Author's Note - Spoilers for all of Season 1 of Loki (TV), as well as any MCU Loki plot. Comments are wholeheartedly appreciated. Also posted on AO3 under my user r_n_g_are_dead. Thanks for reading!


Okay (/ōˈkā/; adjective): satisfactory but not exceptionally or especially good

Loki had surprised himself when he told Mobius that he didn't enjoy hurting people. The truth rarely slipped out that easily between the steady stream of lies that poured between his lips on a daily basis, but there it was. Hurting people was something Loki did because he felt he had to as a means to make others fear him and think he was in control in a given situation. It was a trick he played on himself as much as on others.

After all, he was the God of Mischief, not the God of Goodwill.

His knack for hurting people wasn't something he was necessarily proud of, but it had served him well over the years. There were countless times when Loki should have been tortured or worse for it, but he was a survivor. It wasn't a great way to live, but it was okay. Only, as of late, "okay" was far superior to what he felt he deserved. This hadn't always been the case.

To an outsider, Loki seemed to have a charmed upbringing as an Odin son. Since life in the palace was all Loki had known, shine and splendor was normal and expected. He had parents who loved him and an older brother who his parents seemed to love just a bit differently—as if they knew something about Thor that Loki didn't. Sibling rivalry was real and mostly friendly, though sometimes it very much was not. Both princes of Asgard were groomed for the throne, but Loki couldn't shake that something was off.

When Loki finally learned he was the abandoned son of Laufey (King of the Frost Giants in Jotunheim) and had been lied to for his entire life up until that point, anger couldn't even begin to describe what was coursing through his veins. At the same time, though, the knowledge was freeing. There was no longer a need to live up to the All-Father because Odin wasn't his father. Adopted father, sure. Father figure, fine. But certainly not "dear old Dad."

Despite Frigga's enduring love, Loki felt alone and a future in Asgard no longer seemed palatable. A throne was still his birthright, even if it hadn't been the thing he wanted most for himself, and the only way to achieve it would be in a different realm. Midgard became the easiest target. All he had to do was obtain the Tesseract for the Other and then lead a Chitauri fleet against anyone who dare try to fight them.

Really, he told himself, he was doing it for the Midgardians. Loki knew they would flourish under his rule because with one person in charge, there would be no need for in-fighting amongst each other. They would have peace. He would have a throne. And they would all live… well, maybe not happily ever after, but they would live. Surely that was a satisfactory result for the people who would soon come to know him as their king.

All was going according to plan until it very much wasn't. Loki had the numbers on his side and it should have been as easy as that, yet Thor and five Midgardians Thor didn't even know somehow overtook Loki's entire Chitauri army.

Being swung around and smashed against the floor as if he were child's rag doll by a Hulk and then detained was another series of embarrassing low blows, so when things went awry while he was being hauled away, and the Tessaract somehow got loose, Loki saw an opportunity and took it.

How was he to know his escape would be so short-lived? Why would he even have expected the TVA to find him and take him in when he didn't have the faintest clue as to what the TVA even was?

After a brief self-identity crisis ("What if I was a robot and I didn't know it?") and some missteps from not being able to use any of his powers, Loki eventually was brought to a Time Theater. Though convinced he was taken there to be killed, a rather sarcastic TVA employee (an Agent Mobius) started digging around, as if knowing what made Loki tick was the answer to a question Loki had not been privy too.

Mobius claimed Loki wasn't born to be king, as Loki had claimed, but that his purpose for existence was to cause pain and suffering for others in order for them to become the best versions of themselves.

Loki was sure Mobius was lying about everything. However, after seeing an entire drawerful of Infinity Stones that were no more powerful than an ordinary pile of pebbles, Loki's entire view of his reality collapsed. Was it truly his destiny to fail so spectacularly?

Apparently, yes.

Loki cried as he watched the worst parts of his future play out on the wall of the Time Theater. The deaths of Frigga and Odin hurt more deeply than Loki expected and each moment alongside Thor made him long for the brotherly relationship they had as children.

After his own life ended on the screen at the hand of Thanos, the projector literally ran out of a tape that had been labeled "Loki Laufeyson." Laufeyson was Loki's first surname and suddenly it was everywhere at the TVA and the only surname they referred to him by. But if he were truly Laufey's son, then why hadn't his skin turned blue as soon as he couldn't use his powers anymore?

A Frost Giant by blood, Loki realized being adopted was supposed to be part of his timeline because the TVA would have interfered earlier in his life if Odin hadn't have taken him in when he did. For better or worse, Loki was an Odinson even if his blood was not. The ire Loki felt for his adoptive family dimmed and Loki laughed to keep his tears from turning to the sobs that threatened to breach the back of his throat. He couldn't undo what he did, nor could he stop what the timeline had started.

So, knowing there was no going back, Loki did something rare and told Mobius the truth—he didn't enjoy hurting others. Self-preservation was always Loki's MO and if it meant someone else suffered for it, well so be it. He was the villain to so many that it almost hadn't mattered anymore as long as Loki was the one who walked away. As long as Loki was okay.

But meeting Sylvie changed everything.

Sure, at first Loki didn't give a damn about her. He thought she was some faded photocopy of himself and literally in his way as he plotted to take over the TVA. (If the timeline was predetermined, well then he would just have to change who had control of it so he could change his future.) Once they got stranded on Lamentis-1 (which, fine, may have been partially his fault), Sylvie became slightly less of an adversary and more of a means to get off the planet before the ensuing apocalypse.

But then they got to talking…

Their pasts weren't identical, but some of the weightier moments lined up enough to put a couple cracks in the heavily fortified wall surrounding Loki's guarded heart.

As more and more debris fell from the sky and the planet's demolition was upon them, Loki's concern for his own safety umbrellaed into equal concern for Sylvie's.

Their mad tear to the ark became a gauntlet of fistfights and falling buildings and, in the thick of the melee, Loki asked Sylvie if she was okay. The question itself was small, but would have quantified as a nexus event if one were charting the Sacred Timeline of Loki's magnanimity (or, really, previous lack thereof).

The words had just kind of popped out, as if they were a reflex to the situation. And they were. It was just that Loki had never purposefully asked that to anyone else in a very long time, nor would he had genuinely cared about the answer even a few hours prior.

They never made it to the ark. It was a long shot to begin with—they both knew that—but their efforts were serious all the same. As Lokis often did, though, they failed spectacularly.

Loki had resigned himself that they had been bested and all need for self-preservation went flying out the proverbial window. What he thought were his last words were a celebration of Sylvie and how she was amazing for all she had done to survive alone as long as she had.

But even in the face of such loss, Loki still very much won.

It was jarring at first, when Sylvie placed her hand on his arm, and his first instinct was to pull away. Usually when people touched him, it was with a connecting punch or some sort of weapon. Sylvie's hands were dangerous—Loki had seen them used to hurt others (including himself)—but right then her palm was open and everything about the gesture was gentle and warm. Though he couldn't be enchanted by her, he was very much so in that moment. It felt like an actual spark had gone off somewhere in the depths of his chest.

So he took her hand.

Just like that, he wrapped her fingers with his and held them to his knee as they looked at each other. It was so odd to be so at peace when the world they were on was literally being smashed to smithereens. But, oh, what peace it was! Albeit, short-lived. A piece of peace, if you will.

The feeling was so foreign, but at the same time felt like home.

For never wanting to align himself with Sylvie in the first place, being separated from her felt like a vital part of Loki's insides had been ripped out and tossed carelessly aside while he watched. And when Mobius said that she had been pruned, Loki nearly lost it. "Her name was Sylvie."

(He had no one and she had no one, but they had each other now and how could she possibly be gone when he had only just found her?)

Relief couldn't even begin to describe what Loki felt when Mobius admitted she was still alive. ("For now.") Knowing she was okay (for now) mattered. Sylvie mattered.

It was strange when Loki realized he might matter too.

The first time Sylvie asked if Loki was okay was right after Mobius got pruned. It took him a few moments, but he gave one firm nod because he couldn't find the right words. And even if he could, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get them out without his own voice and feelings betraying him. Usually those who suffered so he could survive were nameless or faceless, but this time it was personal. Losing Mobius all of a sudden like that was a real shock to the system, but Loki was somehow still alive, as was Sylvie, and he was grateful for that small mercy from the corrupt leadership of the TVA.

The TVA's motto may have been "For All Time. Always.," but a refrain of Mobius's "For now" was on repeat in Loki's mind the entire skirmish in front of the Time-Keepers. The weapons the Hunters used each boasted an end for pruning and a sharp end for stabbing. Though painful, Loki took solace in being slashed in the arm by one of the weapons instead of pruned on the spot because it meant he could keep fighting for that much longer.

After besting their opponents, Sylvie and Loki were furious to find the Time-Keepers were merely symbolic, though Loki knew Sylvie was even more upset than he was. He didn't have a solution just yet, but he offered what he had rarely gave others—genuine support. "We will figure this out," he said.

We.

He heard himself say that word out loud and something clicked into place.

Because it wasn't just himself that he cared about anymore. Whatever it was that changed between them on Lamentis-1 hadn't gone away. Sure, she frustrated him, but she also made him feel full. (Not full like the drinks on the train, but full like there wasn't even an inch of space within him where loneliness could creep back in while she was nearby.)

For someone usually so eloquent, Loki could not figure out how to put this abundance of feelings into words because it was so new for him. He did manage to get that much out… and then his back felt like it was on fire and Sylvie was gone.

Or, rather, he was.

It was like going through a timedoor except this timedoor was the temperature of a thousand suns and its only destination was The Void.

The Void was like no other place Loki had ever been. But, then again, he had never before been to the End of Time.

The onslaught of new experiences and new faces was almost hard to keep up with, and, in another timeline, Loki might have been interested in finding out even more about the other Lokis he crossed paths with. His determination to get back to the TVA to find Sylvie took top priority, though. ("She needs me," he said. I need her, he thought.)

Never in a million timelines did Loki think he'd see Sylvie hop out of a car in The Void, but she did. Her name tumbled from his lips with both confusion and relief and he bolted. Lithe limbs carried Loki straight toward Sylvie, but he stopped himself feet short of her despite his head and heart telling him to wrap his arms around her to make sure she was really there and that this wasn't a duplication casting.

(A hug. He realized he wanted to hug her, but that wasn't something he did, nor was that something that was done to him as an adult. He wanted to hold her, but wasn't sure if she would want to be held by him so he did nothing but stand there awkwardly.)

"What happened? You okay?"

There was that catch-all question again. Loki knew that Sylvie must have been pruned or she wouldn't have ended up in The Void. And while both of them getting pruned—like all of the other Lokis he encountered had been as well—wasn't great, at least they were back together again.

That ambivalence trailed Loki like a shadow. It wasn't lost on him that his penance for a lifetime of causing chaos was finding some semblance of peace only at the actual end of the world.

But there, on the side of a hill in The Void surrounded by everything the TVA had deemed improper, Loki took a chance on himself for himself. He supposed that anything he did for Sylvie was, technically, in his own best interest because she and he were variants of the same entity. But she was still her own being and he was still his own being and he felt for her and about her in a way that he never felt about himself or anyone else.

He very much knew—and had absolutely no idea—what he was doing when he decided to share his blanket with her. She could have pulled away at any time and he wouldn't have tried to stop her, but she didn't and so they sat, shoulder to shoulder. And even though it was as natural as two halves of a fractured whole locking back into place, the contact felt clandestine to Loki. Warmth spread from his chest, tickling every inch of his insides. He grinned to himself, unable to stop the rare surge of a joy.

Sylvie almost quashed the moment, claiming the blanket was more like a tablecloth and decidedly not snuggly, but reined it back in with a seemingly loaded "Thank you." As new as this all was for Loki, it seemed it was new for Sylvie too. That the walls she had carefully crafted for herself during her years on the run were also starting to crack.

You're welcome was an appropriate response to Sylvie's thanks, but that phrase would not suffice for how much Sylvie had come to mean to Loki. Savior wasn't quite right, but neither was friend. In such a short time, she added value to his life that could not be quantified.

So, he went with "My pleasure." Because it truly was. Sharing something as simple as a blanket with her, along with priorly shielded sides of himself, gave Loki a feeling of something wholly satisfying.

Ever since being taken by the TVA, Loki had been knocked down again and again by his own past and the future he had had waiting for him. Without the ability to use his powers or even have his daggers on him, he felt vulnerable and less than but still had to project with forced confidence that he was the smartest person in any room. Meeting Sylvie brought its own set of challenges and they butted heads as much as (if not more than) he and Thor ever did. But being able to grow alongside her, both as his own person and part of this makeshift team, was something Loki knew not to take for granted. And to do something for her, even if it was only conjure a larger blanket to share, made Loki feel like a better version of himself. Perhaps this was who he could have been all along if he hadn't gotten in his own way. He still wasn't entirely good, but he definitely wasn't all bad either.

Now that he was more aware of the needs and feelings of someone else, Loki tried in earnest to get Sylvie to understand that he would not betray her during their mission to take down whoever it was that was beyond The Void even though he had done just that to everyone who ever loved him. (Did Sylvie love him?) "That's not who I am anymore. Okay? I won't let you down."

Loki was used to making empty promises to people in his past, but he offered himself fully to Sylvie because that was the only thing he had left to give at the End of Time. She was uncertain of her future. He felt the same uncertainty about his. But he also knew he couldn't picture his future without her in it. "Maybe we could figure it out together."

He watched Sylvie process the "we" of it all and hoped that when she said "Maybe" she meant it because he was all-in for whatever came next.

We was why Loki stayed in The Void with Sylvie while she enchanted Alioth instead of going with Mobius to burn down the TVA from the inside. It was also why he didn't even hesitate to use himself as bait to give Sylvie more time to connect with the angry cloud creature. Loki had died before and survived, but that wasn't even on his mind as his newly acquired instinct for self-sacrifice took over because Sylvie succeeding was the only thing that mattered.

Loki felt an endless amount of gratitude for the older variant of himself for drawing Alioth's attention away from Sylvie in a way Loki hadn't been able to achieve. Classic Loki's strength and skill also gave Sylvie an idea and she took Loki's hand the same way he had taken hers on Lamentis-1, hoping a tangible connection with him would double the impact of her power. If their bond was strong enough to cause a nexus event, then surely it might be powerful enough to take down this guard dog of a cloud.

Palm to palm, they held onto each other while Sylvie confidently shouted their only objective: "We're going to enchant it."

"I don't know how," Loki replied, almost desperately. He had never been one to admit a shortcoming, but he couldn't get Sylvie's hopes up that he was going to be able to help her.

"You do. Because we're the same."

The only other person that ever had that amount of faith in Loki was Frigga. She was the one who told him he could do anything. And, right then, he needed to do what he thought was impossible.

Remembering his mother's word was almost enough for Loki to believe that he could help enchant Alioth. What pushed him over the edge was when Sylvie slotted her fingers between his and held tightly. It felt like being pruned again, only from the inside out instead of the outside in.

Sylvie connected to Alioth first, with a burst of green light flowing from her hand up into it. That same light flowed through their joined hands and out Loki's free hand into Alioth.

He could feel his connection with Sylvie like a heartbeat underneath the cacophony of sounds that came from within Alioth as Loki glimpsed fleeting fragments of everything the monster had ever destroyed while Sylvie mined the cloud for the path to whatever it was guarding.

It didn't take nearly as long as Loki expected for Alioth to stand down and when Sylvie told him to open his eyes, he did. He didn't know who they were looking for or what they would find within that Citadel at the End of Time. He was afraid of what came next, but mostly of being separated from Sylvie.

So he held on. It was selfish and left them slightly vulnerable if they were to encounter another obstacle on their way toward the base of the mountain where the Citadel sat, but he needed the connection for as long as she was willing to keep it. When she didn't let go either, it brought him a modicum of peace in this otherwise precarious situation.

The hike to the Citadel was steep and neither Loki nor Sylvie spoke the entire trek up. It wasn't that Loki didn't have anything to say, it was more that he had an arsenal of questions that he knew Sylvie didn't have answers for and the determined but worried look on her face was enough for Loki to keep his mouth shut so as not to make anything worse for her. Coming here was her plan and he knew better than to try to take any sort of lead on their way in. Following was not the weakness he once believed it to be.

Loki was concerned when Sylvie stalled several times at the Citadel's door. She even went so far as to try to pick an argument with him, but he didn't take the bait. Instead he asked, "Everything okay?" (Full-well knowing it wasn't. But he still felt compelled to ask because checking in with her instead of assuming was the least volatile option.)

She still snapped at him, but he took it in stride knowing everything about everything right then was stressful. And when she asked for a second to get her head straight, he immediately obliged. Self-conscious that he was someone who talked with his whole body, Loki folded his hands behind his back and bowed his head with respect, silently offering Sylvie as much time as she needed without any threat for distraction or judgement from him.

The Citadel's door opened without either of them touching it. Loki and Sylvie were greeted in the eerie silence by Miss Minutes and they pulled their weapons on the TVA mascot.

As a proxy for He Who Remains, Miss Minutes offered Loki and Sylvie everything. For Loki, she dangled victory in the Battle of New York, the death of Thanos by his hand, the Infinity Gauntlet, and the Throne of Asgard. For Sylvie, she promised a lifetime of happy memories and that both Lokis could be on the same timeline together. Though tempting, neither Sylvie nor Loki were keen to take the prizes they had felt in the recent past that they deserved. "It's fiction," Sylvie said with tears in her eyes.

Loki agreed and took it a step further. "We write our own destiny now."

Not destinies.

Destiny.

Because in his mind, Loki and Sylvie's fates were so entwined that there was now only one path with both of them on it from there on out. Against all odds, across their separate timelines, they had found each other and he wasn't going to be without her if he could help it.

So, when He Who Remains told them that their entire lives and the arduous journey they had taken together to get where they were right then was all predetermined, Loki's heart broke. The teasing about their lakeside moment on Lamentis-1 and time together in The Void felt like a violation of his privacy. A manipulation, even.

And maybe it was some sort of master plan, but it felt real to him. He had changed. He had grown. He felt more. Lost more. Gained more. Was more.

Trusted more.

But Sylvie hadn't. Or maybe she couldn't.

That's not to say she was the exact same person she had been since before meeting Loki, but she was so set on revenge for her stolen childhood that she had blinders on to the big picture that Loki was able to understand only because he wasn't forced to grow up alone and on the run.

He Who Remains gave them two choices for how their future would play out. Either the Lokis could kill him and unleash another multiversal war, or they could jointly take over his duties and run the TVA/be responsible for the Sacred Timeline. But they had to act fast because the entire balance of existence was dependent on their decision and the Sacred Timeline was already starting to fracture.

Sylvie refused to budge from her original plan to destroy the TVA, despite Loki's request to just think things out for a moment.

"I know the TVA has hurt us both," he said to her. He wasn't trying to sweep their experiences (especially hers) under the rug, but the situation was bigger than the both of them and he knew that them sacrificing their own wants and needs would be better for the greater good. That them failing their initial quest to take down the TVA could potentially prevent something even worse from happening. That even though they would become the new arbiters of time for an organization that made Sylvie's life a living hell, at least they would still be together.

The only thing Sylvie got out of Loki's impassioned plea was that he would end up on a throne. Of everything he had been through since being taken in by the TVA, that accusation hurt Loki most of all—that the one person he trusted more than anyone else thought he had been pulling a long con on her just to get what he wanted in the end.

He denied it immediately and again several more times as they fought. Words, weapons, and powers were swung purposefully at each other in a tragic dance of passion and pain. Sylvie goaded Loki on, demanding he kill her to stop her and take his throne. The broken "No" that fell from his lips betrayed his fear that had been steadily growing ever since Sylvie first drew her sword.

Loki wasn't scared of dying—which was why he didn't give even a moment's thought about putting his own neck between her blade and He Who Remains—he was scared for Sylvie and who she might become if she went through with her plan.

Stopping Sylvie with his weapon was never an option for Loki. He had used it to protect himself from her, but no one was going to bleed or die by his blade and dropping it to the floor was the fastest way for Sylvie to see that he meant her no harm.

Her sword still at his throat, Loki slowly and calmly raised his hands and put them on her upper arms as carefully as Frigga had done for him during angry outbursts in his youth. Her touch had always grounded him and got him to settle down in a way that being shouted at had never worked. Loki didn't see Sylvie as a moody child, but did recognize in her his same tendency to focus only on a wrong that had been done to him and the blinding irritability that followed.

Loki knew this was his last chance to make his case for Sylvie before a final decision about He Who Remains had to be made. And it was for her. The big picture of the fate of existence was still on his mind, but Sylvie's well-being was front and center.

"I've been where you are. I've felt what you feel."

Loki had spent most of his life being mad at the world and annoyed with people who were less clever than him being handed power and loyalty he thought they didn't deserve. Thor used to jest that Loki always dressed in green because of how envious he was of others. (Out of pure spite for his brother, Loki kept the color in his wardrobe for centuries.)

It was only recently that Loki realized just how much time he had wasted being exasperated and miserable. He didn't want to live like that anymore and hoped the same for Sylvie. She had made him feel more alive and aware than anyone else ever had. And if they were cut from the same cloth, then maybe he could help her feel that way too.

"Don't ask me how I know. All I know… is I don't want to hurt you. I don't want a throne."

Tears slid down Loki's grimy cheeks onto his equally grimy shirt, but he didn't make any attempt to wipe away the damp streaks on his face.

It wasn't the first time he had said to her that he didn't want a throne, but it warranted being repeated because she had to hear him say it as many times as it took for her to understand that a throne didn't mean anything to him. But she did.

"I just… I just want you to be okay."

There were more words in him that he didn't know how to say. And even if he could figure out what those words were—and what order to put them in—there wasn't enough time.

He gently shook her shoulders, hoping she understood that he wanted everything for her because she meant everything to him. And that doing the right thing instead of getting revenge needed to be enough for her for now. Enough for them for now. Because they would have to take several giant steps back together in order to move forward.

It wasn't fair. He knew it wasn't fair. But she had to know there was no other way.

A swell of hope filled Loki's heart when Sylvie dropped her sword. Her kiss was unexpected, but welcomed like cool aloe on a painful burn. He had never kissed, nor been kissed by, someone he cared for because he had never cared for, nor been cared for by, someone else.

A heady mix of feeling seen and wanted while at his most vulnerable, alongside a fleeting moment of eufori, prompted Loki to believe that Sylvie was in agreement with him.

The kiss ended soon after it started and Loki was shoved through a timedoor. Sylvie's parting words of "But I'm not you" may as well have been her sword through his chest because they hurt just as much, if not worse. Death would have actually been preferable to the amount of dread and panic seeping into his every pore as he sat in shock in a Time Theater back at the TVA.

Trouble Loki couldn't even fathom loomed large as he allowed himself a minute to let his feelings overwhelm him. He was mad at himself for not being able to stop Sylvie. He was mad at Sylvie for choosing revenge over saving the order of existence. For choosing revenge over him. He understood why she did what she did, but that didn't make him any less upset about it.

It was selfish, but he was mad he finally knew what peace (and maybe even love) felt like and, as quick as it came, it was gone. Sure, it hadn't been for a lengthy period of time, but the slices of lightness among the chaos had been more precious to him than any throne or Infinity Stone would have been.

Mobius had said a Loki's purpose was to cause pain and suffering for others in order for those others to become the best versions of themselves.

Loki took a deep breath to center himself. By Sylvie's hand and his own, he had experienced pain. He had experienced suffering. As rotten as he felt, he knew he was now the best version of himself. There was so much more he had to offer, though. But at least he knew where to start.

Determined to keep doing the right thing, Loki went to track down Mobius to tell him what happened at the Citadel and help assess how bad things already were. But when the Mobius he found didn't know who he was, Loki knew everything was infinitely worse than he thought.

He wondered if Sylvie was okay. He wondered if things in general would ever be okay again.

He Who Remains had called him a villain. Sylvie had called him a clown. He had called himself a liar. But the Mobius variant from the Sacred Timeline had told Loki he could be whoever he wanted to be—even someone good.

Because no one on this timeline knew him, Loki was determined to be an even better version of the person he had already become. That he would no longer cause pain and suffering, but help stop it. For all time. Always.