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They had won. Thanos was dead and everybody who became dust came back, high on the feeling of surviving an impossible trauma. They were greedy for everything that life could give them, and a planet wide celebration was inevitable– a global party that stretched for hours and days and weeks.
The whole populace of the universe were thriving, happy, ecstatic. But despite the way that they were brimming over with joy, the darkness would always find a way to creep back in. Because the party did not wipe away all that they had endured, and as soon as people began to fall back into their old routines, they were left to deal with the fallout– and then, of course, they had to find someone to condemn.
It was almost as if… in order to move on, they felt that they had to shift the blame somewhere, on someone.
It was a phenomenon that Loki was not unfamiliar with– something that he had been forced to endure for centuries.
That, of course, did not make it any easier.
Loki hated television. He hated seeing those prettied up mascots, spewing hatred and poison from their mouths, slowly destroying, bit by bit, his and other peoples’ contentment with the war being over. It wasn’t so bad in the beginning– they had discussed the actions of the Avengers as a whole at first, linking back to their formation and the way they seemed to attract dangerous events. Then they turned to individuals, but never stayed on one for too long. They danced around the fact that Thor had not aimed for Thanos’ head, they flirted with the idea that Star Lord (at least, according to a few rumours that may have originated with Spider-Man) had lost Iron Man the opportunity to take the gauntlet before it was too late, and they pulled apart the question as to whether Strange could have ended it by destroying the Time Stone when he had the chance.
But once they had passed through every member of the Avengers, from Rogers to Vision to Stark, they finally settled upon a single culprit that they believed they could blame for everything that Thanos had done.
In a way, it was almost ironic– because Loki had been forced to work so hard when he had initially joined the fight to prove to the Avengers that Thanos had been his puppetmaster, and yet now all of that was being dismissed with a simple conversation on the television.
The remote in his hands was about to be crushed by his tight grip. They just wouldn’t stop talking, just continuing to rant and throw accusations about without a care for the damage that they did. It began simple, almost personal– an attack on Loki for the little things, for being the god that had always been liked the least. But then it grew like a fungus, spreading out to other stations, to social media, to word of mouth and then even to the Avengers themselves. The whole world was talking about how Loki was the reason that everyone had suffered so much– and for a while, Loki waited for it to blow over like it had with everyone else. But it… never did, they never stopped—
It was then that Loki realised they wouldn’t ever stop.
They wouldn’t.
Because nobody liked Loki even though he had helped the Avengers with defeating Thanos. He still had the reputation of either being a child of Thanos, an imposter, a dirty lying trickster or a wannabe conqueror of Midgard.
It was so easy to shift the blame on him for the Snap, for leading Thanos to the Infinity Stones. So, terribly easy.
And the story of his first death was widely known because he had been a prince, and rumours carried fast as merchants with loose tongues brought the story to other realms, spreading Loki’s shame.
No one found it difficult to connect the dots together.
A fall, an invasion, new powerful stones, a new powerful being on the search.
There were times that Loki wished all beings could be as stupid as the Aesir were. Or, at least, just not that clever at figuring things out. Midgard was the worst thanks to their Avengers, and with their technology that enabled them to film and record everything– especially since after the fall of SHIELD, their intelligence was leaked and the whole world came to know who he was.
Loki of Asgard, the renegade brother of Thor who wanted to rule them all.
And now they were paying him back.
In him they had found the perfect scapegoat– and slowly, Loki was beginning to realise that the reason why he fit so succinctly into the role was because it was true.
Everything they were saying, every accusation and theory– not a single one was a lie. Logically, Loki really was the root cause of everything, the nexus around which every one else’s decisions revolved. It wasn’t conceited to think so, not when all the evidence was there.
“If Loki had not come here, who knows if Thanos would even have snapped?” It was a common question in newscasts– and a rhetorical one. Because of course, they all agreed.
“Maybe you should turn the TV off, or change the channel,” FRIDAY suggested, her tone laced with concern. Maybe it was ironic, that the only person who cared was not even really alive, not in the true sense of the word.
Loki didn’t reply. He continued to stare at the TV, listening to those tiny, squeaking voices, becoming more and more irritated with them and yet… not being able to ignore the reality of their words.
“He wouldn’t have snapped if he hadn’t heard about the Stones,” the first newsreader continued.
“That’s true.” The other leaned back in his seat, almost as if the conversation were relaxing him. Blame really was a balm. “No Loki, no Infinity Stones. That’s it, right?”
The first reporter nodded in agreement, and Loki grit his teeth.
“Fox News isn’t the best thing to listen to,” FRIDAY tried, and when Loki still gave no reply, she changed the channel for him. The screen flickered and then showed an expanse of green leaves, chittering birds, and calming music.
But a documentary about wildlife would not hold his attention, and Loki closed his eyes for a moment, thinking– then he walked over to the bookshelf, pulled out a thick tome and sat down on the bed. But even the book was not enough to calm the maelstrom swirling through his mind.
He had known before, of course, what people were saying– but this might just have been one thing too many.
And it had only been the Midgardian news– Loki knew without a shadow of a doubt that the broadcasts all across the galaxies would be saying similar things, would all be blaming him for what half of the universe had been put through. Sometimes, Loki could find humour in such situations, could joke about how people were finally realising how powerful he was if they believed he could be the cause of such a massive event.
Today was not one of those days.
It was difficult to turn his head off, to turn the voices off, freeing his mind from the dark and tumultuous thoughts. They were stubborn and they clung to him like an octopus. The book was more or less forgotten in his hands, those voices from the TV too loud too ignore.
So, giving up on his hopes for peace, Loki simply stared out of the window, letting his thoughts wander. And maybe he should have tried harder to focus on something else, because he drifted too easily into the shadows, those voices floating too free though his mind and tugging at even darker thoughts.
What if he hadn’t let go of Gungnir, that night all those years ago?
Would that have been better?
Somehow, the thought wouldn’t dissipate, curling through him and taking hold.
He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He was Loki, after all. When had insults ever gotten to him?
He was Loki the Liesmith, Silvertongue– Trickster.
To say he wasn’t used to derogatory names would be an offence to his intellect– but the things he heard weren’t insults, were they?
The things he heard over and over again were phrases that put half of the population’s extermination on his shoulders and it seemed like more and more beings out there agreed with the theory that if Loki had never fallen, Thanos would never have started the search for the Infinity Stones.
It was just… so reasonable.
And when Loki tried to avoid all the news channels, his own mind betrayed him again and led him to that theory.
So, what if he had never let go? Well, maybe then he’d have remained on Asgard– but then, maybe not. He hated Odin, after all– and he had been so sure when he let go, that Loki couldn’t imagine ever having made a different choice.
At that point, the events had already been put in motion—
The issue wasn’t that he had tried to take his own life.
It was the fact that he was alive to be able to make that choice in the first place.
For a moment, Loki sat stunned– but then, his mind started to work. And oh, the things he thought burned through his mind but they also soothed, and he let them calm him as birds flew by and the air around him grew colder. And as he relaxed, he was left with a single, fascinating question.
Thanos was always going to know of the Infinity Stones– that was an unavoidable inevitability, but...
What if he had no starting point with which to begin his search?
His fingers clenched tightly, his heart faltering as if it had been pierced with a blade.
Because if Loki had never told him (though desperate pain and tears) that the Tesseract was on Midgard, if Loki had never known about the Tesseract in first place, then perhaps… perhaps Thanos would even still be fruitlessly searching.
Suddenly afraid of his own thoughts, Loki stood up abruptly and went to the living room, hunting for distraction or anything that would take his mind out of the shadows for a few, blissed hours.
But in his aching heart, he already knew he had failed.
Because only cowards run away from a good decision, and despite what the ‘true’ warriors of Asgard might say, Loki was always proud of his own ability to bravely do the right thing, no matter how hard that might be.
And maybe he would have been able to live with that. Maybe he could have forced the darkness back and continued on the way he was– he had been used to guilt for years, after all.
But… when the accusations came from inside the place he was supposed to feel safe, when it got into the building he was supposed to be able to call his home, it simply became too much to bear.
He had been reading in the Avengers’ living room one afternoon, trying to distract himself and not entirely wanting to be alone with only the dark thoughts swirling through his mind to keep him company.
So, he was grateful when Stark wandered in, taking a seat on the armchair furthest away from Loki himself. His nose was glued to his StarkPad, and he took no notice of Loki at all– but that was fine, because his presence was enough to be grounding without feeling smothered.
But Loki wasn’t pleased when Rogers followed Stark in some minutes later with a question, and instead of leaving when given his answer, he simply sat down on the other armchair with the television remote.
The noise from the TV, of course, drew in yet more Avengers, clamouring with opinions for what to watch and talking over each other in an attempt to make their own voices heard.
Still, that was nothing more than what Loki was capable of tuning out– at least, not until Barton walked into the living room and saw Loki with the others.
“Oh, we’re including him in movie nights now, are we?”
It was a small comment, really, and Loki just rolled his eyes to shake it off.
“He’s a member of the team,” Stark said. “He has a right to be here.”
“Doesn’t mean we want him here,” Maximoff muttered under her breath– though she wasn’t making too much of an effort to remain quiet, for everyone in the room could hear her. “It’s not like he did any good when we had to fight against Thanos.”
“Loki helped us win that fight,” Stark started, and Loki half appreciated the effort, but Stark was knocked back almost immediately.
“I’m not saying he didn’t help,” Maximoff corrected. “I’m just saying that if not for him, then we never would have even needed to fight in the first place.”
“You know…” Barton seemed a little hesitant, but– “She kind of has a point.”
Maximoff nodded, satisfied with herself and her clever conclusions. She didn’t need to say ‘I know’ because it stood plainly written there on her face, and if Loki hadn’t felt so tired, maybe he would have thrown a dagger at her.
But he was in Stark's tower and he had sworn not to hurt anybody outside of training and sparring with each other.
“Be careful with what you say about my brother,” Thor said.
“I’m just stating facts, Thor.” Maximoff smiled at him in way which absently reminded Loki of a shark. Just... big, lots of teeth, out for blood.
“If he had not come to New York, Thanos probably wouldn’t have got his hands on the Tesseract,” Romanoff agreed smoothly. “After all, SHIELD had it in its possession, protected– and Thanos would not have even known that without Loki’s help.”
Noises of agreement sounded throughout the room. Thor threw him an apologetic look, apparently agreeing with that statement.
Despite the fact that he disagreed with the fact that SHIELD were adequately ‘protecting’ the Tesseract, Loki remained quiet. They weren’t wrong, after all. He had let Thanos know where it was, and from there it was easy to guess where it would be.
“Just imagine for a moment how nice it would be,” Maximoff added, something ugly in her voice. “If we had never had to experience all those things. No Infinity Stones, no pain.”
Loki could hear them all thinking. Imagining the what if. Wondering about the better life they all could have had if he had not … well. He swallowed down bile. The room was too quiet– the Avengers all thinking about what Maximoff had suggested, losing themselves in their fantasies.
Maybe it really was better that way. And it was too sombre in the room, all conversation dying down.
Loki closed his book with a fluid snap. “I suppose I should be flattered that you all consider me such a big influence on your lives,” he said smoothly. Maximoff looked like she had swallowed a lemon, and Barton’s expression was entirely blank. Rogers looked on with mere curiosity, Stark with a touch of frustration– and Thor’s eyes were alight with amusement. Well, at least someone was amusing himself at the sight of Loki’s pain.
“You’re so full of yourself, aren’t you?” Maximoff snapped.
Stark inhaled sharply but Loki refused to let his gaze wander over to him. He neither needed nor wanted to see Stark agreeing to their statements. He hoped or wished to have at least some respect in Stark’s eyes and should that not be the case—
Loki wasn’t quite sure how to handle that.
Maximoff still looked at him challengingly, disapproval burning in her eyes– and Loki merely smiled. He may have felt bitter and broken, but he knew it would appear perfectly arrogant to those looking from the outside.
“I know my worth,” Loki told her– and it certainly wasn’t a lie. He took his leave of them then, and he could feel eyes on his back as he headed for the elevator. Maximoff voiced yet another disparaging comment, and drew the others back into a conversation regarding whether Loki could be blamed or not.
Days passed, and nothing changed. Loki became intensely aware of the talks that stopped as soon as he entered a room, noticed the looks and the general growing hostility in the air. At first, it bothered him.
He had helped them out, hadn’t he? Tried his best, did his best. What more could they demand from him?
The answer to that wouldn’t leave him alone when he tried to sleep, forgetting the coldness he experienced from the others.
Cold.
There was something else that was cold, as well.
It’s his fault was something he heard more often than not in the following days, three simple words haunting the Tower and invading his nightmares. Really, the fact of the matter was simple– if Loki had not been born, then none of this would have happened.
But of course, Loki had been born, and such a fact was not one that could be challenged– but… maybe it could be changed.
In one of his low moments, desperate to alleviate some of the pain that smothered him, Loki found himself mirroring the mortals, wondering who else might be at fault. Could the blame not be laid upon Odin, who had been the one to save him from Jotunheim in the first place?
Maybe… everything would have been better if Odin had just left him there to die.
The thought sat heavy in his mind, heavier still than all the accusations and the knowledge of his own culpability in so much suffering.
What if I had died there, as was my birthright?
Time was a tricky thing, and– well, the past itself could not usually be changed, and certainly not without consequences.
Not usually, anyway– but Loki knew exactly where to get his hands on the object that would make such a thing possible.
—✳︎—
After Thanos had been defeated the majority of the Infinity Stones had been destroyed, turning their own power against them. But destroying the Stones with the Stones meant that there had to be one left, and that had left them with the decision of which one should remain. It didn’t take them long to decide upon the Time Stone, though at the time it had been more a process of elimination than a matter of which had been the best choice by its own merit.
The Power Stone was too volatile to trust, the Reality Stone too prone to falling into the wrong hands. Loki held a strong hatred for both the Space and Mind Stones, and was happy to see them go at the behest of the Avengers who had suffered similarly, and the Soul Stone was a source of torment for every person who had been trapped inside it.
This was all well and good, and agreed upon by most parties– but when the final fragments of the penultimate Stone shattered, and Strange took the remaining one back to its protected location, there were certainly a few complaints. Because Strange had already lost it once– and since the fight became of universal interest, the whole of reality now knew exactly where to find it.
It was, all in all, a rather terrible hiding place– but it meant that Loki knew exactly where the Stone was, and it was all too easy to sneak in and take it.
And as Loki lifted the Eye of Agamotto from its stand before stepping back into the gentle folds of Yggdrasil, he couldn’t help but think that at least now Strange would be shown the consequences of his arrogance.
Loki could have proceeded straight to his destination from there, but something drew him back to the Tower for one final goodbye. It wasn’t a place that held particular significance to him– in comparison to the time he had spent on Asgard, his time in Avengers Tower passed in a single heartbeat.
Perhaps it was just the thought that this was the end, that he would never have anything like this again.
As he glanced around the meagre quarters that he had been assigned, he silently reprimanded himself. There was nothing for him here, no reason to hold him back from what he knew to be the right thing to do. So he forced the hesitation away, reminding himself that he was not needed– nor even wanted. He could only be helpful through his absence, and if that was all that he could do, then oh, he would do it.
And if it equally meant that he would no longer have to suffer the pain of being unwanted and abhorred throughout not only the Nine but also across the rest of the universe… well then, his actions were not even entirely selfless. This way, he would bring himself peace as well as everyone else.
The decision was made. All he had to do now was carry it out.
Steeling himself, Loki closed his eyes and focused on the Stone clutched in his hand, folding his seiðr into the power of it and coaxing it toward where he wanted to go. The Stone surged, as if it were excited– after all, Loki doubted that it had been asked to travel over a millennia before.
He heard a yell as the power began to swell, and then there was something gripping around his waist—
The power rushed through Loki’s veins—
Yggdrasil welcomed him as she always did—
The years began to melt away—
And he vanished from Avengers Tower, with no plans to ever return again.
—✳︎—
Loki was surrounded by ice and snow, the wind swirling around him, lifting his hair and stinging his cheeks, though it didn’t make him feel cold. A millennia traveled through the past meant Jotunheim had not yet lost their casket– the planet was at the very height of its power and the very bottom of its temperature range, and yet Loki felt comfortable.
Well. Comfortable until he noticed the moral getting back to his feet from where he had fallen to the ground. A mortal who was most definitely not supposed to have been on Jotunheim over a millennia before he had been born.
“Stark?” Loki asked, at first in surprise before his tone turned to annoyance and he added, “What—”
“What the hell are you doing?” Stark snapped, shoving at Loki’s chest. “Stealing the T-t-time Stone, and c-c-c-coming to– oh, fuck, it’s cold.”
Loki jolted with realisation– because while his physiology was built for this weather, the mortal’s most certainly was not. In fact, despite having only arrived less than a minute before, Stark’s lips were already turning blue, his skin pale enough that he could have been mistaken for a Dark Elf. He was shaking so hard he looked like he was about to fall over. Stark was also definitely not dressed for the weather– his thin black tank top gave his torso almost no protection, and left his arms completely bare. His feet were covered with work boots at least, but they were designed for protection from impact rather than cold.
He should not have been there, and it was clear that he had not expected to be there– and despite his annoyance at being followed, Loki knew he could not simply leave Stark to suffer the frozen wastes without proper coverings.
“Here,” Loki said, touching Stark’s shoulder and letting his seiðr warm through the mortal’s body. He made sure that the sudden influx of heat would have no adverse effects, and Stark relaxed into the sensation with a heavy sigh.
“Thanks,” he groaned.
“Following me was foolish,” Loki snapped. “You did not know where I was going, or—”
“No, but I know you’re going to do something stupid.” Stark crossed his arms over his chest, his frown already back in place. “FRIDAY told me that I needed to hurry, that if I didn’t, then there was a chance that you… that you might…”
“She should not have interfered,” Loki muttered when it became clear that Stark was unlikely to say anything else. “I know what I am doing.”
“You know, when people say that it tends to make me less inclined to believe them—”
“You should go home,” Loki said, outstretching his hand, palm up, offering Stark the item he had been clutching.
Stark's eyes narrowed as he stared down at it for a moment before he glanced back up at Loki. “And how will you get home?”
There were a thousand ways that Loki could have answered that question. He could have told Stark that he had his own way of returning, that he could skywalk or use one of the secret pathways of Yggdrasil that lay hidden between the worlds. But the thought of lying now, in his final moments of existence, left such a sour taste in Loki’s mouth that he knew he would not be able to give any of those false excuses voice.
So what he found himself saying was a half-truth, something that was inherently honest and yet terribly wrong all at the same time.
“I already am.”
Stark frowned in confusion at first, but it only took one sweeping, curious glance over the frozen alcove they were hiding in and the ice and snow outside before the mortal was staring at Loki once more in horrified realisation.
“This is Jotunheim, isn’t it?” Stark asked.
Loki nodded, and Stark’s eyes widened in what could only be terror. And Loki would have considered that a perfectly ordinary and sane reaction to finding oneself upon the world of the Frost Giants before they had been defeated by the Allfather, but Stark’s next words turned that around immediately.
“Loki… no, please tell me that you aren’t—”
“It is the best way,” Loki snapped, not bothering to deny it when Stark already knew that it was the truth. And he hated that Stark had worked it out, that Stark had known him well enough to devise his plan– and he let that fuel his reaction in an attempt to distract himself from what Stark’s fear might have meant. This was not the time for optimism or hope, not the time for thinking on what might have been– because it never was and never would be, and Loki needed to focus on the task at hand rather than fantasising on impossible dreams.
“This is never the best way,” Stark said, expression and voice both laced with enough horror that something thick caught in Loki’s throat. “You can’t do this, you—”
“I can, and I will,” Loki said. “You will not stop me, because this is the best way. You’ve heard what they all said, if I hadn’t existed then none of this would have happened, the others would never have suffered through what they did after they were wiped from existence by a mere snap of Thanos’ fingers. We fought so hard to save the world, but what was the point if all they know is the trauma of—”
“They’re alive, Loki,” Stark interrupted again, his voice insistent. “They are alive. Without you—”
“It would be better,” Loki insisted. “They would have been able to join the fight, your team would not have been so crippled—”
“Our team was good enough to win as we were,” Stark snapped, his eyes burning fiercely. He looked about to say something else, but stopped himself with a deep inhalation and two seconds of closing his eyes. “Why do you want to change it? What if you go, and something bad ends up happening? What then?”
“The only difference it could make is good,” Loki said. “Look, Stark, I know that no one on the team feels any kind of affection for me. I know that I am the misfit, and that I will never be accepted. But I really have wanted to do good, to do my best to help the Nine– and it has become clear to me that the best way to do that is by wiping myself from the equation entirely.”
“You can’t,” Stark said– almost begging now, and Loki fought to remain firm.
“I can,” Loki said again. “You know this is Jotunheim, just prior to the Asgardian attack. I will be but a babe abandoned on the steps of a temple, and I will be defenceless. I imagine it will even be easy.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Stark countered, and Loki probably would have dismissed any argument he could make, save the way that his voice cracked on the last syllable.
“Then what did you mean?” Loki asked.
For a moment, it seemed like Stark would not answer. His lips parted but no sound whispered between them, and his eyes were wide and pained. But he seemed to get ahold of himself again, drawing in a deep, shaky breath before pushing the words up and out of his throat.
“You can’t do this, because I will miss you,” he said brokenly.
The words stopped every argument that Loki could have made in its tracks, freezing all logic and bringing a halt to his determination, because Anthony would miss him.
The thought was foreign and wrong, and it sang through his mind and played on that dangerous touch of optimism.
Dangerous, because it was impossible. Anthony never would miss Loki, even if not for what Loki was about to do– he had far too much else to be concerned with, and many other friends to occupy his time and heart. There was no reason for Anthony to wish Loki to stay– especially not when his leaving would only result in something good.
So Loki forced away that rotten hope, and held on to only his conviction.
“Don’t try to win my sympathy with false affection,” he told Anthony. “I am about to destroy myself, and soon this moment will not matter—”
“Do you really think that I still don’t care?” Anthony interrupted. “Do you seriously think that I could move on from this?”
Loki frowned. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“Oh, god,” Anthony said. “You really do, don’t you? You still think that I, what? Only put up with you grudgingly?”
Loki didn’t have anything to say to that, because it was true. He knew that he was only tolerated at best by those in Avengers Tower, and in most cases, that tolerance leaned far closer to resistance against the desire to throttle him in his sleep.
But that was okay– Loki knew exactly where he stood, and he was grateful to them for making sure that he knew it. Because while false praise or friendship might have been enough to convince him there was a reason to stay his hand, knowing that there was nothing for him to miss out on in the land of the living gave him the courage to move forward with the plan to make the world a better place.
But if… if what Anthony was implying here was the truth, if he…
If there was someone who actually...
“Loki.” Anthony’s voice drew Loki back to the present, concern bleeding through a thousand different emotions that Loki had difficulty deciphering, because they were just so completely contrary to everything he thought he had known to be true. “Loki, come on, what’s going through that head of yours?”
“This…” he found that he couldn’t quite get the words past his lips, but Anthony seemed to understand, anyway.
“You’re meant to be the god of lies, aren’t you?” Anthony asked, spreading his hands as if in surrender. “So go on, then. Check. Am I lying?”
And the thing was, Loki didn’t need to reach out, because he could already see the truth. He knew that Anthony wasn’t lying, he knew it down to his bones that yes, Anthony cared.
But if Loki accepted that, if he let himself believe– then that would mean that he had a reason to stay, and that would make what he needed to do just that much harder.
“Loki, you’re… you’re my friend,” Anthony said, though there was a strange intonation on the word that Loki didn’t entirely understand. But what Anthony said next overpowered that anyway, because– “I really do care about you, Loki,” he said. “I care a lot more than you know, and I couldn’t just sit and wait while you go off to cut yourself out of my life– while you cut yourself out of everything. I don’t want to lose you, Loki,” Anthony finished, and on Loki’s name, his voice cracked open and bled with truth. “Nothing is worth that.”
The raw emotion in Anthony’s voice was almost enough to bring Loki to tears, and he knew then, that despite his best efforts, he had somehow come to believe what Anthony was trying to tell him.
Anthony had followed him all the way to Jotunheim– and in doing so had taken a literal leap of faith, not even knowing where they were headed, simply following his desire to help his friend, merely because he cared.
And while it didn’t make any sense, while it would only cause more pain, Loki found himself closing his eyes and simply trying to hold the moment in his mind. He was all too used to being left behind, to being cursed or ridiculed for his lack of honour, for being magical and mercurial and the complete opposite of what a prince of Asgard should be.
Ever since he had been born, Loki had suffered through constant instruction to do better, to fight harder, to do something good for the first time in his life. He was more than used to knowing that no matter what he did, it would never be enough– his father and brother would simply continue to chastise, to commentate, to label him trickster and liesmith and silvertongue. They were always trying to force him into being more altruistic, despite believing that he never would—
Yet, here was Anthony, trying to stop him from making the most selfless choice he ever had.
Even though the simple act of wiping Loki from existence could save Anthony’s friends a whole lot of pain, it would seem that Anthony was willing to sacrifice a chance at not only all of their happiness but also fewer innocent deaths just to keep Loki alive.
The thought was both humbling and uplifting, and Loki had to swallow against the lump that had formed in this throat before he was capable of forming words.
“You followed me,” Loki said slowly. “You followed me because you want me to stay with you, because you enjoy my company. Because… you think of me as your friend.”
If Loki were being completely honest, he was still half expecting that Anthony would begin to stutter out an excuse, backtracking with something along the lines of doing this for Thor, perhaps, helping his teammate. (Of course, Loki knew that Thor would not truly miss him either, even if the plan allowed for that to be possible.) But there was nothing of the sort– Anthony’s expression was soft, and there was not a single trace of any excuse.
As Loki was turning everything over in his mind, Anthony sensed an opportunity to push his luck. He reached out with his hand, and curled it around Loki’s. It was the one still clutching the amulet containing the Time Stone, so Anthony couldn’t quite entwine their fingers– but his thumb stroked over Loki’s skin, making his breath hitch.
“Please, Lokes,” he said. “Come home with me.”
“I can’t,” Loki said, shaking his head minutely. He knew that Anthony’s friendship made no difference, because it did not change the past, it could not alter the fact that removing Loki from existence would better the lives of everyone else in the universe. But his earlier determination was weakened, because the stakes had suddenly changed—
And what did everyone else matter, when Anthony wanted him to stay?
It made Loki’s heart warm, and it made him want to protect Anthony above all others– which, of course, would still mean the continuation of his plan. Because he had seen the pain that Anthony had suffered when the child he saw as an almost-son had been taken in Thanos’ Snap, when he had returned to Earth to find more of his closest friends gone. They might have all returned, but the memory of the pain would remain.
And yes, very well, so Loki believed that Anthony would miss him (and oh, but that was bittersweet), but that did not matter. Whether Anthony would feel pain at Loki’s loss was irrelevant, because if Loki followed through then Anthony would never know that Loki had even existed in the first place.
“It does not matter whether you would miss me or not,” Loki said, his voice emotionless but steady. "You, Thor– no one would even remember me, there would be nothing to miss. You would not know that I had ever been there– for truly, I would not have."
“I can’t live with that,” Anthony tried, and Loki shook his head.
“You will not have to, aren’t you listening? You won’t remember me at all.”
For a moment, Anthony’s shoulders slumped. It was clear that he had nothing to counter that with, because Loki was right. If he was wiped away, then there would be no negative repercussions for those few– for that one single, precious person who cared.
Loki should have felt pleased about that, he supposed. After all, that meant that he could continue with his plan. But, instead, he realised… that he still wanted Anthony to fight. He wanted an excuse to stay, more than anything.
He wanted to be selfish again—
He wanted Anthony to fight for him, because he wanted to be able to fight for himself– and he didn’t think that he would be able to do that alone.
Then, as if in response to Loki’s own silent plea for help, Anthony’s eyes blazed with a sudden determination, and he looked up and spoke with a frenzied speed that betrayed his own desperation.
“You think that the only reason why Thanos got the Tesseract was because you gave it to him, right?”
“Of course,” Loki said stiffly. He knew it to be the truth, but there truly was no reason for Anthony to bring up the reminder.
“But you were only able to take it in the first place because it was on Asgard—”
“Because of me,” Loki pointed out, feeling trodden upon, his own hope turning away. “The Tesseract being relocated to Asgard was the result of my actions.”
But Anthony did not react to that reminder with the defeat that Loki had been expecting.
Instead, he was near crowing.
“Exactly,” he said, the syllables elongated and emphasising both how right Anthony believed himself to be, and Loki’s own confusion. Thankfully, Anthony seemed to notice, and offered further explanation. “With you at the head of the New York attack, it was doomed to fail. Without you, Thanos only would have chosen someone else, and who’s to say that they would have been as interested in getting away from the Mad Titan as you were? Without you pulling the strings, we would have been defeated, no questions about it– and then Thanos would have had both the Tesseract and the Mind Stone. There would have been nothing stopping him from getting the others, and with us gone, he would have faced no resistance. And that’s not even the end of it, because without your attack, no one would would have realised what was coming. No one. Thanos would have won without even a fight– if you hadn’t been a thorn in his side from the very start.”
Loki took all that in, his eyes widening. Even to his reluctant ears Anthony’s words made a certain amount of sense, following a path of logic that was near impossible to dispute.
Anthony used the next opportunity provided by Loki’s hesitation without a single moment’s pause. His fingers remained gentle as he stepped forward and squeezed Loki’s hand, holding it even tighter than before.
“Don’t you see?” Anthony asked softly, his eyes fever-bright. “You think that you’re the reason we lost so much, when really, if you think about it– you’re the reason we won.”
Loki only realised he was trembling when Anthony’s hand squeezed his once more, and he drew in a shuddering breath.
“It’s… I really…”
“Yeah,” Anthony said, his lips quirked up onto a relieved half-smile. “You did good.”
It was such a simple admission, and yet… honestly, it was something that Loki did not think he had ever heard before, save perhaps from his mother when he was a child, and it warmed him all the way through, washing away the feel of the ice that surrounded him as well as the ice that had gripped at his heart for so very long now.
It made him feel bold, and gave him the courage to take the chance to grip Anthony’s other hand– and Anthony didn’t seem to mind. He curled his fingers through Loki’s easily, happily, taking a small step closer so there was very little space between them.
“Come on, Lokes,” Anthony said gently. “Let’s go home.”
And despite the touch of doubt that still niggled at Loki’s mind like a rot, he gave Anthony a single but certain nod.
—✳︎—
They arrived back in the very moment that they had appeared, unmissed by anyone. FRIDAY let out a relieved speil and a short question, but Anthony assured her quickly before asking that FRIDAY ensured they were granted privacy.
Loki was glad for that, as he was about half a moment away from falling apart, his whole body well and truly wracked with tremors now as he struggled to get a grip on the rage of emotion that was swirling through his body. It was such a complete contrast to how he had felt as he’d left, so empty and unfeeling, that it threatened to bring him to his knees—
But then Anthony was there, his arms wrapping around Loki’s shoulders and pulling him in close. Loki buried his face into the curve of Anthony’s neck, allowing himself to finally shatter now that he knew there was someone who would help to hold him up. Their height difference meant that Anthony was curled into Loki’s chest, but somehow, Loki still felt like Anthony was the one keeping him together, the one who was keeping Loki safe from everything, including his own mind.
They stayed entwined together for– well, for how long exactly, Loki could not say. He soaked in the affection that Anthony so freely gave, and despite the ache that had not quite entirely been pushed away, he almost began to feel… content.
“Please, Loki,” Anthony whispered, holding him even closer. “Please, don’t ever do anything like that again. I can’t… I can’t lose you.”
The raw emotion in Anthony’s voice couldn’t be anything other than honest, and Loki buried his face in Anthony's hair as he gave what he now knew was the only answer that he ever could.
“Very well,” Loki whispered, and in that moment he meant it with all that he was. “I promise.”
Anthony relaxed almost fully, melting into Loki’s embrace. And it was nice, more comfortable than anything, the press of their bodies just fitting together like they had always meant to rest in each other’s arms. But despite the ease and comfort, Loki almost froze again when he felt Anthony’s lips brush over the skin of his throat, caught in a mess of amazement, disbelief, and want.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse.
Anthony’s smile widened, and Loki felt lips graze his ear as Anthony whispered– "Can't you see how precious you are to me, Reindeer Games?"
And as Anthony tilted his head to press their lips together in a perfect, sweet kiss, Loki began to think that maybe… just maybe, he was beginning to understand.
He knew that they still had a long way to go– because nothing had been fixed, and the world still blamed him for every problem that they had ever faced. But the important thing was that Loki no longer believed it, and that right there, in that moment, he had someone who cared enough to follow after him and drag him back from the brink of his own destruction—
And, at least for now, that was more than enough to keep him grounded.