you know what i loved about the finale?
all this talk about sylki vs lokius, and everyone fighting over betting which one will be canon-
when in the end, this show was never about romance. it was about love, but it was never about romance. it was always about loki learning to heal and to be loved, and sacrifice, and hope, and a bunch of cool sci-fi shit!! it was about him not wanting to be alone.
(but ultimately in the end, he has to be)
when loki turns to sylvie and mobius, they desperately try to open the door to stop him, because of course it's them who see him for the last time. it was always them. he says 'for you' because they were the two most important people to him this entire series.
when i went to look at people's thoughts on that scene, i just saw everyone arguing like HELL about who loki meant, hating on each other's ships, being devastated lokius wasn't canon (same, but in the good angsty way, not in the we hate the writers for doing this) etc.
guys! that wasn't the point of the scene! he loves them both, he was saying it to both of them. he didn't want to kill sylvie, and he couldn't watch mobius die again.
season 2 has exceeded season 1 for me in so many ways, but especially because of the scrapping of romance. it's been incredible to see these relationships become vague and blurry, the line between friendship and love and romance completely up to the viewers. it's been heaven for me, who ships both sylki and lokius.
anyways the finale was amazing, this show is amazing, and this season was amazing. i really really hope there's a third season or that they show up in other marvel projects IMMEDIATELY.
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I’m sorry but this scene…THIS SCENE…
“Matthias cast an uneasy glance at the guards’ backs, visible through the doorway. “Ignore them,” she said. “Why haven’t you kissed me, Matthias?”
“This isn’t the time—”
“Is it because of what I am? Is it because you still fear me?”
“No.”
She paused, and he could see her struggling with what she wanted to say. “Is it because of the way I behaved on the ship? The way I acted the other night … when I tried to get you to give me the rest of the parem?”
“How can you think that?”
“You’re always calling me shameless. I guess … I guess I’m ashamed.” She shuddered. “It’s like wearing a coat that doesn’t fit.”
“Nina, I gave you my oath.”
“But—”
“Your enemies are my enemies, and I will stand with you against any foe—including this accursed drug.”
She shook her head as if he was speaking nonsense. “I don’t want you to be with me because of an oath, or because you think you need to protect me, or because you think you owe me some stupid blood debt.”
“Nina—” he started, then stopped. “Nina, I am with you because you let me be with you. There is no greater honor than to stand by your side.”
“Honor, duty. I get it.”
Her temper he could bear, but her disappointment was unacceptable. Matthias knew only the language of war. He did not have the words for this. “Meeting you was a disaster.”
She raised a brow. “Thank you.”
Djel, he was terrible at this. He stumbled on, trying to make her understand. “But I am grateful every day for that disaster. I needed a cataclysm to shake me from the life I knew. You were an earthquake, a landslide.”
“I,” she said, planting a hand on her hip, “am a delicate flower.”
“You aren’t a flower, you’re every blossom in the wood blooming at once. You are a tidal wave. You’re a stampede. You are overwhelming.”
“And what would you prefer?” she said, eyes blazing, the slightest quaver to her voice. “A proper Fjerdan girl who wears high collars and dunks herself in cold water whenever she has the urge to do something exciting?”
“That isn’t what I meant!”
She sidled closer to him. Again, his eyes strayed to the guards. Their backs were turned, but Matthias knew they must be listening, no matter what language he and Nina were speaking. “What are you so afraid of?” she challenged. “Don’t look at them, Matthias. Look at me.”
He looked. It was a struggle not to look. He loved seeing her in Fjerdan clothes, the little woolly vest, the full sweep of her skirts. Her green eyes were bright, her cheeks pink, her lips slightly parted. It was too easy to imagine himself kneeling like a penitent before her, letting his hands slide up the white curves of her calves, pushing those skirts higher, past her knees to the warm skin of her thighs. And the worst part was that he knew how good she would feel. Every cell in his body remembered the press of her naked body that first night in the whaling camp. “I … There is no one I want more; there is nothing I want more than to be overwhelmed by you.”
“But you don’t want to kiss me?”
“He inhaled slowly, trying to bring order to his thoughts. This was all wrong.
“In Fjerda—” he began.
“We’re not in Fjerda.”
He needed to make her understand. “In Fjerda,” he persisted, “I would have asked your parents for permission to walk out with you.”
“I haven’t seen my parents since I was a child.”
“We would have been chaperoned. I would have dined with your family at least three times before we were ever left alone together.”
“We’re alone together now, Matthias.”
“I would have brought you gifts.”
Nina tipped her head to one side. “Go on.”
“Winter roses if I could afford them, a silver comb for your hair.”
“I don’t need those things.”
“Apple cakes with sweet cream.”
“I thought drüskelle didn’t eat sweets.”
“They’d all be for you,” he said.
“You have my attention.”
“Our first kiss would be in a sunlit wood or under a starry sky after a village dance, not in a tomb or some dank basement with guards at the door.”
“Let me get this straight,” Nina said. “You haven’t kissed me because the setting isn’t suitably romantic?”
“This isn’t about romance. A proper kiss, a proper courtship. There’s a way these things should be done.”
“For proper thieves?” The corners of her beautiful mouth curled and for a moment he was afraid she would laugh at him, but she simply shook her head and drew even nearer. Her body was the barest breath from his now. The need to close that scrap of distance was maddening.
“The first day you showed up at my house for this proper courtship, I would have cornered you in the pantry,” she said. “But please, tell me more about Fjerdan girls.”
“They speak quietly. They don’t engage in flirtations with every single man they meet.”
“I flirt with the women too.”
“I think you’d flirt with a date palm if it would pay you any attention.”
“If I flirted with a plant, you can bet it would stand up and take notice. Are you jealous?”
“All the time.”
“I’m glad. What are you looking at, Matthias?” The low thrum of her voice vibrated straight through him.
He kept his eyes on the ceiling, whispering softly. “Nothing.”
“Matthias, are you praying?”
“Possibly.”
“For restraint?” she said sweetly.
“You really are a witch.”
“I’m not proper, Matthias.”
“I am aware of this.” Miserably, keenly, hungrily aware.
“And I’m sorry to inform you, but you’re not proper either.”
His gaze dropped to her now. “I—”
“How many rules have you broken since you met me? How many laws? They won’t be the last. Nothing about us will ever be proper,” she said. She tilted her face up to his. So close now it was as if they were already touching. “Not the way we met. Not the life we lead. And not the way we kiss.”
“She went up on tiptoe, and that easily, her mouth was against his. It was barely a kiss—just a quick, startling press of her lips.
Before she could even think of moving away, he had hold of her. He knew he was probably doing everything wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry, because she was in his arms, her lips were parting, her hands were twining around his neck, and sweet Djel, her tongue was in his mouth. No wonder Fjerdans were so cautious about courtship. If Matthias could be kissing Nina, feeling her nip at his lip with her clever teeth, feel her body fitted against his own, hear her release that little sigh in the back of her throat, why would he ever bother doing anything else? Why would anyone?”
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