Chapter Text
He’d tried to save her from herself.
She could see that now, sprawled out on the floor of the citadel at the end of time, her glorious purpose fulfilled.
Glorious purpose. What a load of rubbish. If this was her destiny, if this was the one thing she’d been working towards since the moment she’d been taken from her timeline, then why the hel did she feel so empty inside?
Because as she looked around the room in which she’d fulfilled her grand and glorious purpose, that’s all she felt: the emptiness of getting exactly what you wanted, only to realize it was the farthest thing from what you actually needed.
He’d tried to warn her, tried to stop her by putting his own neck under her blade. But in what universe would she have listened? Certainly not this one.
It was his fault, really. He’d flipped the script on her. Changed sides at the last minute, just like she knew he would.
You’re in my way.
You are my way.
It had taken every ounce of strength she contained to stop the blade mid stroke, defying even the most basic law of physics. If he would have known how close a thing it was, how badly she’d wanted to swing down in that moment, he probably wouldn’t have tried it. Then again, with Loki, you never really knew.
But he had known. Loki had known this would happen.
Stop.
His voice had sounded like it belonged in the bedroom, low and soft and hitting her all the places she didn’t want him to be, massive hands gripping her upper arms as he tried (and failed) to make her listen. It was practically a lover’s embrace.
The thing was, she believed him when he told her that he’d been where she was, that he knew exactly how she felt. She really did. If there was one thing she knew about the man standing in front of her in that moment, it’s that he meant every word he was saying.
He didn’t want a throne. He just wanted her to be safe.
But still, she couldn’t see past that rage inside her, her lust for revenge (not the other thing, definitely not the other thing) overriding all her good senses. Nothing got in the way of the mission. Not even whatever this was happening between the two of them.
And now here she was, all alone at the end of time.
Looking over at the man who had just died, who she’d just killed, a sob ripped from her chest. Not for He Who is Left or The Remainder or whatever nonsense he called himself. He meant nothing to her. But for what his death meant for her.
She closed her eyes, letting the tears flow freely.
But these weren’t tears of relief, that sweet, sweet release that came when the culmination of years of your life”s work had come to fruition. These were tears of regret, maybe even shame, though she insisted she had none.
Here, she thought she’d feel different, complete in a way she never had before. But all she could feel as the body cooled in front of her was the same aching emptiness she’d known all her life.
Hadn’t she wondered if she’d still be her once this was all over? What was it, two hours ago? Felt like a lifetime already. But now she had her answer. She was still herself. The same old Sylvie, now with no purpose to guide her.
And she’d just pushed away - literally - the only person who had ever shown any care towards her. At least, since what she could remember of her parents. Her revenge certainly wouldn’t keep her warm at night. The now-completed plan wouldn’t make her smile or get inappropriately drunk on a train or hold her hand as they stepped into the Void.
Loki had offered her a life, companionship, friendship, maybe even something more, and she had been too broken to accept what was right in front of her.
She couldn’t trust and he couldn’t be trusted. What a pair they made.
Her mind drifted back to a conversation on Lamentis-1. What made a Loki a Loki? She had a new answer. Because she had won here, and nothing had changed. Sure, the timelines were free. Maybe she could find one to live out her days, now without the fascist time police coming after her. But she was still alone, possibly more than she’d ever been.
Because now, she’d seen the other way. Nothing like a little taste of camaraderie to throw your loneliness into even sharper relief.
But that wasn’t the only taste she’d had.
Her fingers came up to her lips, expecting them to feel as different as she did not. She’d kissed him. It had been a distraction, an apology, a goodbye, all wrapped in one. At least, it had started that way. But as soon as their lips touched, something had happened, a little bit of magic all its own.
Maybe that was why she felt so empty now that the deed was done. She had changed, just not in the way she’d expected.
And yet, she’d still pushed him through that door.
The look on his face when he stumbled backwards toward the TVA would stick with her for a long, long time.
But he would be safe there. And he didn’t need to see what she had been about to do.
Which brought her back to the original question. It wasn’t about winning or losing. What made a Loki a Loki was always making the wrong choice. No matter the outcome.
Thunder crackled somewhere in the distance.
That was her cue, Sylvie getting to her feet to take a look around the office. It was a vast space, set high in the Citadel, every inch covered in dust or paperwork. Maybe it was just her, but if she was a truly infinite being, the greatest power in the universe, she wouldn’t spend her eternity shuffling paper like middle management. But as she walked around, things started to jump out. Walls and walls of books. The weirdly ornate fireplace whose metalwork appeared to be staring back at her. The candelabras. It was like a gothic novel’s wet dream in here. That’s when she noticed the walls.
For the most part, they were paneled, the wood dark and supple and obviously ancient. But spread throughout were strange cracks and lines that nearly glowed in the candlelight, splitting off from each other into branches. Almost like branches of the timeline.
Speaking of, a bluish light caught her eye, dragging her and her attention to the massive windows that dominated the back of the room. Gingerly, she stepped around the body of the man she’d killed, the man who had stolen her life as part of some greater cosmic plan. Would anyone mourn him? It seemed not. They had that in common, at least.
There, out beyond the window, was the source of the glow, a strange rope of light that shimmered and spun off into a thousand-thousand branches of possibility. Of reality. The timeline.
This was what they’d done. What she’d done. The man behind the curtain hadn’t been lying about that.
From here, it was kind of pretty. A sort of ever-growing web of existence, every one now permitted to live whatever life they chose. No more TVA to prune them. No more man in his haunted time castle to dictate who lived and who died.
But as she watched, it kept expanding. Multiplying. Reproducing at a rate that couldn’t be maintained. Or so she thought. But within a minute, it had covered every inch of the Void she could see, growing thicker and more dense when it looked like it was going to run out of room.
Each one, it’s own timeline, it’s own universe. She started to panic.
This was bad. Probably very bad. How many universes could the multiverse contain? How many Lokis were out there? How many Sylvies? She couldn’t truly be one of a kind, not with that many possibilities out there. To be completely alone across all known universes? That was a little too heartbreaking, even for her.
But she didn’t have to be. Alone, that is.
Loki wasn’t dead, not like her friend back there. She’d sent him back to the TVA, safe and sound. He’d be mad, surely, at her betrayal, but who but Loki himself would be more understanding of that.
She’d fucked up. Real bad. She was strong enough to admit it. But there was only one person she’d look to to help her fix this mistake.
She had to get back to Loki.
Decision made, Sylvie went rooting around for The Remainder’s little tempad thing. A shame she’d never learned his name, but surely there’d be more where he came from soon enough. Perhaps one would be kind enough to really introduce himself.
The device was across the room, having slid off the desk when she shoved it away. It was really more of a bracelet than any tempad she’d seen, but it had sent Loki back and it would do the same for her.
Lacking an instruction manual, she did what she’d done the last time, focused on a place, set her intention, and opened the portal.
When she stepped through the door, the silence was the first thing that hit her. Not at all like the last time she’d attempted this, when the entire place was klaxons and shouting and running foot soldiers. As she walked through the hall, sword at the ready, she ran into not a single other soul. The back of her neck prickled. Something was wrong here.
Through one hall and down another, she made her way deeper into the belly of the beast. She’d only ever been here as a captive and the place was massive, a whole city and civilization unto itself. But it should have been crawling with brainwashed variants. It was just… empty.
The space and silence did nothing to calm her nerves. Where was everyone? Had Mobius really burned the place to the ground? And most importantly: where was Loki?
She finally found the answer to her first question on one of the lower levels.
A crowd of former TVA folks, looking ridiculous in their shirts and ties, had gathered in a control room of some sorts, crammed with desks and the detritus of middle management, stacks of folders and papers and overflowing inboxes in a twisted call back to the citadel. But there, in the center of the room, hung a monitor around which everyone was gathered, the screen lit up with thousands upon thousands of glittering branches. She recognized a single head among the crowd.
“Mobius!”
He turned, a kind of half smile on his face. “Sylvie?” Then, more fully, “Sylvie! You guys did it. Who was it? Who was behind it all?”
But her eyes were on the rapidly branching timelines, the ones they’d started to see before she’d even killed what’s his name or sent Loki back here.
“I don’t know,” she answered almost automatically.
Mobius took a beat. “You don’t know who you just defeated for control of the timeline?”
Sylvie thought about the feel of her blade in her hand, the way his skin parted to accept it. The sick slide that left her feeling emptier than she’d ever been.
But if she lived another thousand years, she would never forget the way he laughed as the light left his eyes.
“See you soon.”
That was how she knew the man at the end of time, not by any name.
But why was Mobius looking at her like they’d won? Loki would have told them everything; she should be public enemy number one right now.
“I don’t know who he was, I don’t know if he was lying, and I don’t even know if we did this,” she pointed up at the screen, “or if it was part of his plan all along.” Then she scanned the room, coming up empty once more. “Where is Loki? Didn’t he explain this all?”
“Loki? I thought he was with you.”
Dread filled her, brimming over nearly to the top. She looked down at the device in her hand, the one she’d used to send him back. It was nothing like a tempad, no settings or dials. No coordinates to lock in. Just a small disc that occasionally glowed.
Slowly, it dawned on her.
Because if she’d sent Loki back here, back to this TVA on their timeline, there was only one person he’d seek out. And he was standing right next to her.
“Sylvie, what’s going on? Where’s Loki?”
She looked up, eyes blurred with unshed tears.
“Wrong timeline.”