the word ‘home’ written amongst the others that will tear a hole into the safe, little world they had made for her.
“Thank you” he says earnestly, pressing a kiss to Wanda’s knuckle “You don’t know what this means to me”
“No Loki......I know exactly what this means”.
They share a look of subdued understanding before Wanda hands him another, smaller piece of parchment.
“This.....” she begins, pointing at one of the looping runes “ is the one you’ll need to get home before dawn. And this...”
Her hand pauses by an unusual word, a word he hadn’t even considered a necessity before.
“.....this will break the enchantment on Sylvie’s mind, to free her memories...if you need it.”
Loki stares at the rune thoughtfully, his conscience warring with himself a moment.
“I won’t need it, I want to leave her be” he replies softly, folding the parchment over and placing it inside his pocket.
“Are you sure?”
“Completely.”
Wanda nods before rising to her feet.
She takes one last look at the morning sky and wakening city, a hopeful smile pulling at the corners of her lips.
“It’s going to be a beautiful day I think”
Her gaze falls back onto Loki just before she turns to make her way back inside the Sanctum.
“Good luck Loki, I hope you find the peace you’re looking for out there.”
“You too Wanda” he replies with genuine warmth and honesty “I will keep you in my thoughts.”
With that the new friends part ways and Loki is left alone with his thoughts once more.
He sits there in silence a while longer, until the rest of the city starts to stir and move all around him.
Then he stands, the runes clutched in his hand already committed to memory as he begins to utter the ancient words and perform that vital ritual. The ritual that will bring him home, so to speak.
Loki can feel the skin on his hands start to heat and crack as the energy from an entire universe seems to pulse through his veins. Searing and tearing at his muscles until he can hardly bear it, yet he carries on. Sylvie’s lovely face driving him forward. Loki surges on, spinning that golden ring of fire just as Strange had before him, twisting it round and round until Asgard’s regal beauty begins to stare back at him once more.
The noise is deafening now, the energy sparking from his growing magic and the runes of generations long before, a cacophony of brash and crushing sound. Like crashing thunder or waves upon unyielding rock.
It smashes against his eardrums, all but rupturing the tissue as that power beats upon him like a hammer on an anvil.
And with one small and yet vital step, Loki pushes on and tumbles through the fire, tearing everything asunder until his feet meets solid ground. The grass and rock below the same as childhood memories as he stands amid the hills above Asgard. And all at once, everything is silent.
Blissful, peaceful silence.
Home.
Frigga knows something is wrong the moment she hears it, a roll of thunder so profound it shakes the very ground on which she stands. There is a second booming, rumble of tremulous sound a few moments later as the sky splits into fragments of colour, the forks of lightening which scatter through the clouds a crimson and lilac maze. Stark and utterly unnatural.
This strange storm only grows as she and Thora watches from their balcony as it spreads like a strange and raging fire behind the Bifrost.
“Mother....I know this is hard to believe” Thora begins, her voice husky and concerned as she watches this wonderous storm with fascination and fear “.....but that.....that is not me!”
Frigga’s reply is soft but filled with dread as she catches her elder daughter’s eye.
“I know my love......something uncanny comes our way I think”.
In far distance, toward the great mountains at the edge of the city realm, a single burst of white-hot light seems to settle among the trees and then, all at once, the storm fades like a fog. And soon it’s as if it had never happened.
“What the....” Thora begins, her huge form leaping in shock as her mother grips her elbow tightly.
“Go to Heimdall, tell him to call Sylvie back home right away. The hunt is over.....”
Thora nods briskly, already striding toward the door as her mother tries to pull her back a little.
“And Thora, tell no one......loose tongues leads to panic ”
“Of course Mother”
Thora leaves without another word, giving her mother another terse and determined nod.
Frigga let’s her go, her eyes falling on the spot where that last flicker of blinding light had settled, an uneasy fear settling in her stomach.
Something.....or someone is coming now. The question is, who?