This last chapter was getting way longer than I thought it would, so I finally decided to separate it into two chapters. There was really only one good place to do so, so chapter 2 is going to be a bit short (which actually fits the theme), and chapter 3 is going to be a bit long.
"Humans, if nothing else, have the good sense to die."
-Mark Zusak, The Book Thief
Stephen eventually comes to terms with everything. Or, he likes to think so. Not easily, of course, but when has anything been easy?
His problematic, impossible Hoard requires some mental adjustment. He must look to the whole first, prioritize the majority. He must do what he can to help the most people before he can even think to look to individuals. Sometimes that might even mean knowingly sacrificing a few to save many. Stephen tells himself that it's not too different from triage situations at the hospital, but it isn't comforting. He still can't think too long on the Chitauri Invasion, and not just because of the threat of annihilation.
The Time Stone is trickier, though less potentially traumatizing – disregarding how he trapped himself in a time loop where it could be considered both his savior and tormentor. He does his research into the Infinity Stones after Wong's comment, including further research into the history of the Time Stone. He isn't surprised to discover that it has developed a sort of awareness. Almost a consciousness, although not one he or any other person is equipped to understand. He's always known that objects of power with such age behind them tend to become more self-aware. On this world the relics are a prime example, his Cloak in particular.
Although, to the best of his knowledge, he's never before interacted with an object from the birth of the universe, in this life or the other.
Stephen gently pokes and prods at it, getting a better sense for how to communicate, and he thinks they come to an agreement. It doesn't seem to mind being used by him if it's not too frivolous, and may even occasionally assist instead of just passively allowing it. It will also warn Stephen if it no longer wishes to be used by him, rather than just erasing him from existence. He's particularly grateful for that concession.
He spends much of his free time studying or better familiarizing himself with his den. Just because he's found his Hoard, it doesn't mean that his hoarding tendencies disappear. Stephen has always craved knowledge, and now what he doesn't know could kill him. What he does know could kill him as well, but at least he'll see it coming. Probably.
At least he has an outlet for some of his more OCD tendencies now that he's Master of a Sanctum. He explores every room, catalogues every relic, and finds the time to clean and maintain each in a way the previous Master hadn't, considering the dust and condition of some of the relics. Wong sometimes watches him with a heavily judging stare; he complains occasionally of Stephen becoming a shut-in.
Stephen thinks Wong has absolutely no room to judge considering his occasionally violent defense of some of the mishandled books in his library. Although he will concede that Wong likely gets out more than him, considering he'd once been dragged along to a Beyoncé concert in what he was pretty sure was a misuse of magic, no matter the librarian's excuses.
He thinks about arguing that all of the relics in his Sanctum like him, if only for the care that he gives them. It adds an extra layer of security. As long as he doesn't use them – much – the Cloak of Levitation won't be jealous either.
In the end Stephen doesn't say anything. Wong has probably noticed, anyway, and he doesn't plan to change his habits.
His Cloak is an unlooked for boon. And not just because it's saved his life several times already. Sheer affection for it strikes him sometimes out of nowhere, and if it is around his neck he cannot resist stroking it and speaking a word his vocal chords were not created to say correctly. It's something of a hiss and something of a hoarse, rumbling growl, and it means freedom, open air, life, power, all at once. Sometimes he'll murmur the English translation.
"My wings."
It always comes when he says this, whether English or a dragon's speech, and if it's already on his shoulders it will squeeze him with equal affection.
Stephen finds a rhythm, a routine as he explores the mystic arts and the myriad dimensions that come with it. Said routine is disturbed by Loki's brief presence back on Earth, and shattered when Dr. Banner crashes through his roof.
When he'd learned about the Infinity Stones he had, of course, briefly considered how impressive a hoard that contained all six would be. But that had been idle musing. That sort of collection would be far more trouble than it's worth. The very thought of actually harnessing all of that power makes him recoil. His dragon side isn't much more eager; hoards aren't really meant to be used, after all. Just cared for. And what care has a dragon for changing the universe in any case?
The news that some sort of intergalactic warlord is attempting to collect all of them is horrifying. That he's been succeeding so far has his blood running cold, and it takes quite a bit of willpower not to completely snap and rage at Stark for his unhelpful comments. It wouldn't help anything, and he knows logically that such a reaction would be rather out of proportion. But something about the other man – his flippancy, maybe – grates on Stephen's last nerve. Even knowing that it's a mask to protect himself doesn't do much to help.
They've sworn to protect the Time Stone, damn it, and they've done so for centuries. Even if they had the ability to destroy it, who knows what would happen if they did? Stephen has given the Stones and their origin quite a bit of thought, and there's just too much they don't know. Too much that doesn't make sense. Like why they came to exist in the first place. These are forces that should never be interfered with, and objects came into being that specifically allow others to interfere with them? In his opinion, nothing created naturally is solely for destruction, and that's more or less all that their history, what little the Mystic Arts practitioners know, has allowed for. It's possible, of course, that they were created unnaturally, but by what and for what purpose?
Stephen's afraid that the Stones are the forces they control. Physical representations or avatars, however they can be described, he's more than a little terrified that if they ever managed to actually destroy, say, the Time Stone, then Time itself will be destroyed.
He'd like to be able to destroy at least some of the Stones, consequence-free, to prevent what collecting all of them would mean. It's also possible that that would free those forces from ever being controlled, at least on so large a scale. But that seems a bit of a pipe-dream, and he'd feel guilty if he did end up destroying the Time Stone. It's not really possible to be friends with it, but it would feel a bit like a betrayal of their accord regardless.
Shove it down the garbage disposal, honestly.
Everything happens so quickly after that. It's honestly a little embarrassing to need rescuing by Stark – and a kid – but he returns the favor when they crash land, anyway. What's more distressing is that the Time Stone needs to be his priority, that it's worth more than any of their lives, and he would have been far more comfortable if it was only his life immediately on the line.
Then the so-called Guardians of the Galaxy show up, and yes, they're morons, but he doesn't want them to die either.
Stephen can't take chances, not with Thanos and the Stones. So he looks for a future in which they win. He had no idea just how slim their chances were.
When he falls back to the present, panting and panicked, a firm touch and kind voice guide his sanity back to awareness. He meets a brown-eyed gaze that has become far too familiar in over 14 million permutations. "Hi," he breathes, but internally he's cursing his dragon soul. His eyes dart quickly over the group gathered near him, and for a time all he can think is, Fuck no, no, nonono!
Because Stephen looks at them, all of them, and he feels it down to his very bones: mine. And this is not the generic possessiveness of his Hoard that occasionally drives him to people-watch from the window of his Sanctum. This is more personal, more intense. He feels it especially strongly for Tony and Peter, possibly because unlike the other three, they had begun as part of his Hoard.
His attention snaps back to the real problem at Quill's question, and he decides to simply ignore these new feelings. They're just a side-effect of seeing all those future timelines. An artificial closeness. They will fade, he's sure, given enough time.
Knowing what has to come next is harder than he imagined, however, now that he's fighting himself tooth and nail as well as Thanos. This is the only way they can win, the only acceptable win, and his fucking stupid instincts are screaming at him to protect what is his and, particularly, not to let anyone in this group die or dissolve into ash.
With mind and instinct in alignment for the first time since Thanos' arrival, it's almost a relief to give up the Time Stone for Tony's life. Even if he ends up hating him for it.
"Tony," he says as he feels numbness creeping up his body, gaze locked on his… Gaze locked on the other man. Ironically, there's not enough time. He's never felt this lack so keenly in this short life as he does at this moment. Not nearly enough time for all he wishes to convey, all that he's not allowed to if he wants this one timeline to work. He says the only thing he can. "There was no other way."
Stephen doesn't know what happens while half of the universe is gone, not exactly. Perhaps it's because of interference from the Soul Stone, but he could only see bits and pieces of what happens after Thanos snaps his fingers. What he does know, with iron-clad certainty, is that Tony is the key to the one successful timeline.
He knows that Thanos will – must – get all six Stones.
He knows what he needs to do next.