Chapter 21
Loki sat on the edge of the bed, mind reeling from the conversation with his younger self. He’d been so callous—or perhaps more accurately—he’d tried so hard to appear callous.
Loki remembered how early on he’d learned the part he had to play in order to keep pace with his older brother. He was never as strong, or resilient, as naturally self assured from birth. He’d had to work at it. He was the sensitive younger brother, always more at ease with the womenfolk, his mother in particular.
Loki had discovered quickly that if he didn’t want to be bullied or teased he had to create a facade to protect himself. So that’s who he became. His mischievous playful spirit leant itself to pranks and games. He couldn’t overpower Thor or his friends physically, but he could certainly outwit them mentally. So Loki became the trickster. The silver-tongue. The God of Mischief.
Loki sighed wearily and rubbed his temple, he hadn’t intended that encounter and certainly hadn’t been ready. He prided himself on his ability to think on his feet, and after all his recent encounters with Lokis he would have thought the experience would be less jarring. But it wasn’t.
None of those Lokis had really been him. This one was—or was at least the closest. He was a living, breathing, visitation of everything Loki had worked to overcome. More than that he had challenged the person Loki had become.
What hubris, what self-aggrandizing… what glorious purpose…
Sylvie walked in with his mother then, the two in the middle of a conversation.
Loki stood hastily, straightening his appearance and inclining his head to his mother respectfully.
“—well, his brother had teased him at breakfast—” Frigga sighed, stopping short and studying her son.
She looked him over and glanced surreptitiously at the door behind her for the briefest moment. When she turned back she smiled politely and acted as if it hadn’t happened.
“—Loki, I was just telling Sylvie about some of your early forays with magic, she claims you mistakenly conjured fireworks and got yourselves thrown off a train? Is this true?” Frigga sounded amused if somewhat skeptical.
Loki exhaled in an overly put upon fashion, hands dramatically on his hips.
“I merely conjured the last thing I had done previously by accident, a simple mistake when over tired—”
Sylvie coughed, “—drunk—” earning a glare from Loki.
“—particularly when one is running for their lives.”
Sylvie was biting back an amused smile as Loki attempted to assuage his mother’s doubts.
“And this prompted the expulsion from a train how?” She asked bemusedly.
“The guards tried to arrest us both, needless to say they were unsuccessful. Regardless, we survived,” he sighed.
“Obviously,” Sylvie murmured with an amused eye roll.
“Well, it seems you two ended up closer for it,” Frigga smiled fondly.
Loki’s eyes softened a bit with a half smile, “She’s been cleaning up after me ever since…”
Sylvie nodded looking satisfied.
“But I think she secretly likes it…” Loki whispered conspiratorially to Frigga earning a wide smile and gentle swat on the arm from his mother.
“Oh Loki, you always were a handful, but well worth it,” she touched his cheek affectionately.
The Queen was very aware of how much more receptive to affection this version of her son was and enjoyed every moment of it. He had been such a sweet boy, but his brother had teased him for it.
Though he had been dutiful, and certainly quite fond of his mother, as a young man Loki had pulled away from her in some ways. It warmed her heart to see how Sylvie had softened those edges which childhood had sharpened.
“Thank you, mother, for everything…” Loki said softly, hand covering hers on his cheek.
He took her delicate hand in his and kissed the back of her palm in gratitude.
“We never got the chance to discuss it, but… I know—I know where I really came from.”
Frigga’s eyes widened in concern and guilt.
“And I know that Odin brought me to you as the burden of war—”
Frigga opened her mouth to protest, but closed it as he squeezed her hand gently.
“You already had a son, an heir, and without hesitation you accepted another. By rights I should have died as an infant on Jotunheim, else have been raised by my kin…”
Frigga looked heartsick for his words, eyes studying his face for signs of blame and finding none.
“You didn’t ask to be my mother…” his eyes were completely unguarded and voice earnest with sincerity, “but the best parts of me came from you…”
Frigga’s eyes watered and Loki smiled softly. He conjured a silk handkerchief to gently wipe a tear from her cheek.
“Loki—I wanted to tell you… but I never wanted you to feel different. You are my son. From the moment your father handed you to me… I touched your cheek and you smiled…” Frigga beamed at the memory, “from that moment you were mine.”
There was a sniff behind them and Frigga glanced over her shoulder to see Sylvie shake her head and gesture them to continue.
Loki smiled softly at his counterpart then leaned down to gently kiss his mother’s cheek.
“Thank you again, mother… in another reality, you cared for her,” he whispered softly into her ear, “and for that I am eternally grateful…”
Frigga’s eyes shone with tears which threatened to fall but she shook them away and pulled Loki into a farewell embrace.
When she stepped back she turned and took Sylvie’s hands in hers, “you’re everything I could have wanted in a daughter… strong, confident, and perhaps a bit too clever for your own good…”
Sylvie huffed a laugh, grateful for the brief reprieve from overwhelming emotion.
“I know your path wasn’t easy… you got here all by yourself, but you should never have had too…”
Frigga’s eyes were filled with remorse then.
“I’m sorry—” the older woman’s voice tightened and she took a deep breath, “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you… any version of me… just know that I wanted to, that’s all I ever wanted for my children,” she smiled sadly and it broke Sylvie’s heart.
“Oh mum…” she whispered breathlessly in spite of herself and hugged her tight.
Neither of these two were the child she had raised, but they had both been alternate versions of the son she loved so dear. To hold one was like somehow remembering everything she’d always dreamed her Loki could be.
When they parted Frigga conjured a small handkerchief like the one Loki had and dabbed gently at Sylvie’s eyes making her smile.
Sylvie suddenly remembered her mother having done the same thing when she was a child—a brief flash of a memory, like déjà vu.
She pressed the silk into Sylvie’s hand and smiled softly, “keep it, wipe my son’s tears for me, and I’ll always be with you…”
Sylvie smiled fondly and tucked it into her pocket carefully, “you always have been.”
Frigga beamed with pride and kissed Sylvie’s cheek briefly.
“Well, I won’t keep you two any longer, it has been an honor to meet you both, and I wish you well on your journey. I know you’ll take care of one another,” Frigga took a deep breath and bowed her head to them, “I am so proud of you two… farewell,” she said softly then summoned her strength and left them alone together in the suddenly empty feeling room.
They watched her go and Sylvie’s heart clenched, missing her already. She smiled when she felt Loki’s hand on her shoulder. She turned to see everything she was feeling reflected on his face.
Sylvie slowly slipped her hand around his waist to embrace him in support. His arms wrapped around her back and they held each other gently, their pain eased by the presence of one another.
”It’s just us now,” Sylvie murmured softly against his broad chest.
”Mm, we’ve both been on our own for too long…” he whispered softly into her hair, “having you with me is more than enough company for me.”