Loki is quiet at work on the anniversary of his mother's death. Ralph does not ask why. He has accepted that his young apprentice is a little odd- that there are days he wears a decidedly feminine pair of trousers with a tunic or a his hair is a little more ornate than most young men. Ralph thinks this must just be something young people do that he does not entirely understand. He is fine with this. There are plenty of things that he does not understand about the world these days, including the whole bit about super heroes being real thanks to technology, horrible radiation accidents, and some of them falling out of the sky. So long as no one gets hurt, it not much bothers him. And a young man who keeps to himself and is lost in thought once in a while seems like something that can't hurt anyone.

Loki stays a little late at the bookshop and closes up without Ralph. He does not want to have to come in early, especially since he thinks he might not be able to sleep. He wanders home slowly, his scarf fluttering in the early autumn breeze. He has always loved this time of year, it is a time of transition, of change. His mother called it a bridging time. He cannot help but think that it was fitting she crossed over during a bridging. That it was this time of year he crossed into a new part of his own life; he had been utterly convinced that with her death, the last person who would ever care for him had died. And here he was again, in transition.

Of course, one of the thoughts that nags at him is that he is to blame for her death. The conversation, or, rather, argument, with Thor on their entrance to Svartalfheim haunts him.

"The son of Odin…"

"No. Not just of Odin. You think you alone were loved of Mother? You had her tricks, but I had her trust."

"Trust? Was that her last expression? Trust? When you let her die?"

"What help were you in your cell?"

"Who put me there? Who put me there!?"

"You know damn well. You know damn well who!"

Thor's raised fists over him seemed one punishment he actually deserved, even through all his hurt and anger. If he did fail her, being pummelled by her remaining son seemed only fitting. At that moment, he had been trying so hard to distance himself, to maintain that he was not her child, and had failed at it miserably. Not being hers would have made it hurt less, and nothing did.

And, of course, knowing that he told whatever that creature was to take the stairs to the left, wondering ever after if he told it to go straight to her and thusly he not only was unable to protect her, but he sent her to her death, always lingered close to his heart.

He hates reliving this every year.

He returns to his house and does not notice the little red Trabant parked in front of Magda's home. It is, therefore, a surprise when the lights are on in his house.

"Hello?"

Wanda appears, "Hello, Loki." He sets down his bag on the entry table and she folds him into her arms. He rests against her.

"How did you know I would need such a thing upon my arrival home?"

"Thor told us before he returned to Asgard."

"Ah."

She leads him to the dining table where Magda is lighting tea lights on a candelabra shaped like a tree, "We thought maybe we would bring Sokovian tradition to you to help you mark her passing."

"That looks very much like an ash."

"Yours is not the only culture that finds the tree sacred."

Magda greets him with an embrace and a kiss on each cheek, "Welcome home, my dear. Sit, and we will begin with a story." He does as she asks and they settle beside him, "Everyone is tied to a star. When one falls, it is because they have died. Thor told us that you send lights to the heavens at a death. Our people believed the heavens came to us, meeting the soul of the deceased to carry them home. We light candles in the cemetery on the graves of those who have gone before, a reminder that light is what brings us home. In older days, the family would feast by this light with a place set for their relations, the food left in the cemetery for them over the night. Their homes would be dark, all their lamps with the dead. But now we do things differently. We light candles in the cemetery and in our homes, and we feast at our own tables, a place set for those we have lost. Of course, a soul does not have to stay away. That is why we have the door open. On the anniversary of a death, it is said that the souls may visit, so long as there is a clear place for them to travel between the door and the table where their family sits." Loki notices that not only has she opened the balcony door, but she has placed a chair on the side of the table closest to it.

She continues, "But the final candle is lit by the family and placed on the plate left for the soul." She brings over a tall white pillar, "We tie a sprig of rosemary to it, for remembrance."

Wanda hands him matches, "Will you?"

He strikes the match. His hand trembles as he reaches the flame to the candle. He has to focus to steady his breathing. When it fizzles to life, Wanda slips the match from his fingers and pinches it out with dampened fingers. Magda places the candle on the plate in front of the empty chair.

"There are two other things we do before we take supper together. The eldest daughter lists the virtues of the deceased. Not all of them, but the ones closest to her heart. A sister may also do this, or a mother, aunt, grandmother, or niece. Just so long as it is a woman who speaks these words if at all possible. Men may do so if there are no women in the family remaining. And at the end of this, the person who has passed is asked to not forget the family and to send them love and light from beyond."

Wanda adds, "As you are both her eldest daughter and her youngest son, would you like to do this?"

He nods, "Patience. Gentle hands. An iron will. A willingness to fight for her children, even against her husband. And an open heart." He pauses, "Please, Mother, do not forget me. Us." He cannot continue.

"Love and light," whispers Wanda, and she kisses Loki's cheek, "Beautiful, Loki. Beautiful."

"Yes, love and light. Both things she also was."

Magda gives him time before she moves the moment forward. She does not know what time he has had to grieve, but she can see that he needs this and them, so she moves her chair closer, as Wanda has already done, and wraps her arms around him. Wanda does the same, and they let him break down in their embrace.

Loki has not allowed himself to mourn freely with no constraint on the amount of time he can cry for Frigga. But here, with the women he has come to see as his sisters, he lets himself disintegrate. There are no words left, only years of memories and hurt that he has kept shoved to the back of his mind and it all cascades down his cheeks in streams of tears.

When his tears slow, Magda wipes his cheeks and he takes deep breaths to calm himself, "I'm sorry, I just..."

"No." Magda gently turns his face toward her, "Do not ever apologize for grief. It a sign of deep love and nothing you should ever be sorry for."

"But I have never seen mourning here."

"In this culture, strong emotions are discouraged, but we are Sokovian and so things are different with us. We walked hand in hand with death for many years, so grief was never something we hid. And you should not hide these things with us, for we can help you bear them."

"Thank you. For all of this. You never knew her, yet...here you are."

"Thor told us she meant a great deal to you, so we could not let you struggle alone," Wanda adds.

"May I say the Mourner's Kaddish for her?"

"What is that?" Loki asks.

Magda drapes a white shawl with fringe at the corners over her hair and shoulders, "Sokovia is a largely Jewish nation. Our faith survives because those who wished to kill us did not want to deal with our mountains. And so our isolation saved us when many were being slaughtered across Europe. The Kaddish is a prayer for god to come to us, to bring the peace of the world after to our world. And we say it to comfort the living after the death of a loved one. The ritual is beautiful even if one does not believe a single word of it."

"Yes, I would like to hear it."

"It is said in Hebrew, the language of our forefathers and foremothers. I will translate after, if you wish."

Loki nods, and she begins. It is like nothing he has heard before, the melody both strange and familiar, as though it resonates with something in him that is deep in his soul. He lets it hang in the air after she finishes.

"Would you like me to translate?"

"Not now. I would like to leave it's beauty untouched."

She smiles, removes her shawl, and slips from the table, "When you are ready, come to the kitchen. I will teach you how to cook like a Sokovian grandmother." She ties a kerchief over her hair and quietly begins to set out dishes and pans in the kitchen. After a few moments, Loki and Wanda join her.

The kitchen smells incredible the moment the spices hit the hot oil. There are sausages to fry, noodles to make, and doughs to wrap around things, to bake, to boil, and to drop into hot oil. They make enough food to eat for days and when they finally bring everything to the table, Wanda pours a glass of cider for the soul's plate and tears a chunk of bread off one of the loaves to place over it.

"An offering."

"Ah. And what does one do with it after it has been offered?" Loki stands at the setting, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the plate with the candle on it.

"Tradition states it is for the dead, so they may feast with us," Wanda answers.

"But my father used to sneak downstairs to eat it during the night," Magda continues, "Usually that is how such things go, so in the morning, the children believe the soul did visit. You may do with it what you wish. When we do this for Pietro, we place the bread outside for the birds and share the wine in his memory."

"But come, sit. We have plenty to share amongst ourselves." Wanda passes the sausages and they feast together on warm meats and breads, a fitting meal for a chilly fall evening. The meal is spent mostly in quiet, but it is not awkward or uncomfortable. It just is and that is what it needs to be. Then Loki's phone rings. When he retrieves it from his bag, he sees it is Alexi. He tells the phone to send the call to voicemail and returns to the table.

"Alexi. I will return his call later."

Magda smiles, "I am happy you and he are growing close. He had a very difficult time transitioning to life in this country, but when he figured it out, he adapted very suddenly. He was never open about himself when in Sokovia, either. Then, shortly after he discovered how to be a New Yorker, he showed up to the centre as a man. He is delightful, but there are some days I worry that he might have moved too quickly. If he is happy, though, who am I to question his decisions?"

"He speaks of you fondly."

"He is sweet."

Magda leans her elbow on the table and her chin on her hand, "So, you must tell. Have you kissed yet?" She grins, Loki blushes, "Oh, I believe that is a confession!"

"Yes, yes it is. Wanda will confirm. She called me after that date."

"I called you at noon the next day. You did not sleep until morning."

"Yes, and it was wonderful. But I do not know if it will stay that way."

"Why not?"

"I have not told him my story. Everything I have done. There are secrets yet to tell that he may not wish to deal with. But I will. Likely tomorrow or the next day. I wanted to get through this day first, though. One heartbreak at a time."

"You do not know that you will face heartbreak." Magda takes his hand, "Give Alexi the chance to hear you and the time to take it all in."

"I will. But despite all you both have done for me, I still have little confidence in others doing the same. Especially after they realise it was I who invaded this city with the Chitauri army."

"Move only forward, my dear, and let those who will not come with you stand in your wake. Even if it hurts, you may have to let them slip by. I do not think this is Alexi, but only he can be the one to make that decision."

"I know."

Wanda sighs, "I would say to call me if you need to talk after, but I am leaving with the team for a mission to retrieve an artefact very early tomorrow morning. Something is causing time loops on an individual basis. We have never seen anything like it. Tony said I should be at a briefing right now, but I do not think it is as important as us. Please call Magda, though, if you need her. We are all family, we will both help as best we can."

"Time skips? That sounds like a very powerful object."

"Thor believes it may be an infinity stone. There are two yet unaccounted for. The time stone and the soul stone."

"Who has control of the time stone?"

"We do not know. We suspect it may be HDYDRA. But we will find out when we get there. SHIELD intelligence has gained us a pattern of incidents around a location. I cannot tell you more than that. But it will be difficult to obtain, and we are being very careful in planning our approach."

Loki takes her hand, "I wish you did not have to go. I do not like this risk."

"Nor do I, but it is not the first time I have seen her off on a mission, wondering if she would return. We will survive together, darling. And we will both be here to greet her on her return." Magda smiles at him and it is reassuring, even though he knows that if this is one of the stones, there will be very dangerous creatures seeking it as well.