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Chapter Text

Stephen Strange isn’t expecting any real excitement to occur.  He’s settled into the rhythm of life in Kamar-Taj, and besides his unexpected trip to Mount Everest when the Ancient One was making a point, nothing else really of note has happened to him.  So while he’s surrounded by sorcerers (and despite everything, that particular fact still makes him cringe on occasion), he thinks he’s got his weirdness meter pretty much leveled out, given the circumstances.

It ends up hitting him with all the force and subtlety of Stormbreaker to the face.

(Not that he knows what Stormbreaker is in that first breath of pain, but he does in the second, and it makes him want to curse the Asgardian out even though Thor has absolutely nothing to do with his current situation.)

One moment he’s running through the exercises he and the other students are being drilled on for the day, the next he’s hitting his knees as millions of lifetimes suddenly slam their way into existence in his mind.

Fourteen million six hundred and six lifetimes, to be exact.

(His back is bowed, his forehead pressed into the unforgiving cobblestone, his eyes squeezed shut in a vain attempt to will this all away, and a wordless scream tears its way out of him.)

(It hurts, it hurts, IT HURTS, IT HURTS)

Fourteen million six hundred and five lifetimes that he’d had suppressed after they’d finally defeated Thanos because the agony of them crippled him even on the best of days.  Because he’d spent fourteen million six hundred and five lifetimes fighting beside Tony Stark and there’s only so many times he can be forced to watch a man die, watch a man throw his whole heart into saving everyone and everything before something changes.  Before annoyance gives way to grudging respect to true respect to longing to heartache because he knows with a deadly sort of certainty that he’ll never get to keep any of the times they stood side by side.  Where Tony Stark will look at him and know him because in none of those lifetimes do they come out on top.

(Steady hands settle on top of his violently shaking ones, hands that are vaguely familiar yet completely unknown to him. It says something about his current state of mind that he doesn’t flinch away from the touch when normally he has to be the one to initiate contact or at least be able to see it coming concerning his hands.)

And then the last lifetime, the one where Tony Stark saved them all at the cost of his own life because they’d been too far into their endgame for Stephen to find any other way.  A lifetime he’d expected to have to live without Tony Stark in it, so he’d had Wong help him suppress the memories.  And that took with it the memories of two sons and a daughter, none of whom felt the same way about him.

(Bile rises up in his throat because he’d been about to erase one son from his mind a second time, only in a vastly more permanent manner.  Before he’d been left with a fleeting longing that they might’ve been close once upon a time, no longer were, but could be again if he just reached out a hand.)

(Look how well that turned out.)

He’s drowning in the deluge of it all.  Because the human mind isn’t made to endure thousands upon thousands of lifetimes worth of memories.  Eventually, something has to give, and Stephen’s worried (knows) it’ll be his mind.  And so he screams through the pain and cries over the renewed heartache and begs for an end, any end, to come and claim him before—

“ꞖȐɆǞƬĦȨ ṦȾĔⱣḪƎŇ”

The ni on divine voice stills the building crescendo of pain in his head.  Air rattles in his lungs at its command as he inhales sharply.  His bones seem to tremble in his flesh at the rather abrupt absence of pain.  Still shaking more than his usual wont, he slowly raises his head from the cobblestones to find a woman he would swear he’s never seen before in his life (yet looks familiar beyond belief) kneeling in front of him.  She even still has his wrists clasped in gentle yet sturdy grips that don’t hurt them in the slightest.  Though she appeared human, something that remains just on the fleeting edge of his mind warns him that she’s anything but.

“Who—?” He’s unable to choke out the rest of his sentence, his throat is so raw.

For some inexplicably odd reason, her brow furrows into a chiding look. “You know who I am, Stephen Strange.” This time, when she speaks, her voice doesn’t carry anywhere near the weight it did before, although there’s still an obvious hint of eternity. “We have spent countless lifetimes together, you and I.”

He swallows thickly, both in an attempt to wet his throat, and also to dislodge the lump that seems to have lodged itself there. “I don’t—”

*

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*

“Who are you?”

“You know I am, Stephen Strange.  We have spent countless lifetimes together, you and I.”

“I was in the middle of casting a rather important spell.  There are rifts that will tear apart my reality if I don’t finish it.”

“Indeed you were, and to there you shall be returned at the conclusion of our conversation should that be the course you take.”

“Conversation?  What conversation?”

“The one we are having right now.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

*

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“Are you trying to imply that you’re, what, an Infinity Stone?”

“Very good, Champion mine.”

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*

“Despite his so called noble intentions, Thanos did far more harm than good on his crusade to bring about balance.”

“So this universe, this reality, is coming undone without the stones, without you and your…siblings.”

“Indeed it is.  Life, Death, and Fate can only do so much to hold the balance, having had the help of my siblings and I since the dawn of creation.  The little bit of excitement you were cleaning up that I pulled you from certainly wasn’t helping matters.”

“And how, exactly, is it possible that we’re even having this conversation? The stones of this reality were destroyed six years ago by Thanos.  You were destroyed six years ago.”

“Because of who I am, Champion mine, because of what I am.”

*

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“You were correct, Stephen Strange, in your assumption that at the point you dared to go toe to toe with Fate that everything was too far gone to change your final endgame.  Perhaps, had we known the true extent of damage the Titan’s mad quest would bring, we might’ve tried for a different outcome after the first Snap.  As it was, my siblings and I were overwort by what we had been forced to do and so we retreated when Thanos destroyed the physical forms we’d been unwillingly bound to for centuries in an attempt to heal ourselves.  The fractures between realities is what pulled our attention back outwards.  You and my sister’s Champion were at the center of it all, and despite our eons of knowledge and experience, this is not a choice we would force on a child unless there was no other option.  And it was luck, or perhaps the workings of Fate, that you were the other option.”

*

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“Should you choose to try again, with the combined power of all my siblings and the blessings of Life, Death, and Fate, I will return you and the other Champions save one to just before the moment where your Kingmaker was struck too low to ever rise up high enough in time to defeat Thanos.”

“Kingmaker?”

“The one who rallied you all, the one who struck the first major blow against the Titan since he began his mad campaign.  Your Kingmaker.”

“Tony Stark.”

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“You look…human.”

“Midgard was our birthplace, although it had no name at the time.  What we were called then, as I can see the question already forming in your mind, is not something a mortal of any sort could bear to speak or hear.  Eventually, we became known for what cosmic force we hold dominion over, but that was not who we are .  So we chose names for ourselves, names whose meanings originate from the planet that now inhabits the area of our birth.”

“Am I allowed to ask…?”

“Indeed you are, Champion mine.  They are ours to do with as we please and you, more than anyone, have earned the privilege to call me by it.  My name is—”

*

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*

“Zotia,” Stephen breathes out, staring at the humanoid personification of the Time Stone in both awe and horror as bits and pieces of their conversation suspended between universes, between one second and the next, washes over him.

A terrifyingly gentle smile spreads across her lips. “Hello, Champion mine.”

“Stephen!”

Stephen chokes on nothing when his mentor shouts his name, not having heard the sound in two years (fourteen million six hundred and six lifetimes, or twenty-nine million, six hundred thirty-seven thousand, eight hundred ninety-one years, three months, and twenty-two days, give or take a few hundred years because of Dormammu).  He can’t bring himself to turn towards her, even though suddenly he’d like nothing more than to do just that.

Zotia’s head snaps up, a fierce scowl erasing her smile as she barks out, “”

Stephen, in the ensuing silence, rallies himself as best he can as the millions of lifetimes continue to settle in the back of his mind. “When did we land?” he asks hoarsely.

Zotia’s eyes slide back to him, rimmed with the shining green Stephen has come to associate with using the Time Stone (with channeling Zotia’s dominion). “The end of what you mortals will eventually call the Avengers Civil War.  The Kingmaker is being cradled by Life as we speak, as her Champion is not yet born, but the Kingmaker will again be her father in all due time.”

Tony’s alive.  He knew that was going to be the case, but Tony’s alive (He tries to not think about Morgan, about that amazingly special little girl, because that's the only person Stephen can think of Zotia meaning as Life’s Champion.  Of course, how she’s going to be born again is a question for the ages, because if Tony remembers, Stephen can’t see him being in a relationship with Pepper Potts again with that much imbalance of knowledge) (He’s not that strong himself, but he never forced himself onto Tony when the man didn’t reciprocate his feelings.  At least in those lifetimes, he got Morgan for however long said lifetime lasted in addition to Peter and Harley).

“Death has his Champion well in hand, and is preventing interlopers from interfering with his and Life’s work.  Fate is at their Champion’s bedside, ready to protect him until he can stand on his own once again.  All of the other Champions save Soul’s are off world, but will inevitably be making their way here in due time, pulled to the siren call of the Kingmaker.”

Despite feeling like he should already know the answer, Stephen asks, “And who has Soul chosen as their Champion?”

Zotia’s expression grows solemn. “The child we would not ask to make a decision that would affect the entirety of their known universe.”

Stephen’s back goes ramrod straight, even with the jolt of pain moving so suddenly causes (he’d do just about anything for his son, even endure immense amounts of pain) (He did on Ebony Maw’s ship, although he didn’t know it at the time). “Peter.” The boy he’d been moments away from erasing from his memories.  The young man who Tony never had the chance to remember seeing grow up.  The one who’d lost everything and was most likely freaking out at his abrupt change in location and time. “Where is he?”

“My sister is with him, Champion mine.  He will be safe until you all can meet,” Zotia says softly.

He can feel his lips curling back into a snarl, but Stephen doesn’t particularly care (He’s faced off against insurmountable odds before.  At least this time he feels like he has a chance of succeeding). “Where is my son, Zotia?” he demands, heart pounding wildly in his chest.

She stares at him for a moment that seems to stretch out for eternity.

(For all he knows, it might be.  His sense of time has never been the best since Dormammu and what he did on Titan didn’t help at all.)

Then she reaches out to brush her fingertips over the back of his shaking hand, and a location blooms to life in the back of his mind.  Before he can start drowning himself in second guesses, he’s on his feet with his sling ring on his fingers and a portal is sparking into life (for the moment he ignores that the portal is made with green magic as opposed to the usual yellow) moments later.  His breath catches in the back of his throat at the image that blooms into existence before him.  The kneeling form of the boy he could possibly one day truly call son (he’d learn to tolerate any name that the kid saddled him with, if only he would let Stephen into his life again) with a figure awash in golden colors wrapping her arms around his trembling shoulders, the faint sounds of hitched sobs nearly drowned out by the bustling city spread out beyond the roof that they’re situated on.

“Peter!”

Chapter Text

Peter Parker has absolutely no clue what the hell is going on, and he’s trying very hard not to freak out any more than he already is.  The nice glowing lady helped him calm down somewhat, but not by much.  He’d just been getting ready for bed in his new, shitty apartment when it seemed like the world held its breath for one horrifying moment.  He’d blinked and all of a sudden he was on a roof in Berlin.  And the only reason he knows it’s Berlin is because of the videos he shot when Mister Stark dragged him over to Europe to help in what later became dubbed the Civil War.  He’d watched them a lot when he wanted to try and remember how carefree he’d been before it all went to shit.  It’s all very confusing, and he’d really just like to wake up from whatever weird dream this is before he starts hoping for the impossible.

Like for someone to call his name who knows him.

Preferably an Avenger, although he’d really like for it to be Mister Stark because if he’s in Berlin for the Civil War, then that means that Mister Stark hasn’t died yet, and that means that—

“Peter!”

Nerves absolutely shot to hell and back, Peter flails when his name is shouted.  He nearly trips over his own feet while spinning towards the voice.  His jaw drops upon seeing a glowing green portal, and on the other side of it—

“Doctor Strange!” he yelps, stumbling through said portal before he can help himself, because it’s Doctor Strange and he called Peter’s name!  But Peter knows the consequences of the spell Doctor Strange had cast to close off the cracks in their reality.  And if Doctor Strange remembers him now, then something must’ve eventually gone wrong, even though MJ and Ned don't remember him anymore. “Oh my god, Doctor Strange, did something—”

And then.

And then Doctor Strange staggers forward and wraps Peter up in a hug of all things.  He gathers Peter up against his chest, with his horribly shaking hands, and buries his face in Peter’s hair to breathe out, “Thank Vishanti, you’re alright.”

“Doctor Strange?” His voice sounds tiny and hesitant even to his own ears, but he can’t really bring himself to care, because being wrapped up in Doctor Strange’s arms makes him feel safer than he’s ever felt since his whole superhero shebang began.  And ever since his screw up with Beck and following that the spell he’d asked Doctor Strange to cast, he’d all but given up on ever feeling this way again.

Doctor Strange pulls back just far enough so that they can look at each other, laying a still trembling hand against Peter’s cheek.  He doesn’t bother trying to deny the fact that he leans into the touch. “Thanos did more than just screw with the population of the universe when he Snapped,” the sorcerer says, voice slightly hoarse like he'd gargled rocks or something recently. “When he destroyed the Stones, it started a chain reaction that led to our universe beginning to unravel.”

“Unravel?” he repeats incredulously, because the mere idea of the universe unraveling kinda makes his head hurt.  He didn’t even know universes could unravel.

“Indeed, unravel.”

Peter does not yelp again at the new voice, one that has the same unearthly qualities in it that the nice lady who’d calmed him down had.

Doctor Strange only huffs. “Zotia,” he says, a warning in his tone that speaks to a plethora of knowledge that will be used by whatever means necessary if said warning isn’t obeyed.  It’s even more powerful than what he’s directed Peter’s way.  What Peter’s mostly baffled about is the protectiveness he can hear in it, protectiveness for him when he’s pretty sure he just annoys Strange more than anything.  It certainly seemed like that when he’d first bugged him in his Sanctum about the memory spell.  Granted, he’d been a little stupid for not thinking about being able to just call MIT and ask for the chance to defend his case, well MJ and Ned’s cases mostly, and Doctor Strange had been right to call him on it, and it had ended up with that whole mess with all the Peters and the bad guys and fixing said bad guys and Aunt May…and he’s just going to stop thinking about all that for right now.

The voice scoffs. “He was chosen, Champion mine, same as you.  To coddle him now would be to demean him.”

Now Peter turns, still managing to stay pressed up close against Doctor Strange, to see that his nice glowing golden lady is standing side by side with another lady who seems to shimmer green. “Um.” He clears his throat when two sets of very powerful eyes latch onto him.  He gives a half-hearted wave with the hand not trapped between his body and Doctor Strange’s body. “Hi.  Um, can I ask you who you are?”

The terrifying one haloed in green smiles, and Peter feels a chill slide down his spine.  He inches himself just a hare closer to Doctor Strange, wanting that feeling of safety back while feeling like he’s staring into the face of oblivion. “My name, child, is Zotia, and I give you leave to call me as such.  However, you would best know me as the Time Stone.”

He blinks at her as her words process because he knows that the Stones in their universe were destroyed.  It’s the whole reason the mess with the spell happened.  And that’s not even getting into the fact that at Mister Stark’s funeral he’d almost asked Doctor Strange if he could just use the other Time Stone to bring Mister Stark back if it wasn’t too much of a hassle.  But then he’d changed his mind when he saw the man staring out across the lake where Miss Potts—Mrs Stark because Mister Stark had gotten married and had a kid, an actual flesh and blood kid, and did that mean he didn’t need Peter anymore?—had sent that first arc reactor of Mister Stark’s out to float when he thought no one was around and watching.  It reminded him a bit too much of how Aunt May had looked that day they were told Uncle Ben was gone.  Like his whole reason for living was gone and now he had no idea what to do with himself.  Then what she said actually truly registers with him. “Holy crap, you’re an Infinity Stone?!”

A scary, scary smile spreads across her lips. “Indeed I am, little Champion, indeed I am.  And I have chosen Stephen Strange to stand as my Champion, much like my sister here has chosen you as hers.”

“Me?” Peter squeaks, pointing a finger at himself in disbelief.  He wonders if he should be concerned that a supposed Infinity Stone has chosen him to be it’s—her’s, she’s a her—Champion.  Whatever being a Champion of an Infinity Stone even means.  He doesn’t remember anything about Champions being mentioned when Mister Stark and Doctor Strange were discussing things in the alien spaceship on the way to Titan.

“Yes, you.” His glowing lady takes a step forward and Peter can feel the hold Doctor Strange still has on him tighten ever so slightly.  However, he doesn’t try to make the woman stop as she reaches out and takes Peter’s hand between her own. “I held you and countless others in my embrace for five long years, even after Thanos destroyed our physical forms, but you, Peter Parker, oh your soul shines even now with enough warmth and kindness to bathe your solar system in its light.”

“I’m not—” Peter shakes his head and tucks his shoulders in as he tries to make himself disappear into Doctor Strange’s side, because she’s got it all wrong.  Burning shame fills him just thinking about the whole mess with the spell and his selfishness that caused it all and this Infinity Stone lady can’t mean what she said about his soul because he’s not that good.  Not really. “I’m not that—”

A finger touches his lips and Peter nearly jumps out of his skin. “Hush, little one, and listen to me,” his glowing lady says softly but firmly. “I see into the very heart of all, for I hold dominion over every soul that was, is, and shall be.  I see the good, the bad, and everything in between.  And you, Peter Parker, you have always been a beacon of all that is good in this world.  There is no other I would have for my Champion.”

He can feel his cheeks heating up, and he ducks even further into Doctor Strange’s side to attempt to hide from his growing embarrassment.  Because he can feel the truth in her words through the touch of her hands, and God is it humbling.  He blinks against the tears he can feel forming in his eyes, pressing his face to Doctor Strange’s shoulder.  However, despite all this, he doesn’t try to tug his hand out of his glowing lady’s grip.  She gives his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and stepping back so she’s standing next to Zotia again.

Since he’s practically plastered himself up against Doctor Strange, Peter feels when the man draws in a deep breath. “Did I at least cast the spell for you properly?” he asks almost hesitantly. “Zotia took me from just before I finished it.”

He noisily clears his throat. “Yeah, it worked,” he mumbles. “The rifts vanished and no one knew who Peter Parker was.” He chuckles wetly. “I somehow managed to get a dinky little apartment and was studying for my GED when I was suddenly back in Berlin.”

Doctor Strange exhales shakily. “While I’m glad it worked, I’m sorry you had to go through that in the first place.”

Peter shrugs half-heartedly. “It’s my own stupid fault.  I made you mess up the spell the first time.” He pulls his face away from Doctor Strange’s shoulder, and only just realizes that they’re not in the New York Sanctum. “Um. . . Doctor Strange?  Where exactly are we?”

Doctor Strange jerks like he’d forgotten where they are too.  His eyes are a bit wild as they sweep across the crowd of people gathered beyond them and the two Infinity Stones. “Kamar-Taj,” he chokes out.

“Oh,” Peter whispers before spotting someone he does know. “Hi Mr Wong!” The man just stares back at Peter because he’s an idiot because Mr Wong hasn’t met him before because they’re in the past.  They’re in the past because the universe was unraveling and that really can’t be good and so that’s why Peter abruptly found himself in Berlin and if Peter was in Berlin because that’s where he’s fought against half the Avengers for Mister Stark then that means—“Oh my god, Doctor Strange!” He gives the man a shake because holy crap do they have to get a move on. “We gotta go save Mister Stark!”

“The Kingmaker is safe,” Zotia states rather calmly in Peter’s panicked opinion.

His glowing lady makes a chiding sound in the back of her throat. “They will not settle until they see him with their own eyes, sister.  Even your Stephen Strange.  He does not yet have true mastery of that which being Time’s Champion means.”

Zotia tsks, which is really weird because she’s supposed to be an Infinity Stone even if for some odd reason Peter doesn’t understand right now she looks human. “Very well.” She takes a step forward to be closer to them, and Peter barely manages to not flinch as she lays a hand on Doctor Strange’s arm.  She gives him a rather knowing look, even as Doctor Strange’s breath hitches in the back of his throat. “Just a moment, Champion mine, and an old friend of yours will be able to join you,” she says when Doctor Strange steps away from Peter’s side and begins to raise his arms.

Doctor Strange shoots her such a flummoxed expression that Peter slaps a hand over his mouth in an attempt to keep a snort of laughter at bay despite the urgency humming through his veins.  It doesn’t work, but at least some of the tension in Doctor Strange’s shoulders melts away as he turns an unimpressed look in Peter’s direction.  Then his shoulders go rigid and the heartbreaking look of utter joy that splashes across his face has Peter whipping around just to see what’s coming.  He nearly misses it too, but when he sees a flash of dark red fabric hurtling towards the wizard, Peter wonders how he missed the fact that Doctor Strange hasn’t had his cloak this entire time.  It’s his wizard cloak!  To Peter, it’s like his iconic wizardiness token, cause the thing is Dramatic™ all on its own.

“Hello,” Doctor Strange murmurs with tears in his eyes as he strokes a hand over the cloak now settling onto his shoulders.  Peter kind of likens it to two very old friends meeting again after years of separation, and normally he’d continue to watch, if only because he’s a sucker for those sorts of reunions, but he feels liable to vibrate right out of his suit if they don’t get going sometime soon.

“Doctor Strange?” he prods hesitantly, not wanting to seem too pushy, but Mister Stark is in Siberia with two super soldiers who aren’t really on his side, and Peter would rather not lose Mister Stark before he’s even had a chance to get him back again.

Doctor Strange’s gaze darts up from his cloak to do one more sweep of the gathered people surrounding them before it settles on Peter.  There’s a weight in those eyes of his now, far beyond anything Peter’s ever seen before.  And that same green magic from the portal earlier seems to dance in his eyes as he raises his arms again, one held out while the other is spun in a big circle.  Another green portal sparks into life, a blast of cold air hitting Peter right in the face as it opens up to a place Peter’s only seen in video.  He’s faintly aware of someone saying something, and Doctor Strange responding, but most of his attention is riveted on the sitting person in red and gold armor.  His feet once again carry him through the portal without much conscious thought, only this time he falls to his knees and throws his arms around the one person he’s missed the most for the past year.

“Mister Stark, you’re okay!”

Chapter Text

Tony Stark thought that he’d seen it all.

He’d become a superhero (Iron Man for the win, thank you).

He’d lived to see his father’s supposed greatest creation fished out of the ice (and that ended up being a huge fucking disappointment, which also, no surprise, he wasn’t Howard enough for Steve, a fact he takes constant pride in most days).

He’d lived to see his childhood idol come back from the dead (unfortunately it sucked majorly, it’s one of many things he’s never going to forgive HYDRA about, right up there with using said childhood idol to kill his mother).

He’d fought against freaking aliens (nowhere near as cool as the movies make it out to be, especially when nukes are involved, and the movies never seem to mention the endless amount of nightmares that accompany said attacks so he’d like a refund on all those tickets).

He’d held the six most powerful items in the palm of his hand (which can he just say ouch and never doing that again if he has any say in the matter).

He’d defended Earth (screw you, Thanos, and your fucked up plan for so called balance).

He’d gotten the kid back (thank god he’d gotten the kid back, that means all his kids are alive).

He’d kept Morgan safe (I love you 3000, princess).

He’d been ready to rest, to finally lay down his arms and pass the torch on to the next generation (then again, he’s been fairly certain that dying was always going to be the only way he’d ever truly give up the superhero gig and turns out he was right).

But apparently, the universe wasn’t done with him just yet.  Because one moment he’d been dying in the smoking ruins of what was left of the Avengers compound after Snapping Thanos and his minions out of existence (the Stones wielded by a mere mortal burn more than he cares to admit) (he wonders how long this phantom ache will last), and the next he’s just about to have a vibranium shield slammed into his chest (again) (it’s really not an experience he wants to repeat, thanks).

“ȄꞤƟǛƓḦ.”

Rogers (not Steve, he hasn’t been Steve since he shoved a vibranium shield into Tony’s chest and then just fucking left him in his destroyed suit in the middle of a HYDRA bunker in fucking Siberia) (yeah he might still be just a tad bitter over that particular fact) stumbles back a step, shield falling from a suddenly limp grasp as he momentarily sways on the spot before abruptly crumbling to the ground in a dead faint.  Tony stares at the downed super soldier incredulously, only to remember that there are supposed to be two super soldiers (he’s ignoring the superpowered voice that brought the first super soldier to his knees and then some).  He searches the room frantically, ultimately finding Barnes backed into a corner with his head between his knees and a man Tony’s never seen before in his life kneeling beside him talking in a low voice that Tony can’t make out.

“Leave Death and his Champion be, Anthony Stark.  They will not harm you, nor will anyone else.  Not while I am here.”

Tony jerks upright, the metal of the suit screeching where the joints are out of whack thanks to the super soldier duo, and turns to see a woman who wouldn’t seem out of place among Point Break’s people.  She has an almost motherly look about her, but it wouldn’t surprise Tony in the slightest to know that she can kick ass with the best of them.

“Who are you?” he demands, yet for some reason can’t bring himself to raise his arms and point the repulsors at her face.

The understanding smile she gives him kinda makes his skin crawl, just a bit (it’s like her eyes can see straight through him and he doesn’t like that feeling at all). “I am Life, Anthony Stark, but you may call me Yggdrasil.”

“World Tree,” he breathes through suddenly numb lips.  Because he’d studied up on Norse mythology after the whole debadical in New York.  Because while he’d been dead certain that any stories he found would not be entirely truthful as to the actual situation concerning any further Asgardian encounters, it at least would give Tony a starting point.  And he does like having something solid underneath his feet when dealing with other people, no matter where they come from.

“I am the personification of that, yes.”

“Why are you here?” he chokes out, desperately wracking his brain for what he might’ve done to draw the attention of the fucking personification of Life.  Then the more horrifying realization hits him, the one that implies this personification wants something from him. “Why am I here?”

Her expression turns sad. “Because without my children, without the Infinity Stones to help myself, Death, and Fate hold the balance, your reality was unraveling.  The situation Time and Soul’s current Champions were pulled from was only exacerbating the issue.  So Time gave her Champion a choice and here we are.”

“That doesn’t explain me,” he spits out through clenched teeth.  He’ll press about whatever situation she’s going on about later (despite his worrying prowess, he can only truly worry about one thing at a time without giving himself a panic attack of epic proportions, and he doesn’t have time for a panic attack so for right now he’s sticking with only worrying about one thing) (something in the back of his mind says that he knows who this supposed Time’s Champion is, but he shoves it viciously aside).

“You are the Kingmaker, Anthony Stark, though you don’t yet know what that truly means,” she says solemnly. “The Champions rallied to your call once, and they will do so again.  Only this time you all will be better prepared because you know what is coming and the cost the universe will pay if you lose again.”

“What Champions are you even talking about?” He ignores the title she throws out about him because no.  He’s going to ignore anything that would make Life name him, Tony Stark, a Kingmaker of all things (the implications his mind comes up with before he shuts all trains of thought regarding that down are terrifying) (that’s not even getting into the fact that she’s implying that he has to stand against fucking Thanos again and that they might lose again, fucking hell).

“Mister Stark, you’re okay!”

Tony whips his head around just in time for the Spider-tot to hit his knees in front of him and throw his arms around Tony’s shoulders.  He curses the suit in the back of his head, even as he clings right back, because he can’t feel his kid’s pulse through the stupid metal.  So he’ll just have to make due with burying his face in his kid’s hair and attempting to breath him in.

“That was entirely unnecessary,” another female drawls unexpectedly. “Mother would never allow him to harm the Kingmaker in her presence.”

Tony tightens his grip on his kid even as he raises his head to figure out who else is with them now.  His jaw drops to see Stephen fucking Strange standing over Rogers’ still comatose body, green magical circles hovering over both his hands as he stares at the downed super soldier with a slightly crazed look in his glowing green eyes.

“Well, it made me feel better,” Strange growls out, a deadly sort of certainty in his voice.

“Doctor Strange, what did you do?” Peter asks, an unreasonable amount of awe in his voice in Tony’s opinion (the kid hasn’t had any real experience with Strange beyond the trip to Titan, so what the hell) (he ignores the fact that Peter sounds a bit like all those times they interacted in those first few months after this mess, the blatant hero worship, because screw Strange, Peter was his first).

“Two things actually,” the wizard says, the sudden blandness of his tone not matching the still wild look in his eyes. “Rogers here will be experiencing what happens when you apply blunt force onto someone’s bones who isn’t enhanced a few hundred times for the duration of his little nap, so hopefully that particular message will stick this time round.”

“Oh my god,” Peter whispers, and when Tony risks a quick look, sees fucking stars in the kid’s eyes (again, screw Strange, the kid was his first, he can get his own brat) (he ignores the way his chest warms at the idea that Strange might’ve done what he’d done for Tony because Strange was the one who’d pushed him to his death in the end and said death was just mere moments ago in Tony’s mind despite it apparently not sticking, so he’s allowed to still be bitter).

“Your Sorcerer Supreme will not be pleased with you for that, Champion mine.”

Tony’s gaze snaps to the woman shimmering with the same green magic that Strange wields as she steps daintily up to the man’s side (the fact that no dust stirs underneath her feet is unnerving to say the least) (he ignores how a glowing golden lady makes her way over to the corner where Barnes is still huddled with that unknown man from earlier, and he ignores how he’s doing a shit ton of ignoring).  And while her words should mean disapproval, all Tony can gleam from her is charmed amusement.

Strange scoffs. “You walked the lifetimes with me, Zotia.  Quite frankly, nothing I do at this point for Tony Stark should surprise you in the slightest.”

“Holy crap, I was right,” Peter breathes out just as Tony barks, “Excuse me?!”

The wizard grimaces, which doesn’t help Tony’s rocketing blood pressure at all.  Then, of all things, he jerks his chin up and for the first time since he raised a finger to signal Tony's impending death, Strange almost defiantly meets Tony’s gaze. “Fourteen million six hundred and five lifetimes,” he says stiffly, like it physically pains him to say so.  As if throwing numbers in Tony’s face is going to make—

Wait.

Wait a goddamn minute.

“Lifetimes,” Tony repeats, rolling the word around on his tongue as if to get a better grasp on it while it also rolls around in his head. “Lived through lifetimes?”

“Indeed, Kingmaker,” the green shimmering lady states matter-of-factly when Strange seems unable to answer. “Most, when using me, simply see events as if through a window, a play that they might view from a distance.  Stephen Strange is one of the few who live them, and so is able to be called Champion by me.”

Great.  That’s just fucking fantastic.

“And you are?” Tony inquires, fighting the rising fury in his veins because something tells him the green lady won’t care for any of his snark.

“That’s Miss Zotia, the Time Stone,” Peter pipes up from the cage of Tony’s arms.

And holy shit, what?  Last Tony checked, the Infinity Stones were just that, stones.   Not human shaped (they definitely wouldn’t have fit on his hand if they were just moments ago) beings who are currently giving him heart palpitations.

The smile that she directs Peter’s way has Tony tightening his grip even more. “Such a polite little Champion my sister has chosen for herself.”

“You stay the fuck away from my kid,” Tony growls, pointing a finger in warning.  He’s had roughly four years to perfect the (over)protective dad tone thanks to Morgan (he’s not going to dwell on his pumpkin right now, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to withstand the pain of that loss just yet), and by God he’s going to use it gleefully when it comes to Peter.  This is one thing he’s no longer going to ignore because he’s already had to live with losing him, and it broke Tony wide open despite the distance he tried to maintain.  Strange and his creepy Time Stone lady can keep their sticky magicy hands to themselves. “No touchy.  Mine.”

“Zotia,” Strange snaps in obvious reprimand.  Tony has to admit, at least in the privacy of his mind, that telling off an Infinity Stone with that kind of tone has to take some serious balls (never mind that he just did so himself).

“Daughter, do not antagonize the Kingmaker,” Yggdrasil scolds. “You know very well the lengths both he and your Champion will go to for Nuelle’s Champion.”

“No, no, no.” Tony wants to put an immediate end to that nonsense right now. “There will be none of this Championing shit for the Spider-tot.  Leave him out of whatever the hell mess we’ve landed in.”

“Tony, we can’t do that,” Strange says wearily. “He’s already been chosen, and he remembers the years that aren’t anymore.”

“Fuck you,” Tony spits back.

“I think this might be my fault anyways,” Peter whispers unexpectedly.

“How the hell—?” Tony starts even as Strange says, “Peter,” more heartbreakingly than Tony feels he has a right to.

“Doctor Strange, you know I’m right!” Peter protests, wiggling out of Tony’s arms so he can stand toe to toe with the wizard.  Tony levers himself up right behind him, wincing at the ache in his chest that blooms to life as he does. “I’m the one who made you screw up the spell in the first place because I was an idiot and you can’t tell me that all those cracks between realities didn’t affect the universe unraveling business!  That makes it my fault!”

Strange sighs and reaches out to touch a hand to Peter’s cheek (Tony ignores how his heart hurts just a little bit that the kid stills at that touch just as much as he does Tony’s) (no he’s not jealous, he’s not). “That mess was both of our faults,” he says softly but firmly, almost sounding like a parent.  Tony has a sinking feeling he knows where (when) the wizard learned that particular skill. “Yes, you probably should’ve tried talking with MIT admissions before coming to me, but I could’ve listened to Wong and just sent you on your way.  And don’t even think of bringing up the mess in between,” Strange adds sternly, to Tony’s utter confusion. “You were being true to yourself, helping people in need that you could help.  You wouldn’t be Peter Parker if you hadn’t even bothered trying.”

Peter shuffles forward to drop his forehead on Strange’s shoulder (the wizard doesn’t push him away, why the fuck doesn’t he push him away?) (again with that sinking feeling). “I got Aunt May killed, though,” he mumbles thickly, sounding seconds from crying.

What?

What the hell?

Tony is completely and utterly lost (which he does not like one bit) about what these two are even discussing, because he knows May Parker wouldn’t have been returned anywhere near the Avengers compound when Bruce Snapped everyone back to life, and the kid would’ve had another school year to get through/finish before having to start sending out college applications, and MIT would be absolutely nuts to deny Peter Parker.

Strange immediately wraps his arms around Peter’s trembling shoulders and starts swaying slightly in place. “The man who did it made his own choices,” he says soothingly, one shaky hand making lazy circles over Peter’s back while the other cradle’s the back of Peter’s head. “Again, I’m as much at fault for his being in our universe as you are, and I’ll tell you that as many times as you need until you don’t try to shoulder all the blame yourself.”

“Okay, someone needs to explain what the hell you two are even talking about,” Tony interjects flatly.  He can’t protect his kid if he doesn’t have all the information.

Strange clears his throat, letting Peter shuffle around so he’s facing Tony but keeping one arm around the kid’s shoulders (his kid, Tony thinks peevishly).  Peter stays pressed up against Strange’s side, red-rimmed eyes darting between him and Tony. “I promise to explain as best I can, but not here.  Not in this place.”

As much as Tony doesn’t want to wait, he’s marginally pleased not to have to get more crappy news in the place where he’d learned the truth about his parents’ death.  It irks him, though, that it’s someone he doesn’t know very well that’s making the conscious decision to not treat him like absolute crap instead of how his supposed teammates have for the past four years (then again, there are those fourteen million six hundred and five lifetimes to consider) (even if he still wonders how any extra lifetimes would make someone treat him any different than most people do, Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy having always been the glaring exceptions).

“Um. . . Doctor Strange?  What other thing did you do to. . . uh. . . Captain Rogers?” Peter hesitantly asks in a very very blatant attempt to change the subject (Tony doesn’t really blame him, he generally likes avoiding touchy feely subjects too). “You said you did two things, but you only explained one of them.”

Strange huffs, but a slightly vindicated smile spreads across his lips (it’s not an intriguing sight, it’s not). “I tagged him so I’ll know if he gets anywhere near Tony when I’m not around so I can portal him away.” The grin becomes just a hair wider. “And I can make him fall for a bit before I let him go.”

“That’s so cool,” Peter says (and again with the unneeded awe).

Tony, however, raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “I can take care of myself, Houdini.  Cap is quite honestly going to be the least of our worries going forward.”

Strange inclines his head. “Maybe, but this way you’re not also having to watch your back concerning him.  Besides, it’s temporary for the time being.”

Huh.

Well then.

Moving on.

Game plan.  They need a game plan to get the ball rolling and urgh, that means playing nice with the Accords Council again.  The early Accords Council.  The one he’s going to have to beat Thaddeus Ross off of with a freaking stick because screw him and his not so hidden agenda.  And fucking shit hell, he can’t remember if he ever actually got permission to enter Siberia.  Not to mention the shithead who set this whole circus up in the first place because Cap didn’t have the balls to fess up about his best bud’s unfortunately grizzly past (he’s forgiven Barnes by this point.  Time and perspective enable him to see that Barnes was just dragged along for the ride for this particular shit show).  So he’s got a Sokovian nutter to find, one super soldier down for the count, and one super soldier still hiding away in the corner.

Tony heaves a sigh.

“Barnes, are you planning on sitting there much longer?”

Chapter Text

“ȄꞤƟǛƓḦ.”

James Barnes still has the otherworldly voice ringing in his ears as he scrambles for a corner and just hunkers down.  He recognizes this place and he doesn’t like that fact one bit, even with having his head on mostly straight these days.  Also, he’s really freaking confused.  Last he checked, Steve had just finished putting back all the Infinity Stones from the timelines the Avengers had snagged them from and had returned an old man.  He’d lived out the life he’d missed with Peggy and handed off his shield to Wilson.  Now they’re back in that bunker where Zemo forced Stark to watch the night James killed his parents on HYDRA’s order.  Stark’s on the floor with a lady that looks straight out of Norse mythology and Steve’s unconscious on the floor and James is starting to feel like he’s losing control of his sanity, because this shouldn’t be possible.

“Steady, Champion, steady.”

A hand touches his knee, and it takes all of James’ self control to keep from violently flinching away.  He lifts his head and sees a man kneeling beside him.  One he’s never seen before.  A man with inky black eyes to match his inky black hair and an otherworldliness that makes the HYDRA part of his brain freak out.

Well, all of him freaks out, but the rest of him is freaking out only because his HYDRA honed instincts are practically screaming in his ears to abort.

Then again, there’s something about the man that puts him strangely at ease.  He feels like he should be concerned about that, but for right now he’s going to enjoy how his HYDRA nerves are settling down even when the man himself is what’s making them go nuts.  These days he’ll take whatever measure of calm he can get.

Even if it’s from a being who looks human, but James is one hundred percent certain is anything but.

“There you are,” the man murmurs almost happily when James can meet his gaze steadily.

“?” James nearly wants to curse when Russian comes out of his mouth, because even before the Snap, he’d been close to eight months without accidentally reverting to a language that’s not English when he’s shaken.  Small mercy, it is Russian and not one of the more obscure dialects HYDRA made him learn.  Those take him forever to stop using.

“You may call me Sephtis, James Barnes.”

He grunts, because that doesn’t really answer his question.  That earns him a rather knowing look.  However, there are more pressing concerns that James has, remembering what had previously happened up to the point where Steve tried very hard to shove his shield into Tony Stark’s chest.  It’s why he’s without a left arm at this point. “?”

Damn, still in Russian.

“The Kingmaker is well.  Yggdrasil will not allow otherwise.”

James wrinkles his brow.  Since discovering the fact that actual Norse Gods were a thing, he’s done some research into various mythologies in his spare time just to be safe. “?”

Sephtis inclines his head. “That is what she is the personification of, yes.  But most simply call her Life.”

Despite the insanity of that statement, it rings true more than James cares to admit. “?”

“Hmm.  As I am the personification of Death.” Every single muscle in James’ body freezes because he’s been the herald and means of too much death already. “I mean no harm to you now, James Barnes, and I never will.  You are the one I have chosen to stand as my Champion in this age.”

Well that’s hardly comforting. “”

Sephtis fixes him with a gimlet look. “When the Mad Titan Thanos would fracture the very fabric of this reality in his horrendous quest to bring about his glorified version of balance.  When he would seek to destroy Yggdrasil’s children in the hopes that none would be able to undo his work, thus depriving Yggdrasil, Kazumi, and myself of the ones who have helped us maintain the true balance since the dawn of creation.  We all are laying claim to a Champion to prevent that from happening again.”

“?” He’s not going to touch the rest of Sephtis’ statement just yet.  Yggdrasil’s children is a good enough place to start, because in all the mythology he read, he never came across a reference to that.

“Who you mortals eventually decided to call Infinity Stones.”

Oh.

That’s alarming.

“?”

“No, James Barnes, we were not.”

James’ head snaps up and he sees a golden glowing lady approaching.  Beyond her he’s faintly aware of other people surrounding Stark and Steve, but it fades to the back of his mind when he focuses more on the new lady.

“—?”

“I am Nuelle, Champion, and I hold dominion over that which is the Soul Stone.” She settles herself gracefully onto the cold stone. “While the story of how my siblings and I became forced into existing as mere stones for centuries is important, now is not the time to tell it.  We will wait until all the Champions are gathered together so we may only have to tell it once.” She brushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It is not an easy story for any of us.”

“.” James feels the need to point out. “?”

“It’s more of what I can offer you.  While I’ve not my brother Zarek’s skill concerning the mind, and he is currently on Asgard waiting out his Champion’s chilling temper explosion so he is not available to us right now, I would offer you the option of settling your soul for the time being.  You’ve done good work sorting through all the unpleasantness that your captors forced upon you, I saw as much when you were in my embrace for those five years, but I can see how it troubles you still.  You will still have to confront everything in all due time, but I hope that by settling your soul, even somewhat if you end up finding the sensation too unpleasant, that your mind will settle as well.” She shifts her head to the side and her hair cascades over her shoulder like a shimmering golden waterfall. “Perhaps it will be enough to fix your current language issues.”

Well, that’s an enticing offer if he’s ever heard one.  There’s just one thing he wants to check first. “?”

She shakes her head, lips pressed in a thin line. “No Champion, it will not be.  I haven’t the power available to me to accomplish that right now, and none of us would do something of that magnitude to another’s Champion without explicit permission.  Not after what we’ve been forced to do.”

“,” he states firmly, belated tacking on a, “,” because it seems rude not to when he’s talking with an Infinity Stone.  And really, the last thing he wants to do is be rude to the cosmic being who apparently held his soul for five years and yet still thinks he’s worth saving.

Nuelle inclines her head. “Should you voice any displeasure during this, I will immediately stop.  You have my word.”

Oddly enough, he trusts her on that.  So he doesn’t flinch when she reaches out a hand and lays it on his arm.  For half a second he’s dizzy with how familiar the unfamiliar sensations that produces are, but then he’s swept away in them.  It’s like he’s sunk himself in every safe feeling he’s ever had.  He’s like a child who’s been told by an absolutely trusted parent that everything’s going to be fine and in turn, believes that wholeheartedly with a coveted childhood-like innocence.  And despite having lost said childhood innocence years ago, James can’t help but let himself sink deeper and deeper into the feeling until he’s practically drowning in it.  The slow retreat of Nuelle’s powers leaves him feeling slightly loopy.  He blinks stupidly at her as she removes her hand from his arm.

“How do you feel now?” she asks softly.

“Kinda buzzed, actually.” Well, at least that was in English.  He gives his head a slight shake, not having felt like this since HYDRA got him in their clutches.  Of course, he doesn’t really miss the feeling of being sauced so hopefully the feeling won’t last all that long.

“That should fade soon enough, which is just as well,” Nuelle states, rising gracefully to her feet.

He stares up at her, feeling like he’s missing something. “Wait, what?”

“Barnes, are you planning on sitting there much longer?”

Stark’s voice cuts through the weird little bubble of calm James has been surrounded by, reminding the soldier that there are other semi-normal people still in the bunker with him.  He goes with semi-normal because there’s just no way to classify Stark, the wizard he faintly recognizes, or Stark’s spider kid as normal.  And he and Steve haven’t been normal for years.

Everyone but him, Steve, and Sephtis are on their feet, and for Steve that reason is because the man’s still out cold.  In another instance that would worry James, but he remembers Steve’s mindset from this time much more clearly after having a few years to try and get his head back on straight.  The last thing Steve would be right now is helpful so for the time being he won’t protest the probably unnatural sleep.

Stark looks supremely unimpressed with him, but there’s also tension coiled in his shoulders, like he doesn’t know what to think of James.  Going off the fact that he doesn’t look like he wants to immediately sucker punch James in the face, he assumes that Stark at least has some memories of the years that previously passed after this the first time round.  He’s hoping that that’s a good thing.

Stark’s spider kid is missing his mask and is staring at James with unshielded curiosity and just a little bit of awe.  James has no way of telling if the kid remembers anything either, but it wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest if he did.

The wizard is standing just behind the two of them, damn near expressionless save for the wildness in his eyes that speaks to just how badly he’ll react if James makes one wrong move towards either Stark or the kid.  He can respect that, if nothing else.  It’s good to know where people’s lines are.

“Any day now, Barnes.”

“Do give him a moment, Kingmaker,” Nuelle says as she makes her way over to stand beside a lady that shimmers with green power. “The transition was much harsher on him than perhaps everyone else save for Amery and Zotia’s Champions.  I offered my assistance and he agreed for me to temporarily settle his soul.  It tends to make one feel a bit… hm… inebriated afterwards for a time, at least the first time.”

“Great, just what we need, a drunk supersoldier,” Tony grouses. “Thought that wasn’t possible.”

“Can I do that?” the Spider kid asks, tilting his head to the side as he continues to stare at James.

“He is not actually drunk, Kingmaker,” Nuelle states a touch dryly, “and perhaps one day you may be able settle people’s souls to the degree I just did, Champion mine, but to a certain extent you already do.  When you are content and happy, little one, the people near you feel just a bit calmer and settled.  It is something that has always been a part of you, but will be amplified now that I have claimed you as my own.”

This makes the Spider kid tuck himself into Stark’s side, red blooming across his cheeks.  Stark huffs out a breath of air that from anyone else would be exasperation, but he just gives the kid a fond look.

James clears his throat, making Stark’s eyes snap back onto him. “I’ll follow where you lead, Stark.”

This earns him a raised eyebrow. “Will you now?  Thought you’d be on Rogers’ side and just trot off to Wakanda again.”

James gets clumsily to his feet, off balance by the lack of an arm. “My head wasn’t right the last time we were here.  Was still foggy from getting the trigger words used on me.  I just followed Steve’s lead ‘cause he was familiar.  And I don’t think Wakanda can do anything more for my head than what they’ve already done.” He squares his shoulders, making sure to hold Stark’s gaze steadily for a moment. “I think the punk was an idiot for not telling you the truth about Howard’s death.  And I’ve never blamed you for going after me like you did, even though Steve did and probably always will.  I know how much power is in your suit.  If you wanted me dead, I’d be dead.  And then there’s the fact that the personification of Death is calling you a Kingmaker.  So yeah, Stark, I’ll follow where you lead.”

Stark’s face contorts when he mentions the whole Kingmaker deal. “Urgh.  Fine.” He turns his head towards all three ethereal women. “Did anyone tag where the Sokovian nutjob who orchestrated all of this is?”

“Yggdrasil’s command sent him to sleep the same as the Captain, but I ensured he remained asleep,” Sephtis informs Stark while stepping forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with James.

Stark narrows his eyes before bluntly stating, “You’re Death.”

Sephtis chuckles, although mercifully there’s nothing dangerous in the sound, because James doesn’t want to think about how anyone not a supposed cosmic deity or Infinity Stone would respond to that, himself included. “And what makes you say that, Anthony Stark?”

A bitterly wry smile spreads across Stark’s lips. “You mean besides the fact that Yggdrasil said who you were earlier?  I’ve been reliably informed that Fate’s a bitch.”

Now Sephtis full on laughs. “You are correct on both accounts.  I am indeed Yggdrasil’s counterpart, and you may call me Sephtis, Kingmaker.  And Kazumi can be rather proud of that specific distinction on certain days.”

Stark grimaces. “Joy.  Can’t say I’m looking forward to that particular introduction.” He gives himself a shake. “Okay, someone needs to go get our Sokovian nutter before we can leave.”

“I’ll stay here with Steve in case he wakes up,” James offers, inferring that neither the wizard or the kid are going to want to let Stark out of their lines of sight, and he can’t see Stark trusting him enough to go get the man who used the trigger words on James as a means to an end.  And also, James isn't sure he’d be able to easily manage an unconscious body with his lack of a left arm.  Not that he’d really mind dragging the man across the ground, but they might want him relatively unharmed.

This gets him pinned with another look from Stark. “And what’ll you do if Rogers here does wake up?”

“Either sit on him or whack him with his shield,” James states plainly. “Punk’s got a fair few things to answer for that I know he didn’t last time round.  ‘Sides, I’ve got a number of things to ask him myself now that my head’s on relatively straight.” Like why he did all of this to Stark when the times they managed to talk Steve made it seem like he and Stark were relatively good friends before this big fight.

“I’ll stay too,” the Spider kid pipes up. “I can web up Mr Rogers if he wakes up and oh my god that sounds so wrong, I gotta come up with something else to call him.” The kid descends into muttering about the wrong Mr Rogers and how he never realized that before and James swiftly loses the kid’s train of mumbled thoughts.  Not that that’s really surprising, what with him being Stark’s and all that.  Most of the time he’d had trouble following Howard’s science jargon when the man really got going.

“I will remain with the little Champion, and should either soldier make a move towards him, I will unmake them,” the shimmering lady in green brutally states.

“Zotia,” Sephtis says mildly, some otherworldliness slipping into his tone.  A quick glance shows just as mild an expression on his face, but James survived being HYDRA’s weapon of choice by being good at what he was taught.  And every instinct in him, HYDRA and prior, is screaming that Sephtis is genuinely unhappy with the threat even though James feels it’s semi-reasonable.  In any event, it’s not like the threat will be affecting him anyways because he doesn’t plan on approaching the Spider kid.  A twitchy Stark and wizard are deterrent enough, the wizard only slightly more than Stark simply because James doesn’t know what exactly the wizard can do .

The woman just scoffs. “I walked the lifetimes with my champion, Father.  All fourteen million six hundred and five of them.” The green that mysteriously surrounds her intensifies as she boldly meets Sephtis’ unimpressed stare. “For all that I may tease and taunt, he is as much mine as he is my Champion’s.  And Time is not kind to those who do not treat it as the gift that it is.”

“Well that’s not at all terrifying,” Stark says flatly after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. “And while I might not be able to unmake you, I can still do worse than just blasting an arm clean off if you touch my kid.”

James barely manages to hold back a snort of amusement at Stark’s grim humor.  Now’s not really the time to be laughing. “Noted.”

“Then you’re with me, Strange, cause somehow I doubt I’m gonna be able to get rid of you anytime soon,” Stark grumbles, stomping off with the wizard following on his heels.  Nuelle and Yggdrasil follow serenely after them, both appearing unconcerned by the posturing.

“Um…Mr Barnes—sorry I don’t know your rank, I’ll figure that out as soon as I can if you want—can I ask what you remember?” The kid immediately begins flailing his arms for reasons unknown to James. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about that, but Doctor Strange and I remember about a year after Mr Stark—” The kid falters only momentarily. “—after Mr Stark Snapped away Thanos, and I’m only guessing that Mr Stark remembers just up to that, but I’m really just wondering what all of these Champions the Infinity Stones are claiming are going to remember cause it’s really fascinating and—”

“Kid, breathe.”

He obediently sucks in a lungful of air.

“Sorry,” he whispers meekly.

James lets the smile he’s been fighting spread across his lips because kids have always been his soft spot, and he has a feeling that the two of them might get along great down the line if he plays his cards right now. “The last thing I remember before being back here is Steve had just gotten back from returning the Stones to the alternate timelines.  He’d been passing his shield off to Wilson when I got snagged.”

The kid bites his lip, instantly looking miserable. “I guess I should apologize for making the mess that got you dragged into this.”

James just blinks at him, unsure what to say to that because he doesn’t have any information and thus doesn’t feel like he can respond appropriately.

“Little Champion, had Thanos not succeeded on his mad quest, the mishap with you and my Champion would not have had the impact that it did,” Zotia says solemnly, stepping around Steve to rest a hand on the kid’s shoulder.  And despite wanting to move when the kid’s spine stiffens at the touch, James stays true to his word and doesn’t move from his spot. “Yes, it expedited the unraveling of your universe—” What? “—but it also woke my siblings and I from the slumber we’d slipped into, thus allowing us all this chance to fix what was so horrendously broken.”

James turns sharp eyes to Sephtis. “Unraveling?” he snaps.

The personification of Death merely raises an eyebrow. “I did say the mad Titan fractured the very fabric of this reality.  The unraveling was going to happen eventually.  We were simply fortunate enough that those who could be Champions were there already.”

Well now he’s definitely following Stark.

Green not from Zotia sparks out of the corner of James’ eye, and then Stark steps through a green rimmed portal, body slung over his shoulder. “Why do you currently have murder eyes?” he immediately demands, pointing a finger James’ way with the hand not holding the unconscious body steady. “I don’t like those eyes.”

The Spider kid cringes, inching away from Zotia while everyone else files through the portal and it winks out of life. “Sorry, we were talking about the universe unraveling and Mr Barnes wasn’t really happy about that.”

“It is a rather unpleasant choice of topic,” Nuelle agrees, moving so she can stand by the kid’s side.  She neatly slides herself in between him and Zotia, earning her a knowing look from the other Infinity Stone who merely sashays over to her Champion’s side.

“Okay, so Strange is going to portal us back to Berlin so we can make our way to the Task Force headquarters there and drop off Rogers,” Stark states firmly, ignoring that little byplay. “Then I plan to light some fires under some asses to get the others out of the Raft, because that is not where they should be even though they didn’t sign the Accords.  Barnes, stay close to me and don’t do anything stupid.  Peter, same to you.” He eyes all of the otherworldly people. “Will you all be coming with?”

Yggdrasil offers him a motherly smile. “Those who are not Champions cannot see us in these forms if we do not wish it, Kingmaker.”

“What luck,” Stark snarks. “Then I suggest you all keep your mouths shut if we’re not alone, because I will not have anyone thinking that we’re losing our minds.  We’re going to have a hard enough time as it is convincing everyone that there’s an actual alien threat out there.”

Sephtis inclines his head. “As you say, Kingmaker.”

Stark wrinkles his nose. “Kid, put your mask back on.” Peter scrambles to obey. “Good, now hold out your arms.” Again, the kid obeys without question, only to abruptly have an unconscious body dumped into said arms.

“Mr Stark!” he yelps even as he manages to keep the man’s head from hitting the concrete floor.

Stark shrugs, stepping over to where Steve’s still sprawled across the floor. “Sorry kid, but I’ve got to lug Rogers here, Barnes is short an arm, and I’m not messing with the mess that are Strange’s hands just yet.” He grabs ahold of Steve’s harness, hefts, and manages to sling Steve over a shoulder despite hissing a sharp breath as he fully takes Steve’s weight.  He even manages to grab Steve’s shield too. “Barnes, grab your arm.  It’s HYDRA shit, and I’ve taken personal pleasure in blowing HYDRA shit up.  Also, there might be something useful in the coding, who the hell knows, so I’ll poke at it a bit before blowing it up.”

“Can I help with the blowing up portion?” James inquiries while picking up said arm.  He never did figure out what happened to it last time and now that Stark’s mentioned dealing with it, he really wants in on that fun.

“Sure.  We’ll make a day of it.  Strange, the portal?”

Chapter Text

Coming to hurts far more than Rhodey is expecting it to.

Then again, it’s a pain he’s intimately familiar with, but he hadn’t expected to have to feel ever again.  Not with a friend like Tony Stark.  Even now that Tony’s gone, his best friend, his brother, had made sure that Rhodey would never be without his braces.  That Rhodey would never be without the ability to walk.

But back to the pain he really shouldn’t be experiencing.

He’s intimately familiar with it because it’d been seared into his mind those days he’d had nothing to do but wonder if his military career was finally at an end.  When he’d been holed up in a hospital in Berlin wondering if he’d ever even freaking walk again.  Most days it’s just a dull ache he’s learned to live with.  Only occasionally will it flare, but it’s never flared this badly before.  Not since he’s completed PT.

Then again, there’s beeping all around him.

Machine beeping.

Hospital machine beeping.

Getting his eyes to open takes far more work than he’s comfortable with, and then he’s staring up at a hospital ceiling.

The beeping increases its frequency.

He really doesn’t need a machine to tell him that he’s starting to freak out.

“Steady there, Champion,” a voice off to the side says just as a hand touches his arm. “All will be well.”

Rhodey jerks away while rolling his head towards that side of his bed as fast as he can.  It feels like his head’s spinning for a moment before a person comes into focus.  A person who should definitely not be in the room with him, because he doesn’t recognize them at all.  And then there’s the fact that they’re not dressed like a nurse or doctor.

“Who are you?” he demands.

Well, tries to demand.

His throat is drier than the Afghan desert and most of his words end up garbled.  This earns him a judgemental eyebrow that he really doesn’t think he deserves.  He’d just watched Wilson give up the Captain America shield.  He should’ve been heading back to see Pepper and Morgan, not in the goddamn hospital.  Specifically the hospital he remembers waking up in after the fight against Rogers and his group of followers.

“My name is Kazumi, James Rhodes, and I am the Personification of Fate.”

He blinks, then spits out a ragged, “Bullshit.”

Cue the judgemental eyebrow going even higher.

“Ỹöʉ ǩṋõŵ Ȉ şṗǝɐꞣ ṱḩë ŧŕȕŧħ, Ĵǟᵯěṧ Ȑḫǿᶁèᶊ.”

And hooboy, does that rattle in his bones.  He grits his teeth as he rides out the feeling, then it’s his turn to disperse a judgemental look. “Was that necessary?”

“As none of the others are here to help ease you into the truth, yes, it was.”

He huffs, thinking back on all those times he and Tony—mostly Tony—bemoaned the fact that everyone was spot on in saying that Fate’s clearly a bitch, and clears his throat. “Am I allowed to ask why the personification of Fate is at my bedside?  And why the hell am I back in the hospital in Berlin from after the accident?”

“Because the mad Titan’s quest for his ideal of balance made it so that certain events expedited the unraveling of your universe,” Kazumi says solemnly, and Rhodey finds all he can do is gape in absolute horror. “That was already happening, as Yggdrasil, Sephtis, and myself are not accustomed to holding the true balance in check without Yggdrasil’s children, and Thanos sought to deprive us of them when he destroyed the physical forms they had been bound to for centuries.  But when Nuelle and Zotia’s Champions were in the center of a situation concerning rifts between realities, it woke Yggdrasil’s children from their slumber and they offered Zotia’s Champion a choice.  The option of sending all the Champions back to just before the moment where your Kingmaker was struck too low to rise high enough in time to stand against the Titan.  He took that choice and so here we are.”

Rhodey draws in a shaky breath, vaguely aware that with the way his machines are beeping all over the place that someone should’ve come to check on him by now, but he’s a bit more concerned with the humongous bombshell that just got dropped on him. “Kingmaker?” he asks, figuring he’ll have time to eke out who all those other name drops were because they’re probably important but picking a starting point all the same.

“Anthony Stark.”

Just like that, Rhodey’s world is upended for the umpteenth time in his life.  And per usual, Tony fucking Stark is at the center of it all. “Tony’s in Siberia right now, isn’t he?” he says flatly.  Fucking hell, he’s going to have to walk Tony through the grief of the Avengers’ break up all over again and he’s already not looking forward to that.

Kazumi cocks their head to the side. “Actually, he and the other Champions currently on Earth arrived in this city a few hours ago.  Anthony Stark is making his displeasure known about numerous things while both Stephen Strange and Peter Parker refuse to let him out of their sight.  James Barnes is lingering nearby as Anthony Stark has declared him in his custody.”

Now it distinctly feels like Rhodey just got punched in the gut. “Tony wasn’t hurt?”

Kazumi hums. “No, Yggdrasil would never allow that.  Most especially because he will eventually be the father of her Champion once more.” A nondescript phone that’s most definitely not his is dropped into his lap.  Friends and family of Tony Stark would never be caught dead with such a clunky looking phone. “Should you wish to verify my claims, you know who to call.”

Rhodey picks it up with shaking hands.  He’s lived six months knowing he’d never hear his best friend’s voice live ever again, and now he has the ability to call Tony’s number and Tony can answer.  The call won’t just go straight to voicemail.  Kazumi is mercifully silent as he gathers the courage to dial the number he’s had memorized for years.  Given the tremor in his hands, when he finally manages to punch in Tony’s number he immediately puts the call on speaker and lets the phone drop back down into his lap.  It barely rings once before FRIDAY’s voice pops up.

“This number is not authorized, please know that—”

Rhodey cuts the AI off only because his nerves are shot at this point and he hasn’t got much politeness in him at the moment. “FRIDAY, baby girl, it’s Jim.  Please, for the love of all that is holy, put me through to Tony.”

“Colonel Rhodes!” FRIDAY says happily. “I’m so glad you’re awake!” Oh, and it hurts to hear how young this child of Tony’s is right now. “Patching you through to Boss right away.”

Again, the phone rings once, then twice, then—

Then, blessedly, his ears are filled with the biting tone that his brother gets when he’s interrupted mid project or mid rant and is going to let whoever interrupted him have it.  And Tony Stark knows how to let people have it with style.

“I am busy FRIDAY, I—”

“Tony.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Mr Stark, are you okay?” Rhodey faintly hears the voice of the Spider kid Tony had been so gung ho about.

There’s a rustle of cloth and then another voice, a male voice that sounds vaguely familiar, says, “Tony, I need you to breathe with me.  Peter, take the phone and figure out who that is.  Come on Tony, inhale—”

Rhodey nearly curses when the phone gets taken out of what he assumes is Tony’s limp hand and he can no longer really hear whoever’s coaching his brother into breathing again.  But then there’s a hiss of breath before Peter Parker’s voice comes more strongly through the phone. “Um, who is this?”

“Peter,” Rhodey breathes out with almost as much feeling as when he’d said Tony’s name.  He’d had to listen to his friend after the kid’s been dusted on Titan.  Tony had been devastated by that loss for a variety of reasons.

“Oh my god, Mr War Machine sir!” Peter yelps. “Are you okay?”

Rhodey laughs shakily, blinking away some tears. “Yeah, kid, I’m good.  Just in the hospital because of the accident, but I’m all good.” He swallows around the lump rising in his throat. “Is Tony okay?”

“I mean, kinda?  Doctor Strange is helping him figure out how to breathe again, but we got to him in time!” The kid sounds really excited for some odd reason.  Although, Rhodey does wonder at that ‘in time’ bit. “Miss Yggdrasil knocked the Captain out before he could hurt Mr Stark again and Sergeant Barnes said he’d sit on the Captain or knock him out if he tried anything and then Doctor Strange portaled us to Berlin and then Mr Stark did a lot of yelling cause he’s pissed off at this Ross person and he’s been demanding that all the other Avengers be released into his custody because they really shouldn’t be in some Raft prison place and—”

“Parker, you need to breathe too,” yet another voice drawls, and Rhodey does recognize this one right off the bat, because he’d watched the damn video from Tony’s suit too many goddamn times not to.

Peter sucks in a lungful air at Barnes’ command.

“Sorry Sergeant Barnes sir,” Peter says almost meekly.

Rhodey draws in a deep breath of his own, shelves all emotions concerning the fact that Tony’s alive and well for the moment, and calmly asks, “Peter, who exactly is with you right now?”

“Um, Mr Stark, Doctor Strange, and Sergeant Barnes are with me in this room… ah… the Captain is in someone else’s custody, Doctor Strange was really insistent on that, and… uh…” There’s a bit of static, and then Peter’s hissed voice because he obviously didn’t move the phone far enough away from him. “Miss Nuelle, can I tell him about you guys?”

If he could’ve, Rhodey’s spine would’ve gone ramrod straight at that particular name drop, given that Kazumi had used it only minutes before.  Having no one else to glare at, he cuts furious eyes over to where said personification of Fate is still sitting annoyingly calmly.  He just gets another judgemental eyebrow raise for his troubles.  He already hates them, and yet something tells him that he’ll be getting them for a good long while.

“Mr War Machine sir?”

“Yeah, still here kid.”

“Right, so… um… this is gonna sound kinda crazy but—”

Rhodey immediately cuts in with, “Kid, I’ve got the actual personification of Fate sitting beside me who said that my best friend is a Kingmaker or something.  Literally nothing you say is going to be weirder than that.”

“Oh,” Peter breathes out almost reverently. “Um… well… I’ve got Miss Nuelle who’s the Soul Stone, Doctor Strange has Miss Zotia who’s the Time Stone, Sergeant Barnes has Mr Sephtis who’s Death, and then Mr Stark has Miss Yggdrasil watching over him who’s Life.  We’re all Champions or something, except for Mr Stark who’s the Kingmaker like you said, although Miss Yggdrasil still hasn’t explained what that even means, but she says she will once the other Champions and Infinity Stones get to Earth.”

Fucking hell.

He drags a still shaking hand down his face, despairing at the fact that once again, it’s probably going to be up to Tony fucking Stark who steps up to the plate to deal with Thanos.  No amount of begging or pleading from Rhodey is going to change that fact.  At least this time Rhodey isn’t going to let himself be sidelined as much as he had before.

“Alright kid, can you put Tony back on please?”

There’s a little bit of shuffling, and then Rhodey hears Peter ask, “Mr Stark, are you breathing alright?”

“Gimme the phone, brat,” Tony says by way of answer, and Rhodey can just see the grabby hands his friend is most definitely making to accompany it. “How long after my funeral?” are the words that come out of his friend’s mouth.

“Tones?” Rhodey asks weakly, not wanting to believe what’s being implied but also wanting it more than anything in the world.

“Platypus, honey bear, how long after my funeral has it been for you?” Tony’s voice is surprisingly steady for someone talking about their supposed death.

“Six months,” he chokes out, because fucking hell his brother remembers.  His brother remembers.

“Huh.  So the Spider-tot and the wizard have you beat by an additional six months memories wise.”

This causes him to sputter. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, so I don’t have details yet, but Strange and Peter were in the middle of something that apparently caused some rifts between realities and Strange was offered the choice of doing this all over again and he took it and here we are.  We’ve got Champions of cosmic entities who have memories of up to a year beyond my funeral and none of said cosmic entities will stop calling me Kingmaker.” The disgust is very apparent in Tony’s voice, but Rhodey knows his friend, knows his brother.  There’s fear in there too.  Fear of not meeting an expectation that hasn’t even been explained yet, fear of what the title of Kingmaker must mean for him and for his future.

Rhodey gives himself a moment to just bask in the fact that Tony does remember, that they’ll have more than just him and Tony Stark against the rest of the fucking world.  Then he asks the question he always asks. “So what’s the plan?” Because Tony Stark is never without a plan.  It might be some batshit insane thing that will leave Rhodye grayer than he started, but it’ll be a plan.

“Gonna be poking around some of the lesser known guys’ haunts, see if I can’t bring them into the fold a little sooner.  I’ll need to set up a meeting with Hill about former SHIELD agents in my employ because Fury can go fuck himself as far as I’m concerned.  Also need a meeting with Pym and van Dyne, hopefully before they do a runner.” He pauses for half a second, and half a second for Tony Stark is rather telling. “And the Legacy Protocols are being activated.”

Rhodey sucks in a sharp breath.

The only reason Rhodey even knows about this particular set of protocols is because he’s been nominated as a reserve of sorts.  He’s fairly certain that not even Pepper Potts knows about them.  Not now nor ever in the future.

Tony was just that protective of the people affected by them.

He’d refused to touch said protocols last time.  Hadn’t wanted to pull those people into the mess of the Avengers anymore than some of them already had been.  He’d been very adamant on that fact.  For him to be willing to use them now?  Rhodey does suspect it has at least a little to do with Peter and keeping him better protected this time round.

“I can cover the meeting with Hill,” he offers.  He’s not going to be good for much else besides sitting through meetings for a while.  His therapy won’t start for about half a month if the timeline stays the same.  Also, he’d much rather talk with rational Maria Hill than have to weather the insanity that is Hank Pym.  Hope van Dyne doesn’t have her father’s grudge, but still.

“Nah, they’re Stark employees now.  And anyways, we still have to wait until the other Champions get here before we’re gonna get the full story about anything.  But you can sit in on it if you like.”

“I would like.”

“Then consider it done.”

“Tones,” Rhodey says softly, because he has to get this out. “We were doing okay, but it wasn’t the same without you.”

He hears a faint sniffle that his friend will most definitely deny if Rhodey brings it up. “Missed me that much, Sourpatch?”

“I spent three months searching for your pasty ass in Afghanistan, Stark, and that was after having known you for nearly thirty years.  Another fifteen more didn’t change anything in the slightest.” The only consolation Rhodey had had with Tony dying six months ago was that his friend had chosen that death.  Had chosen to Snap his fingers to end Thanos and save everyone else at the cost of himself.  It was a hero’s death, much as Rhodey had hated it.  He also rather hates Doctor Stephen Strange for being the one to put his brother on that path, but he’ll deal with him at a later date.  Seeing as they’re both part of this Champions for cosmic entities shit, he figures Strange will be around for a while.

“You’re alright, though?” Tony asks. “I need to know that you’re okay, Platypus.”

“Yeah, Tones, I’m okay.  I’ve got the personification of Fate at my bedside.” Now he shoots Kazumi a rueful look. “I don’t think anything’s going to be happening to me anytime soon.”

“Yeah, well, you can let Kazumi know that I’m holding them personally accountable for that particular fact.”

A grin spreads across Kazumi’s lips, a sharp and cruel thing.  It’s one he’s seen coming from his friend when he’s reached his threshold of shits to give.  So despite the sliver of fear that slides down his spine, because the sight of said grin is never not unnerving no matter who it’s coming from, he knows that he’s safe for the time being.

“Message delivered,” Rhodey says a touch dryly.

“Then unfortunately I’ve gotta go.  More people to yell at.” There’s a shaky intake of breath that Rhodey almost doesn’t hear. “I’ll keep you in the loop as much as I can before we get you out of the hospital.  And Jim?”

Hooboy.  Rhodey instinctively straightens his spine as much as he can. “Yeah?”

There’s a brief pause. “Consider Project Firecracker?  Please?”

Rhodey doesn’t even get a chance to reply before Tony abruptly hangs up on him, most likely wanting to avoid getting yelled at because he knows Rhodey's opinion about Project Firecracker.

Son of a bitch.

Chapter Text

Peter Quill would like to send a very big fuck you to the universe in general for throwing him into this mess.  Because he’d been on the Benatar, poking at things while waiting for goddamn Thor to finish his goodbyes before they went off looking for the alternative Gamora.  And now he’s on his knees on a planet that’s most definitely not Terra groaning through the pain ripping through his body and he can hear his team yelling faintly over the roaring in his ears, and fucking hell Gamora’s voice is among them and she sounds like she knows him but she can’t know him because the Gamora that knows him is very much dead no thanks to Thanos, so yeah.  A big fuck you with a middle finger or two to the universe is in order.

After he stops feeling like he’s being boiled from the inside out, though.

Because holy fucking shit, it’s like he’s being unmade and remade all at once and it hurts.  It’s a little too reminiscent of Ego for his tastes and he just wants it to stop.

“ꞖȐɆǞƬĦȨ ȻḦȺṂƤȈǾṊ, ꞖȐɆǞƬĦȨ.”

The unknown male voice cuts through the chaos raging in his head, and he can’t find it in himself to not listen.  So he breathes and as air rushes into his lungs, he realizes that he hadn’t been breathing, so the instructions were probably a good thing.  Still, he tries to jerk away when strong hands clamp around his wrists and hold him in place.

“Ŷȫʉ ɐŕɘ ñǫṫ ỷȩᵵ ȑӕđỹ, Ȼḧǻṃƥȉǿṋ, şơ ṩǐᵯꝑļɏ ᶀȑɇȃƭħȩ.”

“Fuck you,” Peter manages to snarl before he gags as his last meal tries to make a reappearance.  All that gets him is a rumbling chuckle.  The hands holding him don’t move an inch.  He’s effectively stuck where he is as he rides out the pain.  When the pain does finally go away, it’s so abrupt that he finds himself slumping even farther forward to press his forehead to the stone underneath him.  He pants heavily, out of breath, but eventually raises his head to stare at the man who’s been holding him in place.

There’s purple static crackling around him and purple light rings his eyes as he gives Peter a grin with far too many teeth to be friendly. “Hello there, Champion mine.”

“Holy shit,” Peter breathes, every nerve in his body singing in anticipation.  Anticipation for what, he’s gotta find out, and something tells him that he’s most likely not gonna like it at all. “What are you?”

That terrifying smile spreads even wider. “You would know me best as the Power Stone, Peter Quill, but I give you leave to call me Amery.”

Immediately Peter tries to get away, but Amery still has a hold of him. “Fucking hell.  No you are not.” Because Thanos had destroyed the Stones so that no one could undo what he did.  Not that that stopped the people from Terra from pulling a miracle out of their asses, but still.  No Infinity Stones.

Said protests earn him a very judgmental eyebrow that Peter would just love to shoot off of Amery’s face. “Ỹöʉ ǩṋõŵ Ȉ şṗǝɐꞣ ṱḩë ŧŕȕŧħ, Ꝑèṫéř 𝚀üīḽḹ.”

The resulting wave of power—ha, power—that washes over him has him gagging again, only this time when he bends over his last meal does make a reappearance.  When he’s finally done upchucking the contents of his stomach, he weakly glares at the man. “What did you do to me?” Because something’s changed, but Peter can’t quite put his finger on what.

“I woke the dormant Celestial blood inside of you once again because you need it.”

“What?!” This time Peter jerks away, hard, and Amery lets him go.  He scrambles to his feet, backing hurriedly up until he hits a solid wall of muscle and comes to an abrupt stop against Drax’s chest. “Ego is dead,” he spits out to convince himself of that truth, because he’s had a fair number of nightmares where that wasn’t true.  Where Ego hunted him still.  Said dreams are never pleasant, go figure. “My father is dead.  We blew him and his nutso planet up four years ago!” He ignores the five years between being Snapped out and back into existence because he doesn’t remember those five years.  It’s been four years since they dealt with Ego in his mind.

A hand touches his shoulder.

“Peter, it’s only been two years since then.”

Peter nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of Gamora’s voice beside him.

He whips his head around.

His jaw drops.

He stumbles away a few steps.

A ragged sob claws its way out of his throat.

Something roars in his chest.

The ground under his feet trembles.

“ṨȾËǺḒŶ!” Amery barks, closing the distance between the two of them in the blink of an eye to clamp a hand around Peter’s wrist.  The beast in his chest settles with alarming ease, but the ground steadies itself again. “Ǥǫơᵭ, ɳȍⱳ ᶀȑɇȃƭħȩ, Ȼḧǻṃƥȉǿṋ.”

Peter shudders at the now familiar command. “Quit telling me to fucking breathe!”

“Then control yourself better,” Amery instructs sharply. “You are my Champion, Peter Quill, and I am Power.”

“I didn’t ask to be your Champion or whatever!” Peter snaps back.

“Perhaps not, but you held me in the palm of your hands and you did not desire to use me,” Amery says solemnly. “It has been millennia since the last who could, and so I chose you.  You are who I would have stand in my stead as we work to right the wrongdoings of Thanos.”

Peter hears Gamora’s sharp intake of breath, but he can’t bring himself to look at her again.  Not yet.  Not even with Amery calming whatever the fuck he did to Peter while they’re touching each other. “I’ve dealt with Thanos already,” he spits out. “Twice in fact, and I’d really rather not a third time because the shit head is already dead.  In case you didn’t get the message.  Dusted like he dusted us.”

Amery tips his head to the side, and his suddenly blank expression is even more unnerving than his toothy smile from earlier. “Your universe was unraveling.  Life, Death, and Fate have never had to hold the balance without the aid of myself and my siblings, and Thanos deprived them of us.  My sister Zotia, who holds dominion over Time, offered her Champion a choice.  He chose this path, and so you and all the other chosen Champions save one were returned to the moment before your Kingmaker was struck too low to ever rise high enough in time to stand against the Titan.  You are now seven years in the past, or by your reckoning two as you do not remember the five years when you were in Nuelle’s embrace.”

“That fucking wizard,” Peter hisses, supremely pissed off because he just knows who’s responsible for this.

“Do not blame Stephen Strange for this, Peter Quill.  He was about to erase the Champion who may again one day be his son from his memories, and now he once more bears the weight of all fourteen million six hundred and six lifetimes he has walked as Zotia’s Champion.”

“He knew about Gamora!” Peter erupts, stubbornly ignoring the tears prickling at his eyes.  Because fuck the wizard.  Looking into all those blasted futures and he couldn’t have mentioned Gamora?  Not even a hint?  And boy does it still hurt because in Peter’s mind, Thanos killed Gamora less than two weeks ago for the stupid Soul Stone. “He knew about Gamora and said nothing!”

“And what would that have done?” Amery thunders right back, purple static thickening to purple lightning that snaps and booms in between the space between their two bodies, coiling around their still connected arms. “Do you think he did not see what would happen if he had said what Thanos had sacrificed?  What you would do in your grief, fair and fresh though it was?” Amery uses his grip on Peter’s wrist to keep him in place as he gets up in Peter’s face. “Know that Zotia’s Champion looked into every future imaginable and still he chose the path that he did for you all.  Though we did not know it, that timeline was already too far gone by the time Stephen Strange was truly pulled into the mess created by the Titan.  So do not think to point your grief and rage at him when you meet again.  Zotia walked every single lifetime by her Champion’s side and she will not take kindly to that, even though you are mine.”

Peter sways slightly as the full weight of losing Gamora hits him for the first time since Titan.  He hadn’t mourned on Titan, not really.  No, he’d just thrown his anger and pain and hatred at the being who’d taken Gamora from him to further a mad quest.  And the past two weeks on Terra, he’d been distracting himself with the idea of going after the alternative Gamora left in their universe after Stark Snapped away all those loyal to Thanos.  His legs buckle out from underneath him, and Amery follows him down to the ground.

“What am I supposed to do then?” he chokes out because he’s already shown how much he royally screwed up the confrontation with Thanos.  He didn’t really need the humanoid personification of an Infinity Stone to throw it back into his face.

“Let it out, Champion,” Amery murmurs. “Just let it all out.”

So he does.

Despite the lack of command and the rising lump in his throat, Peter just lets go.

He presses his face to Amery’s shoulder and screams.

Screams out of the grief that had encompassed him on Titan when Nebula had inferred that Gamora never left Vormir.  That Thanos had sacrificed his daughter for a fucking Infinity Stone and had had the audacity to said that he had to kill her for it.

Screams out the pain that he’d been drowning in enough to shoot Thanos in the face even knowing that Mantis was trying to hold him mentally in place.  Even when Stark had tried to stop him because shooting Thanos was loosening Mantis’ grip.

Screams out the heartbreak he’s been carrying for the past two weeks because he hadn’t been able to keep his promise with Gamora.  Hadn’t been there when she’d been killed by her fucking father who claimed to have loved her.

He screams and screams and screams until all he can feel is the rawness of his throat and the burning of his eyes and the heaviness of his chest.  Until he has nothing left to give.

“I admire your gumption, but rest assured, it is unnecessary,” Amery drawls unexpectedly. “I would never harm Peter Quill.”

“Then give him back to us,” Gamora demands.  The fact that her voice is so close has Peter jerking back upright.  He finds his semi-girlfriend—he has no fucking clue if they’ve defined what’s between them yet—holding her sword to Amery’s throat.  Behind her, Rocket as a gun primed and ready to fire, and Drax has both his daggers drawn and looks seconds away from charging Amery down.

“Put those away!” he yelps, making to smack Gamora’s hand away even though he knows that’s a stupid ass thing to do to a kick-ass assassin like she is.

She, of course, deftly dodges his attempt and uses it to drag him behind her.  Amery, most definitely amused by all this, thankfully lets go of him so his arm isn’t jerked out of its socket. “Who are you and what do you want with Quill?”

The raised eyebrow Gamora gets is mostly amused with very little judgment and Peter feels like that’s very unfair. “You heard me before, little assassin.  You were with Peter Quill when he held me in the palm of his hands.”

Gamora doesn’t give an inch. “Say it again.”

That terrifying grin from earlier spreads across Amery’s lips again. “Ĭ ɐᶆ ṱĥȅ Ꝓȭẘɘȓ Ȿȶóñę, ḽĩțťḹȇ ȃᶊšǻŝȿïʼn.”

Peter moans as another wave of nausea hits him as the air trembles in the wake of Amery’s words. “Will you stop that?” he all but begs, stomach churning despite having nothing left in it.

Amery shrugs far too carelessly for Peter’s peace of mind. “Your body is still regaining its equilibrium from having your Celestial blood reawakened.  Once it has settled, it will not rebel at the sound of our true voices.”

“You still haven’t explained that,” Peter points out, chest heaving as he fights the lingering nausea.

“Few are able to handle my siblings and I without consequence.  I am Power, Peter Quill, raw and unfiltered.  Despite the fact that I chose you as my Champion, you were still half Celestial when you held me.  You required that little bit of divineness in you woken back up to be able to stand in my stead.”

“Ego—”

Amery immediately cuts him off. “Will not be returning.  He is gone.  You have nothing to worry about from him.”

Peter allows himself the weakness of dropping his head onto Gamora’s shoulder for a moment, and he shudders when she doesn’t shove him off.  He draws in a deep breath, reveling in the smell of her even though it’s kind of creepy, but he needs this.  Needs to know that she’s alive despite his screw up.  When he’s sure lifting his head won’t make him start crying again—although he wonders where the fuck all these tears are coming from—he meets Amery’s calm expression with a gimlet glare. “So, what happens now?”

“Now?  Now you make for Terra as that is where the Kingmaker is and where all the other Champions are gathering.”

“The fuck is a Kingmaker and that trip’ll take weeks.” Even with jumps, and ever since Ego, that’s one of the things that Rocket is twitchy about, so those are probably still a no go.

“Your Kingmaker is the one who rallies the other Champions, who stands in defense of us all.  He died for you all the last time around.  Anthony Stark,” Amery says solemnly.

“The man who destroyed Thanos’ fleet,” Gamora murmurs under her breath.  Because yeah, Tony Stark was already a hushed whisper throughout the universe as the one who'd stood up against Thanos' invasion and succeeded.

“Indeed.” He inclines his head to her. “And your trip to Terra will not be as long as you expect, Champion mine.  Not if you take up her offer.”

Some sort of knowing bubbles up under Peter’s skin, and he whips his head around just as blue light bends around a space of air before seemingly spitting out a woman in red, blue and gold.

Chapter Text

Carol Danvers likes to think that she’s used to surviving all the curve balls that the universe tends to throw her way.

She’s survived in the male dominated military, thrived in it even.

She’s survived getting her plane shot down by aliens and subsequently getting bathed in the energy of the Tesseract, thus gaining her cosmic powers.

She’s survived having her memory wiped and subsequently being used as a Kree weapon.

She’s survived getting turned into a Kree-human hybrid, not that she knew that she was at the time.

She’s survived regaining her memories and turning her back on the Kree.

She’s survived space, which became much more impressive after regaining said memories, and carried out her late mentor’s mission because it’s the right thing to do, because everyone deserves a home to call their own.

She’s survived the Snap, though that wasn’t through anything she herself did, and more importantly she’s survived the aftermath of said Snap.

She’s survived Thanos’ final attack on Earth, and was one of the few who literally went toe to toe with the Mad Titan during the fight.

So yeah, she’s survived a bunch of shit.

However, absolutely none of that prepares her for the fact that between one blink of her eyes and the next everything around her changes.

The funeral for Tony Stark is just wrapping up.  His wife has sent something out to float on the lake their house is by, something ringed in flowers.  Carol stayed towards the back of the gathered people, as she didn’t really know Tony.  She might’ve saved him from dying after Titan, but their bond was more of a temporary comrade-in-arms thing.  Her chin dips down just a bit as she closes her eyes while breathing in deeply.

When she opens her eyes again, she’s no longer on Earth.

She’s not even really on a planet.

No, she’s suspended between the stars mid-journey to somewhere.

And there’s a blue glowing lady right across from her, humanoid in appearance but something deep in Carol’s soul tells her that the woman is any but.  So Carol shelves her trepidation, because to her knowledge she’s yet to run into anything or anyone who can survive in the vacuum of space like she can, and asks, “Who are you?”

The woman lifts her chin a fraction of an inch and meets Carol’s disbelieving gaze. “Hello Champion mine.  I am best known to you as the Space Stone or the Tesseract, but you may call me Sitara should you wish, as I have chosen you to be mine.”

Carol blinks almost stupidly at her. “Excuse me?” She’s not entirely sure which portion of Sitara’s little speech she’s protesting.

Sitara sighs a delicate little sigh, eyes flitting upwards momentarily in a very human-like act of praying for patience before she looks back at Carol with a seemingly bored expression. “Ĭ ɐᶆ ṱĥȅ Ṧᵱąƈɘ Ȿȶóñę, Ȼḧǻṃƥȉǿṋ ᵯĩňë.”

Unconsciously Carol lifts a hand to press to her chest, feeling the thrumming of her gift as the power behind Sitara’s words rattle her bones. “You’re an Infinity Stone?”

This earns her an unimpressed look. “I will not be repeating myself a third time, Champion.”

“Thanos destroyed the Infinity Stones in this timeline, though.” And Carol would know, having seen the results of the backlash they produced in Thanos’ deformed hand herself.

“He destroyed the physical forms we had been bound to for centuries, causing my siblings and I to retreat in an attempt to heal from the horrors we had been forced to both perform and experience,” Sitara says primly. “In doing so, we deprived Life, Death, and Fate of our assistance in maintaining the balance.  The Champions of Soul and Time unfortunately created a problem that quickened the unraveling your universe was already experiencing.”

“Unraveling?” Carol repeats incredulously. “The universe was unraveling?”

“Indeed.  However Zotia, as she holds dominion over Time, was able to reach out to her Champion when we were woken from our slumber because of the problem the man was in the midst of, and offered him a choice.  And so, because he accepted her offer, we have returned nine years into your past, to the moment just before your Kingmaker was struck too low to ever rise high enough to stand against the mad Titan.”

“Kingmaker?”

“Anthony Stark.”

Well, at least this time she has a face to put to the name, because now she’s remembering how his name was already being circulated the last time even before the first Snap.  How his was the hushed name spoken of in the shadows, that he was the one the mad Titan respected even after he repelled Thanos’ attack on his home world.  About how the name Tony Stark was slowly but surely becoming synonymous with hope throughout the universe.  Carol wonders how the man himself might react to that if she told him.  Said thought, unfortunately, immediately sobers the faint humor she feels because this Tony won’t know her.  And that begs the question of, “Who else remembers?” Because the answer Carol gets will determine what she does next.

“The Kingmaker remembers all up until his last breath.  Unfortunately, Zotia could not give him the mercy of taking away the pain he experienced by wielding all of us at the same time as that is when he truly first caught our attention, and it will haunt the man for the rest of his days.  All the Champions currently alive remember beyond losing him for upwards to a year at most, although Zarek’s Champion is rather confused at the moment given where he was plucked from.  You are one of the ones whose memories do not extend far after the Kingmaker’s passing.”

Carol exhales shakily in relief.  So she’s not going at this all on her own.  She could’ve convinced Tony that she wanted to help, but she knows absolutely nothing about the going ons of Earth, so she’d have been of no help trying to point the man in the right direction to prepare everyone there for the coming invasion.

“And while normally we will not dictate what you must do, this time, Champion mine, I must ask you to return briefly to the planet of your birth to meet with the other Champions and your Kingmaker.”

“I don’t really know where I even am right now,” Carol points out.  She traveled too extensively during those thirty some-odd years after helping the Skrull find a new home.  None of the stars form constellations that she recognizes no matter which direction she turns her head.

Sitara manages to lift her chin even higher and still look unimpressed while doing so. “You are my Champion, Carol Danvers, and I hold dominion over Space.  It is a fairly simple matter for us to step from one place to another, so long as you know where you are going.”

“Step from one place to another?”

Instead of attempting to explain something that already makes Carol’s head spin with possible ramifications and ideas, Sitara glides forward and rests a hand on Carol’s arm.  Understanding blooms to life in the back of Carol’s mind, and a breathless, “Oh,” tumbles out of her lips.  She stares down at her hands in wondered awe as the universe seems to unveil itself in a whole new way to her as this new ability settles comfortably in with all her other gifts.  Just by thinking of Earth, of the Avengers compound, she can see exactly what she needs to do to take herself there.

“My brother Amery has also requested we offer our assistance to his Champion to get him to Earth more expeditiously than his current transportation can manage,” Sitara adds after allowing Carol a few moments of silence to process everything.  Since she hasn’t removed her hand from Carol’s arm, as the words leave Sitara’s mouth yet another pathway comes to life before Carol’s eyes.

It’s instinctive taking that first step forward, even though there’s no ground beneath her feet.  The familiar blue light she remembers from the Tesseract envelopes her and when it fades away she’s on a planet.  Not Earth, but it is a planet.  And Carol recognizes most of the people now in front of her from Tony’s funeral.  The one that immediately draws her eye, however, is the kneeling man in a familiar red leather coat.  The one staring at her with a disbelieving expression.

“Danvers?” Peter Quill asks like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“Quill,” she returns, noticing Sitara is still right beside her. “Heard you could use a ride.”

He squints suspiciously at her. “Could you do that before?”

“No,” she says wryly, because God knows what she just did would’ve been so helpful last time. “Apparently it’s a perk of being the Champion of Sitara here.” The face that Peter pulls has Carol swallowing back giggles of all things.

“I like your benefits more than mine,” he grumbles.

The man kneeling beside him snorts as he rises smoothly to his feet. “You will come to appreciate them better in time, Champion mine.”

“You made me half Celestial again,” Peter hisses indignantly, scrambling to follow him upright.

“Amery, I presume?” Carol inquires, ignoring the little byplay between Champion and Infinity Stone because she doesn’t understand what Peter’s accusing Amery of and figures she should just keep her nose out of it.  At least until either she gets more information or it starts causing issues.

A slightly unhinged smile spreads across the man’s lips while purple sparks lick up and down his arms. “Carol Danvers, Champion of the lovely Sitara.  It is a pleasure to meet you properly this time.”

“Do control yourself, Amery,” Sitara says snidely, stepping forward just enough so she can place herself partially between Carol and the other Infinity Stone. “I am not above sending you on a never ending tour of the universe for a time.”

Carol swallows back a sigh, because that reminds her just a little too much of when she and her brother Steve would snark at each other, and thinking of him still hurts. “Right, so am I transporting just you to Earth, Peter, or are we taking the whole gang here?” She figures she already knows the answer, but it’s polite to ask before transporting people halfway across a galaxy.

“You will be taking all of us or none of us,” the woman with green skin interjects flatly, a wicked looking sword held in a white-knuckled grip.  Carol doesn’t doubt for a moment that she’ll do everything in her power to stop Carol if Carol tries to take Peter without her permission.

“Gamora—”

Carol waves away Peter’s sputtering protests. “It’s fine, Quill.  I heard enough stories from Rocket and Nebula during the five years between Snaps.  I’d’ve been more surprised if no one protested you going alone.”

“I know you?” Rocket asks dubiously.

Carol’s lips twitch up into a small grin. “Not yet, but I got to know you after Thanos Snapped half the universe out of existence because you and Nebula were the only two of your team that survived the Snap and we were the ones traveling between planets for all that we reported back to Earth, or Terra as you know it.”

“So he succeeded in his quest for balance,” Gamora states, and Carol can just barely make out the trembling in her jaw.  She feels for the other woman, she really does, but now isn’t the time to be sugarcoating anything.

“He did,” Carol replies bluntly. “From what I heard from everyone’s various stories after the dust settled, so to speak, Thanos went after the Power Stone first, then took the Space Stone from the Asgardian refugees as they were attempting to make their way to Earth seeking sanctuary there.  You and your companions ran into him on Knowhere, where he took the Reality Stone and you, and then Thanos sacrificed you to obtain the Soul Stone.” Gamora jerks like she’d been struck. “After that, on Titan he was handed the Time Stone by its protector because he’d used it to look into over fourteen million futures in an attempt to discover what future we won in.” Carol snorts out an unamused chuckle. “Not that it really did much good in the end, because Thanos got the Mind Stone back on Earth and proceeded to Snap his fingers.  I’ve been told that we were apparently too far into the endgame for anything to really change that outcome.” Her grin twists into something bitter. “And after doing all of that, Thanos destroyed the Stones in an attempt to prevent anyone from undoing his work.”

“Wait, he did what?” Peter yelps. “But the whole fucking reason Stark died was because he used the Infinity Gaunlet on Thanos!  And it had all six Stones on it!”

“Time travel,” Carol says blandly, though it still kind of boggles her mind even with everything that’s happened to her. “Tony cracked the secret to time travel.  How, I have no idea, but they got the Stones from different timelines.  I heard them discussing how they were going to have to return them after the funeral, but my memories stop at the funeral so I don’t know if they accomplished that.”

“Well, they said jack shit to me,” Peter harrumphs. “We hadn’t even left Earth the day after the funeral when I got grabbed.  Was waiting for freaking Thor Odinson to finish his goodbyes before we could leave, and I swear the man was dragging it out just to spite me.”

Carol just hums in the back of her throat, recalling how Rocket had said that Peter wasn't all that impressed with Thor to begin with.  So she’s pretty much going to take anything about the Asgardian coming from Quill with a grain of salt.  Her eyes dart to the side and spot a familiar ship.  Still, it's good to double check before assuming anything.  She jerks her chin in its general direction. “That yours?”

“Yeah, and I’d really rather not leave it here if it’s all the same to you.”

Carol turns her gaze to Sitara. “Can I do that?”

A secretive little smile spreads across the woman’s lips. “Champion mine, you could move the stars themselves if you had a mind to.  In this instance, however, it would be best for everyone to be on the ship before you attempt to move locations.”

“You heard the woman,” Carol calls to the Guardians over her shoulder as she starts walking around the ship to get a better idea of its dimensions, already running through her mental map of the Avengers compound and whether or not there’s room in the gym to park the ship so they don’t have to worry about hiding a freaking spaceship from the government because she won’t be the one to bring that down on Tony’s back. “Anything you want from the planet I suggest you load up now.  I can’t guarantee when you’ll be back.”

Chapter Text

Thor is…confused.

He’s just finished saying goodbye to Brunnhilde, just finished passing on the Kingship of the remaining Asgardians over to her as he knows she will be a worthy King to them, and is walking towards the Guardians’ ship when something happens.  The scenery around him doesn't seem to change, but something about him does.  And he knows his body.  It’s hard not to, what with him having spent most of his life ensuring that he was always in peak fighting condition.  Even after five years of just not caring anymore, he still knows himself.  So despite the fact that to his eyes he still looks the same, he’s suddenly very hesitant to believe it.  He pauses his walking, lifting a hand as if to touch his protruding middle, when another hand, a delicate hand wreathed in red, grabs a hold of his wrist.  In doing so, everything around him ripples, Earth momentarily flickering away to be replaced by one of the many realms he’d visited while searching for other Infinity Stones until everything went to shit before returning to the coastline just outside New Asgard.

“One thing at a time, Champion mine, one thing at a time,” an equally delicate female voice to go with the delicate hand says softly.

Thor looks to his left.

Standing there is a woman who would not be out of place amongst his people before Asgard fell.  However, despite the disdain he often displayed for both his mother’s and his brother’s skills, something deep in his gut tells him that this woman is just like them, only infinitely more powerful.  It might also have something to do with the red flame-like lights that continue to dance around her hand still holding onto his wrist.  Red flame-like lights that are very similar in color to a Stone he has first hand experience with.

So, with bravo that he really doesn’t feel, Thor asks, “Who are you?”

A sad yet understanding smile spreads across her lips. “My name is Dilys, Thor Odinson, and I think you already know what I am.”

“No.” He shakes his head, feeling dread beginning to pool in his stomach. “No, that is not—”

Dilys raises her other hand to touch his cheek, and again Earth disappears for but a moment. “Ĭ ɐᶆ ṱĥȅ Ɍēӓɬɨƭŷ Ȿȶóñę, Ȼḧǻṃƥȉǿṋ ᵯĩňë, ãńḍ ṯɍýǐǹᶃ ťơ đǝɲẙ ṱĥĭṣ ŧŕȕŧħ čḩåṋᵷęṩ ᵰɵṫɦīņɠ.”

Thor jerks his head away from her hand, although she doesn't let his wrist go. “Thanos destroyed the Stones.  I saw what it did to his hand.”

“He destroyed the physical form we had been bound to for centuries,” Dilys corrects gently, like a mother to a very young child.  It is a tone he hasn’t heard directed his way in over a century. “My siblings and I, we retreated deep within ourselves in an attempt to heal from all the horrors and pain we had been forced to perform and experience.”

“Then why are you here now?” he demands, feeling the rumble of storms building under his skin at her audacity. “It’s too late for you to be of any help.  The mad Titan is defeated once more and we’ve undone what he forced onto the universe.  There is nothing left for you to do, seeing as you cannot bring back anyone not taken by you and your siblings.”

“By attempting to utterly destroy us as he did to preserve his ideal balance, Thanos upset the true balance of your universe,” Dilys says solemnly, not reacting in the slightest to him spitting out his contempt for the Infinity Stones. “Life, Death, and Fate have always had the help of my siblings and I to maintain the true balance.  When we retreated as we did, we deprived them of our assistance.”

“That does not explain—”

“Hush, Champion, I am not finished.  Your universe was unraveling, slowly, but it was happening.  Then, a year after you succeeded in correcting most of Thanos’ mistakes though not all of them, there was a mishap that created even more cracks between realities, causing the unraveling to quicken.”

Thor inhales sharply, but is unable to talk through a suddenly dry mouth with what she is implying.  He might not be quite as clever as his brother ever was, but he was trained to become King of Asgard.  Dilys is talking of a year that he has not yet experienced.  She is talking of something he knows nothing about, and it scares him more than he cares to admit even to himself.

“This mishap, however, was powerful enough that it woke my siblings and I from our slumber.  We were fortunate enough that the man my sister Zotia has claimed as her Champion was in the center of it all, as she holds dominion over Time and thus was able to reach him to offer him a choice.  Stephen Strange took that offered choice.”

“Beer wizard,” Thor mumbles, mostly to himself.

Dilys raises an unimpressed eyebrow, but continues her story regardless. “The choice he took was for all the ones my siblings and I had decided to claim as our Champions to be returned to the moment just before your Kingmaker was struck too low to ever rise high enough in time to stand against the mad Titan.  So here we are, seven years in your past and already your Kingmaker is making plans.”

Thor’s knees wobble. “No, no that’s not possible.” He gestures wildly with his free arm to the Oslofjord still stretching out to the horizon. “I can smell the salt water, I can hear the waves!”

Dilys stills his frantically waving arm, now gently yet firmly cradling both his wrists in her hands. “I hold dominion over Reality, and it is you, Thor Odinson, whom I have chosen to stand as my Champion.  Because you do not yet truly believe the truth of your situation, your mind has created a replica of where you were taken from.  However, should you go onto that ship that you believe is waiting for you, you will find it empty.”

“You are lying to me!” he roars, wrenching his hands out of her grip.  Even as he sprints the short distance to the ship, a small part of him acknowledges the fact that she let him go and that despite his temper, there are no storm clouds in the sky.  He ignores the shiver of dread this causes.  His boots make noise as he stomps up the ramp, echoing in the silence that engulfs the ship.  It causes all the hairs on his arms to stand on end, because he distinctly remembers hearing the sound of the engines before he entered. “Quail!” he shouts, his voice echoing just as eerily. “Rabbit!  Tree!  Anybody!” When he receives no answers, he starts searching the ship.

It’s when he wrenches open a door to a part of the ship that he hadn’t seen the last time he was aboard that he comes to an abrupt halt.

There’s nothing beyond the door.  Just a void of emptiness that has him scrambling backwards while his stomach revolts.  He stumbles his way back out of the ship, hitting his knees when he’s in the sunlight again and bringing up the contents of his stomach.  He feels no better afterwards, just weak and wrung out and even more adrift than he’d already felt.

Dilys kneels daintily beside him, the blades of grass supposedly underneath her not bending with her weight.  It makes Thor flinch, but he finds himself unable to look away. “I am sorry that was necessary, Champion mine,” she says, folding her hands into her lap. “But you must not cling to what once was.  You will lose yourself in it.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Thor chokes out.

She raises one hand and offers it to him, palm facing skywards. “Allow me to ground you in your true Reality until such time that you feel you may do it on your own.”

He stares at her hand.  Stares at it before glancing back over his shoulder towards the hollow spaceship for one longing second.  Because he’d been hoping to find himself on that ship.  He’d given up most of the burdens he’d been born with and had been going to find out who just Thor was.  And now that was taken away from him.  Ignoring the rising lump in his throat, Thor turns back around and places his hand in Dilys’.

Reality trembles around him, and he’s forced to close his eyes against it all as colors whirl in dizzying patterns that threaten his already empty stomach with a reappearance.

“It is done, Champion mine.  You may open your eyes.”

Chest heaving with a shuddering sigh, Thor does.

The sun is still shining.  He’s still kneeling in the grass.  The smell of the wind tells him that he’s on Alfheim.  A glance down tells him that he’s back in his Asgardian armor, every strap and buckle achingly etched with remnants of his mother’s protection spells.  And against his side Mjølnir rests silently, somehow not binding his powers despite no longer being destroyed.

“And now?” he asks brokenly. “What am I to do now?”

“Now?  Now, Thor Odinson, you must rally to the Kingmaker, to Anthony Stark, on Earth as all the other Champions are doing.”

“I cannot get to Earth,” he protests, for now ignoring the fact that she’s calling Stark a Kingmaker of all things. “That would require use of the Bifrost and Heimdall—”

No sooner have the words left his mouth than clouds gather and the all too familiar rainbow light heralding the Bifrost touches down mere feet away from him.  A wounded noise punches its way out of him when it’s not Heimdall or even the man that replaced Heimdall who ignored his calls for so long who steps out of the blinding light, but “Loki.”

His brother doesn’t pause in his purposeful mark forward, appearing unsurprised in the slightest to see him. “On your feet, Thor, we haven’t the time for this.” Loki’s eyes dart to Dilys and he dips his head respectfully. “Milady.”

“Champion,” Dilys returns, making Thor look warily between the two. “Zarek?”

“Awaiting our return on Asgard.” Loki shoots a hard look at him. “Get up, Thor.  There are things that must be done and I don’t have time for you to sit around like a lump doing nothing.”

“Loki, brother, I don’t understand,” Thor says hoarsely, getting to his feet and praying that his legs will hold him steady. “I watched you die.”

Loki grimaces. “And now I am not.” He offers Thor a truly poor smile but to Thor it’s worth all the gold Asgard once had because his brother is alive. “I did say that the sun would shine on us again, didn’t I?” He turns his face skywards. “And look at that, sunshine.”

Quicker than his brother can flinch away, because he does flinch, Thor wraps Loki up in a bone crushing hug and just sobs.  He feels more than hears Loki’s unamused huff, but his brother does return the gesture with a single arm around Thor’s shoulders.  It is a relief to see another member of his family again, and this one he won’t have to leave.  Not like he had to leave their mother.

“Heimdall!”

Thor near about jumps out of his skin at his brother’s cry, causing him to jerk away momentarily.  He gawks like an idiot when he sees that below his feet is the burned sign of the Bifrost site.  Apparently his brother is still as crafty as ever, because he doesn’t remember being moved at all.

Then rainbow light slams into them and they’re whisked away.

Thor gawks again when the sprawling golden view of Asgard blooms to life before him.  The last time he’d seen this view, everything had been on fire courtesy of Loki throwing the Crown of Surtur into the Eternal Flame stored in the vault to stop their mad sister.

Now, though?

Now there’s sunshine gleaming off golden spires and surprisingly little junk in Himinbjorg.  He remembers the place being absolutely cluttered last time.  However, his legs tremble when he sees just who exactly is wielding Hofund.

“Heimdall,” he breathes out, despite having heard Loki call out the man’s name mere seconds earlier.

The Gatekeeper regally inclines his head and Thor really wants to cry. “Your Highness.  It is good to see you again after all these years.”

“Have your meltdown later, Thor,” Loki abruptly snaps. “Heimdall, we’re leaving.  I don’t know when we’ll be back.  I’ll send word one way or another.  Asgard is yours until then.” He sticks out his arm, palm facing upwards. “Thor, your hand.  I’m not losing you in Yggdrasil’s branches because you can’t keep up.”

Numbly, Thor takes his brother’s hand without protesting.  He doesn’t think he’ll protest much of anything as far as Loki’s concerned for quite some time now.  He’s far too happy having his brother back.  And so Asgard disappears behind them, and a rainbow bridge amidst darkness stretches out before them as they step into the now dormant Bifrost portal.  There are a multitude of branches twisting off into the void, and if Thor squints he can catch glimpses of other locations at the splintering ends.

When they step off the rainbow bridge, seconds later or perhaps an age, Thor is startled when he recognizes it.  It’s the coastline of New Asgard, but New Asgard doesn’t exist yet because Asgard still stands.  However, it’s strangely reminiscent of when he and Loki had gone searching for their father.  There’s even a man sitting as if he’s waiting for them.

“Steady, Champion mine.”

Thor whips his head to the side at the sound of a voice vaguely like Dilys’ for all that this one is male.  On his brother’s other side is a man with skin as dark as Heimdall’s and yellow magic glowing in his eyes.  There’s an otherworldliness to him, again like Dilys, that Thor is immediately certain that he too is an Infinity Stone.  Thus his brother must also be a Champion, just like him.

Loki exhales a ragged sounding sigh, gives Thor’s hand a violent squeeze before letting go, and then marches determinedly towards the man on the rock.  Thor hesitates for but a moment before following after.  When he gets closer, he realizes that it is Odin sitting there, staring out across the water.  Loki, instead of sitting down beside Odin like they had last time, rounds the rock so he can stand face to face with their father.  Following his brother’s cue, Thor stands partway between the two of them as he’s still rather upset with Odin about Hela.  Out of the corner of his eyes, Thor sees Loki’s chin raise just a fraction of an inch before he utters two words that leaves Thor absolutely blindsided and once again gawking like an idiot.

“Hello Grandfather.”

Chapter Text

Loki remembers.

He remembers far more than he ever wishes he did because some things just aren’t worth remembering, and yet he can’t seem to get them out of his head (some days, the heaviest days, he wonders if it’s a curse).

He remembers the wonder and awe he felt when he sat at his mother’s feet and she taught him his first lesson in magic, this thing between the two of them that he didn’t have to share with his older brother (his brother who he was already starting to understand was pretty much everyone’s favorite despite all the trouble Thor had learning to control his abilities) (his tantrums from the early days are still legendary amongst the Asgardian people, and probably why Odin bound Thor’s powers with Mjølnir so swiftly).

He remembers standing in his brother’s shadow most of his life, but only truly starting to resent it within the last couple of centuries as the weight of everyone preferring Thor’s brute strength over his cunningness finally made itself known (especially so when his cunningness bought Thor many of the victories he so loves and his brother begins to not acknowledge that anymore).

He remembers every triumph of his life, but to go along with that he remembers every snide remark, every grudge, every look of disdain directed his way (earned or not).

He remembers the chill that filled him the day he learned the truth of his birth, a chill that had absolutely nothing to do with his jotunn heritage.

He remembers the betrayal that haunts him the rest of his days (two simple words from the man he’d always tried to impress that shatter him utterly) (no, Loki).

He remembers letting go and falling through the stars, thinking that if this was his end then at least he’ll no longer continue to be such a disappointment to the man who took a monster in and tried to play at being a father to him.

He remembers the horror of being found, even half out of his mind as even those of Asgard aren’t meant to fall as he had (and he’s no longer of Asgard, so why did he survive?).

He remembers every second of terror that gripped him when he was brought before Thanos, remembers every agonizing second as Thanos turned his heritage against him with heat and heat and heat to get him to bend to his mad demands (there are days where any considerable amount of heat leaves him unable to function, unable to do anything until he can muster up the chill of his heritage again) (those days were always unfortunate to navigate around when he was playing at being Odin).

He remembers using every ounce of cunning he possesses to throw the invasion of Earth without looking like he wasn’t trying because Thanos is never kind to those who don’t try despite being in his service willingly or otherwise (although he’s still surprised at how well the people of Earth rallied to repel him) (he hadn’t been as completely out of touch like Thor had, but still he’d worried as much as he was capable of worrying at the time).

He remembers that small sliver of hope that he was unable to completely snuff out when Thor dragged him back to Asgard, that maybe, just maybe, they’d see the damage Thanos had done to him and would react accordingly (it’s crushed pretty much the moment he’s presented in front of the throne in chains) (he’s just glad he managed to contain his trembling).

He remembers the cell he was unceremoniously thrown into in excruciating detail, given how often he paced it in those first couple of months (anxious that even in the depths of Asgard Thanos might find him and punish him for his failure).

He remembers how cold (ha, cold) he was with both his mother and his brother (mostly his mother, as she attempted to visit more) whenever they deigned to visit him in his lowly cell (he regrets that tremendously after his mother’s death).

He remembers the split second he considered not going through with his fake death on Svartalfheim because of the way his brother cried (he still goes through with it, but now he wonders if that’s how Thor cried on the Statesman after Thanos killed him) (or if Thor was too used to his little trick by then).

He remembers the moment Thor came back after four long years of not having to worry about his brother messing up the good thing that he had going (he could’ve done without having to pretend to be Odin, quite honestly, but it got the job done) (and the people of Asgard finally seemed to like him).

He remembers feeling like a little boy again as he and Thor sat beside Odin before he passed away (because Odin called him son, even after banishing Odin to Earth, after taking the throne that he thought was rightfully Thor’s, so that had to count for something).

He remembers that moment when Hela stepped through the portal and something inside of him stilled (he had no time to dwell on that, as he was very quickly trying and failing to keep Thor from being an idiot) (and then getting dumped into Sakaar meant he was very quickly worming his way into the Grandmaster’s good graces to survive).

He remembers that glorious feeling of vindication when Thor was smashed about by Hulk in the Grandmaster’s Contest of Champions (of course, later he had the misfortune to have one of his own tricks turned back on him by his own brother) (who looked far too pleased doing so, and it only took him a millennium or so to finally learn).

He remembers Asgard falling.

He remembers the panic, the chaos, the sheer desperation of the Asgardian people that they would rejoice to see him arrive with a ship (he tells himself that the reason he came back was because he couldn’t bear how Thor would react to the loss of his entire people) (he’s lying to himself, they’re still his people despite all he’s learned).

He remembers watching the only place he’s ever called home implode (he tried not to think about how Hela was still on Asgard and the fact that he felt like something was ripped from his chest when she was lost with it too often).

He remembers the panic, the chaos, the sheer desperation of the Asgardian people a second time when Thanos arrived, how he scrambled with Thor and Heimdall to buy time, any time, for those who could to escape (because he remembers the mad Titan’s idea of mercy all too well and he would subject no one to that).

He remembers dying.

He remembers the feeling of Thanos’ hand around his throat lifting him off the ground, remembers that split second where said hand tightened and air became an impossible commodity (and the bravo he tried to display despite all that).

He very faintly remembers the crunch of bones, a sound he’s very familiar with thanks to the brute force Thor is well known for, before everything went black.

He remembers being dead (it’s a very odd thing to remember).

He remembers being reunited with those who called themselves his parents while they were all alive (he forgives Frigga easily enough, she never made it seem like she favored Thor more than him) (Odin on the other hand has to do some serious groveling before he won’t outright ignore him anymore).

He remembers being reunited with both his birth parents and being absolutely livid upon learning that Hela Odinsdottir was his birth mother, that despite the battle madness singing in her veins in the days before Odin locked her away she’d left him with her lover in the hopes that he’d grow up away from what she deemed the madness of Asgard (Hela couldn’t have known that Laufey would attempt to take Midgard and would leave his son in a temple for safe keeping, or that Odin would see fit to take said babe as some sort of pawn that he couldn’t make up his mind about how to safely use) (Hela was surprisingly much more fun to get to know when the frenzied battle madness that settled into her magic was no longer there, but he’s still not sure how he feels about Laufey).

He remembers—

He remembers how to breathe and that is a shock in and of itself because he’s supposed to be dead.  Instead, he’s staggering sideways gasping for air like Thor punched him straight in the stomach (it’s not a graceful image) while bracing himself in an attempt to stay upright.

“Ṩⱦëǻḓŷ Ȼḧǻṃƥȉǿṋ, ṩⱦëǻḓŷ.”

“I am trying,” Loki snaps back, seidr churning violently inside of him.  Every exhale produces a chilling mist and every inhale burns from the warmth of the air.  It forces him to sit and brace his elbows on his knees (actually his knees, not his-knees-disguised-as-Odin’s knees), eventually bowing his head as he tries not to flinch at every breath (the duality of his heritage has never been this painful before, but then again, he’d thought Laufey had abandoned him because of his size, not that he was of mixed blood).

“That’s it, Champion, deep breaths.”

“Do not patronize me,” he growls, finally able to lift his head to glare at whoever is talking to him thusly (internally he freezes because he finally notices his golden surroundings, he’s in Asgard again, which shouldn’t be possible). Kneeling in front of him is a man with richly dark skin and eyes glowing yellow with seidr.  And despite the fact that the man might be able to pass for Heimdall’s sibling, there’s something about him that raises Loki’s hackles, something ethereal that teases at his senses. “Who—?

“Ĭ ɐᶆ ƈȃĺļēȡ Ɀåȑěꞣ ḅǘᵵ ỹöʉ ŵơùɫḑ ǩṋõŵ ᶆē ǎş ṱĥȅ Ḿįṉᵭ Ȿȶóñę, Ȼḧǻṃƥȉǿṋ ᵯĩňë.”

This inhale doesn’t just burn, it scorches Loki’s throat.  Frost explodes all around them, climbing up golden columns and throwing sunlight across the room in even more dazzling displays of color than normal. “You would dare—”

“Do not think that my service to Thanos was any more willing than yours, Champion,” Zarek hisses, the yellow seidr in his eyes flaring even brighter. “My siblings and I, we were bound to remain as mere Stones, and thus subject to the whims of whomever wielded us.  It makes me ill just remembering what I was forced to do to you, but I am also the reason you did not break utterly under Thanos’ hands.  Your mental training was good, Champion, but I am an Infinity Stone and I hold dominion over the Mind.  You lasted longer than expected, I will grant you that, but eventually everything shattered and in that split second I did what I could to shore your mind up.  You have carried my touch ever since.  In another time, perhaps my sister Sitara might have claimed you, but her current Champion was already drenched in her abilities by the time you two met, and we have been broken down and reforged together.”

“I am not your anything,” Loki snarls, the thought alone making him feel ill.

“I am yours, Champion, just as much as you are mine.”

And damn him, because something deep inside of Loki knows that Zarek is speaking the truth (even though he’d really rather he not be) (he earned the Silvertongue title for a reason, precious few can truly lie to him now). “I suppose you want something from me?” Loki asks snidely, slowly willing the ice still climbing the walls to halt.  Because that’s all people want from him.  Something.

“There are two things I would request of you, Champion mine.” Zarek emphasizes the word request like it makes any difference.  It’s still something he wants from Loki. “The first is to meet with the other Champions and the Kingmaker on Earth where they are all currently gathering.  The second is that you pick up your brother, Thor Odinson, along the way.  He is rather distraught, and my sister Dilys is convinced that she will be unable to coax him to Earth in a timely manner.”

“I have been cleaning up after that oaf for over a millennia, and the first thing you would have me do is to continue to do so,” Loki says flatly, very much unimpressed.  Yet despite that he’s unable to muster up any protest over having Thor called his brother when in reality they are actually nephew and uncle (no, what he worries over now is how Thor will inevitably react to this new twist in their relationship).

“He survived Thanos wiping out half the universe, Champion,” Zarek says solemnly. “You have been dead to him for five years now.”

And that makes Loki sit back for a moment.

They’d known of the Snap in whatever afterlife he’d found himself in.  Mostly from the millions upon billions upon trillions of beings who suddenly joined them because of people around them abruptly turning to dust (because there were doctors treating patients, there were pilots flying their aircrafts, there were ordinary people driving their vehicles, and Thanos took them away without discrimination in the midst of all of this because the world did not politely pause for the mad Titan to Snap his fingers before continuing on with life) (so of course there was far more death than what Thanos originally called for).  None of the beings who’d been dusted had ever turned up, so he’d never had definite proof that Thor survived.  That Thor wasn’t one of the ones dusted out of existence by the mad Titan.  It’s heartening to know that Thor was spared that, but Loki hadn’t actually considered what that would mean for the thunderer’s mental health.  About how Thor might react with half his people gone, along with himself and Heimdall.

Apparently it hadn’t been well.

“He’s thought me dead before.”

“He knew, Champion.  He knew deep down that he was the last of the Royal Family of Asgard.”

Heaving a rather unbecoming sigh, Loki wearily scrubs a hand over his face because surprisingly he doesn’t quite feel up to any back and forth banter right now. “And have you any idea where exactly in the Nine Realms Thor is right now?  I know absolutely nothing of his travels.”

Zarek rises fluidly to his feet. “Not I, but I have called for someone who will.  You may come out now.”

“Heimdall,” Loki mutters as the man in question warily steps out from behind a column.

The man doesn’t even hesitate for a second before returning, “Loki.” Then he turns narrowed golden eyes onto Zarek. “Who exactly are you and why did you call me back here?”

“Ĭ ɐᶆ ṱĥȅ Ḿįṉᵭ Ȿȶóñę, ãńḍ ẃê ḫãʌě ṋęɇḏ ơᵮ ỹöʉꞧ ɘỷǝṩ Ǥȧṱǝꝃèéᶈȩṝ.”

Loki is surprised to see Heimdall actually flinch back as Zarek’s voice rattles the air.  He himself only feels a mild hum under his skin.  However, it only now occurs to him that he hasn’t asked a rather vitally important question. “Who turned back time?” Because Heimdall is alive and Asgard is still standing and Loki is alive (he does wonder a bit over the why and how of him remembering being dead, but that can be a problem for another day).  All of these things he’s noticed, and they aren’t illusions either.  He can feel the hum of seidr in the air that means Asgard (that means home).

An amused smile spreads across Zarek’s lips even as Heimdall turns wide eyes to him (perhaps he shouldn’t be so cavalier about the time travel, but he quite honestly can’t bring himself to care). “My siblings and I did, with assistance from Life, Death, and Fate, after Zotia offered her chosen Champion a choice because your universe was unraveling and he accepted it.”

Loki feels his eyebrow twitch. “Unraveling.”

“Hm.  Thanos’ idea of balance, shockingly, is in no way a measure of true balance, and he threw your universe out of balance when he destroyed our physical forms in an attempt to keep anyone from undoing his work.” Now Zarek’s lips twist into a truly deriding sneer (and off to the side Heimdall looks even more horrified) (Loki’s slowly feeling just as horrified, if only for vastly different reasons). “In doing so he deprived Life, Death, and Fate of my siblings and mine’s assistance in maintaining the true balance.  We woke during an event that was quickening the unraveling, and that is when Zotia, who holds dominion over Time, offered her Champion a choice.”

“Strange,” Loki grumbles, still not completely over the fact that the man not only managed to catch him off guard, but then also proceeded to have him fall for twenty minutes (he’s impressed despite himself, but that doesn’t mean he can’ also hold a grudge).  The trickster in him wants to have a go at the man in retaliation to appease his wounded pride if nothing else.

“I would suggest you refrain from doing anything to him, Anthony Stark, or Peter Parker for the time being,” Zarek says blandly, and Loki barely manages to keep from flinching because he can’t feel Zarek in his head at all and that terrifies him. “Both he and my sister are a tad… hmm… twitchy at the moment, is what I believe the correct term is.  Stephen Strange had originally had the fourteen million six hundred and five timelines he lived through on Titan suppressed, but he now again carries the entirety of that weight on his shoulders once more.  But enough about Stephen Strange.” Zarek claps his hands together. “ Champion mine, are you willing to travel to Earth to meet with the other Champions?”

“I have the feeling that if I do not go to them, then they will simply come to me.”

“They might, if Mother asks it of them.  And Sitara’s Champion has the ability to bring them all here, as she is the one who holds dominion over Space.”

Loki huffs out a humorless laugh. “Much as it might amuse me, I do not believe Asgard ready for those of Earth to descend upon them.” He turns to Heimdall, intent on getting everything over and done with now that he’s set on a path (and there’s one stop he’s planning on making before joining up with the other Champions). “Is your replacement currently at his post?”

The former Gatekeeper stares at him for a long moment, and just when Loki thinks he’s going to have to do something to break the man out of whatever trance he’s fallen into (oh the horror), Heimdall seems to come back to himself, blinking rapidly as he turns golden eyes towards Himinbjorg. “No, he is not.”

“Something to yell at him about later, but for now it works in our favor.” He grabs ahold of Heimdall before the man can protest and drags him along one of the many hidden pathways Loki’s discovered are scattered across the Realm.  They emerge in Himinbjorg and Loki turns expectant eyes to Heimdall. “Send me to Thor.”

Heimdall raises an eyebrow at his tone, but after glancing over Loki’s shoulder where Loki assumes Zarek is hovering (because Zarek is an Infinity Stone and Loki doesn’t expect him to be slowed down by something so trivial as skywalking), he moves to where Hofond is in the switch, simply waiting to be used to activate the Bifrost.  With a deft twist of his wrist, the portal spins to life. “To Thor.”

When Zarek says nothing, Loki steps through the portal.

He marches out in Alfheim.

“Loki.”

His name is a wounded sound on Thor’s lips as he stares like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.  Only through sheer willpower does Loki keep from faltering.

“On your feet, Thor, we haven’t the time for this.” Even if this is one of those rare moments he might actually indulge in sentimentality.  Thor is kneeling beside a delicate looking woman who instantly reminds Loki of Frigga (of his mother, because Hela Odinsdottir might have birthed him, but Frigga was the one who raised him and loved him).  However, she has the same ethereal feeling as Zarek does, so he assumes she is yet another Infinity Stone.  So he inclines his head and says respectfully, “Milady.”

“Champion,” the woman returns.  She cocks her head to the side. “Zarek?”

“Awaiting our return on Asgard.” He shoots a hard look at Thor, unimpressed that the man hasn’t moved at all. “Get up, Thor.  There are things that must be done, and I don’t have time for you to sit around like a lump doing nothing.”

“Loki, brother, I don’t understand.” Thor’s voice is hoarse as he gets to his feet (Loki can see the minute trembles in them, he’s always been hyper aware of Thor and his weaknesses) (all the better to protect/use him). “I watched you die.”

Loki grimaces, because he doesn’t know how he feels about Thor calling him brother. “And now I am not.” He offers him the best smile he can dredge up (it’s not pretty but for some reason Thor lights up regardless at the sight). “I did say that the sun would shine on us again, didn’t I?” He turns his face skywards (he’d really only meant those words to be encouragement for his brother, because Thanos was not going to stop and he didn’t know if they’d make it out of that encounter alive) (he didn’t, even if Thor did). “And look at that, sunshine.”

That moment of distraction costs him, because he’s abruptly grabbed by Thor and ultimately trapped in a bone crushing hug while the thunderer sobs.  He huffs, but doesn’t try to shove Thor off (even like this, he knows he stands no chance of moving Thor away from him until he’s done blubbering).  Instead, he wraps an arm around Thor’s shoulders and uses his centuries of skills of maneuvering Thor without the oaf knowing what he’s doing to slowly but surely back them up until they’re standing back over the burned sign of the Bifrost site.

“Heimdall!”

He gets one second to bask in Thor’s startled face before rainbow light slams into them and they’re whisked away.

Despite knowing that he left an Asgard that was peaceful, it’s still somewhat jarring to see it thusly when last he remembers it was up in flames (perhaps he ought to do something for Thor as thanks for allowing him that bit of fun).  He ignores Thor and Heimdall’s little back and forth, only intervening when he sees the glassy eyed stare of Thor start to appear again. “Have your meltdown later, Thor,” he snaps. “Heimdall, we’re leaving.  I don’t know when we’ll be back.  I’ll send word one way or another.  Asgard is yours until then.” He sticks out his arm, palm facing upwards. “Thor, your hand.  I’m not losing you in Yggdrasil’s branches because you can’t keep up.”

On any other day, the fact that Thor takes his hand without any sort of suspicion or hesitation would be cause for concern.  However, today Loki is taking full advantage of that fact.  So he steps into the dormant Bifrost portal and calls up his seidr to form the path he wants to walk.  Thor is blessedly silent behind him, and even in the vastness of Yggdrasil’s branches Loki can feel both Zarek and whichever Infinity Stone has laid claim to Thor following as well.

When they step out onto Earth, Loki feels Thor jerk when he surprisingly recognizes the coastline.  However, Loki’s attention is quickly riveted on the figure sitting on a rock before them.  His next intake of air burns down his throat without his meaning to (at least he manages to refrain from freezing Thor where he stands).

“Steady, Champion, steady,” Zarek murmurs.

Exhaling hurts just as much as he suppresses the chill that wants to escape (damn Odin even now for making him hate half of himself).  He gives Thor’s hand one last squeeze because he doesn't know how the thunderer will react after all’s said and done.  Then he rallies what courage he can find and marches forward.  Odin, the bastard, doesn’t even have the decency to act surprised as he and Thor round the rock the man’s sitting on to stand in front of him (he is surprised, though, that Thor chooses to stand by him and not closer to Odin).

Lifting his chin defiantly, Loki shoves as much condescension into his voice as he can muster and says, “Hello Grandfather.”

Thor’s face is comical in his befuddlement, but Loki wants to see what Odin will admit to.  There had been no hiding anything once they were all dead, no reason to really.  So while Loki might’ve made his peace with the man who called himself their father in death, that is not this man.

There’s a tired sort of knowing in Odin’s eyes as he looks at the two of them. “When did you discover the truth?”

Well, at least he isn’t denying it. “When I died,” Loki says snidely, only partially relishing the flinch that produces in Odin. “Surprisingly, there is ample time when you are dead to cover all grievances that are not aired when one is alive and little point in keeping secrets.” His eyes flicker briefly to Thor, who doesn’t appear to have made the connection yet. “To say nothing of the fact that the frenzied battle madness that you drove her to did not follow Hela into death.  So I had a good five long mortal years in death getting to know my birth mother before I was unceremoniously dragged back to the land of the living and here we are now.”

Now Thor’s face contorts in disgusted disbelief. “Hela is your mother?  Hela?!”

Loki’s grin is a vicious thing. “Apparently she took Laufey as a lover to spite Odin, as she didn’t much appreciate the rather abrupt halt on conquering all the Realms.  When she caught wind of Odin’s plans to deal with her, she left me with Laufey to keep me away from, oh how did she put it?  The madness that was Asgard.”

“Isn’t she mad herself?” Thor mutters.

It’s an unconscious move that has Loki reaching over and whacking Thor’s shoulder. “Battle madness, Thor, she was in the depths of battle madness because Odin had driven her thusly with all his conquests before turning around and deciding he no longer liked his good little soldier of a firstborn so he locked her away.  But discussing Odin’s rather poor parenting decisions is not why we are here.” He brushes some nonexistent dust off his sleeve before fixing his grandfather with an unimpressed look. “No, we are here because you have about one year left to live should the timelines play out the same as they did last time, Odin Borson, and I will not have my birth mother lost to me again because you are too much of a coward to confront your mistakes.”

“Brother, what are you playing at?” Thor asks softly.

“Multiple things.  Firstly, I intend to put Odin back on the throne because you and I have other things to attend to, in case you’ve forgotten already.  A year ought to be enough time to begin everything.  After that we can discuss who gets the throne.  Secondly, as we both know of Hela’s existence, I would suggest that Odin transfer the prison spell either to myself or you as we are both, surprisingly, of his blood.  That way he needn’t worry himself with her anymore, given that he practically washed his hands of her over a millennia ago already.”

“He speaks the truth, though you do not wish to believe it,” Zarek abruptly interjects.

“Brother,” Thor’s Infinity Stone (he’s fairly certain Zarek called her Dilys) says warningly, stepping out around Thor.  Apparently Odin can see them both now because his eyes are darting swiftly between the two.

Zarek merely bares his teeth in a mockery of a grin. “Ĭ ɐᶆ ṱĥȅ Ḿįṉᵭ Ȿȶóñę, Ǿᶁȋṋ Ꞗǭṛȿȍñ, ãńḍ ỹöʉ ŵǫùɫḑ ḋơ ẘēļĺ ťơ ñǫṫ äṅṱӑǥǫᵰįᶎê ḿỷ Ȼḧǻṃƥȉǿṋ åņỿ ḟǚɍṭḩǝȑ.  Ẅɇ Ĩṉꞙîņȉʇƴ Ȿȶóñęᵴ ḋơ ñǫṫ ťǎᶄė ꞣïṋđƚŷ ťơ ẗⱨȭșè ŵḫǿ ḋơ.”

By the time Zarek has finished his tirade, Odin has slid down to his knees and has bowed his head.  His chest is heaving and Loki can almost imagine that he hears the air rattling in Odin’s lungs from the sheer power in Zarek’s voice (it’s also a rather sad sight seeing a once mighty man brought so low with nothing but words) (though words spoken by an Infinity Stone aren’t just words).  As before, though, all Loki feels throughout it is a mild hum, and for Thor it’s obviously similar because he’s still standing on two feet.

“Hush, my child, and calm yourself.”

As if from nothing, there’s suddenly yet another woman with them, one who lays a hand on Zarek’s arm and draws him away from Odin.  Every bit of Loki goes on high alert, because she appears even more ethereal than the two Infinity Stones he’s met thus far and that sets his teeth on edge.

“Mother!” Dilys gasps (Norns preserve him, this is a being the Infinity Stones call Mother). “I thought you were staying by the Kingmaker’s side until we were all gathered.”

The woman wraps an arm around Zarek’s shoulders, and Loki is stunned when the man leans into the touch (then again, he more than most knows to hoard a mother’s embrace). “Anthony Stark has adequate protection right now.  Your brother needed my attention more.” She looks to both him and Thor. “It is an honor to meet the ones Zarek and Dilys have chosen to stand as their Champions.  I am Life, but you may call me Yggdrasil.”

“Yggdrasil,” Loki repeats breathlessly.

“World Tree,” Thor mumbles beside him (for once he can’t tease Thor about sounding like an idiot because he’s reacting exactly the same way).

She smiles a small, yet knowing smile. “Indeed.  Now, I know your plan for Odin Borson, Loki Laufeyson, so there is no need for you and Thor Odinson to linger here.  The other Champions are gathering at the compound the Kingmaker has made.”

Unable to help himself, Loki narrows his eyes at her. “You’re managing us, or rather me, aren’t you?”

“Loki,” Thor hisses, reaching out a hand as if to grab him and haul him behind Thor (as if that would stop Yggdrasil if she truly wanted to do him harm).

“You have had to ignore your traumas more than enough times in your life, Loki Laufeyson,” Yggdrasil says solemnly. “Allow me to offer you this kindness today at least.”

“The spell holding my birth mother captive?” Because that is most of the reason he confronted Odin (the other being to see how Thor would react to this new found knowledge).

“Easily transferred to either of you once Odin agrees.”

For some reason, his eyes dart to Zarek’s as if seeking his opinion (he is seeking his opinion, Loki has only truly known him for less than an hour and already he seeks his approval).  The man is expressionless, but inclines his head just a fraction of an inch.

“Very well,” he says, raising his chin in return and steadfastly now refusing to look at Odin. “I expect we will be seeing you shortly, though?”

“Indeed you will.”

That’ll do for now, then.  If Yggdrasil herself wishes to deal with Odin Borson, he is more than happy to step out of her way.

“Come along then, Thor, we’ve people to meet and plans to make.”