Transparent ❅ Loki

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"FIND them," the Goddess of Death snapped. Skurge cast a wayward glance in the Goddess of the Truth's direction. She was sure he knew of her pursuits to aid the Asgardians fleeing the city, but he had not betrayed her—not yet. Skurge nodded and Syn sank into a quick curtsy.

Outside the great hall, she meant to turn toward the interior of the palace, but Skurge seized her arm. "How long do you think you can keep this up?" He asked, voice low and minatory.

"Unhand me," she gritted out. The man released her forearm and stepped back, his grip tightening around the hilt of a large ax. Skruge glared at her, but she knew he would not betray her.

"She'll find out," he told her.

She raised her chin, unwilling to look afraid. Her eyes were harsh and tone venomous. "Then I'll die knowing that I did what was right."

Syn rushed into the bowels of the palace and the secret tunnels and passageways. She came across an empty chamber, littered with heavy fineries—jewels and headpieces—not needed for the flight into the mountains. A brazier was still burning, though, and out of desperation, she rushed over to the smoldering flames. Loki, she projected her mind as far as it would reach, hoping he could hear her pleading calls. Loki, please come to me.

After long, agonizing seconds, the flames began to take shape, and in their red-golden hue was Loki. "Syn," he breathed, brows furrowed, but before he could say anything words came tumbling from her lips. "I don't know how long I have, Loki. Hela is here. The Einherjar are dead, so are Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun. She's going to destroy everything." The old texts had said she drew her power from Asgard and with every passing moment, she grew more powerful. "Where are you?"

Loki looked around at his surroundings, despite working his way up through the Grandmaster's ranks, he still didn't know what to make of the chaotic planet. "I'm still not sure, to be honest," he sighed. "Thor's here."

Hope blossomed in her chest at the mention of his brother's name. "You have to come back," she cried. Her attempt to forestall the coming end was in vain. Without Thor and Loki, there was nothing to be done to save the people of Asgard, the moment they tried to use the Bifrost they would all be slaughtered in droves. All she could do was try to buy them a few more minutes of life. "We need you, both of you."

The God of Mischief turned his gaze downward, not meeting hers. "Syn," he breathed. 

There was a loud noise echoing through the tunnels and panic overcame her fair features. "I'm sorry, Loki, I have to go," she said quickly. He opened his mouth to speak one last thing but she had already ended the connection. I love you, the words were on his tongue but she had already gone.

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She was a bundle of anxiety, sitting in the center of her bed still covered in blankets even at midday. Loki had appeared at the foot of her bed earlier in the morning, legs crossed with a book in hand, leisurely flipping through the pages. But after some time he sat up, closing his book. "It is your naming day," he announced when their usual study session ended, a glint of mischief in his deep green eyes.

That was the very thing she was so worried about. She worried that her title would be insufficient. "I have something to give you," Loki said wearing a proud smirk.

Syn sighed, exasperated. The people of Asgard had already given her enough in preparation for this day. She didn't need another useless dress or brush. "I told you, Loki," she chided, "I don't need any more gifts!"

Loki looked down at his hand—balled into a fist—and she could see the soft green light emanating from it for only a second. "Please, you must accept this one," he told her. In his palm was an ornate hair comb of gold and silver with small pearls and blue diamonds. She took it and ran her fingers over the pressed leaves and stone with a fleeting smile. He had put hours into its design and all he wished was to see it adorning her silver hair.