The Purging of Asgard

Chapter 12

You post an "out to lunch" memo and lock the door, to keep from being interrupted. 

"So, we haven't properly met. My name is Y/N." You say extending your hand in formal introduction, he takes it gently, but instead of a handshake, he chastely kisses your knuckles, 

"It's a pleasure." He says quietly. The gesture takes you so off guard that you forget you don't actually know his name, at least not for sure.

"What made you come by that first night?" You ask and wait as he thinks back, it had to have been about a week ago, now.

"I saw your 'comic' book. A young boy was reading it in the park. He and his mother told me you wrote them yourself, I had to come and see."

"Oh, yeah, just some ideas that would come to me throughout the day. Sometimes I'd even dream them up." 

"There was a picture in it that looked familiar." He says carefully, "It made me think you might be someone else."

"Sigyn." You say, the name ringing a distant bell in the back of your mind. He nods. 

"...Sigyn..." You hear a whisper. But the store is empty except for the two of you,

"Did you hear that?" He shrugs, shaking his head slightly, "I must be hearing things." You joke, but neither of you are laughing, "look, there is something I wanted to tell you, but I'm afraid it might sound weird. Especially since we barely know each other," he chuckles a little

"Well enough that you kissed me goodnight last night." Your face flushes slightly,

"I don't know where that came from, I wasn't really thinking and I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't apologize." He says, stepping closer, definitely in your personal space now, but you're backed against the counter, there's no where to go. "Do you want me to leave?" He whispers, so close to you, sensing your tension. 

Yes. Say yes. Tell him to leave. Something is wrong here.

"No," you confess, "don't go." He leans, just slightly,

"...Lady Sigyn..." You turn toward the noise, you were sure no one else was here. 

"What is it?" He asks, clearly worried.

"Um... I'm sure it's nothing..." You catch a glimpse of a child, the child from this morning, running around the corner of one of the shelves, you start toward him but before you take two steps, he's gone. 

"...Accept it..." A breath right by your ear, you try to bat the man away, but it wasn't him, he's leaning against the counter, watching you,

"What are you seeing?" He asks, entirely too calm right now.

"What?"

"You are having a vision, possibly hearing something. What is it?" 

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea." Air. You need air. 

You head for the door, 

"Sigyn, wait." He says, you spin to face him,

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Your eyes well, fear creeping in on you again. "Who are you?" You ask in frustration, though you aren't sure to whom the question is truly directed,

"You know who I am." He starts toward you, "I am Loki, and you are Sigyn." 

You can't move. You can barely see straight, but not from a headache this time. The walls of the shop melt away until you stand in a courtyard, townspeople milling around you, going about their normal day, and Loki standing in front of you, smiling brightly, looking at you like you are the only other one there. He steps forward, taking your hands. He says something. You can't hear him, like he's too far away, or you're separated by a wall, but then he kneels, and the message is clear. 

"Marry me, mitt hjärta." You're crying, your heart breaking. This. This is what you lost. This is what you miss so bitterly. 

"Sigyn." The scene melts away in a fog, Loki stands before you. You're back in the comic store. You look in his eyes.

The now familiar pain shoots across your forhead as all of your memories flood back all at once, dream and reality warring: the walk through Asgard the day you met superimposed on the day you left the Foster system, finally closing that wretched chapter of your life; your courtship with Loki disagreeing with the string of dead-beat boyfriends you've had; announcing your engagement and opening your bookstore; your marriage and your empty apartment, your first child, Váli. Of course.

No, not real.

Yes. Of course he's real. You could never forget him. You could never leave him.

You feel the blood drip from your nose. No, not again. No more.

You reach for him, pulling him to you. 

"Loki," you breathe. He's there, holding your hand. As he did that first evening in the Citadel, as he did at your wedding. As he did the day the Purging separated you. Your vision clears, the pain ebbing away. He's there,

"My husband." He nods, his jaw set, not daring to hope. "Min kärlek." A tear rolls down your cheek as he wraps you in his arms. He leans toward you but you pull back with a gasp, "they're coming."

The front window of the shop shatters inward in a hail of shrapnel, Loki pulls you down behind a shelf, shielding you from the glass,

"How sweet." A familiar voice snarls, "you excel at running and hiding, I'll give you that. It took far too long to find you. Unfortunately for you, now I am rather upset."

You and Loki look up into the reborn face of Hela.