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Chapter Text

It’d been happening since he was a child, which frankly was enough for him to write the circumstances off entirely.

The first time it happened, Loki obviously wasn’t expecting it.

It was very early in the morning, and the guard had just changed judging by the clanking in the halls. Loki hadn't heard his door open, or any clambering over his balcony, but he awoke to a bright light that should not have been there casting over his face.

Groggily he faced the orange glow of what was not the sun cresting the balcony railing and saw… a girl. In his rooms. Indignant, Loki sat up and puffed out his seven year old chest, ready to tell the mystery girl to get the hell out and that she should be ashamed for waking him.

Her wide, terrified eyes stopped him before he made a sound.

“Are you ok?” Loki whispered instead.

“Please don't call the guard!” She replied, urgently.  “I just need a place to sleep for now and I promise I’ll leave soon.”

For some reason, he felt the urge to comply with her.

“Fine”, he huffed, “but you better be gone by sunup because the maids will be in to gather the cleaning for the week. Don't blame me if you get caught!”

Eagerly, the girl nodded and the bright orange light snapped away behind her. Rolling over to bury his face in the pillows, Loki drifted back to sleep.

That morning, he once again decided it was just a dream.

This dream, it haunted him at regular intervals for years. Just as he imagined it to be the product of too much wine, or undercooked veal, or any myriad of reasons, it would appear again under completely separate circumstances.

This was something Loki kept to himself. Why should he talk about his dream to anyone? It didn’t make anymore sense than the dreams of the cold and of distant war.

It was just a dream, so why did it stick with him so much? Melting, roiling colors that seemed as ephemeral and incorporeal as he felt, the young girl he could hear but only sometimes see, somehow calling his name even though he didn’t recognize her.

That same name, that was now coming through his door at a far less welcome cadence.

“Loki, brother, hurry up and come out. We have work today, and I require your advice on what to say.” Accompanied by a heavy knock of meated fists, the voice echoed like the thud of the thick wood of the door to his rooms.

Of course it would be him. Did peace mean nothing to Thor? If it did, his older brother would have already spent these past few months ruminating on how to maintain the fragile treaty held with Niðavellir, or to merely leave him to his room on the week’s end when the sole reason he was in his current state was the push of the wayward relation or his person into a less-than-reputable bar.

The bar had been more of a hidden side street, one that was more than happy to pretend that they did not recognize the undisguised Thor - a cloak wrapped around his face did not count as a disguise - and take whatever expenditures the future ruler saw fit to disperse to the populace of lint remnants in the owner’s pockets.

It wasn’t as if he would actually take Loki’s advice – so why waste the breath? Beyond the wood of the door, he heard his brother huff in his usual way and wander off to whatever would hold his attention before their duties had to be fulfilled.

Begrudgingly getting ready for the day, Loki made his way out to his usual place outside of the throne room to greet their visitors. Thor would have to work out his own words.

Now he stood in the antechamber, playing the role of dutiful son even as the so-called Crown Prince made light of his duties, complaining about what was expected of him.

‘How cruel, that a Crown Prince could be expected to attend to courtly matters.’

The spare prince rolled his eyes, well aware that though he was considered an extra assurance he was still expected to act as though he were the primary option. His antecedent did not share his sentiment, making what he likely considered surreptitious passes at the maid that crossed in the shadows nearby, attending to her own requirements despite the lechery she was undoubtedly used to from her eventual sovereign. Typical.

The representatives for Niðavellir were there yet again, still trying to broker a deal for materials and possibly a greater trade deal down the line if the items in question were deemed sufficient enough. More recently, they had been referred to as duregar or grey elves by the common peoples, supposedly more cruel than their reputation if the populace was to be believed. Rumors spread quickly, sometimes at his own persuasion, and so today he had to be very careful to reign in whatever mischief he would prefer to cause in favor of the well being of his people. A lover of fun he may be, but an idiot he was not.

His brother stood on the opposite side of the large throne, on the right side of it. Positioned to show his place in line, and his importance as a would-be leader. Thor looked a tad bored, but Loki couldn’t blame him for that. This type of thing was always boring.

Odin sat stiffly in his throne, awaiting the echoing steps of Brokkr and Sindri as they made their way closer to the dais they were all situated on. The golden room, far too bright in the midday sun, refracted back throughout the hall to brighten it in a way that seemed to make these reclusive guests shy away from it in favor of the minimalistic bits of dark they could pass through, showing evident relief. Long days at their chosen craft had made then sensitive to the light, or so it seemed. Given the bright heat of the forges, it seemed unlikely to be the cause so much as too much drink the night before. Grand feasts were customary for visitors of import.

As they spoke, the slight grating of a voice disused made them a little hard to listen to, but that discomfort was slowly ebbed away as they cleared their throats a bit and tried again.

“Odin All-Father, Brokkr and Sindri have come from Niðavellir to see to your request for an item of importance for your son, the Crown Prince. Our materials are the finest, our work the most respected outside of your Asgard. Still, some things cannot be obtained in your home realm, and as such the need for trade is one shared by every realm. With our talent, we will be sure to reflect on everything deemed great by our realms alike.” Sindri, the more outspoken of the two beamed politely, reflecting back what diplomacy he could despite the shafts of light in his eyes. He bowed lowly, not kneeling as would have been a bit much to expect for someone of import from another realm.

Due enough respect was shown, Loki felt, but as he surreptitiously glanced to the side to see how Thor took this – it was to be his place to judge soon, after all – he looked more insulted by the lack of what he must have considered due deference even despite the lack of reaction from their father. Odin seemed to believe things were going just fine, chatting about this and that, what materials to be used and the items requested.

Despite his posture and attention, Loki felt the eyes boring into the back of his head, from the throne several steps behind him. They couldn’t stand on equal ground to the throne of Asgard, but they were expected to be near the dais.

That gaze intermittently found itself back to him, a bit of chill creeping up his neck as he tried to focus on what was being said, but just as strongly as he felt this, he could also sense his brother’s impatience. The time for him to reach his natural succession was near, and still Thor could not take these things seriously. Of course he didn’t want to give up his little free time and fun, who did? That was being an adult, and yet this seemed some sort of great revelation Thor had yet to experience.

Quietly, he sighed in a soft exhale through his nose, and immediately that gaze bore itself onto him in full focus, nearing a prick of something physical in its intensity.

‘Perhaps Borson is truly the proper name for the All-Father.’

Before long, these talks came to an end. Thor was to receive a hammer from them, to symbolize both the weight of the duty he was to have and the strength it would take to mold things properly, as the blacksmiths would be well aware of. In the gift, they were also able to showcase their expertise and attention to detail, showing that even something that could be considered as menial a task as the use of a hammer would still carry ramifications.

As the dignitaries made their way out of the room, Odin waited quietly until the doors had shut behind them. Few times in his life had they heard Odin silent, and it always meant that someone was about to get chewed out, more than gristle on the feast table.

“Are you aware that you could have caused insult to our guests with your demeanor?” Odin asked, gaze fully upon him even as he turned to face his father, no trace of mirth whatsoever in his expression.

Loki couldn’t help it.

“Were we in the same room just now? Did you miss the part where your favored son was so offended by the thought that something could be created on the same level as the craftsmen of Asgard, of the sons of Ivaldi that you would dismiss the notion of your progeny causing upset?” He pulled a tight furrow in his brow, jaw hanging slightly open as an expression of pure disbelief came across before he was able to fully mask it. His hands were wide at his hips, his displeasure obvious.

“What I saw and heard was you scoffing at our guests. I’ll not have you causing any discourse in such a delicate situation – with or without your distractions. Keep your thoughts and tricks to yourself.” Standing from his throne, the distracted Odin stalked past his children and away to other matters.

Naturally, turning to Thor was the first thing he did when their father was out of earshot.

“You simpering fool, yet again you’ve gotten me in trouble when it’s your nonsense that I deride.”

Looking affronted, Thor responded, “What am I supposed to think? Such a thing as they claim is impossible, Asgard pulls the greatest of talents for herself and the thought that any could rival it is sheer insanity!”

He crossed his arms briefly, as if to keep his hands to himself before thinking better of it. As he too began to leave the room, bored but observant guards following their progression, the argument continued.

“Your expressions would do far more to offend people than my breaths, of that I can assure you.”

They strode quickly now, taking each turn as it came with little care for where they ended up.

“Brother, of this moment I can honestly speak that it is your very breath that offends me.”

That one stung, more so because he had to admit that it was clever.

“You bastard, how dare…”

A hand came out before them from an alcove in the hall they had been briskly walking down, causing them to stop abruptly.

“You would do well to listen to your brother, Crown Prince Thor.” The graveled voice of Brokkr said, his expression grim but stern. “We do not take lightly to the slights of others, especially when it comes to claims against our craftsmanship. We are well respected in our field, and for you to denigrate it and us is tantamount to grievous insult.”

Sindri slid next his his own brother, his thinner arms none the less strong as they rested on the war arms at his hips. Decorative though they may be, Loki had no doubt that his skill with the blades he had likely crafted would far outweigh the bite of any word Thor could pull from his stammering tongue.

“You should yet show deference to your sovereigns, craftsman.” Thor said, stupidly. His chin was titled up and away from the men, as though he needed to somehow emphasize his height difference over the now dangerously calm dignitaries before him.

“One would find that to be a definite insult, if you are not careful.” Sindri’s cooler voice replied, the tone reminding Loki of frozen channels in the underwater caverns they derived their most valuable ores from, the ones of which the gifts to Asgard would be made. “A head may be called in recompense for sure, were we not in the middle of securing peace.”

The threat had to be clear, even to his braggart of a brother.

“A head? What jests. Take my brother’s if you find yourself so eager, or better yet find a way to silence his tongue. I tire of his voice as much as yours.” Shoving his way past the men, Loki watched astonished as the brother of his who clearly had a death wish for all of their citizens brushed his way through the men. They let him go unimpeded, his meager years of age – hardly touching that of one deemed an adult - no excuse for his behavior.

“You would do well to teach your elder to respect his cohorts, young one.” Brokkr fixed him with a gaze of little amusement, and no understanding. The younger sibling he may be, and yet this day it seemed that he would be the one to handle all repercussions. As they stalked away to other parts of the palace, Loki sudden felt as old as his father.

‘What could possibly make this situation worse?’

Chapter Text

”If you had any sense, then you would have let me handle that.” Thor said, impudent in his arrogance.

”Was you attempting to incite an international incident not you handling it? You seemed to have been doing just as fine a job of shitting all over things as the stable horses.” The words came out a little short, the long strides to keep up with his brother’s annoyed speed doing well to make him have to exert more effort to get out the more polite words he should say, and not the ones he wanted to say. “What part of you could have possibly conceived of your words being anything but disastrous in that instance?”

Nearly missing a statue of Bor perched along the hall, Thor swung further out ahead of him, the corners coming sharply as he tried to leave his younger brother behind. “Keep your words to yourself, I have enough to worry for without this as well.”

The path they were on was obvious - the quickest route to the training yard, for Thor to blow off some steam. 

Loki had no desire to deal with his sibling’s sycophantic partners. Spinning around to face him, even as he moved backwards, the full brunt of the noon sun came into Thor’s face as they turned the next corner. 

‘Serves him right.’

“Be to yourself then, and I’ll just do what I always do and find some roundabout way to mitigate you and your cohort‘s fuckery. You may not believe me brother, but I do care for Asgard and would prefer not to see her burn because you can’t be bothered not to gallivant with the help for as long as it takes to formulate a treaty.”

”I’ll believe that the day you are a Jotun, brother.” 

As Thor pushed past with a final burst of speed, Loki stopped to let his brother go on to his hacking. Better he expend his energies on fighting his friends than on fighting what was best for the realms, apparently. Peace may feel boring, but it was always better than the alternative.

Hidden away in his rooms, waiting for dinner, Loki was stretched out onto his unreasonably (happily) too large bed, trying to nap in the sparse bit of time before he had to go down to supper with his family and whoever else his father had deigned to require his prescience of that evening. 

Every meal was a performance, and though he’d learned the lines long ago, the familiarity did nothing to breach the tensions behind the exchanges. Knowing the secrets of his visitors had served them many times and for Odin’s moody son to sit and observe, only speaking when needed made things easier for his father. It was far better than speaking out of turn and blatantly ignoring anything about the subject of talk.

The darkness of the room, curtains drawn tight to hide to afternoon sun the shone directly into his usual line of sight from this position on the bed, felt comfortably cool and was much appreciated. Pressing the heel of his hands to eyes, he rubbed at the lingering tension there, wanting for something stronger. Later in the evening he may find some reasonable amount of alcohol to ease it, but for now, there would be no respite outside of the darkness. 

In lieu of imbibing in drink, fratricide was starting to feel a bit tempting.

As he was going over varying methods, Loki felt that very bit of isolation he’d sought became disrupted by the glare of light through his closed eyelids, the orange tint. That shade seemed to annoy him through years of his childhood dreams. 

The tinge of it felt like the sun, and for a moment he allowed himself to believe that this was just the sun allowed through the curtains by an errant gust of wind from outside. 

’Were they dreams though? I’m obviously not asleep, so what is happening?’

Then, he heard the knock of one of his larger display pieces shifting on its stand.

Shooting up from his reclined position, Loki was granted the sight of a woman, standing awkwardly as she pulled her foot through a disappearing panel of orange light. “Fucking decorations all over the bloody place. Pretentious fop.” She mumbled to herself, somehow annoyed at the presence of his things in his rooms!

She wore a light armor, similar in color to his preferences. That was interesting enough, but the machete at her side gave him a bit of pause. Few things required the carrying of a weapon in the royal housing, and those reasons for her to carry one would certainly be even more limited, Loki felt the need to assert himself. 

”Just what do you think you’re doing here?” He demanded, hands at the ready for whatever she thought she would be doing to a prince of Asgard, in his quarters. Only an assassin could be stupid enough to go to his rooms with weaponry, but the question he wanted answered was more of a ‘why’ than a ‘how’. What had he done in all of this to justify an assassination attempt? He’d only tried to keep the peace! 

“This is something I finally wish my brother had gotten rather than me.”

Looking up at him, the woman said “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Incredulous, the only thing Loki could think to say was ”And you are? These are my chambers!”

”You are supposed to keep to your schedule and go and sulk in the files on the realms.” The woman said, pushing her hair out of her face as she straightened. “Besides, if I wanted to kill you, I could have done it decades ago.” Stretching in an easy manner, she casually righted the ornament she had knocked over on her entrance. 

”What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

”Of all the ignorant bastards to catch me… The Time Variance Authority follows me to the ends of reality, and of course the one place they’ve never seemed to notice is where I deal with this.”

”Time Variance Authority? There’s no such thing in all the realms.”

”Never you mind, we wouldn’t want to overwork your little head.”

”My mind is perfectly strong thank you, and it is more than reasonable to ask why someone trespasses into their private rooms!” Sitting up fully from his place on his elbows, Loki gripped his leather slacks in an attempt to feel more unbothered. 

‘Showing unease in this situation wouldn’t do me any favors.’

”If I tell you, will you shut up and let me sleep?” The woman said, blond tipped hair slightly frizzed as she turned towards him. The expression on her face could only be one of derision; the dark semicircles under her eyes showing that she did truly need rest.

”Let you sleep?” Now Loki moved to the edge of the bed, disliking the position of vulnerability a prone placement lent him.

”Yes, let me sleep. I have three hours before your servants are supposed to come and set up the room for the evening, and take final requests from you for the day. Half the time you dismiss them, so I would like to make this short and take the rest that I can. As you might imagine,” she continued, stalking over to have a seat on his favorite spot in the room, “it is very tiring to be constantly on the run.” 

“So who are you then if you aren’t an assassin?”

”No one of importance, but if you simply must have a name to keep someone as lonely as yourself company, call me Sylvie.”

”Fine then, Sylvie,” he tried, putting as much venom into the name as he could, “why my room specifically? What’s so terrible about this TVA that you would run from them? Pardon the acronym, but I don’t see the point in saying all of that every time.” Loki waved his hand in her general direction, waving off the idea of the organization even being a threat to someone like him.

”Imagine, something outside of time itself with the thought in their heads that somehow, they are the ultimate power int he universe an that nothing outside of their preplanned notions for how our Iives should go will ever matter. The only fate that exists is their will alone, and nothing you do will ever alter them unless you follow their designs to the letter.”

”And if I did what I wanted instead, and diverged somehow?”

”Then they would destroy your entire reality just to make a point. Don’t want to follow their rules? The entire existence of your timeline is forfeit. All of the lives on that timeline, big and small, old and young, mean nothing compared to their own little fucking ego trip.”

Loki stood, coming closer to her. “And I’m supposed to believe that?”

Sylvie stiffened immediately, her entire demeanor shifting from one of nonchalance to one of hardly restrained terror. 

“Stay back, and don’t you dare fucking touch me.”

”Why should I care about that? You’re a trespasser, and I have the right to remove you if I want.”

”If you touch me, this reality will disappear.”

”Explain that to me then, like I’m a child.”

Scoffing, Sylvie said "I am not supposed to exist. Something I did, some choice I unknowingly made as a child, hardly even nearing my teenage terms, somehow was enough of a slight against the Time Variance Authority to destroy the lives of everyone and everything that I loved.

I can’t affect an environment at all. Touching something, leaving a lasting effect on an area, being seen by too many people, it’s enough of a reason for them.”

”So you’ve just been running from them since you were a child? That’s not much of a life.”

”Maybe not to you prince, but to me it’s the only one I have and I’ll be keeping it as long as I can.” 

“Fine. Why here then? What is so special about my rooms that this TVA doesn’t bother you?”

”For one, up until now you’ve been oblivious to the things that may feel obvious to others. I’ve been coming here for years with no issue, and with no chance of being touched. A safe place to sleep, maybe eat, in the quarters of an egocentric person who is so absorbed in himself that the odds of you seeing me at all were infinitesimal at best. 

Stretching from her settled spot, Sylvie added, “If I hadn’t knocked over your stupid tchotchke then you wouldn’t have noticed me at all.”

”A what?” Loki didn’t know what this cotch thing was, but he did know he didn’t have any of them. 

“You’re missing the point, and getting bogged down in the details. I’m tired, and you won’t do me the courtesy of stopping your yammering for a few hours so I can rest while I can. If I feel like it, we can talk about this any other time. Don’t talk to me.”

Turning away from him, Sylvie curled up against the chaise with her face towards the back, and that was the clear end of the conversation.

It had been a few hours, and still Loki found her revelation hard to believe. Just touching her would kill everyone he knew? He’d waited in silence while she seemed to sleep fitfully, a fair distance between himself and the woman, and a very clear ‘Do not disturb’ warning on his door. 

The idea that she could be telling the truth was too much, but regardless of the veracity of it, he certainly wouldn’t be letting this woman stay in the room with him unobserved.

Knowing he she had apparently done it for years didn’t make him feel any better, though he couldn’t help the line of sympathy that ran through him at the mental image of her as a child, doing this very thing.

Chapter Text

More stress, more diplomacy. More senseless meetings, speaking with councilmen who cared more about their ambitions than about the good of the realms. More of other individual's egos attempting to shove aside Loki’s own desires, his own designs. 

Loyal to Asgard he remained, but reworking things to serve his interests as well did not seem too untoward a thing.

The fight with Thor had felt a needed instance, and now his brother seemed to feel satisfaction in avoiding Loki, or in simply imagining he did not exist at all. Whatever he did with his friends outside of the council chambers was his own business. Loki would continue to work as he had, planning for alternate futures based on any number of poor choices he expected the crown prince to make in the near future. 

He stepped in his rooms, equally unsurprised and perturbed to see the stranger in his space yet again. So much for escapism.

“I was wondering if you would actually show up tonight or not,” Sylvie had the audacity to say.

Having spent the past month on such a long diplomatic trip made for no real time to himself, every moment being spent on appearances, and even here he had to continue a performance.

The harried attempt at mitigation between Niðavellir and Asgard had continued to go poorly, and had somehow been ended at the threat of his mouth being stitched shut as he tried to ameliorate the tensions between them all. It should reflect well on his character that he took such careful consideration towards his interactions.

Sylvie was stretched lithely across his favorite chaise, yet without her tighter armor. She played with the ties at the end of the tunic she had to have worn underneath, loosened now instead of cinched tightly to her as he now saw, worryingly thin form.

The whole trip, Loki had thought of that strange woman, even as he hadn't seen her again for quite a while after their initial encounter. For years, she had come to a place she felt safe, to his space, and even though he hadn’t know she’d done it, the fact still made him feel a bit of pride for it. Of all of the places in the world for her to hide if she spoke the truth, it had been his area of influence that made a difference. 

‘Even if that space was made from my own ignorance…’, he amended, the bit of self deprecation resting well in the current flow of his day.

It was a struggle not to look at her more closely, but even as she toyed with the tunic the bits of skin that showed beneath were taunting enough. As he did concede to his curiosity, stared more openly than he realized at what he could see, the criss-crossing of scars, the dips between her ribs – deep enough that he felt with unnerving certainty that they would have swallowed his fingertips, just as much as she needed more sustenance. She was not starving, and yet she dangled dangerously close to it.

Loki swallowed visibly. 

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten something substantial?” The question was out of him before he could reconsider it, the flimsy veil of cordiality between them making him feel as though he had made a very, very stupid mistake.

Sylvie stretched again in the opposite direction, the slow tip to the left from the angle of her waist making it more clear that she was not in a healthy state as each of the ribs on her now exposed right side were now made achingly known.

“I couldn’t give you a specific time – I really can’t remember the last time I sat and just ate until I was full. Ages, for sure, but in more fantastic terms, not since before the Valkyries.” She straightened, again, as well as could be done from her position. She smiled grimly, before adding, “When would I have the time? There aren’t exactly many fine dining experiences when you’re on the run from a time authority.”

‘A what?’ All of his meals felt fine, just the average fare. In his comfort, Loki suddenly felt his ignorance in a new matter. Being found lacking in something always stung, but for there to be separate versions of eating, that they could not all be just his standard of living made him feel a bit ashamed. He wasn’t going to tell her that though.

Loki still stood in the same spot near his bed, no longer interested in having dinner in the great halls worth of food he had available to him – he was now sure – that he had always taken for granted. “I…” he furrowed his brow, not quite sure how to word his next few sentences so as not to insult Sylvie. ‘And when have I ever been worried about insulting someone before? Of course diplomatically, but now…’

“I’ll have dinner brought up here more often, a few times a week if you would be interested in that. I always have clerical work that I need to get done anyway, to prove my interest in the kingdom and as a diplomat.”

’I may not be in line for any throne, but I do we myself as a future advisor. I just need my family to see that too.’

You could eat as you wanted, and no one would come to bother you under that premise. The disappearance of the food is all that matters, not who eats it. If more is needed, I can always go myself to get it.” He looked at her again, taking in her response.

“I don’t think I could come on a regular schedule without making a flashing neon sign pointing to your timeline.” Her eyebrow arched nearly as high as his must when he was annoyed, which seemed to be frequently.

As he opened his mouth to ask just what exactly that was, Sylvie stopped him.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll try to come on Midgardian Wednesdays or Saturdays, to vary it. You have incentive to work to void conversation and I have a reliable place to eat more than a few mouthfuls before bolting. Fair?” Her finger tapped in an unhurried manner on the back of the chaise, drawing his attention.

‘More than fair.’

“Yes.”

“If you don’t mind then,” she said in a way that showed she frankly did not care, “I need a bath. Keep your eyes to yourself, yeah?” She twirled on her heel, striding quickly to the bathing chamber. He may have kept his eyes to himself as he heard the water run to fill the immense tub in his washroom, but his thoughts were his own.

He felt the heat rising to his cheeks even as the steam lazily trailed out from beneath the door, tantalizing in the ease of its seductive motion as the window from the open windows curled it back towards the thin door. Shaking his head fiercely, he decided he would be better off taking advantage of the time to himself to get ready for bed. 

Loki threw his clothing near the bathroom door, planning to use the facilities later if needed and very grateful that he preferred to shower in the mornings to become fully awake. There would be no hiding how he was thinking if he had to walk by Sylvie to clean up.

Besides, things were always quieter in the castle at night. Any number of times, Sylvie could have walked in on him and somehow that stressor had been avoided. If it was the luck he would get, it was the luck that he would take. Loki had only recently become comfortable with this form, though he knew that revealing himself would still be embarrassing despite the work he’d put into his appearance. 

He didn’t have to be quiet, as Sylvie obviously knew that he was there, but it still felt like a courtesy he should give her. It must have been a while for her between these moments to herself, and again he found himself wondering why he wanted to give deference to this person he could not honestly even say he barely knew, and definitely couldn’t consider himself acquainted with. 

This went on for several more days, the gap of time between visits sometimes feeling worryingly long. It was something Loki would never tell her, but something in him did feel relief when he saw her there, knowing that she had survived again from wherever she went when she was not with him. 

He’d started having frustratingly vague dreams again, of dark empty spaces tinged with the blue of a large structure nearby, the white drifts of snow around him adding to the crushing feeling of loneliness pervading the atmosphere around him, almost as biting as the cold. 

Now that he knew Sylvie was real and not a dream at all, what were these? It felt like a memory, but Loki had never been somewhere so cold. He turned tightly into the blankets wrapped around him, shuddering as he tried to hide from the winds.  From a distance, he could hear a harsh whisper of his name, of someone calling to him. Why weren’t they helping him if they knew him? Why call his name and not touch him, not come to his aid?

Something hit him in the face, hard. 

The shock of it jolted him awake, the ostentatious throw pillow from Sylvie’s perch now lying next to his head, the dark fabrics of his canopy over him instead of dead or dying starlight. Leaving behind the end of whatever that world had been, Sylvie hissed his name again.

”Are you awake yet? You were clearly in distress over there, and I can't exactly rock you back to sleep.”

Propping himself up against the pillows, the sheet slid down off his chest as he groggily focused on the wavering image of Sylvie, half-heartedly throwing hers back over, to see her catch it with ease. 

“I suppose I should thank you. It’s just a stupid dream I have a lot. It’s always cold.”

Sylvie looked away from him, staring off at a memory he couldn’t see. “I can understand that.”

Loki stared at her a bit longer, waiting to see if she would tell him more. Disappointingly, she slowly turned back to face the fabric of the chaise, tucking the pillow beneath her head. 

‘I guess we aren’t close enough for heart-to-heart talks yet.’

Try as he might, Loki could not sleep again, not while he was wondering about what Sylvie had been thinking. 

Sitting in the libraries that evening, his stomach churning slightly as he attempted to force it to quiet from sheer force of will, Loki felt better in his suggestion to have food sent to his quarters. It was hard to imagine how she must feel, his discomfort just a drop of whatever she must have lived. 

Giving her space seemed appropriate, and he really wasn’t in the mood to relax. Researching older bylaws seemed a better use of his time than awkward attempts at conversation, and the quiet was something he felt she needed.

‘Ages? Centuries? How long had she been running if the story she told were true? Even if it were false, Sylvie had clearly experienced something horrible, the state of her frame telling her struggle almost more clearly than her words could.'

Thinking about days, years of it, gave him no appetite despite the urging of his body to be sated.

Letting the pages of his open book fall limply onto his hand on the opposing side, Loki struggled to imagine an overlapping reality, his hidden hand still there in form and connected as time went on, the influence of the free hand affecting that opposite form. Was that how this TVA worked? Always a force from the outside, managing to change things. To apply pressure, to eradicate a form... Were he to slam the book, he could imagine the force of it collapsing whatever lay between the pages of realities, whatever creation inside smothered between pages of further writing.

A shiver went down his spine at the idea of a young Sylvie running from that force for such a long time. 

Maybe it wasn’t so hard to imagine after all. 

Chapter Text

Another long day, another sense of wasting his time and energy on trying to cover for his sibling, or of trying to undermine his more idiotic plans. Subterfuge was one thing, but when someone believed the idea of Midgardian lemmings running off of cliffs was a silly fact and not a falsehood, there was not much to be expected in the way of a change in his abilities of analysis. 

More reliably, Thor and his cohorts seemed more like the myth of lemmings than of the myth of the grand warriors they purported to be. 

Thinking of this, all he had been able to mentally linger on was an escape to his rooms, and possibly a conversation with his mysterious visitor. The ‘peace talks’ with Niðavellir were not going well by any means, even with their suggestion of fine craftsmanship crafted specially for Asgard. Brokkr and Sindri seemed a deathly serious sort, so Loki knew well enough that their skill with a weapon would likely match their demeanor. That level of focus often translated to every instance in a person's life. 

Seeing them fight, if it held the same severity, was not something he had any desire to see in a personal encounter.

Reaching his doors, he could faintly hear the crackle of the fire, and faintly thought a maid may have lit it for him. 

‘Have my habits become so predictable? I didn’t think I came to my quarters very often during the days.’ 

Opening the doors with half-hearted acceptance, Loki was surprised to see Sylvie crouched before the hearth, leather boots creaking as she adjusted her weight slightly at the sound of the door before apparently recognizing him. Her demeanor did not change, and the idea that she somehow recognized his aura  or just his cantor made itself known.

’How quickly she’s learned to recognize it’s me before I even speak. How can she do that? It takes years to learn another being that way.’

Before he could go deeper into that, Sylve whispered out a greeting. “Another day hard at work, princeling?”

Her hands moved smoothly in the sheen of the light of the fire, tucking a wayward log back into the hearth even as it collapsed. An ember singed her hand as she did so, but somehow she seemed unaffected by the small bite of it. 

“Does this not count as affecting an environment?" Loki said, realizing that may have something to do with her claim about this TVA she had mentioned.

”No, it definitely would not,” she quipped, annoyed. “I can’t touch people at all. Every time I do, they come to collect. Whatever it is about me, it sends some type of flare for wherever I am in the universe, giving them a direct line to me.”

Confused again, but trying not to show it, Loki asked, “The TVA? So how is it that you get away from them then? What kind of magic can teleport you across entire realities?”

The very idea was ridiculous, and a bit insulting that he was expected to believe it. This visitor had made his life more interesting, so letting her live out whatever delusion she had could at least give him something to focus on besides the travesty of inter-realm relations he was involved in.

Sylvie looked at him like he was truly the most ignorant creature in existence. 

“Why would I ever show you? It’s my only way to safety if you decide to do something idiotic like so many others and try and touch me despite my warnings, to see your reality start unraveling around you just because you thought I was crazy.” Then, more quietly: “Or worse.”

”I don’t…” he started to say, but he stopped, because he did think she was crazy. It was all insane, that some time security force would come and erase an entire universe based on just her existence in it? Preposterous. Grandiose even.

“Items, little things, stolen food from those too rich to notice it missing, clothing from arrogant braggarts such as yourself in fancy palaces, those are the types of things that no one misses. I would be as much of a monster as the TVA to steal from the poor. How could I exist knowing I took the last bit of food from a starving family just to keep myself going?”

Loki looked again at the clothing hanging only slightly less on her frame, of how much harder it would be to obtain such things without being seen and interacted with, even as it was the more moral choice.

As much of an arrogant braggart as Loki was, he had to admit that it was a truthful observation. Many people had to exist much the same way… How many lords and ladies lived lavishly, like him even, never once looking at the people around them who supplied the very ease they took for granted? People who walked beside them in opulence all day, only to go home and feel bitterness at their own living standards. Or, even those who only looked at it from afar and could not possibly conceive of a home where the roof did not leak, of a home at all. 

The silence that remained was intermittently interrupted by more embers escaping the fire, and Sylvie stiffly stood from her crouching position, the top of her head nearing his nose. It was the closest they had ever been to each other, the scent of the charred wood clinging to her hair as she seemed to envelop all of the space before him.

”Would you tempt fate then, to try and touch me? Someone like you, you probably believe that you’d be different, that nothing could possibly happen to you. They all thought the same.” Her arms crossed in front of her, and the fierce look of her face, despite her words, had Loki thinking that she was actually rather cute.

’What kind of random thought was that? I hardly know this woman.’

They were terribly close, the huff of her breath hitting his face, and he was very, very tempted to move closer.

They stared each other down, her eyes searching his face for something, some acknowledgement of her point. 

For once in his life, Loki did not know what to say. Moving at all felt too much like tempting fate, and though he wanted to just grab something on the person before him, to prove the sham for what it was, the tense chance of her being right - however small - kept him from moving. Every muscle felt locked tight, and even his breaths were coming in small, tight presses as though if he breathed too deeply, his chest brushing against her would be enough to end everything as he knew it. 

The whole time, Sylvie waited, seemingly to lean closer for just a moment and causing him to pull away.

Scoffing, Sylvie stalked around him to the chaise she had claimed as her own, his preference for the assertion unconsidered. “You should wash up little prince, you have a long day ahead of you again tomorrow.”

Loki was starting to hate how often she seemed to be right. Still, a part of her seemed - disappointed somehow. Did she want something to happen, for her running to end somehow? After as many years as she claimed, the idea wasn’t too outlandish for him to consider doing so himself.

’Why continue at all?’

”Would you tell me about yourself? I know nothing besides your name, but you seem to know everything about me.” Leaning against the armchair near the chaise, Loki thought to sit opposite her there but decided against it just as quickly. Too tempting to deliberately or just accidentally brush a knee against hers. The feeling of their recent standoff was still making every nerve ending feel alight, an almost shock-like firmness running along the backs of his hands and arms at the contact they had not made. 

“I’m a princess in my reality, in line for the throne after my brother died.” Sylvie said, not a hint of comedy in the statement. “Heir apparent, I would have been.”

“Ah huh.” he replied, not terribly sure how to take that. “And what of? Would I know the place?”

“You would know it better than most, I’d imagine. We’ll just say he pissed off the wrong people, and ended up dead. He wasn’t supposed to die, but then none of our reality was supposed to happen.”

“Bit too simplistic for my tastes. Where is the intrigue, the story?” How was he supposed to believe this nonsense when she couldn’t even give him a decent bit of backstory? The more he learned from her, the more of a sham it seemed to feel, and yet something made him want to believe her, nonsensicality or no. 

“It’s story enough. I wasn’t even supposed to be female. They kidnapped me, and took me to their center. I stole one of their tempads and escaped - I’ve been on the run ever since.” She had her knees curled tightly to her chest now, as if shielding herself from what she had to know he already believed.

“Sure, and where exactly is this tablet? You keep calling it a tempad and I’ve yet to see it. How am I to know that this thing even exists?” Loki waved a hand in the air, bringing it back to join the other in a mockery of an open book.

“You don’t, and you’re just going to have to accept that.” she hissed. “I slip in and out of timelines to escape from them, and so far this is the only place that I can have more than an hour to myself to rest. Do you seriously think that I would give up my only lifeline to safety just to prove something to you?”

Ignoring this, he continued, “Another thing then - if you’ve been on the run for so long what makes this place so damn special? How does it keep you protected?” He gesticulated wildly, attempting to punctuate his words physically with a pointed finger. His hair bounced a bit as he moved, annoying him by getting into his face. Pushing it back, he turned away from her to wipe a hand across his face, to try and push away the growing migraines he felt all too frequently now. 

“For some reason, I’ve managed not to touch anyone here since I started to stay in your rooms. Your antisocial ass does me a favor by leaving a wide open gap for me to rest, and yet here we are with you interrogating me when I should be trying to recuperate before I run again.” Sylvie looked so very, very tired all of a sudden, more than he had ever seen her before. 

“Awfully convenient again isn’t it? There’s no way in Hel that you’ve managed to avoid me for so long, I shield this room to all but myself.” 

‘She may be tired, but I feel that I have handled things very well when at any moment I could very well be assassinated at the tail end of an extremely convoluted hit.’

She leveled a knowing look at him - “I wish I could be as naive as you, it must be very peaceful. You should know me better than anyone else.”

“And just what you do you mean by that?” Exasperation was no longer hidden, it was his entire personality now. 

“Do you really believe that I’ve only just started coming here? I’ve stayed in this realm, in your rooms for decades and yet you’ve never noticed me. We’ve been over this already.”

“And yet I still know next to nothing about you - this is impossible.” Striding heavily, Loki walked over to his open window to lean his head against the cool granite. The whole situation was giving him a headache. He felt empathy for her, but how the Hel was he supposed to just accept this all as truth? More importantly, why the fuck was he so scared to touch her?

“I’m just that good then.”

’Of all the…’

Clearly this woman was insane, and yet he found himself wanting to know her more.

“And if I touch you right now, what then?”

“Have you not been listening? Too many delusions of grandeur clogging out your ears? Because the TVA will come and that will be the end of it!”

“It’s late enough, and despite the obvious risk to my life you amuse me enough that I'll hazard the risk of you staying. I’ll have my own wards again within my chambers, if you so much as come near me it’ll be the end of you.”

“Those wards never stopped me before”, she chirped, her tone sounding far more confident than her posture suggested.

Ignoring the jibe, he slammed the door to the room proper, and put a bit of extra ‘oomph’ into the spells just in case. 

There was enough to worry about - dealing with this was not going to make things any better for him, so perhaps ignoring it altogether would be what let him retain a bit of sanity. 

The next day at court, Niðavellir came to finally settle this whole disagreement between their realms. Brokkr and Sindri were there, carrying their gifts. More importantly, they bore the gift for the heir of their rival. Catering to the ego of the heir was definitely a good way to mitigate a situation, and Loki felt that it was a simple gesture he would have also employed, had the need ever arisen. 

Seeing as he believed he knew when to keep his mouth shut, Loki would hopefully not have to do that anytime soon. 

“All-Father, Crown Prince Thor - Niðavellir brings gifts of peace to you, as we have promised.” Wiry Sindri stood, back tall and a long trunk before him on a display table. When the guards had brought it out, Loki couldn’t be sure, but clearly this was felt to be the most important item. The gilding on the trunk alone was in no small sum of value; precious stones adorned each fragile corner as bumpers, a testament to their worth being less than that of the contents.

Beside him, Loki could hear the shuffling of his designated guard’s armor as he shifted uncomfortably, unsure of the contents within but having to trust the judgement of the servicemen who had inspected it before it ever arrived in the meeting hall. 

Brokkr, thicker and slightly stouter, stood to the east of it, hands crossed behind his back in what would normally be considered a bad move. In any other situation, it would even be considered a threat, to hide hands in front of someone at a peace talk. The four guards who stood behind him seemed to feel he same, hands tight on their weapons. 

This may be a talk between rulers, but the constituents knew well enough what effect today would have on their lives. Peace or war, sense or insanity. 

Other prizes had been spoken of, but the outcome of those would come from what happened here. 

Laying a hand against the trunk, Sindri watching it glow subtlety, smiling to himself at his handiwork. The blue light cast an eerie glare onto his face, and it made him appear sallow and ill. 

Reaching and turning to better grasp the object inside, Sindri gently lifted his creation. 

“This, sirs, is called Mjolnir. It is the finest hammer to have yet been crafted, constructed of equally fine and rare materials.” He lifted it high, the longer handle and conversely smaller appearance of the head made it seem benign, not enough for the strength many warhammers carried just in the force behind the effort to move them. A well aimed warhammer would shatter bones, and crush heads. This hammer seemed a delicate thing, more for display than use. 

It was enough that Loki was reticent to voice such a thing, as more than anyone he understood the deceptive nature of appearances. His brother, however, was obviously displeased.

“You mean that I am to believe,” he gritted out, self preservation for anyone or any way of life already out a metaphorical window, defenestarated with all the undue force of an egg to a wall, “that in this time of strife, you saw fit to bring a toy, a simple creation unfit for nails in hooves?”

’Gods damn it.’

Taking long steps attained by his height, Thor stepped down the dais to do as he felt was best. At this moment, that seemed to be to abandon any possible consideration of sense.

”This hammer, the handle is far too long to be useful. Yes, I see that it glows, but what use is a beacon to reveal you to the entire battlefield?” Snatching the item from Sindri’s hand, he inspected the weapon, turning it this way and that as he ascertained any possible value to himself alone. 

As if annoyed on its own accord, the weapon released an arc of lighting along it’s haft. 

“How dare you? This weapon holds the power to call down the very storms!” Sindri’s hands were fists now, the curl of them tight enough that his gauntlets bit into themselves and his hand, blood dripping onto the no longer blemish-less marble floor. 

“The only storm you have brought is my furies.”

Even as Brokkr began a step towards the Crown Prince, a loud snap echoed throughout the hall.

The long handle, once near half the length of Thor, was now shortened to that of a generic tool.

”Now it stands to reason for its true purpose. Retain your hammer for common practice and leave the stations of the realms to those such as us, craftsman.”

The weapon sparked angrily, as if its own fury was higher than that of the dignitaries Thor has insulted beyond measure.

”Thor, you fool what have you..” Odin began, far too late for any recompense.

Shocked, Loki could not do much else, the situation seizing the usually well oiled gears of his mind into a slow, barely perceptible sludge.

”You, Prince, you will receive the gifts you have been promised.” Brokkr said, his hand on his friend’s shoulder as he stared in horror at what had become of the creation he was clearly proud to bring before them. Brokkr’s tone was terrifyingly calm, his back straight and his demeanor seemingly unbothered.

As for Sindri, words failed him, and he kneeled to gather the pieces  of Mjolnir in a state of near denial. Slowly, he looked from hand to hand as though through will alone he could undo what had been done.

”Keep them,” Thor chuckled back, voice just as deep and his expression one of a man annoyed by a fly. 

“You will find,” Sindri was finally able to say, “that some gifts are impossible to return. You will find just how quickly they are rewarded.”

In a flash, both dwarves and their gift disappeared from the room, only the tight expressions of everyone but Thor left behind. 

Chapter Text

Looking across the room at Loki as he slept, Sylvie couldn’t help but feel a bit of annoyance at his questions, even though she had expected them. 

Being able to talk to someone, anyone really, had its charms, so the opportunity was a welcome one. Even then, there was a touch of fear to it, of getting too close and even accidentally touching one another. The day before, it had been such a close call, and for what? To try to push it to happen, to see if she could get away with it just this one time? To live normally?

Of course it was a terrible idea… Was it worth the chance of peace just to destroy this whole world? Sylvie had been caught before, by another Loki even, but she had been crueler than either of them - her or this current one. Immediately she had been on the defensive, striding towards her without a thought to strike the intruder in her home without the use of magic.

That alone had been interesting enough to want to initiate conversation, but clearly this had been one Asgard that definitely would not offer her safe haven. The yells brought guards as well, all focused entirely on her, more eyes that she had felt on her in decades. 

The look on her counterpart’s face as the TVA came through the doors still haunted her, far more than the people who had been cruel to her as a child, as a teenager, as a young woman. Being alone at a vulnerable age and even as an adult presented its danger in enough ferocity without any fanning of circumstance - the notice of cruel eyes and crueler hands, wandering as far as they could reach haunted her frequently, as much as the heartless TVA agents who had tried to take her even as her clothing was ripped and her entire existence bleed vulnerability. 

The morality of whether they should help her was not a glimmer of an ember to them, she was vermin and whatever happened to her as the remnant of a judged reality meant that anything that happened to her was only the fault of herself for running. Sylvie had still felt a measure of guilt for the innocent people in those realities, wiped from existence for the action of one disgusting person. Seeing her own face, the shock of it from a new perspective had squirmed its way deeper into those traumas, making it harder to sleep than before. 

Now there was this version of herself, somehow choosing to be kind to her from within the doubt he held, having food sent to his room when he knew he would not be there just so that she could have a reliable source of food. Why her, why trust her? Why him?

It was nice to finally have someone to talk to. Repeating things sometimes did annoy her, but the strange inherent knowledge that with him she was safe had released a pressure Sylvie had felt for centuries.

From the bed across the room, she heard shuffling. 

“Sylvie? Are you alright?”

Confused, Sylvie swiped a hand over her face to bring her back to this reality, and felt the streaks of her tears.

”I’m fine. If it’s fine with you, I’ll stay here a while longer today.”

”Of course. Stay as long as you like”, he said, getting up to start his day.

The workday had felt a blur, with the attempts at normalcy falling flatter than Fandral in a round of drink song. The turn for the rest of the day did not feel promising ether, judging by the dinner the family currently led that was beyond silent. 

Thor was sulking, not understanding why upholding his perceived standards would be a detriment. “Why bother to rule a realm if you did not think yours was the very best?” he’d said.

Obviously that was stupid, and the true health of a realm depended on mutually beneficial trade between them all. No one place could survive on its own, and a delicate balance was needed. Denigrating their fellows never resulted in anything good, as this event had clearly shown. 

Looking awkwardly towards the head of the table, Loki chanced a glance at his father. Since the time for his sleep had been rapidly approaching, the loss of their mother since the last instance and the current distress the realm was under were having a negative effect on him. He looked very, very old to him, and it felt as though the change had happened very quickly. 

Before, Odin would have swiftly disciplined his oldest son and made sure of the recompense for whoever had been offended with an appropriate punishment. Their mother would have stood with him, permissive in general but somehow still wise, supporting their father in his decisions even when they seemed to make little sense. As their mother was rarely wrong in what she foresaw, most had learned to trust silently and keep their dissent to themselves. 

Her death had been natural, though it did not make that passing any easier for the family. Their cohesion had swiftly begun to splinter, and the drop in critical awareness between any controversial - or even rational - issue had been steeped in a dense emulsion of error. 

The creep of it had started to be visible in the minds of their constituents, and the worry of war was one that needed little prodding to become a deep one. Even former allies had become vocal about their dislike of things, of the slippage of standards between them and Asgard. 

Now, that uneasiness felt murderous after Thor’s display of disregard for the safety of everyone, on what amounted to little more than a show of ego. A long session with his warrior friends had done little to take the edge of his annoyance down, and even they were frustrated with their prince. Now, he sat at the long table in a mixture of confusion and annoyance, not seeming to understand what he had done wrong. 

Odin seemed disconnected from everything, staring dimly ahead as if he had already accepted what was to come. The odds of war weren’t something that needed critical perception to see - it was coming.

The only question was when.

The guards stood at their posts in the hall, attempting to look like they still cared about this family who had all but sentenced many of their friends and families to hardships in the least and death at worst. 

The sun was setting low outside, almost mocking the situation with a cheerful glow, the amber light giving a sheen of opulence to the dour expressions worn by the participants in the farce. The golden halls mocked the light, trying to imitate what it merely reflected.

“Sons,” Odin began, “I feel the sun setting on more than today.” He closed his eyes, face titled towards the glare of the sun as it died from the sky. Rather than warmed, he seemed to feel a chill from it as it passed. “I cannot help but feel I have failed you both, in trying to give you the chance to make yourself more assertive, Thor.”

”What do you mean, father? I have only tried to uphold the strength of Asgard. I’ve done as I was taught…” he trailed, splaying a hand across the aged wood before them.  It was laden with more than they could ever finish, more than many guards observing could ever hope to afford in six months of food. 

Loki felt ill.

”And that, son, is how I know I have failed. Brute force and placating is not enough, and the weighing of words is just as delicate a function as that of learning the proper way to intercept a blow. I have missed the guidance of your mother, and I am admitting that I have failed. I may very well have doomed Asgard…”

As if waiting for a cue, shouts began to grow from past the walls of the dining halls. 

“…Coming! They’re coming!!” The voice yelled, and hands tightly gripped their weapons as the guards nearest them turned towards the sound.

Running to the window to see for himself, Loki peered down into the growing darkness to see a flare of blue, not dissimilar to Mjolnir’s glow when it was damaged. 

Down, down in the depths, that little flare seemed to float from a hand, an immense magic contained within whatever it held. 

In that effervescence was the face of Sindri. He stood far below near the waterways at the entrance to Asgard, the Bifrost behind him and the water's fall away from the city. A similar feeling of bottomless fall sank into his stomach as he observed the thing cradled in his hand, unfurling steadily into a great longship. The creation must have been one of the proffered gifts, the Skíðblaðnir. 

Capable of being compact enough to fit into a pocket, but grand enough to carry a full stash of weapons of war, plus armies, it would have been a great thing for the offering of peace. Now, it was being used against its planned recipients with nothing but destruction guaranteed. 

As it grew, impossibly, smoothly, there was not grinding as he would have expected, and yet this terrible beauty continued to expand in size. Somehow, the very weapons it was capable of holding were already affitted to her deck, and armies began to appear from the long stretch of the Bifrost. Heimdall must be dead, because otherwise there would have been a much louder knell to announce their arrival. However the dwarves had managed this, it had to have been a matter of cold exacting brutality. 

Even as he stared, dumbfounded at this amazing show of magic and the control needed to form just a fraction of this grand ship, the sounds of his family behind him let him know that they also saw what was surely the end of Asgard.

There were harried orders to evacuate civilians, as just the display of its appearance were enough to show that this would be the arrival of many deaths. Loki ignored their calls, remembering only one thing:

Somewhere in the realms, Sylvie was running, whether from an enemy or from herself, Loki wasn’t quite sure. She had told him of her desire to stay in his quarters for a while - what if she were still there? The flare of light had been the only announcement, but already there was a long thin beam emitted from the bough of the ship - actually, it was many shots, all combined into a stronger ray that barreled quickly towards the gate to the waterway of Asgard. 

Worse still, this ship was capable of ruling sea and air. As he watched, the ship lifted up further into the air, smaller warships of similar construction to a far more condensed scale appeared under it from the hands of the gathered dwarves. These must have been the progenitors, the test builds for the grander creation. These smaller fleets, incapable of flight - yet sailing of their own volition - laden with the armies of Niðavellir, their war drums intoning a steady thrum as they unhurriedly made their way past the destroyed barrier at the end of the waterways.

There would be no need to invade on the land, as they had Asgard opened to them like a crumbling novel, spine split and hardly connected to the cover. Soon those very warriors would flood the inner tunnels of the palace, the ways meant to shield the royals becoming the pathways for the infection to reach the heart.

The thought of her being harmed, of her not knowing about what was coming somehow sent him moving before he’d finished the thought, the halls filled with people going in the opposite direction, the flow of it more of flailed arms crashing from the waves onto the stones. No one else was running yet, but the mass of them was oiled enough to form the panic, and that kept them moving towards the center of the palace where they presumed they would be safer. 

There they would inevitably be directed towards evacuation ships, but for now Loki’s focus was solely on Sylvie.

The quick pace of those around were making the torches gutter, and after far longer than he would have liked, Loki reached his rooms only to hear a loud crash.

Shaking on his feet, the stones seemed to sway beneath them as he grabbed the casing of his door in an attempt to make everything move just a little less. The fragility of it wasn’t comforting, and as he pulled open the door he saw why - in the far wall, there was now a gaping hole where his favorite window had once been, curtains aflame as the laser hit again just a bit further way, showering more stone onto the fine carpets he’d found so comfortable. 

The wall of the main room had exploded, debris scattered haphazardly on the floor. The room was devoid of much light of its own, only lit by the fires outside as Asgard burned, as trebuchets and other weapons of war nestled into Skíðblaðnir fired viciously on his home, the once gleaming towers now dulled and ash covered. Skidding to a stop within, Loki whirled quickly on the spot, trying to peer through the limited view to find Sylvie.

Looking around at the remnants of it, at the destroyed collectibles and ruined books, he strained through the smokiness to see Sylvie, trying to stay a bit under it as he did so. He couldn’t help her at all if he died of smoke inhalation. 

’Where are you? I would rather you aren’t here, that you’re somewhere safe, but even still I would feel better if I could see you…’

Tracking semi-clear footprints through the steadily increasing bits of mortar dust and quarry stone, bits of fine marble reduced to trash, Loki stepped into the bathing chamber. 

Flares of firelight were gleaming through the glass panes, tinting them a fierce orange.

‘How have the fires climbed so high? The gardens have to be gone now, for them to have gone so far.’

The thought of the gardens seemed so far out of place, the idea of a calm bit of anything unreal. The room felt chilled despite the fires outside, and searching through the open expanse of it took him very little time as he stalked back out again almost as quickly as he had entered. 

Remnants of his shelves of carefully curated tomes were nothing now, another shot ramming into the side of his tower room, the floor swaying perceptibly beneath his feet, though not yet destroyed. Time would be short before that, and the urgency he felt made his breaths harried.

Spinning frustratedly as he peered through the limited light, another flare of the magic laser’s flame hit the tower across from his own, the light of it landing on something that filled him with fear, for more than his home or for anything else.

He could barely make out the bed frame, the pile of stone, that the chaise was obliterated or missing, that… There was the blanket Sylvie preferred, sticking out from under the rubble. If she were buried under it…

Not knowing where Sylvie was from didn’t help him much, because an Asgardian may be alright from a few hits of the stone, but this large mass was a cause for worry, and even as he thought that his hands were digging in, the coarseness of it pulling and tearing his fingers on the edges in the process, the thought of touching her by mistake more of a far off distant dream than a legitimate concern. If she were hurt, if she were dead, Loki had no idea what he would do. The panic of the realization rose the gorge in his throat, a small cough coming as he moved with more haste than before, struggling to see and hear in the smoke as more of the laser’s rounds whined into and out of existence.

His back was starting to strain, but he was nowhere near the middle of it, barely able to grab the blanket so he could pull just in case she was still in it…

“What in the hells are you doing?” He heard from a very welcome smoke-affected voice, crowded off into the corner of his room.

Whipping his head, Loki turned towards the sound, relief obvious on his face as he called out to her.

”Sylvie! I thought you were hurt, that —“

”And why not just call for me before you started hurting yourself, Loki? That may have been a good first try, but I do appreciate the thought involved in saving me. What happened out there?” 

“Niðavellir, they came, and —“

”Got it, so the huge laser made the idea of an attack pretty clear.” She was slumped against the corner, hand wrapped around an ankle and a self made bandage haphazardly torn from the curtains was wrapped around it as well. “I was finally starting to fall asleep when I heard it power up and hit elsewhere, and I managed to get out of the way in time to avoid the bulk of it but some of the stone still got me. At first I thought it was the TVA somehow, honestly.” 

That was definitely a problem, and even through the smoke Loki could already see that her ankle looked wrong, and that she would not be walking on it any time soon.

”Do you think you can walk on it?” He said, even as he knew she couldn’t.

”No, but you can’t help me.”

”Like Hel I won’t, I’m not going to just leave you here! Can you get out with your temp pad thing?”

”Yeah, but to do what? I can’t walk, I can’t run.. Whatever’s on the other side just means the TVA and death, regardless of how good of a place I pick. This is an injury that will take weeks to heal, and if it’s you or me, I’m tired.” she admitted, looking horribly resigned.

”I can’t just leave you.”

”Then you need to decide Loki, is it worth the risk of losing everything?”

If she was surprised by the lack of thought that it took him to make his way over, Sylvie didn’t tell him. Instead, he had already crossed the room and picked her up, her whole body tensing under the knowledge of the inevitable end of him and whatever peace she’d temporarily found with him. If Sylvie was only going to get the one chance to do it though... She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him back just as tightly. 

Whatever he thought as the seconds ticked by and the TVA did not appear, Loki did not tell her and they found themselves melding into the limited shadows to make their way deeper and deeper under the palace.

Intermittently, Loki looked down to check on Sylvie, watching as her expressions shifted and the sheer confusion at why things were still happening made her uncomfortable. Maybe she was telling the truth, and she had somehow managed to find a reality that the TVA she hated and feared did not exist in. If possibilities were infinitely many, maybe she had done that and was not just a deeply troubled woman he had strangely become attached to. Either way, he counted himself lucky that she had found him. 

The odds of an enemy were high, and the magicked weapons at his side felt comfortably heavy in the sheath at the small of his back.

”We’re essentially at full tilt war now, no thanks to Thor.” He told her, trying to fill the tension of the air around them with something other than the sound of the destruction above. The path to the tunnels was eerily quiet, and that bothered him more than seeing them flooded with opposing warriors.

They didn’t pass a single soul, and Loki hoped that meant everyone had escaped. Briefly, he thought about his father and brother - surely they would wonder what had happened to him, if he'd died. The worst they could think is that he was a coward.  The thought almost made him stop, but the sure belief that his people would be alright as long as they were able to get to the ships kept him pressing on to one of his hidden spaces, one of the hideaways that allowed him a measure of peace from the recipe of stress.

The last turn arrived, and his little sequestered joy riding boat was just where he had left it. 

“This is it then Sylvie - I know ways out of here without using the Bifrost, but you have to trust me.”

“Are you sure you trust me?” She asked, her hands tightening a little on his collar. “I sure seem like a crazy person right now.”

”Then so am I, because wherever I go to get out of here, I want it to be with you Sylvie.” He carefully sat her down into the seat, pulling a cloak from beneath. “You should wear this, it gets a bit chilly when you go as fast as we’ll have to go to get out of here in one piece.”

Raising an eyebrow, Sylvie asked, “What about you then?” Her little smile told him that she knew something he didn’t, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 

“I’ve never really felt the cold as much as others.”

”That makes two of us,” she replied, smiling a bit wider even as a pain jolted the now swollen ankle, the shifting of the boat to launch jostling her just a bit. 

Frowning now, she added slowly, “I don’t know why they haven’t come, why aren’t they here?” 

“The TVA?” He was fiddling with the ties now, the steering in his hand shortly after as he finished pulling the line in. He nudged a toe against where he knew there should be a box of provisions for long escapes, and was satisfied by the thunk of his boot against the considerable weight of it.  

“Yes the TVA - I lived in fear of them for so long, seen so many people destroyed for accidentally touching me or trying to help, just for this to happen? Why here, why now?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not about to complain. We need to get out of here right now, to somewhere safer. Do you trust me to do that?”

Sylvie surprised herself by saying “I trust you more than anyone else.”

"Then let’s get out of here.”

“What about your family?”

“They’ll surely think I’m dead, with the way I ran back in.” The ship was lifting now, the hidden turns they came to giving Sylvie a shock as they appeared even without the sounds of war around them, but Loki took them with practiced ease. “I don’t intend to come back, Asgard is gone. If everything I’ve seen in legends is true, it was supposed to be by Surtur, but since when has anything gone the way it’s supposed to? I probably have another sibling hiding somewhere.”

Sylvie laughed a little at that, not sure how to tell him that she was a version of him. The familiarity between them should have been an indicator, but she was happy just to have this if it meant she could finally catch a break.

She could tell him further down the line, when they were safe. At least she could trust him, and she knew that he wouldn’t leave her.

“Where to then, princeling?”

He gave her a wide, mischievous smile. “Wherever you like, princess.”

From his throne at the end of time, Loki sighed. An entire Ragnarok rewritten, the entirety of a path rewritten. A reality where his mother had died younger but more peacefully, where nearly everything but himself and his immediate family had been different. This Sylvie, a safe Sylvie, had willingly sought comfort from a Loki, and he was more than willing to help her find safety and happiness with a version of himself or anyone else she chose. For it to actually be a version of him, that did make him feel some measure of peace. 

He may never feel that care personally, but he could exist in the knowledge that he was able to provide this chance for others. How they handled this relationship would be entirely on them, but it was a chance at least.

It was the kind of godly thing they all needed.