The King in Green

~ Vain

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. All canon characters are the property of the Disney Company, Marvel Comics, and Marvel Studios.

Summary: Loki, God of Stories, the king of everything and nothing, sits alone on his throne, bound by his own free will and guarding eternity until the end of time. And he's okay with that. Mobius and Sylvie are safe. The TVA is safe. Thor is safe. It's worth it. It's his only source of comfort in the emptiness of his timeless realm.

But not everyone is okay with that.

The present haunts the God of Thunder with dark visions of timelines fractured and his brother bound in gold-green chains as universes turn to ash around him. The past haunts the Goddess of Mischief-opportunities lost, debts unpaid, words unspoken. The future haunts an aging Analyst out of work, out of place, and out of time. Time itself haunts the Witch and the Sorcerer, even as the reality of families found, sacrifice, and obligation bind them fast to their disparate purposes. And still the war comes.

The Ouroboros must be completed: everything that begins ends again. And from heroes, gods, villains, and Conquerors, King Slayers are born.

Relationships: Loki Laufeyson/Mobius M. Mobius, Loki Laufeyson/Sylvie Laufeydottir, Loki Laufeyson/Loki Laufeyson, Wanda Maximoff/Vision, Victor Timely/Rovanna Renslayer, Kang the Conqueror/Rovanna Renslayer, Loki Laufeyson/Miss Minutes (one-sided), Loki Laufeyson/Miss Minutes (one-sided)

Characters: Loki Laufeyson (variant L1130), Loki Laufeyson (Marvel 616), Sylvie Laufeydottir, Mobius M. Mobius, Verity Willis, Ouroboros, Victor Timely, Thor Odinson, Hunter B-15, Casey, Brad Wolfe | Hunter X-5, Hunter D-90, Ravonna Lexus Renslayer, He Who Remains, Dr. Stephen Strange, Wanda Maximoff, Judge Gamble, Brunnhilde | Valkyrie, Love | Gorr's Daughter.

Additional Tags: Time Shenanigans, Lovecraftian Shenanigans, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Not Beta Read, Angst, Horror, Family. Please check the trigger warnings posted in each chapter if you are sensitive to such things.

Chapter Summary: The King in Green gets noticed. The King of Jotunheim bakes brownies. Thor dreams.

Author's Note: This is also being posted on AO3, where it is currently up to chapter 9. I thought the diehards might enjoy it as well.

Chapter One: Ripple

Along the shore the cloud waves break,

"For there be divers sorts of death - some wherein the body remaineth;

and in some it vanisheth quite away with the spirit.

This commonly occurreth only in solitude (such is God's will)

and, none seeing the end,

we say the man is lost, or gone on a long journey - which indeed he hath;

but sometimes it hath happened in sight of many, as abundant testimony showeth."

― Ambrose Bierce, An Inhabitant of Carcosa

At the end of eternity, outside of time, a demigod destroyed that which was sacred, grasped time and space in his hands, ascended to his Throne, and became a God.

The reverberations of this would ripple through realities and redefine the face of the realms across the past, the present, and the future.

New York City (United States of America), Earth-616 (The Eighth Cosmos) - November 20XX AD

Verity Willis groaned as the banging on her front door woke her up from a sound sleep. The journalist rolled over in bed, aggravated as the bangs continued, and fumbled for her glasses for moment before roughly shoving them onto her face. She peered blearily at the alarm clock and groaned a second time. Three am. Of course it was. And there was really only one person who would be banging on her door at three am on a fucking Thursday.

With a resigned sigh, she sat up and rolled her neck before stretching her tattooed arms up to the ceiling, content to let the asshole cool their heels for as long as it took her to get ready. Five minutes later, her long purple hair was messily pinned back atop her head and she was shuffling through her apartment in a black bathrobe and fuzzy green slippers to start undoing the locks. The banging stopped as the chain was slid back. Next came the dead bolt. Finally the lock on the knob.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Verity opened the door. "And a fine good morning to you too, Loki."

The god/goddess (it was hard to tell at the moment) was standing in the hallway, looking particularly forlorn in the dim light cast by the yellow bulbs. Their hands were shoved into the pockets of a long, dark green overcoat with a furred collar. The coat was closed, but they appeared to be wearing their standard light armor and boots, and Verity was a little surprised to note that they'd once more restored the left horn on their crown. That could either be a good or a bad thing; Loki had some very strange tells. Their black hair was short again and their head was down, hiding their features. The posture did nothing to hide the air of guilt around them, though.

Verity had seen Loki in a lot of conditions. Male. Female. Beaten to a bloody pulp. Drunk off their ass. Set on literal fire. A guilty Loki was not exactly an unprecedented event, but a visibly guilty Loki never boded well. The mortal pursed her lips and took in the rather pathetic sight before her, knowing that she was one of the few beings in the multiverse that would ever be privileged to witness it. It was one of few benefits of being a human lie detector that not even gods could deceive. Loki had few intentional pretenses in front of her-there was just no point- and they always knew exactly who to come to to keep them honest.

And, if there was one thing Loki Laufeyson needed in their immortal life, it was honesty.

Fortunately, Loki was aware of that fact as well. "I . . . um . . . Kinda think I might have made a small-" Some fidgeting. Still zero eye contact. "-very small, mind you-tiny mistake. A . . . miscalculation."

Huh.

That was probably bad.

Loki's mistakes sometimes had the nasty side effect of ending worlds and civilizations. Or of ending themself, and no, she still had not recovered from learning about the Ikol bullshit, thank you very much. It didn't matter that it was a literal whole other lifetime ago for both of them. The Liesmith had wormed their way into her affection as surely as she's barreled her way into their confidence and there was no un-ringing that bell. She and Loki may have been friends, but they both knew that Loki was an equal opportunity asshole-a double-edged sword. Their machinations and games were just as likely to hurt friend as they were to hurt foe. Verity, however, knew a greater truth. She always knew the truth. And she knew, even when Loki could barely admit it, that Loki's tricks were always the most cruel to Loki themself.

She'd seen Loki face the end of reality with banter and hard-edged determination to reinvent themself and reinvent themself they did. Loki had fought hard to take off the liar's crown, but Loki was still Loki. There was still a weird sociopathy inherent to all the deities she'd met when you stripped them down to the core. They weren't human, no matter how they looked. They didn't think like humans did and what they viewed as a 'mistake' was often very different than what a mortal would. Loki wouldn't be at her door if they'd destroyed a planet (other than maybe Earth, Asgard, or Jotunheim) or started a war or two. Loki had other friends for that (if they hadn't pissed them off recently). No, Loki didn't seek her advice for the mistakes made by a god or a king. Loki had done something they felt guilty about. Something that was personal to them.

Something that had hurt them.

So she opened the door and stepped aside to allow the Trickster into her home. Loki's head rose as she moved and Verity clocked a narrower jaw line, slightly larger eyes, fuller lips, and a more pointed chin than her male form carried, confirming that the goddess was currently female. A smile quirked the immortal's darkly painted lips and she entered a bit sheepishly, as though suddenly remembering that Verity was mortal, and mortals need sleep.

"Sorry," the storyteller acknowledged, a bit chagrined by the withering stare that was being leveled her way as she entered the apartment. "I just . . . I needed to talk to someone."

"Uh-huh." Verity closed and locked the door behind her guest. "Shouldn't you be on Jotunheim? You know . . . being King or something?"

Loki rolled her eyes as she shucked off her coat to reveal that she was in fact wearing her amour. "Norns, you sound like Thor now."

Verity scoffed. She was not a fan of Thor in the slightest, but she was also not an idiot. "That doesn't mean he's wrong. Besides, you were the one who told me that the realm was a hellhole of warmongers that was constantly on the verge of anarchy since you so spectacularly killed Laufey."

The King of Joutenheim frowned slightly as she draped the coat on the couch and then flopped back heavily on the seat. Verity winced at the careless motion, wondering for a moment if the cheap pleather would hold up against 500 pounds of boneless frost giant, however dainty the package. Loki was oblivious to her reservations though. Unexpected defensiveness had arisen in her at the other woman's words, no matter how true they were. And they were true. The magic that enabled Verity to see through any lie also made it impossible for the mortal to tell a lie.

"It's not a hellhole." Okay, it kind of was, but that was beside the point. It might be a shitty, boring realm, but it was her shitty, boring realm for as long as she wanted it. "And I didn't wake you up just for a girl's night in."

The journalist narrowed her eyes at the goddess for a moment, lips pursed. Loki may not be able to lie to her, but it was also very hard to get the goddess to get to the point when she was feeling evasive. Thor could usually goad her there through sheer violence or intimidation, but that wasn't an option for a relatively ordinary human. That meant that there was nothing to do except roll with the mercurial Liesmith's moods. She nodded, coming to a decision.

"Fair enough. So get your royal ass off my couch and let's go to the kitchen for some coffee. If I'm not going back to bed tonight, then you're making me brownies."

The Trickster perked up at demand and smiled broadly, earning an eye roll from her friend. Cooking was something Loki both liked and was surprisingly good at. It would do well to settle the immortal down long enough to get to the point and at least she'd get some good food out of whatever disaster was coming this time. There were some perks to being a god's best friend, after all.

New Asgard, Earth-199999 [Sacred Timeline] - September 2026 AD

"Hello, Your Majesty! Have you finally come for tea?" Love Gordottir-turned-Thordottir was a bright child with diverse interests. These interests included both battles and tea parties. Uncle Thor wasn't very interested in tea parties, but that was okay. Now that she had come to New Asgard, she had other playmates, like the King.

"Love?" Thor looked curiously into her room, taking in the small girl, her furniture, weapons, toys, and the small table that she seemed to be clearing for some reason. "Who are you talking to?"

The child smiled broadly, eyes bright in a way that had nothing to do with her propensity to shoot lasers out of them. She gestured to the empty air to her right and then to the now empty table. "My friend, the King! He came to see you, but I told him that he has to come for tea first. Otherwise, he'd be being rude."

The Thunder God looked amused as he observed the otherwise empty room. "Well, we can't have rudeness, now can we?"

She giggled and began to set the table, pulling out a small wooden chest with a poorly packed cracked tea set from under her bed.

Thor froze at the sight of the familiar green and gold Asgardian dish ware and the painfully familiar chest, his stomach dropping hard. "Love . . ."

"There are only two cups, Uncle Thor, so you will have to share with the King," she ordered as she carefully removed the finely crafted sugar and milk dishes and set them near the center of the small table. "And I only have two chairs," she continued sternly, "so you will have to share that as well. You're much bigger than he is though." She paused thoughtfully for a moment and then brightened. "Maybe he can sit on your knee!" She removed the slightly cracked teapot and turned to the empty air again. "Do you mind, your Majesty? Uncle Thor is quite sturdy and he won't let you fall."

"Where did you get that tea set, Love?" Thor asked softly.

The resurrected demigoddess looked back up to her adoptive father, her jaw set in an all too familiar expression of stubbornness mixed with just a sliver of guilt. "In the Green Room. The King said that we could use it today since it was a special day."

Thor reached down and gently removed the cracked teapot from the child's hands, an unusually sad expression on his face. "That set . . . My mother and my brother used to use it in the garden. It was his favorite; she had it made just for him. I don't even know when he had time to grab it. Or maybe he'd just been keeping it in a pocket dimension for whatever reason. He was ever the sentimental one, even if he denied it to the bitter end." He pursed his lips and turned the pot over slowly in his hands, eyes far away.

Love turned and looked towards the King. Sometimes Uncle Thor got really sad and quiet. It usually happened when he was in the Green Room, and now she was wondering if it had really been alright to take the tea set, no matter what the King said. She hated it when Uncle Thor got sad.

Small mouth pressed into a slight moue of sadness, Love gently pressed her hand to Thor's large forearm. "I'm sorry, Uncle Thor. We don't have to use it. I'll put it back."

Thor gave a hard sniff and shook his head slightly to banish his memories. His blue eyes were suspiciously bright when he turned back to his daughter and handed over the teapot again with a slightly watery smile. "No, it's fine. In fact, I think your grandmother would prefer it this way. And if your Uncle Loki doesn't like it . . . Well, he'll just have to come complain about it himself, won't he?" He chuckled slightly at his own joke before turning a sharp look onto his daughter, expression suddenly serious. "But you and I both know that the Green Room is locked with seidr."

Love carefully hugged the teapot to her chest and looked away guiltily.

Thor gave a soft huff at the evasion. "I'll overlook it this time, but please don't go in there again. When you're older, I'll show you some of your Uncle Loki's things. But for now, there are dangerous weapons and seidr in there. Loki knew ways to attack more than a person's body. I know you're strong, and you are a brave warrior, but there are still things that can hurt your mind and your heart, even if they don't hurt your body. One day, you'll be ready to learn more about those things, but not yet." A large hand gently rested on the top of her head, encouraging the child to look up at him. Big blue-purple eyes rose slowly to meet his gaze. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Uncle Thor."

He smiled-a real one this time. "Then keep the tea set. And treat it with care. If nothing else, Loki would have thought it a fitting reward for your cleverness in break past my locks."

Love beamed. "That's what the King said!"

"A tricky King indeed," the Thunderer chuckled. "Be careful of that one."

The pot was set very carefully in the exact center of the table. "Will you join us then?" she asked brightly.

Thor looked down at the child fondly, marveling that this little girl had been through so much, had stood beside him in battle, had known suffering unimaginable, and still had the innocence to hold teaparties with imaginary friends. The god shook his head. "Nay, little one. You and the King keep your tea set and your confidences. I am going to go make dinner. Do you want anything in particular?"

The child shrugged and then turned to carefully remove the two green teacups from the box with disproportionate care.

Thor grinned broadly at her innocent antics. "Very well." He turned towards the door to leave. "When you are done-"

And then the world trembled.

Thor swayed on his feet for a moment as something seemed to sweep through him-a wave, an awareness, a shifting of something rolled through him and knocked the breath from his lungs. Thor had only felt something like that four times before in his life: twice as a child-when he had been granted his Portfolio as the God of Thunder and again when Odin bestowed the Portfolio of Mischief on Loki-and twice as an adult when his Portfolio was stripped from him and granted again during his involuntary exile to Midgard. The former prince dropped heavily to his knees with a gasp, feeling like lightening was darting through his limbs, and instinctively reached out for his seidr. It rushed to him instantly, marvelously familiar and eager to bend to his will. His godhead was whole and intact.

Thor panted for a moment, struggling to catch his breath. His powers were intact.

So what the Hel just happened?

"Uncle Thor?" Love was staring at him, bright eyes wide and frightened. Her voice sounded tiny. "Are you okay?"

"I . . ." A shaky hand pushed his long hair back from his face and he forced himself to swallow hard in a vain attempt to regain some of his composure. "Yes." He wiped his mouth, tugging on his beard slightly to ground himself. What the Hel . . . "I'm fine, Love. I just . . think I need to sit for a while. I believe I overexerted myself on the training grounds today, that's all."

She blinked at him a bit owlishly, unconvinced. "O-okay." She watched her father as he pushed himself to his feet with visible worry.

"Maybe we'll go somewhere for dinner." He offered her a strained smile. "We can visit our friends in New York. That might be nice."

"Okay, Uncle Thor." Her voice was still small and a bit uncertain as she watched the man turn and head out the room with a bit more urgency in his steps than when he'd come. Love stared after him for a moment, anxiously chewing on her lower lip, before a thought suddenly occurred to her.

With a surprisingly intimidating scowl on her tiny features, the child turned back to the King with visible disapproval. "That was a mean trick, Your Majesty," she scolded firmly.

Standing beside her, the King in the green robes laughed silently, the long horns of his crown shaking slightly with the motion.

Love wrinkled her nose. "Did you only come today to see when when he felt the changes?"

Still chortling in silence, the King nodded, looking quite pleased with himself.

Love shook her head. Grown ups were so weird. "Well, sit down then," she ordered firmly. "Your tea will get cold."

The King bowed elaborately like a storybook prince and took the empty seat across from her, knees drawn up to his chest as he seemed to float just above the child-sized chair. There was silence as she poured empty air into their teacups. The King gave her a sneaky wink and sweet Rapuan cocoa milk suddenly appeared in her cup. Love gave a delighted squeal.

She'd only had it once with her father when she'd been very, very young. It had been such a rare treat and she still remembered it to this day. Earth's chocolate came close, but it wasn't the same. The air in the room brightened visibly with her happiness and she beamed at the King and took a large drink. The King smiled gently and gestured toward the teapot, a soft expression in his blue-green eyes. Love lifted the now surprisingly heavy teapot and carefully poured herself more cocoa. The King made an odd gesture with his hand and a teacup appeared between his fingers in the flash of green. It was identical to the empty green cup still sitting on the table before him. The King took a sip from the new cup, still smiling softly.

"Other people can't see you like I can, can they?" Love asked after a brief silence.

The King shook his head a bit sadly, still smiling, and took another sip of tea.

The child mulled this over for a moment and then tilted hear head slightly to the side in consideration. "Uncle Thor says that I'm special. That people who are special should try to protect nice people whenever they can."

The King nodded, horns dipping with the motion, as the child eyed him shrewdly.

"He told me that you forgot that once and hurt people because you were angry and hurt. He said sometime people can get so lost in hurting that they forget who they are. Like Father." She took another sip of her cocoa and stared closely at the God. "You're different than he told me, though. Did you remember yourself again in Valhalla?"

The King continued to smile, soft and sad, and gave her a small shrug.

She pouted and wished that she could hear his voice. Uncle Thor always talked about how clever he'd been. "Did it hurt?" she asked with all the insensitivity of a child.

The King's face did something odd then and he made an expression as though he were either falling or had been hit. Love blinked, surprised. She wasn't used to seeing the King look anything other than varying levels of amused.

She didn't like being mean, but this was important to know. The King wasn't like the Aesir or the mortals she'd met. He was different. He was bigger than the other grow-ups somehow and no one else seemed to know when he was there. She'd been seeing him ever since Uncle Thor had taken her in and had been very confused that no one had noticed him. He would show up without warning, usually near Uncle Thor, and watch for a few minutes before disappearing again. But sometimes he would . . . change things in a way she didn't understand, but seemed to make a lot of people just a little happier. Like the cocoa. Love didn't think that she could make him go away-not yet, at least-but she could tell the grown ups and the King didn't seem to want that. So when he appeared yesterday at the Market, she'd invited (demanded) him to tea.

And he had come. Now, though, he looked terribly sad and still hadn't answered.

"Did it hurt a lot?" she asked quietly, also feeling terribly sad all of a sudden.

The King seemed to smile, but it didn't look like any smile she'd seen before, and he reached out to lightly touch the back of her hand. His fingers phased through hers with a soft green flash, but she hardly noticed that. Instead, Love gave a little gasp as emotions too complex for a child to process briefly washed over her like mist from the ocean. Mostly she felt sadness, longing, love, and something that she would one day come to come recognize as a vicious kind of protectiveness. It reminded her of her father so much that she had to bite back a little sob.

The King withdrew quickly, looking apologetic, and gave her a small nod.

The child looked down into her cocoa, the ghost of tears still thick in her voice even though her eyes remained dry. "Do you help nice people now? Like when you come to New Asgard?" She gave a little sniff as she collected herself. "I've seen you sometimes when no one else does. You protect Uncle Thor sometimes. Do you help all the nice people like we do?"

The King's smile widened a bit, but didn't change. And then the softest whisper washed over her with the faint smell of apples and metal and leather. For all time. Always.

Love blinked back her tears and grinned at her uncle. "Good! Then you can keep visiting! Uncle Thor doesn't know it, but I think he's happier when you're here. He misses you," she added sternly, as though to chide him for his absence.

The King gave an elaborate, seated bow of submission before the stubborn little Queen-in-waiting, laughter once more sparkling in his eyes like falling stars despite the sadness she could now sense clinging to him. He looked back up and seemed to want to say something to her, but then he stiffened. His head turned slowly to the left towards the wall and his eyes went completely green and oddly fiery as he stared at something far beyond her. Love watched, fascinated. She'd seen him do this before when he still hadn't known she could see him. It was both weird and cool and she knew it meant that he would leave soon. Then he turned back to her with an apologetic quirk of his lips and set his teacup down in the same place that the empty cup still sat. He stood and gave her a small wave and then he was gone.

Love waved at the empty air with a happy smile. "Goodbye, Your Majesty! Thank you for the tea! Please come back again and keep making people happy!"

"Love?" It was Brunhilde calling for her. The woman appeared soon after, smiling softly as she laid eyes on the little girl. The King of Asgard entered the room and looked curiously at the tea set on the table. "Thor said you were up here playing . . .?" She took a closer look and noticed the cocoa in one of the cups. "Is that chocolate milk?"

Love gestured magnanimously to the small empty chair and poured her a cup of the thick dark liquid in the teapot. "It was for my friend!"

"The King that Thor told me about?" The warrior grinned, clearly humoring the girl. "Should I be worried about my throne?"

The young demigodess rolled her eyes and carefully set the teapot down. "He's not that kind of King."

"Then what kind is he?" The goddess took a sip of cocoa milk and her eyes widened. "This is amazing. Was it from the Market?"

Love nodded. The King was from the Market and the cocoa was from the King, so the cocoa was from the Market, too. "Are you coming to New York with us?"

"Not today, Love," Brunhilde drained her cup appreciatively. "But I did come to collect you. It will be time to go soon."

"Oh!" The girl stood and immediately began to dash around the room, looking for her boots. "I want to show Dr. Banner my new shoes!"

Brunhilde grinned and began to help the girl, imaginary Kings and chocolate milk forgotten in the shuffle of trying to manhandle a child out of the house. Later that night, however, when Thor carried his exhausted daughter back home and tucked her sleeping form into her bed, he would pause for a moment to carefully pack away a perfectly clean and empty tea set that had been in their family for almost a millennia.

Afterwards, when he finally retired to his own bed, the bizarre episode from earlier in the day nagged at him. That had been a god's power shifting. He was sure of it. But none of the Aesir had felt it and none of his friends in New York had understood his concerns. Indeed, it seemed that no one had noticed that anything occurred but him. It was perplexing and left him unsettled. That, and . . .

The tea set.

The god laid back on his pillows, sure sleep wouldn't come, and stared at the carved wood over his head. That blasted tea set. The tea set that had been locked in that chest, not by his seidr, but by Loki's. A tea set he hadn't even known was there because he'd never been able to open that damned chest. It was just one of the surprisingly large amount of things they're found amongst his brother's personal effects on the Statesman. It had hurt in some weird way to know that Loki had carried so many of the things dear to him hidden in pocket dimensions and folded space. As though he'd always been prepared to pack up and run, even before everything had gone so terribly wrong.

Thor tried to push memories of his brother away, but to no effect. He didn't want to dream tonight. His mind tended to make up strange, nonsensical dreams when he thought too long on Loki. Dreams of his brother in strange Midgardian garb, running through a wasteland with a woman by his side. Loki, holding the Tesseract and weeping. Loki, torn and twisted and falling through time. Loki fighting against oddly armored mortals, stripped of his powers. Loki in lessons with mortal scientists, almost frantically trying to either comprehend something or to make them comprehend something. Loki, a prisoner once more, watching with an expression of naked horror and pain as a man in a drab brown suit vanishes in blue light. Loki, staring in exhausted resignation out of a large window, a hollow desperation bleeding from the edges of him ("Again." "Again." "Again." "Again."). Loki, in a Migardian tavern, asking where he belonged.

He dreamed that Loki was alive and needed him.

But Loki was dead.

His room sat vacant and slowly filling with dust (just in case), but Loki was dead. Thor knew that. Loki was dead.

No resurrections this time.

At first he had tried to drink away the visions. Then he'd hoped that avenging Loki would make dreams stop. But they didn't. Not until he adopted Love.

But tonight . . . Tonight . . . Something felt different. That ripple of power . . .

Something felt different.

Thor didn't want to dream anymore.

When sleep finally claimed him, the God of Thunder dreamed of Loki for the first time in nearly two years. But his brother wasn't alive and fighting or running or searching.

No.

No.

No . . .

In his dreams, Loki was a giant-an impossibly massive figure seated on a Throne of bitter gold, eyes closed, and nearly swallowed alive by his own seidr. His crown was dark ore interspersed with more gold and the horns were too long. Too proud. Too straight. He wore no armor, but soft robes. He had no weapon, only endless ropes of power that bound him to that awful Throne, too terrible to look at for very long. But when Thor looked away, all he could see was endless seidr everywhere; it took his breath away. A massive clock-like design was embedded in the dark stone floor, nine hands moving in strange, non-euclidian shapes that made no sense but were edging towards some sort of countdown that filled the Thunderer with nameless dread. The ropes hummed and shimmered, and something in the beauty of them made him either want to weep or scream, and he suddenly realized that even though there was a feeling of movement around him somewhere, Loki himself was still.

Totally, completely still.

More still than a corpse or a statue or the silence after the final scream of a dead world.

Loki was stillness itself and trying to take in that stillness made his head ache.

The hands of clock spun wildly like the madness that howls between the stars and this wasn't right, this wasn't right, this WASN'T-Loki, WAKE UP-

And then Loki slowly exhaled.

The siedr pulsed.

The ropes sighed.

The hands whirled.

Universes sang-

Thor screamed himself awake just before dawn, a strange, raw horror crawling up his throat until he had to roll over and empty his stomach over the side of the bed. Chills and gasps shuddered through him as he heaved, eyes watering, even as the dream started to slide back into the recesses of his mind like some sort of monster sinking beneath the seas.

Loki, WAKE UP-

Off the coast of New Asgard, the skies darkened as a storm brewed on the horizon.

And somewhen far, far away, around the Throne, the thunder rolled.