AN: Warning, chapter contains a lot of angst flavored by existential crisis. Loki comes to terms with himself and his situation, neither of which is easy. Sometimes people need to fall apart before they can start being put back together. Healing can't truly begin without severe self-reflection, and Mobius got that train running properly—so let's get our favorite trickster to his next stop, shall we?

05 Crashing Tide

What in the Nine Realms

Of all the unbelievable things Loki had faced in this unprecedented of days, this one put the rest to shame. Which, at this point, was beyond saying something. Between the utter confusion, bitter realizations, and unwelcome storm of emotions, he hadn't been sure which was more absurd .

Yet the fact that the TVA had a literal office drawer of Infinity Stones was just too much.

The Tesseract hung loose in his grip as complete bewilderment set in. What people had done for these—what he'd done. A harsh swallow passed his throat as he reached, hand trembling slightly above the most desired items in the universe. To think of the blood shed for these, the sacrifices made, the pain and suffering for their abilities—

Reduced to powerless glass baubles jangling about in the cart of some guy named Casey.

Of course he'd immediately tried to use the Stones; reached far and deep into them with no results. It was one thing to suppress magic, any novice with a talent for runes could handle that. Granted having the strength to cut off someone like Loki's powers was admittedly impressive. Yet to disarm the Infinity Stones entirely

What was this place?! A highly advanced facility that appeared to go on infinitely, yet filled with employees of varying intelligences. The fact this Casey didn't even know what fish were was evidence enough. And yet at the same time they somehow possessed knowledge of people's whole lives, superior technology that could disarm the strongest items in the universe, and still looked like something ripped out of 1960s America. It was a place wrought with contradictions and convictions the god could barely wrap his senses around.

"Is this the greatest power in the universe?!"

The absolute schemes that realization sparked in him were welcomed like an old friend. If there was no way out of this place, at least not that was currently accessible, maybe there was something more within it. There was always a ruler over a kingdom, and a way to manipulate such people to his devices. The familiarity of mischief was a relief; at least something today was becoming recognizable. The Tesseract pressed hard against his palm, grip firm and determined.

Those Time Keeper's. If I can just find where they are, I can figure out how this place works and bring it all to its knees .

A flash of wide eyes and a warm smile passed his thoughts, one edge of the cube nearly cutting his hand at the reflexive clutch.

Yet before he could truly process it, the elevator sounding behind them quickly interrupted. Loki sneered and hurriedly gripped the Twister control. This wretched Minuteman just had a penchant for bad timing, and he was already quite fed up with her. The feeling of that grotesquely colored tile colliding with his backside was preferable to dealing with her again.

Yet being alone with his thoughts for the second time today admittedly wasn't near as pleasant.

The universe was a vast, complex, and frankly ridiculous place. He'd spent far too much time traversing its depths than he'd prefer to recall. It truly felt as if he'd lived several lifetimes worth, memories swirling and blending in a kaleidoscopic dance. It only proved to deepen the sharp aches rolling within, the realities of this far too long a day creeping in from every corner of the room. Shadows desperately clutching at the horrendous jumpsuit, determined to claw their way up into his pained chest and choke out what little was left.

Was everything said…everything shown…could it really…be true?

Why couldn't something just make sense around here? Every second spent in this forsaken place unveiled nothing but further confusion and oddities. Having his own failures and follies tossed about like some clinical report wasn't at all welcome, either. Apparently adding insult to injury was a specialty in this place, especially when shoving the most powerful items in the universe within a glorified junk drawer.

Part of Loki just wanted to laugh; to let all of this roll out with the most humorless sound of irony the god was capable of. This was utter insanity, completely ridiculous, and if he were to close his eyes only to wake up back in New York seconds later, it truly wouldn't be the greatest of shocks. Yet the more he tried to leave this wretched facility, the greater the frustration within grew. His mind had desperately reached within the Tesseract countless times and was met with total silence. And he didn't know why

"What is it that you think that you're really running from?"

A roll of irritation quickly passed through, causing the god's shoulders to hunch. What was the purpose of that farcical interrogation? Besides causing far too many unwelcome emotions and tossing his life about like some kind of morbid picture book. Loki had been questioned countless times by many shady figures, yet this particular session outshined them all in the unorthodox category. Why had the strange agent focused so much on his inner workings, when he apparently already knew the answers? It was beyond odd.

And Loki did not currently have the energy to revisit whatever that was with the redheaded assistant. Not that it was anything, really.

The fact his palm kept burning was irrelevant

His hand clenched into a fist with a shaking head, gaze shifting across the silent theater. In retrospect it wasn't the worst interrogation he'd been through; at least none of his bones had been shattered. Yet the heavy feeling settling across his chest wasn't all that welcome, either. And the strange aches cutting through his whole being were certainly new. Loki idly wondered if there was something messing with his biology along with the magic repression, hand rubbing absently above his heart. If they could bind a god's strengths here, it wouldn't be too surprising, really.

Though having the static image of Frigga strewn out on the floors of her chambers definitely wasn't helping.

He'd managed to avoid looking at it for a while; the hologram barely caught the edge of his vision, causing him to flinch away. Yet in the end he couldn't help it, tortured blues casting over the wretched image and finding themselves trapped by grief once more.

Death was an unapologetic reality, one the prince was more than aware of. It came for them all in the end. Asgardians were no different in that aspect; their lives could span thousands of years, yet inevitably time always won the final battle. That's how it was meant to be. That's what should have been for her .

Frigga, the Allmother, should have been dressed with silver locks and endless wrinkles granted by the humor of life. Not laying there on the unforgiving marbles with gold shining in her hair. The hands that had held him so many times were the same; smooth, gentle, and far too still. Not wrinkled and weathered with the eons of life she was meant to live.

If this was reality, the truth of what must be, Loki wanted nothing more than to light the universe on fire and purify it into ashes. To bring the rebirth of what should have been, not the cruelty of what was. And the worst part was knowing Frigga would've chastised him for such thoughts, the pain of her loss somehow less striking than the disappointment he knew would rise.

"Oh, my dearest, that is the way of it. We are born, we live in this beautiful universe, and we pass into whatever adventure awaits us next. It's what you do with the days between that truly matters. So take heed, my heart, that the time you spend in this gift of life is something worth looking back on."

Loki wasn't sure when he'd sat at the table, the hard chair offering a much-needed anchor. The room around him was swimming, blurring, melting away into the turmoil brewing within. It was a reality he never truly wished to consider; a life without the mother who meant so much. Who had lived so very long, and was meant to outlast him, in the end. Jotunheim granted many years to its children, but in the end, Asgard provided the true blessings of time. And whatever glamor the prince was infused with didn't erase who he truly was beneath it all.

The TVA, for all its faults, certainly hadn't been the first in line to try manipulating him. Nor was it anywhere near as painful. After all, what else was family for?

" I asked Odin to be honest with you from the beginning. There should be no secrets in the family."

There was no point in restraining his tears, the pain flowing hotly down his strained features. The realities of his origin had been difficult enough; realizing you were a monster to be detested and reviled tended to weigh heavily on a heart, no matter its strength. Knowing you only existed to become a bargaining chip was an even harsher blow. Yet coming to terms with the fact that Frigga had known was beyond difficult. The one person he'd fully trusted, and she'd lied for centuries

"He kept the truth from you so that you would never feel different. You are our son, Loki. And we're your family. You must know that."

When had he started to shake? Then again, what did it matter? Here, at the end of all things, the truth of it was making an unwelcome resurgence. Everything he'd thought was left behind had trotted itself back into full view. Everything within him just wanted it to stop, but even one plank removed from the foundation of a dam has severe consequences. His eyes cast downward a moment, breath hitching as he searched below—

The memory of his skin bleeding into that horrid aqua tone made his fists clench, eyes shutting tightly as a strangled noise leapt up his throat.

" Am I not your mother?"

Loki had been so angry with her. It had been easy to cast just as much blame on Frigga as Odin; the pain of such a betrayal made it far simpler to point fingers. The one person in the universe he fully trusted, and she'd lied to him from the second his small form was laid in her arms. He'd allowed the rage to take over, made it far less painful to shove her away, to pretend that she hadn't truly cared at all. Yet his mother was not anywhere near like his father, and deep down he knew the truth. That he'd always been hers, and no matter the highs and lows, always would be.

"You're not."

How could he have said such a thing? What lesser version of him could ever look that woman in the face and utter such blasphemes? No matter his fury, denying the place Frigga had in his heart was unspeakable. And knowing that was the last exchange between them before her passing made it all the worse. He clutched at his chest, a broken sob wracking from him as it truly settled in.

"That's the proper flow of time! And it happens again, and again, and again, because it's supposed to. Because it has to."

Was that the truth of it all, then? Was their family always meant to suffer? To keep missing one another, ears clapped shut and mouths shouting meaningless drivel? Were they always meant to end up so broken and beyond repair? Was that what the TVA thought their lives had to be, in order for their purposes to be fulfilled? Did they have any chance at all?

There was a time when their family had been golden. It'd never been perfect, of course not—but it'd come close. Memories of a shining youth that he'd always kept, polishing them like the treasures they'd always be. Centuries of love, laughter, care; strong bonds he thought unbreakable. Yes, they didn't always understand one another; yes, there were conflicts between them. But they had been a family, a real one, until…until they weren't.

Until you decided they weren't enough .

His breaths came sharp and uneven, hands gripping the solid table like a vice. The tidal waves washing over him had taken forever to hold at bay. And now they ran fast and hard against his soul, wearing at the shores of his heart in a relentless tirade.

"Oh my dearest son, I know you didn't mean it. You have a beautiful soul, and it shines so brightly from you. It's why your magic is growing so quickly with every passing day. And your heart is so very strong, more than you yet know. Take care of it, Loki. Please. It's so very precious."

The tears trailing from the table onto the floor went unnoticed, splashing silently against the tiles below.

I'm sorry, mother. I'm so, so sorry. May Valhalla never greet me if it isn't with your forgiveness. I'd deserve nothing less for what I've done.

In the back of his mind, the small part of him tucked far away, Loki realized just how his mother must have felt that day. When he confronted her with the truth, she'd looked stricken, yet refused to curl beneath his fury. Everything he threw at her was caught in a gentle embrace, that deep understanding and unbearable kindness she always carried shining through. It'd never mattered to Frigga whence her son came, only that he was hers. And in the end, he truly wished for just one more moment, one stolen second to tell her he knew. That he understood. That he loved her, forever and always, no matter what these fates put them through.

I didn't deserve your kindness. But I'll treasure it always.

Tears struck his palm in a hot trail, flashes of brown and green passing his mind before he could shake them away. The storm inside him raged on, threatening to drag the god completely under. He couldn't take this anymore; difficult as it was, there would be a proper amount of time to mourn his mother later. A part of him knew they'd eventually find him back in here, and his mind needed to be clear. Now.

Yet the holoprojector sat so near, barely inches from his fingertips. And the welcome tide of curiosity rising over the drowning grief was more than preferable.

Loki stared at the machine a moment, pushing himself upward in attempts at collection. The agent claimed that his entire life sat in this contraption; the idea of over a thousand years being condensed to something so mundane was absurd enough. Yet if that were so, if these odd snippets of what was and what would be were true

If mother is gone…then what became of—

His hand was on the dial before he realized it, a desperation shaking through the harsh motion. Of all the subjects he'd studied, one bearing the highest of cautions was that of future sight. It was one of the few magical gifts the prince never could grasp. Yet the warnings had been clear; to be burdened with such knowledge carried the heaviest of weights. Particularly for the one who's story was being told.

Yet being here, in this wretched place, put everything he'd ever known into such unbearable juxtaposition that it didn't matter . What was one more shock when the lightening strikes refused to end?

The comparison proved to draw a flinch out of him, especially given where the tape went next. It appeared to be on a set path; perhaps if the agent hadn't been interrupted, the scenes to follow would've been cautiously shown. But given there was nothing restraining Loki at the moment the truths that followed rolled over him like an avalanche, dragging him back to that place he'd long pushed away.

"I love you, my sons."

The voice sliced through his heart long before the images registered. Oh, how he'd memorized that tone; spent centuries at its beck and call, clinging to it's hand so tightly it hurt. The sheer and utter weight any word from that voice had on him was shockingly great. All Loki had ever wanted was his father to see him, just as he was, and prove he truly cared for his monstrous child.

The visage of Odin caused a horrendous crash of mixed emotions in him. They'd never had a chance to reconcile, and Loki honestly never expected it. The Allfather had made his opinions quite clear. And he wasn't a man that changed such things all too often. Impossible to please, overtly demanding of everyone, expecting perfection and nothing less—

Odin had caused Loki his greatest of heartaches. He shouldn't care what came out of this man's mouth. No true father would do what he did. The prince had clung to that thought, the utter rage and severe pain, for so long—to recall his true form before the man who dared claim him as son, looking at him like that

The Allfather's love, forgiveness, and approval should never matter to him again .

So why did a wretched sob of relief break up Loki's throat to hear it?

" Remember this place. Home."

I can't, father. I don't deserve to. Not anymore.

His mind raced for the briefest moment; with both the king and queen gone, what became of Asgard? The tape was rather silent on that, but given his aversion for ever actually returning there, he supposed it made sense. If he hadn't planned to see that palace again unless he ruled it, why would his lesser self? Still, it was odd

Though all thoughts swept away when Thor came into view.

There had been a time when the brothers were near inseparable. Despite their differences the two had always been there for the other; at least, the best either could be at such a task. Their personalities clashed from the start, yet it never prevented their bond from forming, sure and true. They protected and guided one another for countless centuries, two sides of a royal coin, growing and changing day by day. If not for the wretched competition born in them due to the throne, Loki preferred to think they'd had gotten on fine for all their days.

"Loki, I thought the world of you. I thought we were gonna fight side by side forever."

How did he look so different? It appeared as if Thor had aged centuries in such a short time. Perhaps the loss of their parents was to blame, though the prince had a suspicion there was far more to it. Loki found himself desperately memorizing that familiar face, struggling to hold back another cascade of tears in the process.

There had been so much conflict between them, now left on the floor of a timeline he'd been torn from. The Thor he'd known was far younger and unforgiving than this one; the trickster doubted that phrase would fall from him. To see this version of his elder brother smiling so fondly, looking at him with such care

" Maybe you're not so bad after all, brother."

The taste of salt dripping on his lips was outshined by the chuckles rising in him, an odd swirl of fondness and grief taking over. It figured that Thor would somehow lose an eye; how could he not end up imitating their father someday? Part of Loki wanted to shout quips at the blonde oaf so badly, despite knowing he couldn't hear. Just having the familiarity of it provided a momentary relief, and he clung tightly to it with both hands.

I miss you, brother, not that you'd believe it. I wish I could speak with you now. The stories we could tell each other—

" If you were here, I might even give you a hug."

For once, Loki knew he wouldn't reject such an offer. No dagger required.

The sharp pains creeping through his chest were proving to win a harsh battle. The humor he'd clung to was slowly receding, dragged back by the shadows and locked tight. Reality was always the cruelest of things, and the fact of it all rose harsh and quick, striking him to the very core.

That isn't me .

A thickness spread rapidly up his throat, breaths catching in realization. If these visions were true, if this all was to happen—then technically, it already had. How else would these images play before him, had they not already occurred? Yet if that were the case, then it meant—

"The TVA doesn't just know your whole past, we know your whole life, how it's all meant to be. Think of it as comforting."

Comforting ?! Of all the descriptions that fit this scenario, that one was nowhere near appropriate. Especially given the ultimate truth of it all. If these memories had already happened, that meant the TVA did something to force their hand. That his removal from the desert had no affect on. In some way, some how, the Loki on that screen and the one watching it were—

Variants.

It hit the prince hard and sure, moisture building in his eyes yet again. That word had meant very little until this moment. By whatever technological means these people had, it not only removed him entirely from the equation of his own life, yet somehow placed that personage back into motion. The Loki smiling with his brother wasn't the one viewing it happen. Nor would he ever be. They were—

Two different Loki's. And…and I'm—

The last thing he needed today was an existential crisis, yet here it was, bearing down at him relentlessly. The sharp breaths rattling his worn chest went unbidden, eyes growing wider with horrid realization.

I'm…not him. He's…not me. But… we are—?!

"Undying?"

Whatever odd mix of jealousy and horror that'd sparked in Loki was immediately dashed. Of all the voices invading him today, this was the most unwelcome. The utter tremors that passed through him were torture enough. Yet seeing the owner of that tone was more than sufficient to cause absolute terror, Loki's body rising unwillingly towards the screen.

There were many recent occurrences in his life that the god preferred to forget. The moment he fell from the rainbow bridge and into the unfeeling arms of the cosmos, everything changed. His whole world had collapsed and it only proved to grow worse. The things Loki did to survive alone were memories he never wanted to recount. Locked in the depths of his soul to rot, like the rest of him, and never to be spoken of again.

"Your ambition is little. And born of childish need. You think you know pain? Thanos will make you long for something sweet as pain."

He had been so lost. And, unfortunately, that was exactly the kind of person the Mad Titan preferred to find.

" You should choose your words more carefully."

Of all the desperate moments this day brought, something about this one was proving to utterly capture him. Loki relied severely on gut instinct; the only reason he was still alive was due to it. And this vision, whatever it may be, was giving him the worst of feelings. Acid rolled through his middle as the Titan's smirk came into view—

Yet all breath left him at the sight of every Infinity Stone in the possession of Thanos, the one who should never have them.

How was this permitted by the TVA?! They had to know who that purple beast was; the horrors he was capable of, the ultimate agony he wished to inflict. The shaking of Loki's hands and the phantom pains lashing his body were proof enough, let alone everything else done at that madman's command. Just what was this—

Oh. Oh, no

Loki had wondered here and there what would be his eventual downfall. All things come to an end, and he was no exception. Granted he'd pictured whatever fate had in store would be grand and vast. Perhaps he'd fall in battle, or be taken out by a clever assassin, or something noteworthy. If nothing else he'd leave behind a grand legacy, a glorious purpose to last for all the ages, proving once and for all his worth.

Yet seeing Thanos' grip soundly about his other's neck, Loki knew such things were never to pass.

It was by far the most disturbing thing he'd yet laid eyes on, and when looking back on this moment, it would remain something he regretted viewing. Knowledge could be so very cruel. And knowing the method by which you will eventually pass never, ever turned out well. Yet Loki couldn't, wouldn't pull away.

"You…will never be…a god."

A flash of satisfaction briefly passed through; if nothing else, that quip would always be true. Those who sought such things without rightful claim would never truly grasp it, not even the Mad Titan. Yet the victory was beyond short lived, replaced with a sound that would haunt Loki far longer than he'd ever admit.

The sickening crack rang out across the theater, his stomach rolling in absolute protest. His whole being turned from the display, hand clenched tightly against his mouth. The turmoil in him threatened to shoot up and out his throat, managing to press it down with every last drop of sheer will he had. The rapid breaths were forced into an even rhythm, palms coming to rest against his knees. One final glance proved the most difficult of all, causing what was left of his heart to completely break.

Thor, his dear brother, laid atop Loki's still body, sobbing desperately as the world around them dissolved into nothing, the last remaining member of the Asgardian royal family left behind.

Oh, brother, no— NO

but that's not your brother. That's not you.

…not anymore .

— END OF FILE —

That rush of ironic laughter finally broke from him. If everything before hadn't been more than enough, this certainly topped it all off. To see the truth of it painted harshly across the reality of the universe, the joke that was his whole life ending on such an absurdly mundane set of words. The broken sound poured from him, staining the walls and desperately trying to escape.

That's it. That's all. And you deserve it.

"What's so funny?"

Loki hadn't registered the Minuteman's inevitable presence; why would he? What did it matter? The universe hadn't just collapsed around him, it utterly imploded, dragging the fallen god into its relentless depths. The raging hurricane within sought to eradicate whatever dared remain, twisting harsh through his chest and aching up his throat.

"Glorious purpose."

It spat like acid, wishing to burn and dissolve anything in its path. Why shouldn't it? Those two forsaken words could at least be good for something. And in this moment of great despair Loki allowed it to flow, all the pain and grief of this urging him into an enraged flurry.

He needed to break something . Might as well be this obnoxious grunt.

The release of combat was admittedly welcome; a very small part of him could see why Thor partook of such means. Yet here and now it was providing very little relief. The soldier was surprisingly strong, and whatever remained of his rationale did wonder at it. Yet outwitting her was painfully easy in the end, and forcing a dose of her own medicine even more so.

A flash of small, trembling shoulders across his mind bid Loki to hit the Twister button perhaps too much. Yet he certainly couldn't find it in himself to care, reveling as the irritating woman was whisked far away.

The overwhelming silence rolled with an unrelenting takeover. If this room had felt small before, it was nothing compared to now. Loki found himself falling against the wall, propped up on the harsh steps, cutting against his jumpsuit clad skin without apology. Yet he barely felt it, hands clenched so tightly about the useless blue cube they ached.

"I want you to be honest about why you do what you do."

A thick swallow rose in him, storming gaze locked on the Tesseract's never ending swirls. This was too much . This nightmare of a place was causing him far more torture and pain than he thought possible. Dragging up thoughts and feelings the god had struggled to contain, to hold back, to shove as far away as possible—

Because he'd had to.

Mobius' questions were so simple, yet so difficult to address. Things the prince had never truly faced because he couldn't. All the choices he'd made and the consequences of them rendered such things unbearable. Because if he had to sit here, and honestly look at everything now

The illusions he'd carried would surely break, exposing the hard truths beneath for all to see.

"All I seek is a deeper understanding of the God of Mischief."

A bitter laugh fell as his mind raced, one hand rising to clasp tight against wild curls. How could Loki answer what he didn't even know? Especially now, knowing what was and would be , how?! That inquiry had been the worst of them all. The one thing he couldn't take focusing on, now shoved under a giant spotlight he couldn't escape. Not anymore.

Loki had known the answer once. Long ago, when the world's made sense and his life shined with such beautiful peace. He'd been the revered God of Mischief, bringing joy and ire alike both at home and among humanity. A trusted brother who could be relied on and confided in. A beloved son who was a gem in the crown of a great empire, a shining city that stood as envy of the cosmos. He'd been…he was so happy then. The feeling was so foreign now he could barely grasp it, but wanted to clutch it very desperately and never let go again.

Where did that Loki go?

The greatest destroyer of all was pride; he knew that now, here, when it was far too late to matter. The utter pain he'd felt upon the truths kept hidden from him had been overwhelming. The stings of betrayal from those he'd loved most set him on the darkest path he'd ever dared tread. And the farther he went the worse it got, absorbing him into this wretched black hole of a life he couldn't escape.

And for what ?!

Loki had thrown everything away—his family, his future, his glorious purpose. All in the pursuit of being something more. He'd cast off whoever existed before and shifted into someone else, desperate and determined to climb whatever ladder he thought barred his path. And any thoughts of those he left behind, or any who perished in the process, were swiftly pushed aside. His hands were bloodstained and wretched, all in pursuit of a throne never meant for him, to proverbially stab his family in such a fatal way.

And in the end, it was all for naught .

Loki glared at the holoprojector, daring those wretched words to finally fade. Everything he'd done, everything he'd become, had been utterly pointless. Because now he knew. He knew . And perhaps the agent intended to explain; a method to the greyed man's madness, easing him into the harshest of realities. Yet it was too late for such niceties, the truth of it all so heavy the god nearly sank into the floor.

Everything I did doesn't matter. Because…I'm not me anymore.

The Loki in these visions wasn't him . It was a cruel, terrible truth, but it didn't change the reality of it all. No, that lesser prince got the chance to reconcile with his father. Had the opportunity to repair the broken ties with his brother. Even dared to oppose the greatest threat in the known universe, even giving his life in the process—yet paving the way for what was left of his family to survive. He received the blessings, honors, and forgiveness they'd longed for—

And despite it all, the Loki trapped on the horrendous floor of this despicable place couldn't help the harsh burn of jealousy overwhelming him at the realization.

You're the lucky one. And now I'm all that's left of our mistakes.

Everything he'd had, everything he'd been, was gone . Whatever timeline he'd lived in had been altered, his life taken over by the Loki who obviously took it for granted. There was no place for him to return. His Asgard no longer existed; his family completely out of reach. Everything he'd done had been erased in moments, all the sacrifices and changes made rendered to complete and utter ash. However this place accomplished such atrocities, it didn't matter. It was already done .

The person he'd been this morning had been erased. For all intents and purposes that Loki was dead, and this whole process was some glorified, twisted eulogy.

The Prince of Nowhere. The God of Nothing. Every sacrifice he made, every piece of himself he let die in pursuit of a glorious purpose—the person he'd changed into out of grief, rage, and vengeance. It had all been for nothing . He'd given up everything just to have it eradicated. That person was gone .

And Loki had no idea who now remained in his place.

From the moment he touched that blasted frost casket, the god hadn't known himself. Now it was even more so. Just a man lost outside of time—with no family, no heritage, no powers, and no purpose. He was stripped down and naked, exposed to this unfamiliar world like a helpless newborn. And despite everything he'd gone through, here, in this moment, Loki had never felt such a depth of fear.

He was truly, completely, terrifyingly alone . And he had no idea what to do .

The Tesseract fell with a harsh clank, his hands rushing up to clasp against his dampening cheeks. The tremors running through him were a welcome sensation; anything to combat this severe ache blossoming from his soul. The sobs rolling from him echoed unforgivingly in the silent room, bouncing back so mockingly he could barely take it.

What did it matter, really? There was no one coming to wipe these tears away. No one left that would truly care. Why would they? He was just a wretched, villainous, broken man floating in an unfeeling universe that was determined to rip him apart, one failure at a time. That was, apparently, the only fate meant for him

"Mr. Laufeyson?"

His breath hitched as that burning sensation returned, racing up from his palm in a trail of fire. It pressed against his heart so softly, a comforting blanket amidst a violent blizzard, and Loki found it difficult to shove away. No, he didn't deserve this , even thinking of it—

" I'm so sorry for your loss. I'm so sorry."

Yet the ghost of that kind assistant remained, settling beside him in such gentle reprieve he nearly broke.

Who…who am I, now? Here, at the end of all things. Who…who do I—

That reassuring grip tightened, causing his fingers to curl inward, both hands now taken by visions of two kind souls. The wild auburn and gentle blonde beside him brought another wave of tears, caught in their imaginary hands.

"Loki, my dearest son, you only ever need be yourself. I pray one day, you'll fully understand that truth."

That's the problem, mother. That's always been the problem—

Who he'd been, who he was, who he could be—the weight of it all was just as suffocating to consider. He'd been so much yet so little; a king and an outcast, a comforter and a conqueror, an orphan and a son. Yet between it all was a raven-haired man, terrified of silence and isolation, so very desperate to prevent both that he'd done nothing but ensure their passing.

"A cruel elaborate trick, conjured by the weak, to inspire fear. A desperate attempt at control."

I'm nothing but an illusion, with an empty shell hiding beneath. I'm nothing

"It's alright. It'll be okay."

His whole arm lit aflame, that soft kindness echoing from so very far away, and he clung to that distant comfort so tightly it hurt.

"Do you enjoy hurting people?"

Loki's breaths were far from even, the labored sounds bouncing across the empty chamber. It was all too much . The reality crashing down on him was unrelenting, the shadows pressing in tight from every corner. Yet when faced with himself, when he was finally able to reach through the relentless tidal waves threatening to drag him under—

When those small and gentle hands held on so tightly, pulling him back to the surface in their phantom grips—

"No."

The truth of it shook from his throat, tears staining the floor below. No, he'd never enjoyed the person that he'd become. Loki had spiraled so far, so quickly, and had been so sure there was no way back. It hadn't mattered how he felt; it wouldn't change a thing. That's who he had to be, for so long.

Yet now that part of his life was done. It was over. Completely beyond his reach and erased. And in a very odd way, it was…

Relieving.

The thought caused him to freeze, everything within coming to a halt. Beyond the grief and pain, it was there. A small nudge against his heart, trying to weasel its way through. The fact that everything was gone hurt, so much more than he was able to describe. But—

It's over. It's all over now. I'm…I'm free. Free to…to be

Loki, Prince of Nowhere, God of Nothing, a man lost outside of time and space—who had no idea who he was, or where to go from here—who lost everything and was left with nothing

Yet it felt like the start of something new. The end of a very long journey, and a fresh road to be taken. But whatever pains may follow him, at least that trail could be whatever he determined. And no one, not even this formidable Time Variance Authority, was going to have a say in it. Not this time .

Yes, focusing on this rising drive was far preferable over the wretched turmoil threatening to overtake him. Swallowing it down, shoving it back into the boxes whence it came was too familiar a sensation. What did it matter, anyways? That life was gone now. There was a new purpose to find, new mischief to make, something else to move forward with besides these accursed pains. Stuffing them away in exchange for a new kind of determination was a definite relief. Of course it was.

No, this time, Loki was determined to take the right path. The story of his life wasn't over. Not yet . Not if he didn't allow it.

His hands clenched against the shadow of a much smaller one, the phantom heat of it a welcome presence as Loki made up his mind.

C'mon, then. Let's see who I can be.

AN: Apologies for how late this chapter is! I always aim for at least one chapter a week, though if my schedule allows it, I'd prefer two. Here's hoping!

And deep diving into Loki's psyche is always complex, especially given how much this Variant needs to process in such a short time. I hope Mobius would be proud of me!

I also consider this chapter my love letter to the whole Thor films franchise, and wanted to take some extra time with it. TVA Loki is so much fun to write, but I do miss Ragnarok Loki, he deserved better.

Thank you all for your support and consideration! I do hope you enjoyed! Happy reading!