Work Text:
One year later…
—-----------
The Yggdrasil tree sat at the heart of the universe. Every reality, every moment, every timeline weaved into a perpetual dance of life, death and simple existence. Beyond the Yggdrasil tree? Well, there sat a throne, a burden, a prison one could only think of in the depths of their nightmares, in the darkest part of their soul as they claw their way back to reality through the darkest depths of their fear. Eternal loneliness, and yet eternal purpose. A heavy, yet glorious purpose. Such a glorious purpose could only be burdened by a King, a God… perhaps both?
Loki, Prince of Asgard, Odinson, Rightful King of Jotunheim, Previous God of Mischief and Final God of Stories sat upon such a throne. Garnet eyes cast upon the withering rock below him, the God sat alone, burdened with his glorious purpose, body frozen ice cold like that of a Jotunn, hands shaking as he held the fate and happiness of trillions of lives in his bare hands as he had been doing for centuries… or was it days? Seconds? Maybe he had just sat down. He could never tell. The unquenchable, unadulterated, sheer terror he felt at every breathing moment sedated his knowledge of time, he could not gamble as to whether he had been alone for thousands of years or a handful of seconds. The environment suited him perfectly. The ceaseless hollow darkness making his eyes useless, the unforgiving cold burning his Jotunn skin, the incessant trickle of tears that scarred hot marks down his cheeks, collapsing onto the floor at his feet to form a frozen puddle.
The God sometimes thought he heard voices, familiar voices. He always heard the whispers of the timelines, life continuing steadily as all life does, and yet sometimes he could have sworn he heard the voices of his loved ones. Sometimes he imagined bedtime stories Frigga used to tell him, other times Sif, Thor and the Warriors Three playing together like they did as kids, other times he would hear the gentle whispers of Sylvie reassuring him that he was doing the right thing by giving them all a second chance, and on the more rare occasion the unsteady, confused voice of Mobius asking him why did you do it? Why didn't you come back? Why didn't you tell me how many times you tried to save everyone? and yet every single time Loki could never figure out an answer.
Because there was no other way.
So much of a purpose, this felt more like eternal torture. He had always pried on about having a Glorious Purpose his entire life, and yet he never considered a wild spurt of sheer, blind, concentrated heroism would be all he was made for. What was I made for?
He knew he had all the time in the universe to answer such questions and yet he felt guilty to know none of the answers. He spent so long learning all he could to save the universe- who was he kidding… to save his friends, and yet it all turned out naught. No matter how hard he tried, he just made everything worse.
“Hey you!” There came the voices again. Starting gradual and gaining ever closer, “Hey, you! I'm talkin’ to you!” This was odd… Loki had never heard the voice of Victor Timely before, or was it He Who Remains? Them being variants of one another definitely did not help the confusion. With a shiver Loki brushed it off, ignoring the repeating calls as he kept his hands clutched tightly on the timelines holding him captive. “Don't make me say it again, look at me Big Horned Guy!” The God's eyebrows furrowed, Loki risking a head tilt as he turned his head slightly towards the source of the voice. To his left there was nothing, simply the typical pulsating green, and to the right there was more of the same. Yes. Just voices. Loki wanted to laugh at himself, point a finger and mock himself, no one's there. Are you ever not going to fall for that? The God cracked a hostile smile to himself, disappearing the second it appeared. He turned his head back, eyes trailing behind slightly, as he turned to look face to face with a very familiar man.
Wait.
What?
“What are you-”
Darkness.
Loki never knew just how warm the timelines felt until he lost them too. Now he most definitely had lost. Brad was right, he truly was a loser.
He peeked his eyes open, his limb body lying sprawled across what was left of the Temporal Loom's gangway. He could not move if he even tried, and yet he wasn't so sure he wanted to. Part of him wanted to simply roll off the side of the gangway, letting the empty abyss take hold of him as it did once before, after his own father had rejected his love, his best efforts to be the son Odin could be proud of. Was this truly all he was made for? Thinking he was important only to have the only good thing he did for people get ripped from him like candy from a baby? What a waste of a life.
So he continued to lie there, his eyes floating shut as he patiently waited for fate to make its move. He was tired of illusions, of hiding, of trying to pretend to be better than the man he was. He wanted nothing more now than to let a higher force make the decision for him, because in the depths of his heart he knew he had done all he could when it came to playing God. Time for someone else to make that decision.
—-----------
The halls felt empty without him. His desk did too. Everywhere he went, Mobius couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. Someone was missing.
Loki.
His Loki.
Sure, Sylvie had occasionally visited right after the forming of Yggdrasil, but it was never the same. They may have been from the same parentage, but they were siblings at best. It felt like a lie, and not just a small one. It felt like a massive, horrible lie if he told himself he was okay.
He spent more and more time with Sylvie to start with. He tried having pie with her, going out for a meal in her timeline, sitting and listening to music together. It was all hollow. She could never replace Loki, and Mobius knew deep down no one ever would. He was destined to have a constant hole in his heart, an unfillable void that only one God could ever fill.
Soon, he moved onto spending time with Casey and Ouroboros in Repairs & Advancements, yet OB's constant state of hyperactivity soon sucked the life out of him, especially when the words ‘Loki’, ‘He Who Remains’, Temporal Loom’ and ‘Yggdrasil’ left his mouth at least 50 times per day. Casey always shot him an apologetic glance in these moments, which comforted Mobius at first but were soon not enough. He found it best to distance himself from Ouroboros before he might snap at him.
He found that was something he was doing quite a lot. First he stopped spending time with Sylvie, then OB and Casey, and soon enough he only spoke to B-15 when it was necessary. Instead, whenever he needed to be found he sat at his desk, staring at files, pretending the words were not blurring into one as he found himself lost in his own thoughts.
Time seemed to pass at an endless slow, and by the time the fourth month rolled around since Loki's sacrifice he found himself aimlessly walking around the TVA, his legs automatically taking him to the Automat, Time Theatre and Temporal Loom Control Room on too many occasions to count. Most days he laughed at himself, finding it better to mock himself than feel pity. But one day it was different.
As he found himself standing at the doors to the Control Room, he couldn't find the strength in him to turn around and keep walking. Something inside of him had told him to open the doors, and a tiny spark in his chest liked to imagine Loki would be standing on the other side of the doors, smiling at him with extended arms. A small glimmer of hope revelled at the thought of being able to see his Loki once more, to ask him all of his unuttered questions, to tell him all of his emotions he had discovered ever since he even first opened a case file and read the name ‘Loki Laufeyson’ at the top.
So, by human nature, he gave in. He opened the doors and watched as they gave access to the Control Room, identical to how they left it that day.
The computers had gathered a thick layer of dust, and the door at the base of the stairs which Loki had locked all those months ago had opened itself back up again. Loki. The thought of the God took Mobius captive, his feet dragging him to the windows, palms pressed against the glass. Painful tears pricked his eyes, teasing and testing him as the luminousity of Yggdrasil entranced him, the pulsating greens and purples dancing around one another like an extraordinary, eternal ballet. It was beautiful.
“You're as beautiful as the day I lost you, Lokes,” his voice cracked, his expression faltering as he caved, tears breaking free and falling down his cheeks. Mobius closed his eyes as his vision went blurry, resting his forehead to the glass as he let out staggered breaths, all of the emotions he kept bottled up in front of everyone else finally coming out all at once in front of the one person he could trust.
He stood there, yearning, sobbing, accepting, for a while. He wasn't exactly too sure how long, but he couldn't care. He told Loki everything he regretted never telling him, all of the stories he wanted to tell, all of the thoughts and feelings he always wanted to share, he even dared utter the three words he never had hoped to say before as he left, the heavy weight of denial and blaming lifting off his chest as he made room for a new era of acceptance.
This time around, he would try again in all of the right ways. This time, he would try to move on. Without Loki.
And so that is what he did. The next eight months at the TVA he spent trying to keep his mind away from Loki, and whenever the name was uttered, he simply thought of all of the good things that came from their partnership, the weight of the burdens now left behind where he poured his soul out in the Control Room. At times he felt the emptiness erupt again, and in those moments he would simply repeat what he once did and have another heart-to-heart. It was like a breath of fresh air. When he walked through the TVA, he never felt an empty space beside him, and when he talked to his friends and colleagues, he never felt left out or less important. He felt like himself again, just like he did before Loki even arrived at the TVA. He had managed to come full circle, and find himself comfortable once again.
This time around, Mobius decided to reach out to Sylvie once more in an attempt to finally tie up any loose Loki-ends. He could think of no better way to finish those loose ends than with a Loki variant herself. However, instead of being met with a warm smile he was met with a harsh retort and an empty heart. “I've moved on with my life. I don't plan on digging up old memories now, the TVA is gone to me. I don't care what you want to do with your life Mobius, but it's been a year now. Maybe it's time for you to finally decide what you're doing here.”
Her words had hurt him more than he had expected. Typical Sylvie. He wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting, especially from the woman who had once upon a time yelled at him for craving Key Lime Pie in the middle of a Temporal Meltdown.
Sylvie's words had brought him back to a stand-still, where he knew it was time to visit an old friend once again before he could continue with his life, and so he stood at the doors of the Control Room once again, hands fidgeting in his pockets as the doors gradually opened before him. Upon entering he took his usual pew, sitting with his back to the glass, staring at the ground as he watched the shining green light glow on the ground in front of him. He found it comforting. He leaned his head back against the wall, letting out a deep sigh before breaking his months-long silence, “Hey Lokes, its me again. Ole’ Triple M.”
“We… haven't spoken in a while. I know. Been kinda busy doing… well, doing things.” He knew he was holding himself back, he had been for the past few visits now. He felt almost embarrassed to talk to Yggdrasil, feeling almost pathetic and pitying himself now. Everyone else had moved on with their lives, and here he was, sitting on the dirty floor, talking to a tree that can't even hear him. “Everyone's doing good down here. B-15 is keeping all of the staff under control; we haven't had any rebellions since the Dox incident, but plenty of staff have returned to their timelines. I tried again, but… I just couldn't. I keep telling myself I'm fine without you but I always feel like I'm missing something when you're not around. It's like…” Mobius swallowed, knowing it's too far to turn back now, he had to let it all out, “...without you, I d…” His voice trailed off, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked closer at the ground. A small section of the glow was obscured, blocked, like something was in front of the tree. What?
Mobius carefully pulled himself up from the ground, turning hesitantly around to look out of the window, confirming his suspicions. Something was there.
A small, green dot looked to be falling through the branches of Yggdrasil, making its way through the base of the tree before collapsing on the gangway. Mobius's first thought was that it was a rock, or possibly scrap metal from the old Temporal Loom, but the golden shimmer of a horned helmet snapped his whole reality in two.
Loki.
Loki.
He didn't think twice before he found himself bolting down the stairs, peeling the space suit from off of the hooks it sat in and pulling it on as fast as he could. He could very well be delusional, overwhelmed with emotion and simply imagining things, but if it was Loki, he knew he was not going to simply just leave him behind.
As soon as the doors opened, he hoofed it as fast as his legs would take him, his body moving much faster than before, he expected due to the lack of temporal radiation, and not due to the sheer amount of adrenaline being pumped through his body like pistons in an engine. Reaching the end of the gangway he collapsed to his knees, the God before him merely a shell of the friend he once knew. His skin was frozen, Jotunn markings burnt all across his skin like branding, two infinitely deeper markings dragging down the side of his face, looking more like tear trails than natural carvings.
After a momentary confirmation and acceptance that it was in fact his Loki, Mobius wrapped his arms around him and started to drag him backwards, finding it much harder than originally anticipated, his muscles burning under his skin as he tried to lift the infinitely heavy giant beneath him. He knew if Loki had been awake he would be shouting something along the lines of “Save yourself, Mobius!” or something equally Loki-esque and not at all in character of the man he once met in the TVA Courtroom. “I ain't quittin’ you!” He yelled, more to himself than anything.
And so he didn't. He stuck by the God, inch by inch dragging him along the Gangway and back to the TVA, back to where he belongs. Back to me, Mobius thought. He knew it was selfish, but sometimes selfishness was the key to a good action, in his books. Every now and then, the world could do with a little selfishness, and this was one of those moments.
By the time Mobius let go of him inside the Control Room, he collapsed onto the floor into a messy heap, hands weakly pulling his helmet off as he gasped for fresh air, or however fresh the air can get in the TVA. His body felt like a thousand fires, and yet his heart felt better than it had in many, many months. His brain was going haywire with dozens of thoughts at a time, his brain scattered as he tried to make sense of the situation.
Loki is back. For good. For good? What if he needs to go back? No, I won't let that happen again. No, I have to. No, I don't. What if it was an accident? What if he doesn't wanna see me? What if I wasn't supposed to do that? Mobius' brain immediately factory reset to what it was eight months ago, where he suddenly felt a constant anguish and doubt within himself, wondering if this was his fault. What if Loki deliberately left Yggdrasil? What if he wanted to go to his own timeline and live his life? What if he didn't want to come back to the TVA?
Mobius pushed himself into a sitting position, looking down at the God beside him, eyes wide with a dysfunction of emotions. While he wanted to doubt himself, blame himself, he knew deep down there was something more important to happen first. Loki was in front of him, injured and in need of help. He needed to get help first. He had all the time in the universe to regret his life choices afterwards.
—----------------
Purple, hazy thunder snapped at the ground, every crash sounding like a gunshot. A distant, low, rumbling growl could be heard in the distance, and yet it felt like the monster was mere inches away from her. The monster at the end of time. Alioth.
As Ravonna stood face to face with the beast, the monster so mountainous that its gaping maw could touch the clouds itself, everything in her body screamed for help. The innocent school teacher, kidnapped from her life, screams internally for mercy, all while the merciless Judge Renslayer stood to her feet, arms pressed to her sides and head up high as she stood to take her final bow. Renslayer knew all too well there was no escaping her fate, yet something inside of her found it fitting. She had lost her love, her life, her job, even the one man who considered her a friend she ordered to be killed. No, not to be killed. To be met with this fate. Her fate.
How ironic.
The only life she recalls, she spent trying to keep order and justice within her confined world, no matter the cost. She was willing to do what was necessary, to make the impossible choice, to open wounds that may never heal. Every burden others could never bear she took on herself, no matter the consequence. For the sake of justice.
A singular tear rolls down her cheek as a thunderous clap laps from the beast's mouth, its storming body galloping ever closer. Goosebumps pummelled her skin as she waited for the curtain to fall, taking her final bow as she embraced her final moments. She had yet to find the moment sad or distressing, instead, she found the shock all too perfect. She had been the hand of Justice, pointing fingers at people and pruning them no matter how small their actions, no matter what mistakes they made, and now Alioth, the great beast at the end of time, stood before her, pointing his own beastly claws at her in judgement.
Guilty.
—-----------
“We're all gonna die!” Casey's eyes shot up from his book at OB's words, his hands slamming closed his copy of The Sons of Yoren. “We're all gonna die!” Ouroboros sprinted to the front desk of Repairs & Advancements, launching himself past Casey's perch on a half-broken, spinning chair, causing him to start rapidly spinning on the spot. As Ouroboros dives under the desk, hands sprawled out in front of him making violent clutching motions, Casey grabs him by the collar, yanking him back up from the cubby hole.
Casey had seemed to discover a newfound strength within him after Sylvie enchanted him a couple of weeks after the birth of Yggdrasil. His senses and reflexes seemed to be faster, and he definitely felt stronger both mentally and physically. At first he was exceptionally shocked - everyone was - but he was quick to embrace it. He found no greed in himself however, and had no intention of going back to such a life, however he felt relieved to know his purpose on the timeline, if only to encourage him further to stay with the TVA. With Ouroboros.
OB, however, had seemed even more skittish than usual upon finding out about his past life as a writer, and immediately took it upon himself to demand an unhealthy amount of copies of all of his novels. Said copies were currently stacked rather precariously off almost every flat surface available, and Casey was naive enough to offer to read his books and give his feedback. Since then, Ouroboros only ever talked about his past life, well, alongside his usual work at least. He seemed to care little for Casey's past life, but Casey was realistically rather relieved of that. While he was definitely happy to know of his life, he wasn't proud of it. It wasn't who he was, at least not anymore.
“We're all gon-” Casey clamped his hand over OB's mouth before he could repeat himself, a rather bizarre motion he had only started to do since he discovered his past life as Frank. Casey quirked an eyebrow at OB before slowly lowering his hand and posing his question,
“Wanna tell me why we're all gonna die?”
“Oh, right!” Ouroboros jumped up from his spot on the floor, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handful of glass shrapnel. “We're all outta bulbs!” Casey deadpanned him, completely oblivious to how much the bulbs supposedly mattered to the other man. Casey gave him an expression that undoubtedly read ‘Really..?’, to which he received an exasperated sigh before Ouroboros clarified himself, “Without the bulbs, I can't make the tree glow!”
“The tree? Like, a Christmas tree?” Casey found himself getting a lot better with human terms, he bet he could even name 10 different types of fish. He had read about Christmas in one of A. D. Doug's books, and found the whole concept fascinating. So much so, that he suggested the TVA host its own Christmas. He had been successful in that matter, except for the fact that for the party only he, Ouroboros, B-15 and a couple of analysts showed up. He had been a bit upset when Mobius hadn't arrived, but when B-15 told him the next day that she found him all rough and ragged in the Temporal Loom Control Room he let the matter drop.
“No! My scaled down model of the Yggdrasil tree.” To explain, OB ran back over to the corner of the room and came back wheeling a surprisingly detailed and accurate recreation, several glowing bulbs illuminating purple lights from the top, apart from a couple of empty spaces that broke the illusion of it being an accurate model. Casey had to admit, the bulbs did seem important, especially to someone like Ouroboros who found passion in such small projects, however he doubted anyone would die from it.
“See what I mean?” Ouroboros gestured to the whole model in general. As he did so, a couple of the bulbs shook lightly, their lights flickering. Casey thought it might be down to OB's sheer Ouroboros-ness, until he heard a light gasp come from his mouth, his hands freezing in their midair position as his eyes first looked down at the model, then up at the lights on the ceiling. To Casey's surprise, the same happened to those too. But that was wrong. The TVA doesn't have power surges. But it does. Or at least, it did. A year ago.
Both of the men seemed to have the same realisation at identical times, because as they looked down at each other once again, their eyes wide in a combobulation of horror, shock, and confusion, they whispered together,
“We're all gonna die.”
—--------------
Loki groaned into his pillow, his body aching everywhere. He felt like death, his eyes far too painful to open, his arms and legs carrying the weight of a thousand suns. His hands were bundled into fists, still clenching as if they held timelines in them as they did before.
In his head, he still felt the burden of his throne. He could feel the darkness around him as his eyes remained closed, the silence beyond gentle whisperings ringing his ears… and yet there was warmth. Warmth? That was a feeling he was convinced he hadn't felt in a long time, his body so acclimated to the unrelenting frost of space that his natural state had retreated back to that of his Jotunn parentage.
He peeked an eye open, his gaze falling on his bundled fist in front of him. He looked… like Loki? His skin had returned to its usual warm hue, the blue etchings on his skin faded away. How?
Almost as if his mind was read, a chipper voice spoke up from across the room,
“Mornin’, Big Blue.” No. It couldn't be. Loki's eyes scanned the room, settling on a familiar friend perched on a stool a couple metres away, reading a pristinely-kept jet ski magazine with an advertisement about the ThrustKing on the back. Mobius. His eyes went wide at the realisation, his mouth flapping awkwardly open and closed as he tried to think of what to say first. What could he say? There was too much that needed to be said. ‘Sorry’ was quite an important one, as is ‘I missed you’, as is another three words. Instead, Loki reluctantly settled on staring blankly at Mobius from across the room, his body sprawled face down across what Loki was slowly realising was Mobius' bed.
“Bit of an asshole move, don't ya think?” Yep. Definitely Mobius. He didn't hesitate getting straight to the point, placing down his jet ski magazine as he walked over to the bed, taking a seat just on the edge. He furrowed his eyebrows at Loki, his stern expression clearly awaiting some sort of apology.
Loki sighed internally. He was relieved neither Thor, Heimdall nor his mother were here to see this, for this was going to be one embarrassing and awkward reunion. He figured it was going to end up similar to the Lamentis reunion, except this time around Sylvie wasn't the one he had feelings for.
—---------
Over one year ago…
“We have to move fast. Who's it gonna be?” Ouroboros turned to the group, eyes wide in surprise. He was already increasingly impressed by Loki's technological knowledge - it rivalled his own - and now he also had to register just how poor the condition of the Temporal Loom was.
“It's him,” Loki grabbed Victor Timely by the arm, turning him around to face him and holding him by both shoulders. He looks him in the eye, steadying his gaze for a brief moment, “You just have to be brave. That's it.” He hesitates for a moment, “...and don't put down the Multiplier, and tape up your right thumb, left knee and faceplate. But that's it. Got it?” Loki speaks fast, not giving Victor an opportunity to respond before he twirls him around and guides him down the stairs, jogging back up and grabbing the microphone off of the nearby desk.
Mobius had no idea where any of this had come from. After all, just earlier that day they were enjoying a day out in 1893, eating Cracker Jacks and just generally having a good time. Now? Loki seemed tense, on edge, like the entire universe hung in the balance. Realistically, it did. However, Loki was never one to actually show that he cared about that, not unless it was personal. As Mobius watched Loki grab the microphone off the desk, speed-walking past him as though he wasn't even there, he couldn't help but step in. Whatever was bothering Loki, he knew damn well he was going to find out, and he was going to fix it too.
Loki felt a weight on his arm, pulling him back to the computers. As he turns, he meets the gaze of an exceptionally worried Mobius. Not again. In almost every attempt at fixing the Loom, Loki always seemed to worry Mobius more and more. The last few attempts had all ended the same, with Loki running out of time due to Mobius trying to figure out what was wrong. Something is wrong. It broke his heart to have to treat his friends like toys, like obstacles to get to a goal, and yet it was the only way to reach peace for all of them.
His internal dialogue split into two, one side of him screaming to fix the loom, while the other held him in place, pupils shimmering and he stared down at the man in front of him, holding him steady in almost every way possible. Loki was unsure of what he would do without Mobius. He was sure he would have been consumed by Alioth centuries ago if it were not for him, and that's why after all this time he was still fighting. After centuries of knowledge, he still felt like he owed Mobius a debt.
“Your universe hangs in the balance and you bargain for one man?” “Is this love, Agent Romanoff?” Loki recalled once upon a time mocking another for bargaining for a singular, momentary love over the rest of the universe, and yet today… he understood. He would continue to do this charade a million more times over, for a billion more years, if it meant finding a way to save his friends. To save Sylvie, Ouroboros, B-15, Casey… To save Mobius. He supposed… sometimes being selfish was the right choice. He knew it would never be the same, his Mobius would never know but… perhaps he could spare one attempt to tell Mobius how he truly feels.
“Mobius, I-”
“What the shit are you doing?” His eyes were wild with panic, slightly glazed over. His grip tightened on Loki's arm as he met his gaze, his eyes searching Loki's as he tried to figure out what was going on.
“Mobius, just li-”
“I mean what is all t-”
“Mobius, you-”
“You're not tel-”
“Mobius!” Loki dropped the microphone, his hands darting up and landing on either side of Mobius' face. He froze in his place, his breath hitching in his throat. Loki took it as his opportunity to pour out his heart. In a way, he was relieved no one would remember this happening - he was sure Sylvie would never let him live it down otherwise. “I have done this charade a thousand times over, watched you disappear before me a thousand times over,” Mobius’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but Loki continued, relentlessly, “and every time I have done my best to save you. But it's not enough. I'm not enough.”
“Loki-”
“But you are. You have always been enough. You saved my life dozens of times since we met, physically, mentally… emotionally. You've treated me like someone important, like someone worthy of such love. And for that I can never repay you. So trust me when I say that I will not sleep, I will not rest and I will not relent until you are safe and happy. Because you deserve it. Mobius, you deserve it.”
“Loki, wh-” The alarms cut him off. Loki knew those alarms all too well. The Loom was collapsing. Again. A chorus of ‘what's happening?’s and ‘oh my god!’s shoot around the room, but Loki knew all too well what was happening to need to look. He knew that by now Victor had long disintegrated, and this TVA was soon to be annihilated, which left him with mere moments left. Loki sighed, he supposed there was no time like the End of Time to make a fool of himself.
“Mobius,” Loki took a step forward, his palms tilting Mobius's head up as he took him in properly, possibly for the last time. Tell him, “Jeg elsker deg.”
Light flooded the room, glass shattering around them. Seconds now. Loki pulled Mobius towards him in the final moments, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to his forehead as he prepared himself to Time Slip back once again. A quiet whisper resonated in his ears as Mobius disappeared in front of him,
“For all time, Lokes.”
Again.
“We have to move fast. Who's it gonna be?” Ouroboros turned to the group.
“Always.” Loki choked, his heart heavy.
—--------------
And so Mobius and Loki sat on either side of Mobius's bed, Loki explaining exactly what happened to him while he was timeslipping - selectively deciding to leave out certain tries, including a certain soppy, demented love confession of sorts. Mobius had taken to it surprisingly easily, having no doubts as to whether Loki was lying or not. What Loki didn't know is that Mobius was convinced that after such a sacrifice, Loki would not waste his time lying to him again. Not anymore.
Mobius held back tears at a few points, and had not hesitated to offer out his arms for a hug when Loki told him about his centuries-long study under Ouroboros in hopes of fixing the loom. Loki had taken the offer, and for a few minutes they had just sat there, taking in one another's presence, clinging to it for comfort in such an impossible situation. Once Loki had finished, his story ending with when he arrived into the final TVA - this TVA - he simply whispered,
“Well… you know the rest.”
It took Mobius a while to process. Over the course of the past year he had built up a barrier around himself to protect himself from his feelings for Loki, giving himself an opportunity to move on without him. He had started to be happy, to find a path in life that didn't reside alongside the God, and yet here Loki was once again, head in his hands as he poured out his soul. His brain told him he should get Loki back to his throne as soon as possible. After all, the timelines would likely fall apart once again soon enough if Loki didn't return, or worse, they could start fighting one another. A multiversal war is the last thing the TVA needs right now, and that is what could be on its way. But yet his heart stopped him. His selfish heart yeared to pull Loki close once more, to hold him and tell him to never leave again, to confess all of his unuttered truths. But it was a means to an end. After all, Loki was a God and a King, and what was he? A personal watercraft salesman? No. He wasn't even that. He was a failure. He was a man that couldn't even keep his own life running, and when given the opportunity to start a new one he turned tail and ran, he ran back to the one person who showed him how to live, and he stayed.
“Thank you,” was all he could muster. All he felt safe saying. If he said any more, he knew he would break.
“For what?” Loki's voice was soft, slow and tentative. By the sounds of Loki's story, he hadn't had the opportunity to just sit and just think for a long time.
“For never giving up on me.”
“I could say the same to you.” The two simply exchanged a glance, eyes locked onto one another's as Loki gently snaked his hand over Mobius', resting it on top of his as he gazed at him, his pupils wide as if Mobius was the only person in the universe. As for Mobius? He swallowed his emotions, locking them as far away as possible. Just a man who felt he was not important enough to be loved, and a God who found loving him as easy as breathing. Scratch that, easier.
“So what will you do next?” Mobius did his best to hide his hurt, smiling lightly. “Will you return to Yggdrasil, or..?” Mobius wasn't exactly sure what other options there were, but he wasn't too keen on the first option either. He was hoping Loki would have more ideas than he did, at least.
“I can't,” His eyes widened at this, curious. Loki elaborated, “When I fell from the branches, it was not because I lost control. It was because I was not alone. There was a man. He Who Remains? Victor Timely? I can't be sure. He looked identical, but also different. I… I can't be sure, but once I saw him I felt weakened, powerless, and before I knew it I was on the gangway and then…” He gestured with his free hand to the room around him, “I woke up here.”
“A variant broke free of his timeline?” If He Who Remains variants were still finding ways out of their timelines, then no matter how tightly the timelines were held together, it would lead to multiversal war. And that was something even the TVA could have no control over.
“Maybe… Or perhaps he was always there. When I first travelled back to the time where I met He Who Remains, it became evident that he wasn't just going to let Sylvie kill him just like that,” he looked down at the bed covers, snapping his fingers for emphasis, “So what if… He found a way to overcome it? Perhaps he had it all planned from the beginning: Victor Timely, Miss Minutes, Brad, Renslayer, You, Me, Sylvie… What if he's been pulling the strings all along?” Loki looked back up at Mobius expectantly, breath lightly hitching.
“Then I'm gonna need a drink.” Mobius got up from his spot, offering his hand out, “and one massive slice of pie.”
—----------------
The War Room was practically full. Analysts, Hunters and Judges all crowded the walls, the broken mural of the Timekeepers barely visible through the thick layer of bodies crowded inside. Ever since Ouroboros ran screaming through the TVA hallways “War! War! The branches are fighting! They're all fighting!”, people had wasted no time making a beeline for the War Room. While OB had in fact been exaggerating - as per usual recently, not everyone knew him well enough to figure that out. He had managed to figure out a handful of timelines were falling out of place, collapsing away from Yggdrasil and engaging in what from afar looked a bit like a violent hair-braiding session. For the majority, they remained stable, keeping to their own timelines comfortably.
As of this moment, Judge Gamble found themselves stuck at the head of the War Room, Hunter B-15 sat in one of the other two seats while the final one remained empty. Casey and Ouroboros stood close to B-15, seeking comfort in her defensive nature as they explained what was happening, which was finding rather tedious over all of the panicked yelling of other TVA staff. And yet, in a singular moment, they all shut up.
The War Room doors had opened, and who had opened them? Loki himself.
It felt bizarre to Loki. The first time he had opened the doors to the War Room in such a manner, he had been searching everywhere for Mobius, and this time around Mobius stood beside him proudly, with only a small handful of pastry crumbs caught on his moustache.
All eyes turned to the pair of them. If Loki had not been used to being the centre of attention before - in all of the bad ways - he was sure he would be caught like a deer in headlights, however he did not waste a moment here, too used to having never enough time on his hands for any foreplay.
“Everyone,” He announced to the group, gesturing broadly to the crowd swarming the distant walls, before gesturing again with his thumbs for them to leave, “Get out. Now.” They obeyed. Perhaps it was the massive golden horns adorned upon his head, or perhaps the flowing green cape, or possibly simply the respect the TVA had grown for him since his self-sacrifice. Either way, within moments, the room filed empty of all bar the Judge, B-15 and the rest of his friends. The whole gang's here. Well, except Sylvie.
He took the empty final seat, Mobius standing to his right. As he sat, he removed his helmet, lying it on the table in front of him and running a hand roughly through his hair. He decided upon taking a leaf out of Mobius’ book, and decided to jump straight to the point, “Ouroboros is right. The branches have engaged. One by one, they are going to break free of Yggdrasil and fall to chaos.”
“Can't you fix it again; you did it before?” B-15 piped up, eyes narrowing. Of course, Mobius is the only one that knows how long that actually took to figure out. Centuries. They had days at best.
“Not this time. Last time, I simply rewrote the way the timelines were held together. This time? If I wished to stop their conflict I would have to rewrite each individual timeline separately.”
“And you can't do that?”
“I can. And it's called pruning.” The word sat heavy on his tongue. It was sour, a word he always hated saying. It reminded him too much of He Who Remains, Alioth… Sylvie. “What we need is manpower.” Loki glanced up at Mobius before turning his head to Judge Gamble, “We need people who can stop the He Who Remains variants from within the timelines themselves, without bringing harm to the rest of the timeline.”
“What you're talking about is some sort of intergalactic Avengers. It can't be done. The heroes on the 616 adjacent realm just barely took on one variant, and you want to put together a team to take on all of them, back to back? It's madness.” Judge Gamble stated, their voice determined.
“Madness? I assure you, you know nothing of madness.”
“What Loki is trying to say…” Mobius placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, his voice soft as he backed him up, “Is that if we aren't prepared for these conflicts - these wars - we stand no hope at being the final defence against Multiversal War. Our whole job here is to stop it, and with over half of our troops back in their timelines, I bet we could handle 3 variants at best, and that's weak ones at that. Y'know, Victor Timely-style.”
“So you want to- what? Steal Avengers from a timeline and drag them across the universes to slowly destroy all of the He Who Remains variants?”
“Of course not,” Loki responded, keeping himself surprisingly well-composed compared to the last time he was in here, “What I plan to do, your honour, is find the best of the best. Pick out the strongest Avengers possible to form a team that can give us the best chance possible. The strongest Iron Man, Captain America… The strongest Thor. If we put them together we can win this war once we are confronted with it, but I can't do this alone. I would need everyone's help.”
The room fell silent once more. The air felt heavy, and yet it was clear what everyone's opinions were. He was right. The branches were multiplying at an infinite rate, and as were the number of hostile variants. The TVA was no longer the strongest defence, they needed to grow their artillery. Judge Gamble had once upon a time believed in having a singular Sacred Timeline, and yet the idea of pruning all of them now and going back to having just one was not even something they could possibly imagine. As for Ouroboros and Casey, they knew to trust Loki's judgement. He had been the one to make the final choice before, to carry the burden that no amount of scar tissue could heal. They respected his sacrifice and his judgement, and most of all, they honoured his friendship.
“Well then,” B-15 pushed herself up from her seat. Abruptly pulling out her tempad, she dialled in a location ‘Earth-199999’. She glanced over to Loki, giving a firm nod before opening the time door, “It looks like we've got some Avengers to assemble.”
The Hunter didn't wait for confirmation from Judge Gamble, heading through the time door and closing it behind her before any further arguments were made against her. It was now time for all the eyes in the room to settle on the Judge, whose eyes shifted silently as they contemplated.
It would be dangerous, and it had a high likelihood of not working, but so did sitting around and doing nothing. Loki could sense her unease, and so as he reached forward to put his helmet on once more, he added one final message,
“A wise man once told me that you should never seek out war,” He pushed himself up from his seat, turning to look at Mobius once more. He could tell by his soft expression that he knew exactly what ‘wise man’ he was referring to, and there was a hint of pride behind his eyes, “but he should always be ready for it.”
At his words, the Judge nodded. Their final verdict had been reached,
“So be it. The TVA will do all we can to aid your mission.” Their eyes scanned OB, who seemed on the verge of popping like a balloon, Casey, who seemed happy to be there but all the while more than mildly confused, Mobius, who seemed to be doing a horrible job at pretending to be calm, and finally Loki,
“I trust you.”
—-------------------
The Yggdrasil tree sat at the heart of the universe. Every reality, every moment, every timeline weaved into a perpetual dance of life, death and simple existence. Beyond the Yggdrasil tree? Well, there sat a throne, an opportunity, a purpose one could only think of in the depths of their imagination, a Glorious Purpose. Eternal loneliness, and yet eternal purpose.
Loki had once thought that such a burden was his to carry, and yet as he stood, watching the weaving branches of Yggdrasil from the TVA, he saw what his true purpose was. It wasn't the TVA, it wasn't his power or himself, and it wasn't to be a stepping stone for others. His purpose was to keep others happy, to maintain their lives so they may become the best versions of themselves, thanks to his best version of himself.
And so, as he stood with his friends, watching the timelines pulsating, breathing, living, he saw the lives of people he had saved. He saw the smiles they had, he heard their laughter and he felt their warmth. He felt their love.
On one timeline, he saw his Sylvie chatting happily to a customer, a beaming smile on her face as she made a pop culture reference he would never understand. He saw her colleagues joking along, sending her warm smiles as they admired her dedication.
On another, he watched Thor walk hand-in-hand with a small brunette girl through New Asgard. He watched people wave at the pair of them, sending warm greetings and best wishes.
On a timeline in 2023, he watched Don cooking breakfast for his boys, awkwardly stirring a pot on the stove as Sean and Kevin played with Iron Man and Captain America action figures at the Dining Table.
He seemed to have finally found his Glorious Purpose. It wasn't being alone, or losing, or a throne. It was bringing people together. He had brought his friends together, he had brought the timelines together, and now it was time to have a true purpose. It was time to bring the Avengers together.
—----------------
Don shivered. The kind of shiver where you feel like you're being watched. He brushed it off, turning his focus back to the pot before him. He was in the middle of cooking a poor attempt at Mac and Cheese, as requested by Kevin.
His concentration had wavered the last few minutes, his eyes staring out of the window. Car alarms were blaring, people running through the streets screaming, wearing outdated clothes that he was sure hadn't been in stores for years. Why is that guy wearing nothing but shorts? It's October, man! He tutted him.
“Hey, Sean! Dinner's almost ready! Wanna go put your toys in the living room, yeah?” He heard a quick ‘okay Dad’ before some shuffling, signifying Sean had successfully managed to pry Kevin's prized Iron Man figure from him. Small victories. He turned back to the window again, his eyebrows furrowing again as his eyes settled on a man standing in the middle of the road, turning around aimlessly as if lost. Andy? He went missing 5 years ago.
“Hey… Sean, could you g-” Crash. The sound of glass shattering stopped him in his tracks. And it came from the living room. His mind started whipping a hundred miles per hour. Is Sean hurt? Does he need to go to the hospital? Did someone break in? Do I need a weapon? What if-
“Mom?” Sean's voice was tiny, shaking, smaller than it ever had been. The word hadn't left his mouth in so long, and yet here Don was, hearing it from the Kitchen. He turned his head one last time to Andy standing outside, back to the ajar door to the living room… They went missing at the same time.
The realisation hit him. The Blip. He sprinted to the living room, dropping the pot where he stood, slamming the door open as he reached the living room.
A woman stood by the far window, long black hair cascading over her face as her shoulders shook. She clung to Sean desperately, muttering soft, incomprehensible words to him. To her son.
Don was frozen to the spot. It couldn't be. She was… gone. He mourned her, he cried for her, he… She was back. He could barely manage to talk, his voice breaking as he uttered her name, a name he hadn't been able to call in five years,
“Loki..?”
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As the Darkhold Castle collapsed around her, the only thoughts that Wanda could muster were of her boys, of Billy and of Tommy. She couldn't help but think about how happy they were in every other universe. Without her. What she would give to make everything up to them, properly this time. She only prayed that her sacrifice would be enough to keep them safe. Forever. She had turned herself insane with want, with a selfish desire to be with her boys again, that she never got to consider that they were already happy. It was too late now. The rubble was oncoming, preparing to crush her both physically and metaphorically. An ending of her own creation. How poetic.
She collapsed to her knees, looking up to accept her final moments before her curtain falls, before all is done. A worthy sacrifice, she supposed. As much pain as she went through, if it meant her boys were safe she would do it again a million more times, each time more brutal than the last. Here I go, any moment now. At least I can say ‘Hi’ to Vis.
So why did the rocks stop?
Why did they halt in the air, mere inches from her, the wind freezing in place and the light snow holding suspended. There was no sound, just silence. Was she cursed? Was this part of her punishment? No, it couldn't be.
A cough behind her broke her from her panic, a man standing mere metres away, with one finger raised in the air, pointed towards the frozen, collapsing castle. Upon meeting her gaze, he simply held up his spare hand in defence,
“Now this is going to sound strange… but your boys are in danger.”