The Passing of Time
Time passes differently in the TVA...
Hence, you were unsure how long you had stared down the projector in front of you before pressing play.
“Mother, look!”
You were a toddler in the projection.
. . .
A mere child, arms outstretched as you tumbled across the field your family nurtured in order to collect enough coinage for bread on the daily.
“It’s beautiful, Y/N. Take it to the market tonight, I feel someone may buy it.” Your mother, while soft in the eyes and kind to speak with, only said it to gain another copper piece from the townsfolk.
“But Mother, why do I have to sell it?” You protested, “I made it, and I want to keep this one.”
. . .
You leaned forward, flicking the projector’s knob until that picture faded out and a new one took its place.
Loki and yourself were sat in a time theater deep within the TVA, your ‘greatest hits’ reel entered in the system. Mobius had given in after your successful testing of Loki’s apocalypse theory, and led the pair of you to a secluded theater. Only one guard stood outside the door, while Mobius claimed he had copious amounts of paperwork to take care of whilst you watched.
When the new picture was assembled, you tapped play to resume your reel.
. . .
“Excuse me, Madam?”
A voice caught your mother’s attention over the bustling sounds of the market, and she turned to the source. A gasp escaped her lips, and she immediately bent herself into a bow.
“Queen Frigga!” Your mother cried, “Welcome. Thank you for visiting my stall, it is an honor.”
The Goddess was dressed in a simple red gown, covered with a gray cloak to blend with the commoners. Her hair was braided in a tight, intricate formation with curls framing her face. Frigga smiled kindly despite the Einherjar flanking her. “The honor is all mine. I actually came bearing a gift. My son found something that I believe belongs to you.”
Your mother’s forehead wrinkled with curiosity, watching as the Einherjar stepped aside to reveal yourself standing beside a young boy around the same age, dressed in the royal leathers and gold of Asgardian royalty. His hair was inky black and pushed away from his face, while sharp blue eyes watched her carefully.
“Oh your highness, I apologize! My child has a habit of wandering. I hope there was no trouble.”
The young boy stepped up beside his mother, chest puffing proudly. “No trouble at all, Madam. Y/N and I were actually discussing some literature.”
Frigga set a hand on either childs’ shoulder. “It was my delight. It’s not often Prince Loki makes friends so easily.”
. . .
In the TVA your hand rubbed at your thigh, recounting the memory in your head, though there was much less detail. You allowed your fingers to reach towards the now-grown Loki beside you. His own twined with yours, while the other hand reached to the projector and fast forwarded through scenes from your childhood that were vaguely familiar, until one painful memory filled the screen.
. . .
“I can’t believe she’s gone.”
Your voice was muffled behind your hands, tears running between your fingers. You were the only one left in the family. Your father was long dead, and now your mother, gone to an unknown plague. The other field workers in the village pitched in to build a funeral pyre, and you watched the woman who cared and nurtured you go up in flames. Now old enough to take over her work yourself, you were destined to bear the weight of a peasant family on your own.
“Are you in need of some company?”
The crisp, regal accent was unmistakable, and you wiped fruitlessly at your face. Prince Loki stood behind you, dressed in a black leather tunic and overcoat, flashes of silver near the collar and bordering the lapels. His hair was shorter than it had been a fortnight earlier, now tucked neatly behind his ears despite the curls attempting to thrive in the humidity of rural Asgard.
“Loki.” His name was a cry for help, and the young man stepped towards you with open arms. You pressed into his chest, looking away from the pyre. “Why are you here?”
“You’re one of my true friends, Y/N. I couldn’t let you do this alone.”
. . .
You squeezed your Loki’s fingers, and he readjusted your chairs until you could lean into him. He swiped tears away from your eyes, and did the work of changing the memory on screen.
. . .
Green drapery, golden floors and ceilings bathed in warm afternoon light, while a pillar cast shadows onto the bed.The only reason you had to enter Loki’s chambers now was under the guise of cleaning, as he had offered you a position maintaining his chambers and library in the castle after your mother’s death. However, this time you entered to find him sullen and broken as he told you of Thor’s banishment.
“Loki, listen to me. I could understand the thought of holding off Thor’s coronation, but this is going too far.” You hissed, pacing his royal chambers.
The God of Mischief sat before you on the aforementioned bed, elbows on his knees and chin in his hand. “Father has fallen into the Odinsleep.”
You stopped your pacing.
“What?” You sat beside him. “Why? What caused this?”
A watery chuckle escaped the man beside you, and he turned to meet your eyes. “Do you think I’m a bad person? A poor brother or son?”
You reached for Loki’s hand, but he pulled away.
“Don’t!” He stood, keeping his eyes trained on you. “I’ll show you why Odin fell into his sleep.”
You furrowed your brow at the use of Odin’s name. “Your father?”
Loki took a deep breath, and channeled the power he had felt while holding the casket deep beneath them in the weapons vault. He felt his Asgardian visage fall away, and blinked open crimson eyes to stare at you.
“He’s not my father.”
It was obvious to you what Loki was, but you managed to keep your face straight until he faded back into his familiar self. And suddenly it made sense. He was a chess piece to Odin; something the King of kings could use to bargain with Jotunheim in the future. Perhaps sooner than anticipated, had Loki not found out.
“You’re adopted.” You forced yourself to refrain from using the word ‘stolen’.
Loki scoffed. “An incredibly kind way of putting it, thank you, Y/N.”
You were undeterred by his hostility, and stood from the bed, strong in your boots. The revelation that Loki was not purely Asgardian was shocking and altogether a disgusting action by his father from a moral standpoint, but you knew this man was the same one you had been friends with since that fateful day at the market.
“Loki, you’re no different-”
“Of course I am! You are more suited to the throne than I at this point, for at least your blood is pure!”
You shook your head, even as Loki stalked towards you in a menacing fashion. “You don’t scare me. I don’t care if you’re Jotun or not, you’re the same Loki I’ve always known.”
“I’m a monster.” He growled, breath fanning over your face, “A stolen relic to heal the wounds between two realms.”
Holding your head high, you were centimeters from his face. Your eyes flicked to his lips, and the decision you made to kiss him was split-second. It was full of sorrow and guilt, anger and passion. Loki’s hands clutched almost painfully into your hair, and your nails stuck into his tunic.
“You’re no monster.” You inhaled against his mouth, “You’re broken.”
. . .
This recollection had you shaking with dry sobs, even though it was likely more painful to Loki than yourself. His arm was warm around your shoulders in the present, and you held onto it like your life depended on it. You reached for the projector, and the next memory was all too painful. There was a flicker before it queued up completely, of Loki holding one end of Gungnir while Thor held the other. The God of Mischief was dangling over the black hole beneath the broken Bifrosts.
“No!” You lunged at the projector, spinning the knob furiously. “I won’t watch it again.”
Loki’s arm around your shoulders relaxed fractionally. “Are you going to finish it?”
You took a deep breath. “Yes.”
Following your desperate skip to the future to avoid heartache, the memories were now completely unfamiliar to you.
. . .
“Odin allows these visits?”
You smirked from your seat on the floor of Loki’s white cell. “Not exactly. A certain sorceress taught me what I believe to be an invisibility incantation. And I like to believe Heimdall likes me, and his actions aren’t treasonous.”
. . .
In real time, you turned to Loki. “This is…”
“What would have happened if we’d stayed.”
You reached for the knob again, gliding past the horrific slaying of Frigga that you had witnessed on Loki’s reel when you first arrived at the TVA.
“I don’t want to watch her die again.”
Loki swallowed, kissing your temple. “Thank you.”
. . .
“I’m not leaving him, Thor.”
You sat on the dismal ground of Svartalfheim, hands resting on Loki’s still chest.
“Y/N, you can’t stay here.” The God of Thunder protested. Jane was clutched to his side, and you only could stare at the corpse in front of you. “He’s gone.”
“I’ll hate you forever if you make me leave. I will find a way to return to Asgard.”
. . .
There were tears in your eyes now, and even Loki was watching the screen with baited breath. You nudged the dial just a bit, until you saw Thor leave and Loki moving again.
“You faked your death.” You accused.
“It seemed that way on my tape as well.”
A moment later, another unfamiliar vision appeared.
. . .
You were thrown against the glimmering Bifrost, back crunching dangerously upon impact. Hela stalked towards you, grabbing you by the hair and yanking you to your knees. Your armor from Sakaar was torn and broken, revealing torn skin and blood.
“I don’t know how much farther I have to go for you to understand.”
“If you lay a hand on her-”
“L-Loki…” You choked, eyes weakly watching him congregate with Thor and Valkyrie, “It’s alright. Don’t stop.”
His eyes were panicked, wildly darting between the Goddess of Death and your beaten body.
“Hand over the sword.” Hela demanded, hand tightening at your throat.
“They’ll never let you have this place.” You managed, turning your head enough to spit blood onto Death’s shoes.
“Oh, I’ve had enough.”
Hela thrust a blade into your chest without warning, ripping through your heart. You slumped almost instantly, and the noise faded to a droll until your consciousness was truly gone. The last noise you heard was Loki’s enraged shouting.
. . .
You blinked, standing from the table abruptly and pacing back and forth. “So that’s it? We both just die gruesome deaths?”
Loki remained seated, only tapping his toes against the floor in acknowledgement. “As I said. Glorious purpose.”
Unaware of your own actions, your feet moved until they were planted before Loki’s. He looked up at you with an indecipherable expression, raising to his full height.
“Our relationship was born of pain, and we shall die of it. In another timeline, I suppose.” Loki pondered.
“We never even got to live.” You murmured, leaning into his chest. “I wanted… more.”
It felt like much later when you and Loki crawled into a twin bed together. Your mind had been focused on your tape since it finished with your death. The sound of Hela’s blade in your chest, and Loki’s mournful shouts were all you could think about. Your melancholy had grown so bad that Mobius excused the both of you to get some sleep before continuing on case files.
“Are you alright?” Loki’s tone was casual.
Not too soft, not too pitiful. Just him.
“I’ll make it.”
You pressed your back to his chest and closed your eyes, waiting to fall asleep. It felt like forever and in no time at all before you were forced to wake. Mobius had given you an alarm, but there was no clock. It only measured the ‘appropriate’ length for slumber.
You didn’t know how long the nightmare had carried on. Didn’t know how long it would be- or, had been- since Hela thrust a blade more than half your height into your chest.
You just hoped that in some time, the madness would end. But in all reality, time was an illusion built by humans. A sacred illusion, monitored by the TVA.
An illusion in which you died at the hands of Death itself.