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Loki sat on his throne, watching all the timelines, for the rest of time. This was his glorious purpose, even if it was a lonely one. He remembered how his father had told both his sons how heavy the crown was and the responsibilities attached to it. However, ha had believed it to be his birthright, and that, in time, he would show himself worthy of such duty.
Well, the time had come. He had sacrificed himself and insure his friends’ happy endings. He could see them now : Mobius, Sylvie, B-15, Casey, OB… He could see everyone.
He could even see Thor.
Mobius was back with his family. He had seen him hesitate so much, but when little Sean had come and find him, he had followed him home, and pretended to be Don’s long lost twin brother. He was now having dinner with them every night, and worked as a manager in the jet ski shop.
Sylvie was back at Mc Donald’s, though Loki truly did not get the appeal. If it made her happy, he guessed, it was what mattered.
B-15 and Casey were still working at the TVA, alongside OB, and everything was going perfectly fine, with no unfair pruning, and all the timelines flourishing thanks to his tree.
Thor had a daughter, he discovered. It was not a child he had had with his mortal beloved, but one he had adopted, and Loki felt his heart squeeze at the image. He had taken under his care the child of his enemy, and made her his own. The girl knew of her own nature and loved her new father. How marvelous to see the little family so happy.
How delighted he was for both of them.
How envious he was too.
Stuck at the End of Time, he would never have this kind of happiness.
He had to be content with this fate. After all, wasn’t it what he had always wanted?
A throne? A glorious purpose?
Lies. That was what he thought would make Odin happy. Not him. Not Loki.
Loki had only ever wanted to be loved, understood. He had only ever wanted true companionship.
Back in Asgard, when he was young and foolish, he had had no real friends of his own. His mother worried about it, but he could not help it. Thor was the most popular one, and he could not escape his shadow. Who would have ever chosen him when his radiant, heroic brother was standing right there?
He had always been the chosen one, when Loki, at best, had been a second choice, in friendship, in love, and in Odin’s eye.
Loki had grown bitter and jealous, even if he had loved Thor too, and understood their preference. He just wished someone would see him, would pick him over Thor.
Alas, this person did not exist, only in his dreams.
Ah yes, when he closed his eyes, there she was, exquisite and charming, the true essence of beauty, with a warm embrace that made his cold heart melt in an instant. Sometimes she had long blonde hair, sometimes they were red, sometime they were black as raven feathers. But always, she loved him and only him. Always, she was by his side, holding his hand, singing to him melodious galdrs, appeasing his soul and giving him a well-earned rest.
It was thanks to these dreams that he had survived Thanos and his jails. It was those dreams again who guided him out of the darkness when he thought he was going to die.
Since the lady in question did not exist, he could imagine whatever he pleased about her. He could pretend she would love him. He could make her say the sweetest things, her pretty lips smiling every time she would see him. She would laugh at his jokes and antics. She would rest her head on his shoulder as he took her in his arms. She would sit on his lap, and softly caress his face while professing her love and loyalty to him. And most of all, she would not be afraid of his true nature.
He had found out he was a Jotun by accident and had hated himself even more even since. It had come at a surprise, but when thinking about it, and reminiscing his childhood and Odin favoring Thor, it explained so much. Their father had raised them as good Asgardian warriors and citizens, with a fear and disgust for anything Jotnar. To realize he was of Giant blood when he had been told they were monsters and barbarians all his life, had been his undoing.
He still hated that part of him. He hated his birthfather for abandoning him, even though he sometimes wondered if this had not been another of Odin’s lies. Would a king true leave to die his last son, his last remaining heir? This seemed a little bit unlikely.
He could have checked, of course. He could have seen if Laufey had truly wanted his death.
Yet, just like Mobius with his family, he did not want to see. He feared what he would find out. He preferred his doubts to another terrible truth, another unbearable rejection from a person who should have loved him.
His lady would have loved him, even with his Jotun blood. She would not have minded it and comforted him every time his heart was overtaken by fear and self-hatred.
Another impossible trait. Any well-bred Asgardian lady would have run at the mere thought of a Jotun approaching them, fainting at his impure intentions towards them.
She was his impossible lady. She was above all of this. Perfect, because she only resided in his mind.
Maybe this was the reason why he had fallen for Sylvie. She was not his beloved, quite the opposite. His sweet lady was pure, innocent, warm, loyal, faithful and loving, while his female variant had been aggressive, hostile and treacherous. The two women could not have been more different.
Loki wondered if Sylvie also dreamed of the lady, and if she wanted her too. It was possible, after all, they were the same person. Some of their desires had to be the same. They would have probably fought over her, had she been real.
When he had met Sylvie, he had thought he found someone who would understand and accept him as she was him and he was her. The same person with a different face. However, it had turned out very differently from what he had hoped. He could not trust anyone, not even himself.
Wasn’t it another proof his lady love was nothing but a dream? No one could love him. Not even himself.
He had been glad though for Mobius’ friendship. Their relationship had been rocky at first, but they had grown to appreciate each other, and now, Loki regarded him as a close friend whom he loved dearly. B-15, Casey and OB were all very dear to his heart, and without them, he would not ever have had the strength to do the right thing and take over the timelines.
There was, in the depths of his heart, a small, nagging, gnawing doubt devouring his mind, telling him in Odin’s voice that, had Thor been there, his so-called friends would not even have seen him and would have chosen the Golden son and hero, as everyone always did.
It was a possibility.
But he preferred not to think about it.
He watched the different timelines, and the different Lokis, all alone.
How sad and pathetic he was, truly. Maybe Sif had been right all along; Maybe he was fated to stay alone for the rest of time. His lady would have screamed and run away, had she ever met him, had she truly been real.
As he focused on the green threads, he was suddenly distracted by some strange music. He stopped and looked around. There was no one else in the lonesome room with him, obviously. Where did it come from? The song seemed strangely familiar to him, but he could not place where he had heard it before. Was the loneliness and his own thoughts turning him crazy? It was a possibility, though he was pretty certain no one would want a mad Jotun as a Norn.
No. The music had to come from somewhere, or maybe somewhen… He had to investigate.
Looking at all the timelines, he finally saw the songstress and recognized her immediately. How could he not? He had dreamt of her so many times, and here she was, very much real and alive. If he stretch out his hand, he could nearly touch her, caress her long black her and her lovely dark skin. So she did exist? How did he not know this? How had they never met? Had He Who Remains hid her from him? It was likely. After all, a lonely Loki was more manipulable, and that was exactly what Kang had wanted.
She was real, yet just as unreachable than in his dreams. He could only admire her from afar, as he was stuck at the center of Yggdrasil for all eternity. He cursed all the fate deities who had kept her from him when they could have been together all this time. All this time wasted, when he could have been happy, with his fair lady in his arms.
Sigyn, a voice corrected him in the back of his head.
Her name was Sigyn, how victoriously beautiful it was. Lokis were used to defeat, yet their beloved’s name echoed of Victory. How appropriate, indeed. Loki had longed for victory as he had longed for his mysterious dream girl. And both were one.
He could not have her, but what about her timeline’s Loki? Where was he? What was he doing, chasing some useless, absurd throne, when he could have been truly happy?
He finally found him, far from Sigyn, in another realm, utterly oblivious to her existence.
Well, if he could not have her, at least, that Loki would get his happy ending. So he bounded their fates together, and organized their meeting. It was very romantic, during a feast, in Odin’s Hall. Sigyn was a princess of Vanaheim, and how frustrating was it that he had been to Sessrumnir so many times but never met Freya’s sweet daughter? Where had been his Sigyn?
Well, it was too late to wonder, he guessed. At least, that Loki and his Sigyn would be happy. He saw later their wedding, and the birth of their two sons drew tears to his eyes. Ah. This should have been his fate. The look of sheer happiness on his variant’s face rose jealousy once again inside of him, but he put it aside.
It gave him an idea. He was the King of the Timelines now, wasn’t he? He was the Norn, the God of Time and Fates. If he decided that Loki should have a happy ending, who would stop him?
No one.
And so he did. In all the timelines, he found the Sigyn variant, all lovely and sweet, and smiled when he realized most of them were already in love with their Loki, pining away for him or her, but too shy approach them and confess her feelings to them.
How he wished she did! They would have been married, living their lives in pure bliss, Vali and Narvi playing with Thor’s daughter, while their parents kept New Asgard safe.
Well, that could not happen to him. But the other Lokis? They would be drown with sweetness and happiness until they could not bear it anymore.
All of them were ecstatic at their blessed union, which made Odin content, and Frigga delighted to find a new daughter, already dear to her heart, and grandchildren she spoiled rotten from the day they were born.
It surprised him that some of his variants were not so happy with their fate, and mistreated their unfortunate spouse. To them, the God of Stories showed himself unforgiving, sentencing them to a loveless life of strife.
They refused Sigyn’s love, abusing her ruthlessly, making her cry bitter tears? Well, fine. It only meant they were unworthy of her. They would spend the rest of their lives thinking themselves “unloved” and “unwanted”.
They did not find her pies to their taste? Oh well. They would never eat again. They had his friends beat her up? They would have no more friends. They abused her while she was trying her best to help him? He would free her from her duty and send the most cruel demons to torment them instead until they pleaded for mercy.
If he, who desperately craved for Sigyn could not have her and was condemned to an eternity without her, then why should they know a moment’s rest?
It was just too unfair.
Looking at the timelines, he delighted at his good work. All the worthy Loki variants were in their Sigyn’s arms, happy and content, and their Sigyns seemed just as delighted by their fate.
Everyone was happy, except for himself.
That was when he noticed her.
It was a timeline it seemed he had forgotten, where the Loki had died, killed by Thanos.
Oh.
His original timeline, then?
Wait. There was a Sigyn in his timeline? How did he not know that? He had assumed she had died in infancy or been erased by He Who Remained. But no. Here she was, in tears, kneeling to a statue he could not well see.
She was adorning its feet with flowers, focusing on her work, while stifling her cries.
Sweet Sigyn, he thought smiling sadly, who are you mourning so much?
Finding out the statue was one of his thrilled him more than it should have. He suddenly needed to meet her, to hold her in his arms, kiss her, have her sit on his knees while he was on his throne. There, now that was a nice position to spend the rest of eternity in. He would not be alone anymore. He would have his wife with him and they would be happy, together, as it should have been from the start.
Sigyn obviously loved him and missed him, though she had never spoken to him. Did she dream of him as he dreamt of her? Well, if he had her with him, he could ask her.
But then, it meant that she would have to leave behind her whole life: her family, her friends, everyone, as he had to. There was though a huge difference : he had made that sacrifice because it was necessary. Nothing forced her to do the same.
Yes, of course, she seemed lonely, miserable, heartbroken, but maybe she would eventually move on, find someone else, marry and start a little family of her own, without him.
Loki growled and sighed. He knew it was selfish and possessive of him, but he hated the thought of his Sigyn in another man’s arms. She belonged to him. She was supposed to be his. His wife. His companion. His love. The mother of his children. His happy ending, and no one could rob him of what was legitimately his.
Well, he could ask her. There was nothing wrong with that. Just drop the question and see how she answered. Of course, he would respect her decision. He was not like that variant of his who dared threatened his sweet girl with rape before killing her fiancé.
Though, if he were honest, back in his wildest days, he might have still killed the guy. But the rape threats? Those were absolutely unnecessary and in complete poor taste.
And so, Loki took Sigyn from their timeline. The spell was exhausting, but worth it, if it could ensure his happiness.
Her red curls were flowing over her pale shoulders, a voluptuous cascade of copper that set Loki’s desire ablaze. Now that he had her in front of him, could he ever let her go if she asked? He hoped he could, though his Jotun blood knew better. She was Freya’s daughter after all, and he had heard of his people’s obsession for the Goddess of Love.
When she saw him at last, her mouth opened slightly, in the shape of an o, and her eyes shone with unshed tears.
“Oh, your royal highness!”, she said ecstatically, “You are alive! You gave us quite the fright once again! What joy to see you!”
Her chubby cheeks suddenly turned pink and her smile shone brighter than the sun. This was what he had always longed for, always dreamed of. A warm welcome from his beloved. And finally, he had it within his reach. If she ever chose to stay in that blasted timeline, he would go mad with grief.
“Sigyn Freyadottir”, he declared, “I summoned you here to ….”
He stopped mid-sentence, observing the girl, who was very obviously swallowing his every word, drinking every syllable as one dying of thirst in the Muspel deserts. However, he did not like his own tone. He sounded too much like his Father. Yes, he was a King and a God, but he was not asking her to become his minion. He wanted her to be his companion, and if she so desired, his wife. He coughed a little, before starting again.
“Dear Sigyn”, he said more gently and using all the charm he possessed, “I survived Thanos’ attack, but I am now charged with the difficult and very lonely task to watch over the different timelines”
He pointed to her the different green threads that were surrounding his throne, and images from the various fates showed themselves as would movies in some Midgardian theatre. It was rather impressive, he had to admit it himself, and he hoped that it would be enough to woo her.
“So have you become a Norn, your highness?”, she asked, surprised and admirative of his new powers and duties, “I had always pictured Norns being three old witches that decided for us of our fates…I would have never guessed it would be you”
“Hmm”, he mused, “And does the surprise please you, my lady?”
“It is always a pleasure to see you, Prince Loki”, she blushed prettily, “But what of Lady Karnilla? What happened to her?”
Loki had to admit he had not thought of the Queen of the Norns. Sigyn asked a very good question, and he confessed he did not have the answer. He who remains had probably killed her when he had taken over the timelines.
“Nevermind Queen Karnilla, my Sweet”, he said, “I am now God of Stories, but as you can see, this place is quite lonely, and I was wondering…”
He paused again, feeling foolish and suddenly shy, in front of the girl he liked and wanted by his side.
“I have admired you for a long time, now”, he explained. This was not a lie. He had dreamed of her his whole life, and craved for her company for so very long. Sigyn’s eyes were shining again, but not from tears this time.
“Would you agree to become my companion in this desolated place?”, he asked, and about to continue his proposal when Sigyn interrupted him suddenly.
“Yes, Norns, YES”, she nearly screamed, before realizing how inappropriate her behavior was, “I am sorry, that was unfit, but, my lord, I have loved you my entire life. I only ever wanted to be with you. To keep you company would be my honor and my privilege”
Wasn’t this the sweetest victory? He knew of Sigyn’s feelings for him of course, but he had not expected such enthusiasm. Though maybe his sweet beloved did not realize the sacrifice this choice would demand from her. There was a part of him who advised him to stay quiet and not to tell her the whole truth. Once she agreed to stay, she would be trapped here, with him, she wouldn’t have a choice. Even if she changed her mind or fell out of love with him, she would be stuck here with him, imprisoned in the dungeon of his arms.
However, he was not that man anymore, was he? He trembled at the idea of losing her. He could picture her, fleeing away from him, this wild beast of a Jotun. He remembered Victor Timely’s words : “Time to be brave”
Yes. Time to be brave, and show himself worthy of Sigyn’s love and trust.
“If you chose to stay, you will be trapped here with me”, he clarified, “You won’t be able to go back to your family or your friends. Are you ready to leave them behind forever?”
Sigyn blinked and took a moment to think. Loki’s mind was already screaming, and regretting playing the gallant hero. She was going to leave him and he would never see her again. He had been a fool.
“I mean”, she started, “Of course I will be sad not to see them again. But, if I’m honest, I don’t have any true purpose in New Asgard. I’m bored, and heartbroken since…”
She looked down at her feet, blushing once again, before daring to cross his longing, burning gaze.
“Your death”, she breathed, “Well, fake death. Every time, I mourned for you, and no one ever understood. You might think me crazy, but I assure you, my feelings for you are genuine. This is not some silly crush. I do love you, and if I can be useful to you, help you with your duties, soothe your loneliness, then yes, please, I want to stay, for as long as you’ll need me”
Loki could feel his heart beat again and smiled happily for the first time in ages.
“Oh, my sweet”, he exclaimed, “I will need you for the rest of time”
“Then so be it”, she agreed.
Gently, Loki took her in his arms, delicately removing one of her red curls from her face, before placing a soft kiss on her lips. Sigyn sighed happily and let out a joyful laugh.
At last, the God of Stories could enjoy his happy ending. This story, his story, their story, would not end in tragedy or in tears. There would be no death, no children turned into wolves, no snake, no bowl, no torture, no cave.
It would be a story of undying fidelity and victorious love. One they would write together, and for that, Loki could not wait.