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None of it mattered. He saw it, but it may not be real. It may have broken him for the brief second that the CRACK! of his neck snapping and crushing underneath the Titan’s grip reverberated all around him and played on repeat in his mind for what seemed like forever but was just a breath or two. It did not matter. He saw it but he did not live it. And he knew that it was not a ‘not yet’ situation. He was plucked from that life because he did something they told him was not supposed to happen. They are trying to tell him that he is supposed to hang from the Titan’s grip like a ragdoll and wait for his own last breath? That his brother is destined to watch as he- no. It did not matter. He’s not going back anyway, why should it matter? Thor lives, and now Loki did not die. So? What next?
He tried not to linger at first on what he saw. He was supposed to cause his mother’s death? He was supposed to lose the battle he just escaped from? Pathetic. But what is he now if not pathetic? His own voice rang around him. Delusional and stupid. Glorious purpose. It should not matter. He escaped that life, he escaped that death. He escaped those mistakes, none of it mattered.
No matter how much Mobius made it seem like he knew him, knew all about him, knew what he would say and what he would do, he would not give in to them. The Time Variance Authority should not exist. Time outside time? Sacred Timeline? What, he was supposed to grow up hating his own kind, not knowing what he was? He was supposed to grow up a traitor? He was supposed to fall into the Mad Titan’s grasp? He was supposed to let go? He kept trying to tell himself for years that he fell from the Bifrost all those years ago, but who was he kidding? He knew that even before they so graciously showed him the moment he let go. The peace on his face as his fingers unclasped from around Gungnir. Odin’s disappointment ‘No, Loki.’ and Thor’s pleading ‘Loki, no.’. What did he think would happen? Certainly not what followed, but he did not let himself dwell much on it.
So, no matter how sure they were that he was going to help them, he wouldn't. He tried to voice his skepticism to ‘his partner’, was it jailor?- but he was faced with unwavering blind belief. Belief that had no place. Sacred timeline. What a joke. Belief that belittled his own when attacked. Belief that was laughably abstract. It made no sense.
None of what he saw mattered. Not the single sheet of paper only just briefly mentioning the annihilation of his whole civilization. His whole life. Just a number of casualties and some other numbers that had no meaning to him. Ragnarok. A Ragnarok, by the looks of the amount of files spread on the table in front of him. But he knew. That was his Ragnarok. That was his Asgard. That was his people. But none of it mattered. It did not happen to him. And it was not a matter of when. He branched so far from that life that he did not know if he was ever going to have the chance to go back. No matter how many times he looked where he was not supposed to look. No matter how many times he stole tempads and controls for his collar. He was never caught but it was all to no avail. Did he even want to go back?
He thought it was a game at first. Or perhaps he thought he should treat it as such. At first he only did what he was supposed to do. He did not know what was happening. He did not know who was pulling the strings. He thought maybe he should bide his time. Mischief and chaos were not just that. These things take time. He knew what he faced was big, but he has certainly faced bigger. Not just as a Prince of Asgard, but he has always lived more in the moments he slipped between realms, and hid from the gatekeeper’s everwatching gaze, always reporting to The Allfather. It all started the same, mostly. Play your part, bide your time until the weak spots made themself known, because there were always weak spots, if you were patient enough. And he was patient. They never even knew that he knew how to deactivate the collar they had him in. But showing his hand now was of no use. He needed to know more.
But as time passed, it stopped being a game anymore. He thought he could play along, but things got progressively more serious, and the more he saw of what was ‘supposed to happen’ the more his stomach turned. Thanos can not be allowed to win. His strategy proved itself useless as he remembered seeing himself sprawled on the ground joking about being offered a drink. But the Titan’s plan was bigger than whatever stupid plot was spreading around him.
It stopped being a game a long time ago, but he was close to snapping less frequently than not. It was harder at first to play the part. But as time passed, however time passes in this place, he felt himself wavering. He snapped at them less frequently. Deflected their insults and assumptions with less indignation, if at all. They were chipping away at his armor. He was beginning to lose himself. He needed to pull himself together.
None of what he saw mattered, but still, the CRACK of his neck snapping and crushing would not leave him for days now, if what he thought was days was actually that in what was now his reality. They thought he was there to help him, and he has helped them a bit. But just barely. Always one or two steps behind. Always just barely missing their Loki variant. It took him some time, but he stole whatever he could and they always suspected the variant. They were already stealing TVA equipment from every apocalypse they visited, what was a few more bombs or tempads?
He was getting antsy, they were gaining closer on the variant and his role would be over. He knew there was no point in meeting the Time Keepers. As he said before, he knew it was a trick.
‘Because it's part of the illusion. It's the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear.’
He did not particularly enjoy his conversations with Mobius, but if wanted to learn anything, he needed to play his part. And Mobius was- well, he did not expect it, and by the time he realized he needed to be more careful, it was too late. He got under his skin. He was vicious and he made it look effortless. He made him feel like Loki was an open book. That he was a fool for even thinking whatever he was thinking. Because he KNEW him. Knew what he was like, what he lived through. What makes a Loki tick.
He needed him. And more often than not, he played his part too well that he found it harder to gather his own thoughts after Mobius was done with him every time. It was cruel, but he could be patient, right?
It all culminated into this moment. He tried to think long and hard about the best option, the best place to go, but it was just blank before him. He made Mobius, and by extension hunter B-15, know that his goal was an audience with the so called Time Keepers, a believable goal, but not his. Not now. He just needed a distraction.
They have worked with his strategy long enough that they started to be more sure of their next steps. They picked the event this time. They picked the apocalypse this time without even consulting him. He was losing his advantage. They were on their way to some apocalypse on Midgard. He had a bad feeling about it. He was about to be ‘less important’ to say it politely. His time was up. If they found the variant this time, and he had a feeling they would, then it was over for him. They may have tricked him with the idea of hunting a variant of himself, and he may have gotten a little bit too invested at first, if only to understand more, but he snapped out of it soon enough as he realized that there was no end to it. He saw enough and read enough. He knew why Mobius treated him the way he did. They were all the same, he said. A Loki is a Loki. He may have wanted to meet this variant at first, but not at the expense of his own freedom. If he stayed longer, he may never be able to leave.
They were ready to leave, and it was now or never. He knew how to operate a tempad blind by this point. He clasped his hands behind his back, making it look like he was paying attention to the briefing. He also stole his daggers when hunter B-15 was returning them to her locker. They were all standing in a file, just getting ready to pass through the gate, when he reached into his reserves, he had just barely enough magic to do this. He played with the collar for a long time before he could figure out how to make it stay active so they may still think they had control over him while also dampening it’s attempts at suppressing his magic. Stupid, the lot of them.
He warned them, right? He even explained the difference between illusion projection and duplicate casting. They only had themselves to blame.
He managed to fool them, but just barely. As soon as the gate closed after them, they would know it was not the real Loki, but it won’t be his problem. He had bigger ones to worry about. Namely, where could he hide? Where could he go so that he would not be found out?
He had no more time to think it through. He could only just hope that he picked one he could hide in long enough to regroup, check his reserves and try to gather as much protection as he could because he was not done with them. It stopped being a game a long time ago. They would pay.