Loki's Daughter, Mortem and Mischief

Chapter Eleven

HELA'S POINT OF VIEW
Just as I was able to process that voice, recognizing is even through the thicket of the woods. My father strayed from my side, beginning to walk towards its source. His eyes were wide and dazed. He looked like a lost sailor, being pulled by a siren's song.

"It can't be..." he said softly as he let go of my hand, "Are we...? Is this...?"

"Asgard?" Sylvie said as she stepped in front of him, "I'm so glad you finally put two and two together."

My father acted as though Sylvie wasn't even there, simply brushing past her and venturing deeper into the woods.

"Papa," I said cautiously as I began to follow after him, "Papa, wait."

"You know better, Loki," Sylvie chimed, stopping him dead in his tracks, "You can't just run off and say hello. Well, not unless you want our TVA friends to show up."

My father stopped in his tracks, frozen as he looked out into the dense woods. I knew his mind was reeling, mine was too. It was strange and borderline unsettling to know that a younger version of myself existed just through the trees, and that my deceased mother was alongside that little girl. Part of me wanted to do the same thing my father had attempted to: to just run out and see my mother just one more time. I wanted to feel her arms wrap around me, to tell me she was proud of me. But I knew better. I'd seen enough movies about time travel to know that even seeing her may be a risk, especially now when none of the work had begun.

"You brought us to Asgard?" my father asked, his back still facing Sylvie and I. His was was distant and empty, I could tell he was hurting

"How'd you figure that out?" Sylvie asked mockingly, "Maybe you really are the better variant out of the two of us!"

My ears pricked as she said this. Variant. I had heard that word before. My father had used it when describing himself, explaining that he was just...a variant of my true father.

"You're...a variant?" I asked as I put the lives together within my mind, "You're a variant of my father?"

"I'd like to say that he's a variant of me," Sylvie said, "But, to put it simply, yes. Yes, I am."

"And...you know eachother?" I asked slowly, beginning to feel so incredibly behind on the details of my own mission. I could help but feel the self doubt steadily approaching. Was I truly cut out for this?

"Oh yes," Sylvie replied, "He betrayed me in order to get to you and mumsy."

"Betrayed is a strong word," my father interjected softly, still not looking at the two of us.

"Betrayed is most definitely the word to use here," Sylvie said before she smiled and punched my cheek as if I was five years old.

"Not that I mind," she added, "I would've betrayed your daddy in a heartbeat if it meant getting to know you. Hell, I would've if I had known you were to be this darling!"

"I'm sixteen," I said firmly as I took a step away, "I'm not a child."

"You're sixteen?" Sylvie gasped, "You're pretty much an infant!"

"Enough!" I demmanded firmly, "I'm not here to chit chat, or even figure out this TVA nonsense. Ok? I'm here to save my kingdom and make my father happy for once in his life!"

"Ooh, feisty," Sylvie scoffed.

"Who said I wasn't happy?" My father asked as he finally turned around.

I wanted to cry. Really, I wanted to just stomp off to my room and cry. But, I couldn't. I was in the middle of Asgard circa 2017 and I had a duty to fulfill.