Chapter Text
Loki was bored, yawning for what seemed to be the thousandth time since choosing his fate as the God of Stories five months ago. He knows; he’s been counting the days in his head. What’s worse? His hands cramped up the moment he grabbed onto his first branch and stepped foot into his new makeshift citadel, now permanently etched into a claw shape for all eternity.
“The price to pay for free will, I guess,” he sighs, a slow simmer of frustration growing as he acknowledges that he’s started talking to himself again. “At least they’re okay.”
The truth is, Loki’s a bit of a busybody. He’s always been. In the months since he’s taken his place on the throne, he’s been keeping a watchful eye out for his gang of misfits. His pens. Back at the TVA, O.B. and B-15 are now leading the force to track He Who Remains’ variants; good for them, he thinks. Mobius is adjusting to life on the timeline alongside Don and his two children, trying to remember what it’s like to just be human. Loki smiles, happy for his friend. And Sylvie? Well, she’s been travelling. He closes his eyes and searches for her. This must be the third universe she’s put roots down in since he first started checking up on her. Long gone were the days she worked at McDonald’s, taking orders from the ever-so-bubbly Midgardian teenager named Jack whom she’s taken a liking to.
“What are you up to now?” He muses aloud, keeping his eyes closed as he feels her. Sylvie’s just finished a conversation with someone called Monica in a prestigious mansion of sorts, shaking her hand and waiting for the woman to retreat to her quarters before turning around to open a time door. Sylvie takes a deep breath as she stares down the glowing rectangle, almost as if contemplating changing her destination. “Now or never,” he hears her mutter, hands swinging back and forth as her anxiety threatens to overwhelm her. Why are you nervous?
“Stop it, you’re fine,” she says as if hearing him. With a soft chuckle and a tiny head shake to clear her mind, she crosses the threshold.
A time door opens in the citadel.
I know that sound. No, it can’t be. Loki opens his eyes and gasps as tears threaten to spill out. In his line of sight, the figure of the one person he’s yearned for for what feels like centuries.
“Hello, Loki.” Her voice sounds ever just as sweet in person as he last remembered it to be. I must be hallucinating.
She can’t be here. Can she?
He doesn’t say a word. Too afraid to break the spell of whatever this is.
“Loki?” The figure treads carefully towards him, approaching the God as if he were a skittish animal instead of the most powerful being in the Multiverse. “Loki!” She says, louder and more assertive this time, head cocked to the side as if taking in every little bit of Loki with just her eyes.
No, she can’t be here.
“What–,” he tries to speak but his throat seems to be closing up on him. Is this really happening? “Sylvie?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” she gives him a tentative smile as her eyes remain glassy. “Sorry it took me so long.”
Sylvie closes the distance to where he’s sat – uncomfortably – on his throne, standing between his parted legs. “Hi,” she tries again. Loki can’t help but gape at her like a fish, mouth hung open in disbelief at her physical presence in front of him.
He finally finds his voice. “Are you really here?”
She places her hands on his face and lifts it to look at hers; Sylvie gives him a shy smile, the lines around her eyes crinkling as he finally finds the courage to meet her eyes. “Yes.” A tear rolls down her cheek.
She’s here. I can feel her. I can smell her. She’s really here.
“How?”
After what seems like years, Sylvie breaks eye contact, almost as if ashamed. “I’ve been meaning to come,” she starts, “but I didn’t know whether you’d want to see me. The way we left things–”
“–Of course I do!” Loki practically yells, trying to stand up as the branches in his hands weigh him down.
Sylvie smiles, noticeably relieved, and pushes him back down by the shoulders to sit on his throne. She’s still perched in front of him, right between his legs, now admiring the large horns adorned on his head.
“But how?”
“He Who Remains’ TemPad,” she answers as lifts her left hand from his shoulder and shows him the leopard print bangle slash device decorating her wrist. “It’s still connected to the citadel.”
Ah. “Ah.”
“It was where I sent Renslayer,” she looks around as her hand returns to his shoulder as if on auto-pilot. “Haven’t seen her around, have you?”
“No, no.”
“Alioth,” they say at the same time, both wincing as they imagine the untimely death of Ravonna Renslayer at the hands of the “giant cloud monster” Loki once attempted to kill. It seems like so long ago now, he thinks.
A moment passes as their gazes return to the other, both knowing there’s so much to say with neither knowing how to say it.
Loki caves first, almost jittery at this point.
“I– I’ve been checking up on you,” he admits a little too quickly to not come across as borderline creepy. You didn’t have to say it like that, he chastises himself.
“You what?!” Sylvie’s hands leave his shoulders as she takes a step back and gives him a scathing look.
Here we go.
Loki panics. “I can see, feel and hear… well, everyone,” he rambles, nervous as he sees Sylvie’s right eyebrow tick. Oh, I know that look. Does she still have her machete? He does a quick once-over of her figure, still nervous. “Everyone in the multiverse. It’s surprisingly not as chaotic as you think it–”
“Loki,” she barks with a sharp tongue. He, rightfully, shuts up. Oh no, oh no.
“Have you been… stalking me? Watching me? This whole time? Like some kind of–”
Loki gulps. She takes it as an obvious yes.
“Loki,” she grumbles and paces in front of him. “This whole time I was psyching myself up to come see you, having private conversations with my friends about–,” a blush creeps up her neck out of mortification, “about you, about what happened, and you’ve just been listening in on them? This whole time?”
She’s going to kill me.
“I can say no if it makes you feel any b–”
“I can’t believe you!”
Where is that damn machete?
“I didn’t hear anything important–,” Loki tries to save himself.
“Loki, you can’t do that! Not to me. Please. Don’t ever do that again.”
“I–”
“Loki, please. Promise me.”
“Okay okay. I promise,” he rushes to assure her. Honesty. She deserves honesty. “I just missed you, is all. It’s the only way I can make sure you’re okay. And I just… I just want– no, I need you to be okay.” He looks into her eyes, glassy once again, as a pleading look crosses his face. Just tell her how you feel.
Tell her how you feel. Tell her.
I can’t. Not yet. I won’t risk it.
Not when I don’t know if she’ll leave me again.
It’s quiet now, with nothing except the low hum of the branches filling the silence, signalling the bustling lives blossoming within them.
Almost as if thrown off balance, Sylvie blows out a breath and nods. “Okay.”
She steps forward and places a hand on his cheek again, rubbing a thumb across it affectionately. “I– I trust you.” Loki dares not move lest she removes her hand, still sitting with branches clasped tightly in both hands, palms sweating profusely. Am I making it rain? Before he can overthink it, Sylvie clears her throat, nervous again. She meets his eyes.
“I came here… to see if you wanted any company. I know it’s lonely out here,” she looks around the desolate wasteland of the citadel, sure she just saw a piece of the old citadel floating behind her but keeping the thought to herself to not make Loki even more depressed about his predicament. “And I know you get restless,” she says with a cheeky grin.
“I do not–,” he retorts out of reflex before he realises she’s pulling his leg. Like old times. “You know, actually it is lonely out here. It’s hard to sing duets without a second person around–”
“–And it will remain hard because there’s no way in Hel I’m doing that with you,” she says with an incredulous look on her face, almost as if she’s imagining the absurdity of that ever happening.
A beat passes again before she smiles at Loki again. Taking him in.
He returns her smile. “Are you staying?”
Her eyes shift in response, looking around before her gaze returns to Loki. “I can’t just yet.”
Oh…
“But I’ll come visit you on every free evening I have.”
Oh!
“I still have some business to attend to on the timelines,” Sylvie rushes to explain. “TVA stuff.” She says nothing more about it.
“Right, right,” Loki says, not wanting her to feel obligated to stay when she’s clearly busy living her life. This is why you made the choice you made. So that she can live. His eyes roam up and down her figure, happy to see her happy, healthy and safe in one piece.
“I’m just really happy to see you.”
“Me too.”
“And I promise I won’t invade your privacy again.”
“Thank you,” she says, feeling a little relieved now that they’re actually doing a good job at communicating. “I’ll make you a deal.”
Loki hums, intrigued.
“I’ll personally fill you in on everything that’s been going on in my life every time I visit. I just need you to wait for me to tell you in person. Can you do that?”
Loki ponders for a bit and nods. “Yeah.”
“Promise?” Sylvie holds out her pinky finger before she realises his hands are otherwise occupied. “Oh. Sorry, I forgot.”
“Occupational hazard.”
She laughs.
“But yes, I promise.”