Chapter Text
The Hermit - The Hermit is a seeker for the knowledge that comes from within. A lonely wanderer in the path of the night, he searches for that which can only be gained with long periods of solitude: the inner voice.
Emerald threads shimmered and weaved around the ancient god's hands as he combed through the endless stories of the multiverse. Sometimes he'd catch glimpses of his friends, his family, sometimes he'd see a strand turn grey and fade into mist as people that could've saved the universe died. The god tried to ignore how often his brother died in these universes.
In his most recent attempt to keep himself what passed for sane he had focused on finding a wayward strand that he had only ever managed to see out of the corner of his eye. It seemed to glow faintly orange which in the endless sea of green was quite a feat, it also seemed to be eluding him purposefully leading to the cat and mouse game he was playing with it now. Orange winked into view just in front of him and the god, not one to turn down an opportunity reached to grasp it, but the gods damned thing just slipped back into the endless shimmering landscape. This continued for what might have been days or might have been seconds, time didn't work quite the way it was meant to here.
Finally after the mischievous strand flickered back into view another time, the god decided to try another method and instead waited and watched the timeline. Seemingly sensing the change in tactic it drew closer and closer until it was right in front of him. Then, it wrapped itself around his hand, settling into place.
On inspection the god realised that the reason it'd been hard to see amongst the other infinite timelines was that while the orange glow was the color of the strand itself, it was wrapped in a glowing green net of intricate spellwork. The orange glow dimmed and flickered occasionally, leaving only the green which was indistinguishable from its fellows.
"What are you?" He asked gently, his voice was rough with disuse and the sound of it almost made the god flinch. The strand seemed to flinch with him, "It's okay I am your watcher I am..."
The god reached for his name and at first it felt like clutching at smoke but after a moment he found it, "Loki, my name is Loki little universe. I am here to protect you."
At that the timeline settled enough for Loki to view it. The feeling of flowing into a timeline was a feeling of relief, of homecoming and the smell of the apple blossoms in the Asgard sunshine, it was so much warmer, the colours so much brighter - it was intoxicating.
"What's gone wrong, little universe." Loki's voice was stronger here, soft as the breeze and fluid as a river as he walked through the world. Two paths stood before him, one was lined in intricate green spellwork and the other was the flickering orange strand. It was a duality, he realised. The spells were preserving the universe, keeping it intact even as the world died within it.
The god looked at the strand still wrapped around his hand and breathed deeply of the world around him, then he followed the green path to the right.
Though the Hermit sets forwards with noble intentions to search for his inner truth, his path inward may also be filled with great danger. Going inward may lead to madness and the abyss, for the unconscious is filled with images that he may not yet understand, lurking and waiting to lure you ever inside.
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The Hanged Man - The hanged man understands that his position is a sacrifice that he needed to make in order to progress forward - whether as repentance for past wrongdoings, or a calculated step backward to recalculate his path onward.
"Dormammu, I've..." Stephen Strange's body didn't hurt, that was the worst part. Every time they reset like this he would feel fine for just one moment, still high of the adrenaline of having thought he had a good idea, still so self-satisfied at knowing he was saving his world. Still saying the words with pride.
Stephen's hands shook as he looked at the eldritch horror looming over him, "Please just kill me quickly this time."
"Why should I?" The creature of smoke and ashes asked, "When you have ensured we have all the time in the world."
It wasn't long before the sorcerer started to scream again, and it was far longer before he was silenced. The loop reset again.
"Please." Stephen's voice cracked, "Please."
"End the time loop." Grinned the destroyer of worlds, "And I'll make your death quick."
The sorcerer took a shaky breath in and shook his head.
The loop reset again.
"Give up little sorcerer." It breathed.
And again.
"You can make all this pain stop."
And again.
"I have an eternity to break you."
And again.
The sorcerer stood between everything he cared for and the end of the world and he screamed.
The Hanged Man might have felt as if certain things are at a state of an absolute standstill without any particular resolution or movement. It’s as if he puts his entire effort and attention into something but nothing turns out as it should.
The god of stories retreated from the gaze of the god of the burning void and walked the other path.
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The Magician - The Magician is the representation of pure willpower, he is the conduit that turns energy into matter. He is the connecting force between heaven and earth, for he understands the meaning behind the words "as above so below" - that mind and world are only reflections of one another.
Tony Stark's body shook from the cold siberian air sinking its way into his bones, his breath fogged in front of him, and all he could think of was how his chest ached with every single movement, how if he moved to get up then a shard of rib was sure to pierce his lungs and he'd die here - alone and forgotten. Killed by his dad's pet project, Howard's real favorite son, the man that Tony could never be. The man that had just embedded his father's shield inside Tony's chest.
Tears started to flow from his eyes, leaving ice cold trails in their wake which only served to make the cold harsher. Tony had always thought he'd die alone, he thought that when he'd been dying of palladium poisoning and he thought it again for years before then when he had a plan for his end written out in his head. The difference there was that he thought he'd be able to see Rhodey or Pepper before he died, granted he would make them hate him on purpose before he went (that was part of the deal) but he would at least be seeing them. Tony also thought he'd have JARVIS or FRIDAY to talk to right before he went, even if they weren't real.
None of his plans or self-destructive urges had ever had him dying alone with the last people he'd seen or talked to being a walking talking reminder of how little he meant to his father and the assassin that killed his parents. It was in the moment that Tony was struck by another realization - he didn't care about dying so much, it's just in this moment more than anything he didn't want to be alone.
In the howling silence of the frozen Hydra base the inventor's tears gave way to prayers. Don't let me die alone, please don't let me die here alone. If there's a god out there that's listening please don't let me die alone.
"Please..." Tony croaked, the cold air clawing its way down his throat, "Please..."
Footsteps sounded softly on icy concrete, drawing closer until he could see a figure standing above him. It had to be a hallucination, that was the only explanation for anyone being here at all, let alone a dead Norse god wearing a green cloak and a gold horned crown. It was his mind playing tricks on him, but he found that he didn't care at all in that moment, because in a way it would be worse to see someone who he cared about, or someone that he thought would bother to save him.
"Anthony Stark." The illusionary Loki's voice sounded soft, almost kind, "What happened to you?"
"Don't leave." Tony rasped, fresh tears rolling down his face, "You're not real, but don't leave."
"Who says I'm not real?" The vision knelt next to him and tilted its head.
"You're dead." Tony answered, every word filling him with a new sense of terror as he could feel the shield embedded in his chest, "You're my neurons misfiring."
"You're dying." It ignored him and reached out to touch the shield before pulling back and turning to look at Tony again, "Tell me what happened."
"Steve." The inventor gave a hollow laugh which broke off as the sting of metal bent and crumpled and stuck into his skin bit into him, "We got in a fight, he decided this was a good way to finish it."
"A fight? Between such great heroes?" Fake-Loki sounded somewhat disappointed.
"His friend killed my parents and they kept it from me, they both-" He winced, " They both kept it from me."
The hallucinated god looked at him for a long moment, "Why would you want me to stay?"
"I don't want to die alone." The sentence ripped itself from his throat, leaving it raw from the cold and from holding back sobs of pain and betrayal.
"I will not stay." Loki shook his head, "But I will not leave you here either."
"Wha-"
"Sleep." Commanded the god, and with it Tony fell into the void.
The reversed Magician is a master of illusion. The magic that he performs is one of deception and trickery. You may be lured in by the showmanship of his arts, but behind that there may be an intention to manipulate for selfish gain.
The god of stories left carrying a mortal man in his arms.