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No love is written in the stars
Sylvie wasn’t inclined to banter.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love the sound of her own voice. All Lokis did. And even though she would always vehemently declare that she was and is not a Loki in any part of the universes, she still shared the same vein of mischief and determination to survive – thrive – like any of them.
So it was with a sigh that she turned away from the car window, where she was watching the greyish hued world pass by; scattered remains, hulking shells of lifeless buildings that were now shadows blending in with the withered surroundings. The skies still rumbled in endless unrest, the eternal night starless as the wind stirred the long grass in waves rippling across the hilly terrain.
It was almost peaceful. Serene.
A calm before the storm that was called Alioth.
The storm that they were heading towards.
After devouring the remains of the Sphinx, Alioth had moved elsewhere to attend to newly-pruned buildings or poor souls to reap, presumably. The old clunker of a car was not built to match up with the speed of a rumbling cloud – what more a rumbling, soul-eating demon cloud with a purpose.
To his credit, Mobius was still chasing after the cloud as it disappeared from their view, not once doubting or questioning this mad decision.
No coercion, enchantment or persuasion.
Maybe she should bother to better acquaint herself with this mortal. This mortal who was speaking to her. She leant forward.
“You okay?” she heard Mobius repeat, his blue gaze in the rearview mirror as he leaned over to glance at her in the backseat of the car that was purring as it weaved its way through the devastated wasteland. The Void.
The name was apt. It did feel like a Void. But this wasn’t the first time she had entered a world about to end or even one that had ended. The stark nothingness and the silence was what always struck her. So silent that she could hear her own heartbeat, almost hearing the rush of blood coursing through her veins.
This was not silent enough to be the Void. It still thrummed with a sliver of hope, of life; even with the bleak emptiness of death surrounding her.
“I’m okay,” she replied, leaning back into the seat with a huff not because she was trying to emulate a sullen teenager, but because she was restless yet tired. She lolled her head back on the seat, asking in place of a response, “Why do you care?”
Why was she continuing the conversation? She could have just stopped there.
“I care about a lot of things.”
Sylvie crossed her arms, turning to once again look out the window. “Oh yes, you only care about Lokis. But I am not a Loki,” she drawled. They seemed to be getting further from Alioth now, even as the scenery was rushing by.
“And jet-skis. And friends.”
She didn’t bother to query what this jet-ski thing he was referring to was, focusing instead on the latter part of the sentence as she moved forward, propping her crossed arms between the seats – a bridge to lie her chin upon. “I am not your friend. And the fool is probably dead by now.”
Mobius crinkled his nose when he briefly glanced back at the rearview mirror again. “Where’s your seatbelt? Put it on.”
“It’s amusing how you think a god will need this Midgardian contraption for safety,” she mused, not moving from her perch. She could almost hear Mobius thinking, toying with the urge to brake suddenly and throw her out the windshield for that comment as his hands were tightening on the steering wheel. Almost white-knuckled.
Maybe he was holding back because he had to preserve the windshield. She didn’t know.
Or maybe it was something else. Sylvie couldn’t quite read this man.
“We’ll find him,” Mobius finally said, his jaw unclenching as he pursed his lips. “See, I’ve got you now. You know where he is.”
Sylvie scoffed. “What am I? A homing beacon for Lokis? No, don’t give yourself false hope.”
“Well, no matter how much you try to deny it, I’m betting that he’s gotten the same idea and heading towards the demon cloud right now,” Mobius continued, as if oblivious to Sylvie’s jibe. He tapped the steering wheel an index finger as he was barreling over the bumpy wasteland, muttering his thoughts aloud. “Why didn’t I think of it sooner?”
Ah, this was why he didn’t even question charging towards Alioth like a death wish. He trusted her, trusted Loki, too much. Trusted those who couldn’t be trusted.
“You did.”
Mobius didn’t take his eyes off their course ahead, although his brow furrowed into a frown. He didn’t quite understand.
“You did think of it,” Sylvie explained. “Chaos. You followed chaos. That’s how you found me. Sorry to disappoint that it was me instead of him.”
Mobius chortled in response.
“Naw. I was just following my gut and my gut said-“
Nobody would know what his gut said, because the moment Mobius glanced at the rearview mirror again and saw Loki – not Sylvie but Loki, staring back at him with arms crossed between the seats and shirt sleeves rolled up, taut against his forearms and that familiar, mischievous curl of his lips – the car lurched as they both swung with a yelp, narrowly missing an upended shell of a helicopter and rolling down uncontrollably towards a clutch of trees.
Loki’s gaze was blue. Not green. Not green like this.
He instinctively slammed on the brakes, hearing the tires screech in protest as they tried vainly to clutch on the uneven ground and suddenly it was Sylvie again, thrown ahead into the front seat where she immediately shot out an arm, her powers curling green over the steering wheel as they barreled closer to the skeletal trees.
A sickening crunch was heard, the sound of metal dragging over stone. The branches scratched the hood as they stopped, the car inches from the gnarled trunk of the tree.
Mobius’ pupils were blown wide, panting as he breathed and Sylvie was still splayed over the front passenger seat, a hand flailing uselessly towards the steering wheel and it was a wonder the airbags hadn’t deployed.
“See what happens when you don’t wear a seatbelt,” his tone was chiding but she could hear his voice wavering, trembling.
“Don’t try to be funny when you nearly killed us both.” Sylvie was still winded by the throw, although she did partially fling herself forwards so she could gain a semblance of control of the car before they smashed into the trees.
“I could swear- I saw-”
“Loki. You saw Loki,” she breathed, leaning back on the seat and closing her eyes for a moment. She turned her head to look at Mobius, seeing the incredulous and yet anxious look in his eyes, the muscles in his jaw clenched so hard a vein was popping out, throbbing on his temple.
Alioth was nowhere to be seen right now.
Mobius was still gripping the steering wheel uselessly, sweat pouring down his forehead. Sylvie hoped he wasn’t about to throw up.
“Illusion. Shape-shifting,” she continued as Mobius seemed to be gathering his thoughts still. “Tried to show you what you really wanted. Didn’t expect you driving us into the trees.”
It seemed like he finally regained his senses as he let go of the steering wheel, waving an impatient finger as he looked towards her, shaking slightly from the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. “No, n-no. You didn’t do that to show me what I really wanted. You did that because you wanted to know why I was blindly trusting you and bolting like a crazy, ninny horse towards death.”
Sylvie could see why Loki was fond of this mortal. He wasn’t as dense as the rest.
“I needed to know if we were on the same side,” the enchantress replied mildly. “But it seems like I found out something else.”
“What beautiful insight did you gain, pray tell?” There was a biting anger in his tone.
“That you’re in love with him.”
Mobius laughed. It wasn’t a self-deprecating laugh, but almost overflowing with disbelief. In fact, he laughed so hard he had to open the car door, almost tumbling out as he stood up, leaning against the roof of the car as he shook with laughter.
Sylvie took the opportunity to exit the car, assess the damage.
“His girlfriend thinks I’m in love with him? This is so outta whack. I get lied to my whole life, pruned and now this? Is this just a nightmare?” She could hear him muttering through the laughs and wondered if she had pushed too far. Somehow, it seemed like he was grieving for something he had never had and not yet lost.
She didn’t know about the jealous rage and the time cell and the how he was pruned. Maybe this was back to denial or even an unconventional way of coping with depression and then he will be one step away from acceptance. It was better that she didn’t know. She didn’t need to know to feel the grief of something that was never lost.
The car was really merely inches from the stout tree trunk, the bumper almost brushing the greyish bark but it seemed unscathed. The screech of the metal against stone that she had heard earlier, though, would probably be a cause for concern. She was about to reach over to touch the burning hot hood of the car, when a hand reached over, stopped her by grabbing her lithe wrist.
“It’s too hot,” Mobius reminded.
It was a rare occasion that she had friendly touch and she didn’t know what she was feeling as the warm hand had grasped hold of her wrist, different from the grasp that Loki and her had shared on Lamentis-1 as the moon faced its – and supposedly their – imminent death. She acted instinctively, snatching her wrist away.
“I know, that’s why I’m going to cool it down with my powers,” she snapped back. He still lifted a hand to stop her, his blue gaze glistening with a film of tears that Sylvie wasn’t sure whether to attribute to the previous bout of laughter or sadness. She decided it was the former.
“I’m not an expert on physics, especially not - here,” he paused for a moment as he shrugged. “But this car isn’t exactly at its best and too hot and too cold at once? Kapow. It’s going to break and there goes our ride.”
It was a bit unnerving that the agent who was laughing uncontrollably moments ago was suddenly making so much sense.
“We’ll need to wait this out.” She found herself nodding in agreement.
But that didn’t mean they had to continue their banter. Quietly, she walked over to a raise of the ground nearby, eyeing Alioth in a distance. She had to wait. She will wait impatiently, but she would wait.
She had spent her whole life waiting for a chance for revenge, to confront and perhaps murder those who had snatched her away from her life, that she had planned everything so carefully – shrouding her existence in apocalypses and running. Hiding. Waiting. But now that shit had blown up six ways from Sunday and she was still running, hiding, she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to wait a little bit more. Even though there was an uneasy thrum beneath her skin that crawled like a chill, the literal cold wind not bothering her in the slightest.
Thing is, she was used to waiting alone. Not with any others.
She could hear the footsteps rustling as the silver-haired man approached, but she didn’t bother turning to face him, not even when he had stopped beside her and stared out at the turmoil spread out in front of them.
“He’s in love with you,” he said quietly. Sylvie didn’t deny, nor agree with that statement.
Instead, she continued looking out at the bleak landscape, the swirling clouds flashing intermittently as the dark purple swath spread across the lands. “What is love to you, Agent Mobius?”
He didn’t answer for a while, and Sylvie was about to turn and see if he had indeed literally moved to walk away from the question when he finally spoke.
“Love-“ It seemed difficult for him to say that one word and she thought he might not continue, but he inhaled deeply, as if steeling himself for his own words. “Love is like a star. It’s beautiful and it burns brightly, shining even if you are worlds apart. Even if you can’t see the star, it’s always there. But sometimes it burns too brightly it consumes itself, or it finally falls in a glow that gives hope to others – a shooting star.”
They were looking at the starless sky, mottled grey and black stretching in the inky darkness.
“Hmph,” Sylvie said after a while. “That’s better than ours.”
“Ours?” Mobius sounded almost afraid to ask.
“He,” she didn’t need to explain further to whom she was referring to. They both knew. “We had a talk about love.”
Mobius visibly cringed, although Sylvie knew how much he was trying to hide it, the tips of his ears burning even in the chilled wind.
“Not in the way you think. In the way… how I’m asking you about it,” she continued, her arms crossed, feeling the tension and uncharacteristically hesitant about the next words to say. She was not inclined to banter, after all. “I thought- I think that love is hate.”
For the first time in a long while, she was unsure about her feelings.
“Hate is a strong feeling, but so is love,” the analyst considered matter-of-factly. “Is that what it is with him? Hate turned into love?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, surprising even herself with her honesty. “He said love is a dagger. Does it hurt, Mobius? Is it supposed to hurt?”
“I’m honestly not sure. But for me, it does,” he paused. “It hurts so bad.”
Sylvie swallowed, no words coming to her as these strangers were suddenly laid bare before each other. She had suspected that the agent had feelings for her variant, however misplaced or obsessive or twisted – he was a star burning so brightly it was consuming itself. So much so that a glimpse of him had sent them both careening into the trees. She supposed they were both the same in that way but for her, it was hatred and revenge that was burning in its place.
“I know you care about him a lot, Mobius,” she said in way of response. “I think, that is why I try not to care. Why I don’t have friends. Or fall in love. Because it hurts to do so.” Maybe that is why those who could were stronger remained unspoken between them.
“But you do care about him,” he reminded her.
“Not in the way we deserve, the way I see it.” She thought about Lamentis-1, the alien, purple-hued sky (but what was alien anymore after Sylvie had travelled through so many timelines, so many worlds and planets?) dotted with twinkling stars as Loki and her had sat together. The quiet before the inevitable chaos that always followed them. Chaos. Destruction. “I think we’ve been hurt so often by this dagger, had it taken away from us, that we believe not to even look at it in the first place. That it is always imaginary, fleeting.”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think being hurt is worth not even giving it a shot,” he sounded calm. Sylvie wondered whether he was saying that in a form of consolation or encouragement. Nobody could be that selfless. Or was he talking to himself?
“Anyway,” his voice punctuated her thoughts, “If love is hate I don’t see you going gaga over Ravonna or the Timekeepers. You should be deeply in love with them by now. With burning passion.”
There it was, the sharp edge of sarcasm. She laughed, but not scathingly. “I’ve just poured out half my soul to you and this is what I get?!”
“I don’t think love is hate, is what I mean. You both deserve better than that. For me, maybe it’s just infatuation. A silly, little crush,” he chortled emptily, continuing in lieu of her response. “I’ve been studying him all my life. Well, my known life. Whatever it is or was. That I have this overly perfect, flawless image in my head of this untouchable god I just wished to get to know.”
“You’ve been studying Lokis all your life – and yet you didn’t know I existed?”
It was perfectly reasonable of her to ask that, she rationalized. She looked over, seeing him worry his bottom lip with his teeth, mustache twitching almost comically but she didn’t laugh.
“No, I didn’t,” he admitted. “I’ve never come across you in the files. Whatever I have seen, anyway. Probably Ravonna’s handiwork. And before you ask, no, I don’t know what caused your Nexus event, either. I wish I could at least tell you that because no one seems to want to tell me mine.”
“Do you really want to know?”
“I’m sorry?” Mobius asked with a frown, as if he didn’t understand when Sylvie was damn sure he did.
She was looking at him now, arms still folded but green eyes almost ablaze. “Do you really want to know your Nexus event? Your past? Will that change anything is it right now?”
“Maybe it would have if I had a jet-ski.”
What was it with him and this jet-ski thing he kept rambling about? She nearly sighed aloud before speaking. “Yes, but even if you know your past now, Mobius, it is the past. It won’t ever happen again. And even with the Tempad you could go back and try to fit in again but it wouldn’t work. Because it was taken from you and it could never be given back. And all because you made a mistake that you didn’t even know you made. No second chances.”
“Is that what you feel? Robbed of a past?” He asked.
“Robbed of a life,” she didn’t need to look at him to know that he agreed.
“You know what? Maybe this is the second chance,” Mobius stretched his arms out suddenly, as if to gesture towards the dismal scene before them but he just reached up, joints cracking as he extended his body upwards, looking up into the dark sky. “Not everything is written in the stars. It can be changed.”
How apt, she thought, in a void without stars. What painfully naïve optimism.
But here they were, after their supposed death and talking about living again. She knew he could have left anytime, used the Tempad she sure he had with him (which she would have stolen had she not purposefully pruned herself to get here) to just whisk himself back to his past life and start there again.
But no, here they were. Chasing after demon clouds and chattering about love.
It had to be love.
“Can’t say I fully agree with you,” she replied, the and your childish, dumb positivity better remaining unsaid. “But I think we need to move ahead and not look behind. And I think it’s about time we can move ahead now.”
A gust of the cold wind reminded her of what they were waiting for and to move forward, so she lifted a hand and teleported to the car with a quick snap of her fingers. She had already popped open the hood and examined the vehicle when Mobius came up beside her.
“All good?”
She knew he was asking about the car, but couldn’t help feeling that she wanted to reply for something else that was still hanging in the air over her head. But finally she nodded, in response to the condition of the car.
“Sorry. For what happened. We’re really behind-” he was trying to apologize even as he was already moving to open the door at the driver’s side, as if those few seconds rushing into the car would make up for the time lost, but she interrupted him, her gaze pointed towards the horizon.
“I wouldn’t say so. It seems to be heading towards us now.”
Mobius was grinning as he started the engine. “Great, then let’s go find him.”
She couldn’t help but grin in response.
Maybe that was why when they were alone, Sylvie had somehow needed to tell Loki that Mobius cared for him. And when they were both huddled under the blanket that they both knew that they didn’t need, she tried – tried hard to understand what Loki meant when he was talking about starting again together, ruling together, because she didn’t know what it meant, because that was never what she wanted. He thought he had found a kindred soul, but her thoughts didn’t mirror his and their pasts were too diverse to hold similar. She had already understood but he didn’t, that they were the same and yet so different.
Maybe that was why when Mobius said she was his favourite, she smiled a genuine smile at the open joy that was reflected on Mobius’ face in the hug. A real, sincere glimmer of hope in this grey-toned world. Yeah, right. A favourite Loki homing beacon. She didn’t mind that as much as she thought she would.
And maybe that was why when she had moved to grab Loki close, to kiss him to try to return the love he was trying to pour onto her, it was a sorry and goodbye and I wish it were different, I wish it could be changed - all at once. It was love and care – but not the kind of love that made her heart flutter and not the type of care that was built on warmth and stability. The love and care that she couldn’t find room in her heart to accept until she had pushed out all the hatred and longing for revenge.
And maybe that was why when she pushed Loki through the Time Door, looking at the orange glow that couldn’t even dampen the cerulean eyes staring back with the unmasked pain of betrayal, she felt relief. She would be the change. She would make things change and love will never be hate anymore.
For her, love didn’t burn brightly enough for it to shine across the worlds, so at least it would be a falling glimmer of hope like a shooting star – a streak of brightness against the obsidian emptiness of space. She hoped Loki would find himself that burning star called Mobius because she was okay now. She would be okay, like how he wanted her to be, right after this.
After all, no love is written in the stars. No destiny carved in stone. No more, she thought, as she plunged the dagger into the unresisting chest of He Who Remains, releasing the dagger as she felt the tears brimming in her eyes while the multiverse released itself in ethereal, prismatic strands.
The Void was bright and shining now and if she looked hard enough, she could now see the stars in the sky.