Chapter Text
It wasn’t the first time Sylvie had travelled in space. From time to time she had stowed away on one doomed ship or another: trapped in the gravity well of a black hole, or about to be caught in the shock wave of a supernova, or swallowed by a giant space whale.
But she was usually stuck in a cargo hold, or spent the whole time trying to steal rations from the galley while the crew ran around in a panic.
Travelling on Thor’s ship, she was able to relax and see the sights, taking in the incredible vastness of space.
The stars streaked by her window — tiny pin holes of light that had turned to white daggers before her eyes as they had accelerated into the blackness. That Loki was holding all of this (and more) between his delicate fingers still barely seemed real.
After they arrived in New Asgard they spent the evening gathered round a bonfire. Korg regaled those assembled with tales of past heroism, occasionally inviting the three of them to add in some of the events of their last mission.
Sylvie sat on the ground with a very tired Love curled up in her lap. On a log to her right, Val and Carol sat side by side, and to her left Thor was attempting to get comfortable in a reclining lawn chair he’d brought with him. Others sat beyond them, circling the fire in the chill of the evening.
A burst of sparks rose up through the air as Korg threw a fresh log on the fire, ending his second tale of the night. He sat down with a bow to a round of applause.
With a final hard clap, King Val called over to Sylvie, “Korg tells a Hel of a story, just don’t count on half of it being true. Keep that in mind when yours gets added into the mix.”
Korg responded jovially from the other side of the fire, “Not to worry, any embellishment is purely for entertainment purposes.”
Thor deadpanned in agreement, “You’ve certainly not spared anyone’s pride thus far.” He grumbled, adjusting the squeaky aluminum chair he sat on as it rocked side to side on the uneven ground. The cheap piece of furniture was strained to its limits holding the massive god aloft.
“Wouldn’t want to leave out any of the important bits,” Korg responded with a pleased chuckle.
“Or the embarrassing ones,” Val quipped. She plucked a large marshmallow out of the open bag beside her and lobbed it over the fire to Korg, who caught it easily and skewered it with a sharpened stick he’d picked up off the ground.
“Those are usually the most entertaining,” Carol said with a wry grin. She blew the flame off of the marshmallow she’d been roasting and nudged Val in the arm. “Are you not even going to try this?”
Val gave her a look, “I am very much questioning your cooking skills right now,” she replied.
“Trust me,” Carol assured her. She tentatively pinched the crispy exterior, testing the temperature, then pulled the charred skin off the gooey inside.
“I’ve heard that before,” Val said, eyeing the blackened husk.
Carol wasn’t deterred. She held the overcooked confection up to Val’s face. “It’ll be worth it, I promise.”
Val gave in with a shrug. Opening her mouth, she let Carol place the sticky burnt marshmallow on her tongue. Then, as she withdrew her fingers, Carol lightly brushed them over Val’s lips. “See, not bad, right?” Carol grinned.
With a glint in her eye, Val licked her lips clean, “When you put it like that, who am I to argue?”
Sylvie smiled over at the two of them. Except for a stolen moment in the void, she and Loki had never had the chance to just sit together and be. If she ever had the opportunity to find love again she knew she planned to make it a priority.
Speaking of Love, Sylvie realized the girl had fallen asleep in her lap (which was surprising considering all the muttering and squeaking Thor was doing). She moved Love into a less awkward position and wondered why Thor didn’t just sit on the ground if the chair was so uncomfortable.
He finally adjusted the chair to his liking, breathed out a pleased sigh, then cracked open a can of beer — that promptly foamed half of its contents all over his hand.
“You know Loki always told a good story,” he mused wistfully as he shook the beer foam off into the patchy grass beside him.
Sylvie brushed some hair away from Love’s face, before looking over. Thor always seemed to have Loki’s name on the tip of his tongue. And he had a knack for bringing him up whenever Loki drifted into her thoughts, almost as if he had read her mind.
If she had wanted to forget she’d certainly come to the wrong place.
“Yeah… I can imagine,” she replied as lightly as possible, “he did love to hear the sound of his own voice.” She tried not to think about the last time she’d heard that voice.
“That he did,” Thor chuckled, taking a short sip from his can, “he hated bonfires though. Anytime we had a bonfire on Asgard the smoke would follow him around. He’d get up and move — cursing the Norns — and the smoke would move in his direction again. Ah… good times.”
Sylvie raised an eyebrow at the sly look on Thor’s face, “Of course you didn’t have anything to do with that did you?”
Thor laughed out loud. Then leaned over and held up his hand, creating a tiny electrical charge on the tips of his fingers to produce a small burst of air. “I had to shift the smoke away from me, didn’t I? Could I help it if he always chose to sit in the wrong location?”
“It sounds like he learned some of his tricks from his older brother,” Sylvie suggested with a smirk.
“Ah, I can’t deny I taught him a few things,” Thor grinned. Then leaned back his chair, choking back a swell of emotion, “I certainly learned a lot from him.”
Sylvie was working on a suitable response when she felt a small tickle (as if a bug had landed in her ear). She swatted at it, trying not to jostle Love too much, but whatever it was, it wasn’t deterred by the swish of her hand. For a split second she thought she almost caught it out of the corner of her eye. A blur beside her face, the shape of a moth lit by the flame but with the persistent buzzing of an angry bee.
She flailed her arm out wider, trying to shoo the bizarre insect away.
She was certain she would hit it (she had excellent aim), but her hand passed right through as though it wasn’t even there; instead, her hand made contact with one of the aluminum legs of Thor’s lawn chair. This was the proverbial straw that broke the discount patio-chair’s back, and the legs gave out under Thor’s godly weight. He crashed to the ground in a pile of twisted metal and plastic.
“Havin’ furniture difficulties over there?” Korg quipped.
Thor blew the hair out of his face, “No, it’s nicer down here anyway.”
“Sorry about that,” Sylvie apologized, shaking away a sting of pain in her hand from when it had made contact with the chair, “I thought I saw… something. Must be seeing things.”
Thor picked himself out of what was left of his lawn chair, kicked it to the side, and settled in on the ground beside her. “You needn’t worry about your eyesight,” he declared, “now that I’ve openly admitted to being the cause of his bonfire misery — if Loki has any kind of power over these timelines and any whiff of him remains — he’ll find a way to get back at me for that.”
Sylvie huffed out a short laugh, which seemed like the proper response to Thor’s suggestion except that he had stated it without a trace of levity.
He smiled at her knowingly and turned his gaze back to the fire.
Sylvie marvelled at how Thor saw his brother so easily and everywhere — he’d come to that conclusion without a second thought.
Her experiences could just be a hopeful trick of her mind, but Loki’s life force was sunk into everything now. She shouldn’t discount the possibility he could be communicating with them in some way just because finding out he wasn’t would be too painful. Or that even if he was, she still had no idea what it meant or how to feel about it.
She closed her eyes for a few minutes as they, and the others around the fire, settled into a peaceful silence, listening to the crackles and popping of burning wood.
One of the Asgardians seated on the far side brought out a flute and began to play a quiet melody. It drifted through the night air with tales of victorious battles, devastating loss and the hope of new birth seeming to hang from every haunting note.
Carol slid to the ground. Resting her back against the log, she stretched her feet towards the fire to warm her toes. Then, enchanted by the tune, Val followed her, sitting down on the ground beside her.
The song slowed to sadness and their hands entwined, seeking comfort as the memories of their lost loves seemed to dance in the flame.
As song lifted joy into the air, they shared a lingering kiss, their action mirrored in a few of the other couples scattered around the fire.
By the time the song came to an end, there wasn’t an eye bereft of tears or a heart ungrateful for the new chance they’d all been given in their new home.
Even Sylvie, closed off as she was, allowed a tear to slip past her defences; it wouldn’t be noticed in the dark, and she was in the company of so many that would seem to understand.
As the evening drew on and the music picked up, Thor took Love into his arms. He and Sylvie walked back to their house in the moonlight, Love happily resting her chin on Thor's massive shoulder, not even cracking open an eye.
They walked mostly in silence, primarily to avoid waking up the sleeping Love. But they were also still hanging in a bubble of melancholy peace that neither wanted to break too soon.
Sylvie was amazed at how much she’d come to feel at home with them in such a short amount of time — like she’d found the family she’d never thought she’d have, even if it had only been a few weeks. She was used to dealing with things alone — and she wasn’t discounting the fact that she could be completely out of her gourd — but she felt the need to talk to someone about what she was seeing. Thor seemed like he might be all too willing to dive into the deep end with her (maybe a little too eager), but she’d never experienced anything like this before, and she really didn’t want to deal with it alone anymore.
She just hoped she didn’t end up hurting him in the process.
The next day, Sylvie took a walk with Thor to Loki’s memorial site after dropping Love off at school.
She had intended to show Thor the sapling and explain the bizarre events she’d experienced after she’d buried a lock of Loki’s hair (and then hope he didn’t laugh her right out of New Asgard).
But as soon as they got close enough to see across the field (and before she got a chance to explain anything), Sylvie realized something was different. The empty field was no longer quite so empty. The tiny sapling was gone and a large ash tree, at least thirty feet tall, stood in its place.
“What the Hel!,” she exclaimed, rushing a few paces ahead.
Thor quickly looked around, “What?,” he said, slightly alarmed, “Is there a bee or something?” He swatted at the air just to be on the safe side.
She turned back in disbelief, “No, that.” She said, pointing to the object of her consternation. “The tree! Look at it! It’s huge!”
Thor gave her a polite side eye and scratched his chin, “Hmm, yes, Love and I have spent many a pleasant afternoon relaxing underneath its branches. I’d hardly call it huge though. More of a medium size tree, I’d say.”
Sylvie ran her hand down her face, “Thor, that tree wasn’t there last week,” she reconsidered, “I mean it was, but it was small… really small.”
Thor led her closer, trying to reassure her that he didn’t see anything unusual, “Surely not, it’s been that size ever since New Asgard was here — which wasn’t all that long in fairness — but I doubt it’s grown much in that time. It’s a bit hard to miss, growing out here all by itself.”
Sylvie blinked in confusion as she tried to make sense of what Thor was telling her. So far her attempt to reassure herself that she wasn’t in fact seeing things, wasn’t going very well, but she followed along behind him anyway.
They walked close enough to stand in the shade of the tree’s branches. Thor gestured up and down the trunk, “See, just a regular size tree with a nice bit of shade. Now, you said there was something you wanted to talk about?”
She took a deep breath. “Listen, this gonna sound str-“ she cut herself off as she nearly repeated a phrase tied to some very unpleasant memories. Memories of Loki’s arrival at the restaurant she had worked at. Memories of his senseless rambling. Memories of agreeing all too quickly with his suggestion that she wouldn’t want to see him.
She waved her hand in front of her face to distract him from the crack of sorrow in her voice, “Ah… I mean, weird but… I planted… no, I buried a lock of Loki’s hair, right here.”
“In front of the tree?” Thor suggested.
Sylvie shook her head, “No, not in front. Right where the tree is now. Under it… but before the tree was there.” She said, wincing at her muddled explanation. She was surprised by how flustered she was getting.
Thor looked at her quizzically trying to piece together what she was getting at, “Ah… oh yes! That is a lovely sentiment. One advantage of being able to time travel I suppose. So you went back in time before the tree was here?”
“Uh… not exactly,” she replied, then turned to look Thor in the eyes. Might as well just lay all her cards down, what’s the worst that could happen. “Ok look, I planted Loki’s hair and a tree grew, is basically what I’m trying to say.”
Thor stroked his beard thoughtfully, “Now I’m no expert in sylvan matters, but I’d just like to point out that normally trees tend to grow from seeds — not hair.”
Sylvie gave him a slight sigh of exasperation, though she supposed his reaction could have been worse, “Yeah, I’m aware of that Thor, thanks.”
He chuckled, “Just trying to make light of a confounding situation. Even so it’s not the strangest thing I’ve encountered in my days,” he said, shielding his eyes from a ray of morning sunlight that snuck through the thick crown of leaves.
She rubbed the side of her neck, relieved that Thor wasn’t questioning her sanity. “Me neither now that I think about it. The strangest part for me is why are our memories of the tree different? The first time you brought me to this field it was empty. Tell me how that makes sense?”
Thor threw his hands up with a confidence she wished she could find somewhere within herself. “It makes perfect sense; you planted Loki’s hair here, then this must be Loki’s tree. Of course it’s going to be as mischievous as he is.”
Thor moved to escape the bright ray of sunshine that had landed uncomfortably in his eyes. He wasn’t successful, however, as the rising sun shortly hit the leaves at a new angle and he was blinded once again.
“As you can see,” he remarked, turning his back to the sun.
Sylvie hadn’t noticed Thor’s sunshine difficulties, she was busy rolling the word — is — silently around on her tongue.
“Did I say something wrong?” Thor asked.
Sylvie blinked out of her daydream, “No, it’s just…”
Closing her eyes just then, as if by instinct, a breeze rustled the leaves above them. She felt a large hand on her arm, steadying the sway of her body as she lost her balance for a second. Behind her eyelids, a flurry of phantom images flickered like ghostly fireflies, beckoning her nearer to the tree.
She remembered shaking off Thor’s hand, she didn’t remember moving her feet, but she found herself leaning against the tree-trunk, palm splayed flat against the smooth bark.
“Sylvie?”
Thor's voice came from behind, the sound muffled, almost as if she were underwater. She sensed rather than saw the world around her waver, shimmer like heat waves off of hot pavement. The flickering behind her eyelids grew ever more chaotic, like thousands of flying insects bouncing against the glass of her soul, flowing down her arm — wanting out.
And again there was the image of teardrops falling through time, wearing away at the soul of the crier, drop by drop, like eons of flowing water forming patterns in soft rock.
Suddenly, a dagger-like pain shot through her hand. The flurry of images seemed to pass out of her and into the tree, and for a moment it felt as though the branches above her inhaled a deep living breath through thousands of shivering leaves.
Then the sharp sound of splitting wood cracked loudly through the air.
The tree vibrated under her hand, as if it were made of metal and a giant had struck it like a gong. It sent tingles up her arm, and every hair stood up on the back of her neck.
She stood there panting as the air calmed around her, her mind seemingly frozen.
After a few seconds more she opened her eyes and tried to comprehend what had just happened.
Where her hand had rested on the tree, there was now a gash about a foot long, the bark peeling away from the edges. The fresh wood beneath was wet with sap. It beaded up from the newly exposed surface, feeling tacky under her fingertips.
She looked up and saw that a large flock of tiny birds had somehow landed among the branches unnoticed. Strangely, they hadn’t been disturbed by the commotion a few seconds before. Not the motion nor the loud sound.
Clapping her hands sharply, they scattered in all directions, as if suddenly remembering their instincts.
“Sylvie, are you alright?” A familiar voice called from behind.
She turned her head.
Thor stood solidly behind her, hands resting on her shoulders, though she hadn’t noticed before, she was so spellbound by the tree.
“Mmm,” she groaned, pressing her hand firmly into her forehead, trying to rub away the disorientation, “I think so.” She placed one of her hands on his to steady herself.
“It appears you’ve had a bit of a dizzy spell. Perhaps we should get you something to eat?” Thor suggested, concerned enough to leave his hands on her shoulders until she turned to look at him incredulously, slipping out of his grasp.
“It was more than a dizzy spell. Didn’t you see what happened?”
Thor narrowed his eyes, straightening his back as he regarded her carefully, “I think so. You appeared to lose your balance. I tried to help you but you shook me off and stumbled towards the tree. Then you placed your hand on this peculiar wound in the trunk, seeming distressed about something. Then I asked if you were alright. What did you experience?”
She swallowed, still feeling shaken, “I- ah, there were all these images, behind my eyes like a swarm. They wanted into the tree, like it’s their home or something. Then the bark split, right where my hand was. The noise it made was echoing everywhere. You didn’t hear that?”
Thor shook her head, “I’m afraid not. I heard you clap to scare that flock of birds away, but nothing before that.”
She realized something just then, “Wait, you said this, um… wound in the tree, was already here?”
“Yes, I’ve never really seen anything like it. One of the reasons I remember this tree so well. Usually trees will heal themselves over or start to weather and rot with a gash like that. This one stays fresh as the day it was split open.”
Sylvie tentatively touched her finger to the bare wood again, lifting a bead of sticky sap on to her finger. She tested it between her finger and thumb, real as anything. “How can you remember something that hadn’t happened yet?” She half asked Thor, half asked the universe (maybe even the god who was holding it aloft).
Thor scratched the back of his head, “I would think you’d have more insight into the mysteries of time than I do. Perhaps some of your TVA friends would know more?”
Sylvie was grateful that Thor wasn’t leaping to the conclusion she was simply seeing things — though maybe in a way that would be easier to deal with.
She shrugged, “They were really Loki’s friends, but maybe.”
“Are you sure you’re feeling well though?” Thor asked, placing a hand on her upper arm and looking her over, making sure she was steady on her feet and not showing any sign of ill health.
She smiled at his concern, “Yes, I’m alright. Thank you.”
Thor took his hand from her arm to cross his own. “Good — you know, sometimes it’s best just to take these kinds of things in stride. The answers will present themselves eventually, or not. Until then I know what my instincts tell me. I’ve lost my brother so many times and he always finds a way to come back. I can’t count him out now when this great giant sign is standing before us, playing the same mischievous games he always did.”
Sylvie sighed internally, Thor was consistent, she’d give him that. But then he hadn’t seen what she had at the end of time.
She slumped down to the ground, leaning her back against the trunk, “I wish I could believe that, Thor, I really do. But I've been in Loki’s head. He can’t play these games, not consciously; his mind doesn’t work that way anymore. He doesn’t know us the way he used to. What’s left of him is like… “ she stammered as she fought to express what she’d seen in Loki’s mind, and the visions in her head, “a-a force of nature or something. A literal part of the multiverse.”
Thor crouched down beside her and smiled patiently, “Well if it’s all the same to you, I suppose I’ll have to believe it for the both of us.” He added with a touch of mirth, “I even had to add a question mark to the tattoo of Loki’s name on my back. And that’s not coming off so I’m stuck with the hope, however small it may be.”
Sylvie wiped the tears that she had failed to contain out of her eyes. “Ok, fair enough. And yeah, thanks. I guess I’m just so used to being able to move on. When I finally had someone I… um, connected with. And then lost them almost immediately. Ah…what I’m trying to say is, I didn’t know how to love someone before, and I really don’t know how to do whatever the Hel this is.”
“Understandable. My brother has always been difficult to love. But when he does love you, he lets you know it, usually to his own detriment. He’s always needed someone to knock some sense into him.” An impish twinkle appeared in his eyes, “Let me give him a reminder to behave himself.”
Thor stood abruptly and called loudly up to the heavens, hands cupped over his mouth, “Loki! Stop playing these games — you're upsetting your wife!”
Sylvie couldn’t help laughing in spite of herself. “Thor!” She chided, as her cheeks took on a rosy glow.
He beamed down at her, “Ah see, you blush as if he might have heard me,” he said slyly.
She wrinkled her nose at his teasing, “Ok, maybe you got me — just a teensy bit.”
Thor chuckled and crouched down again, his face turning wistful. “Do you see this?” He said, lifting a thin braid up from his hair so she could see it clearly, dark strands woven into the gold. “I cut this lock of hair from Loki’s head when I lost him to the Dark Elves… which was not long after he fell into a black hole… as well as several incidents when we were younger — he’s always had a flair for the dramatic.” He clasped his hand together, resting his elbows on his knees. “Anyway — this time, I truly thought he was gone, so I made sure to carry it with me wherever I went. Turns out I was mistaken. Again. He had actually deposed our Father in my absence and was secretly ruling Asgard in his stead.”
He turned his head away,, “But then Thanos…” He paused as his voice failed him, looking off into the distance, trying to hide the tears that welled up all too readily at the thought of the last time he’d seen his brother alive.
Sylvie felt a knot form in her stomach. She’d only known Loki for a brief time. Thor had been with him almost his entire life, it was hard to imagine that loss. “Thor, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, it’s alright. It’s just… like I said, I’ve lost him too many times. I have to believe in the possibility that he’ll show up again one day. For my own sanity if nothing else.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, but she reached out, took his large hand and squeezed it.
Thor smiled at the offered comfort. He’d been around her long enough now to know such things weren’t easy for her. He squeezed her hand back in thanks and then settled down on the ground, reclining on one elbow.
“So, what now?” Sylvie asked.
Thor patted his stomach with the hand he had draped across it. “Well, if we’re not needed here for the moment, I could use some breakfast. I’m famished.”
Sylvie raised her eyebrows in disbelief, “You’ve got to be kidding. You just had five eggs, three sausages and a whole litre of orange juice.”
“You must be thinking of yesterday?” He questioned. “This morning we woke late and had to rush Love to school, remember? We skipped breakfast.”
She put her hand to her mouth, her stomach still felt a bit over full from the amount of food Thor had piled onto her plate. There was no way she’d skipped breakfast. “I distinctly remember eating this morning.” She stood up, and scanned the horizon looking for more differences but unhelpfully, nothing stood out. “Things are changing. It’s not just this tree. Just after that loud sound, there was a massive flock of birds that just… appeared out of thin air.”
Thor stood up and brushed a couple sticks away that had clung onto his clothes, “Not to doubt you, but I very clearly remember that large flock of birds landing in the branches above us only moments ago.”
Dropping her shoulders, she sighed, “What does any of this mean?”
Thor replied softly, “I don’t know but you have us to help you now. And perhaps you’ll find more friends at the TVA than you think.”
She pursed her lips and gave a couple tentative nods in agreement, grateful (and a bit overwhelmed) to have his support. “Maybe you're right. I guess it can’t really hurt to ask.”
Thor patted her on the shoulder and gave her a nod of approval before breaking into a comforting story of friendship (and difficult brothers).
She leaned against the tree, listening.
After a moment, she realized her mistake; her shirt had caught the edge of the sticky exposed wood.
She pulled away, refocusing on Thor as she picked at the tacky residue left behind. It wasn't the best place to relax if she didn't want to ruin her clothes.
Despite this (before she realized what she was doing), she had her hand pressed back against the trunk, absentmindedly stroking the bark with her thumb (landing away from the section oozing sap this time).
She tried not to think too closely about why she did it, or how oddly comforting it was, or why it even needed any serious thought at all as Thor wound down his tale, "So you see, if you and my brother are anything alike, you just might find you have more friends than you think you do," he encouraged, coming to the point of his story.
Admittedly, she had only been partially listing, but she appreciated the effort. Though she still wasn’t sure about asking the TVA for help — she didn’t even like to think about that place.
But Loki’s closest friend had also called her his favourite at one point. Maybe it was time to see what he was up to.
Sadly, she’d also have to deliver the bad news.