Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When he first came there, to the strange place beyond the end of time, there had been a grand citadel perched on a crumbling chunk of stone. The structure was built of dark obsidian with veins of gold running through the material. Or something that resembled obsidian. He had learned not to take anything for granted. Back then, he’d vaguely wondered what caused the crumbling destruction to what might have once been an entire world, but quickly dismissed the concern to focus on the true purpose of his and Sylvie’s arrival.

But when he returned later, the building and even the remaining stone underfoot dissolving away as he approached, Loki developed his own theories based off of what was happening. Perhaps once there was an intact world. There could have been an entire city. But when the first multiversal war nearly destroyed everything, even that place outside of time was not immune to the effects. He Who Remains may have prevented oblivion with his ruthless approach, but scars lingered from the devastation that nearly ended everything.

And those scars extended beyond the lonely chunk of stone and the damaged throne that were all that still existed of the place when Loki made it back. Once the multiverse must have been self-sufficient. Unless some form of guardians lived there long before He Who Remains took power, the various timelines must have been able to support themselves. It was the only way that the various versions of the man could have rose up in the first place; the timelines needed to have formed in order for the Variants to occur in the first place. But now, perhaps because of that first multiversal war or because of the original Loom or maybe even because of how long they’d been aggressively pruning away at it, the timelines would wither and die without some outside force to stabilize them.

There had been other options, but they were far worse. The destruction of the TVA and everyone in it or the murder of Sylvie to preserve the life of the man responsible for such cruelty that still claimed to be the kindest option. But both outcomes were designed to result in only one timeline surviving. Condemning countless lives to being snuffed out. He Who Remains had been certain that Loki would eventually see things his way in time. That Loki would accept that no other possibility could work and would give him company in that lonely task of controlling everyone’s lives forever.

But Loki’s goals were not the same as He Who Remains’s goal. And Loki did not trust him.

He trusted Mobius, who told him about the burden of purpose was rarely glorious and making the impossibly hard decisions to carry it was better than living with the alternative. He trusted Sylvie, who told him that neither option solved the true problem and that sometimes it was all right to destroy something if it was replaced with something better. Neither of then would remember those final conversations, those outcomes vanishing as he made his decision and timeslipped to where he needed to be.

Neither joining nor replacing He Who Remains. Loki took the place of the Temporal Loom instead.

It had been the hardest thing that he’d ever done. Harder than spending centuries reliving the same handful of hours in order to learn everything possible from O.B., Victor Timely, and even Casey. Harder than mastering his ability to timeslip and manipulate time.

Not merely the actual effort involved in enduring the temporal radiation rather than letting it destroy him, ripping apart the original Loom, and serving as a spark to reignite the dying timelines. Though that had certainly been difficult.

Exposing and freeing the branches of time had left them growing gray and lifeless. And while Loki had tried to force his power into them, his own magic infused with the energy from the temporal radiation and the combined with the knowledge gained from his experience with timeslipping, the initial attempts hadn’t wanted to hold. He’d gathered them and pulled them with him as he left the TVA behind, returning to where He Who Remains once ruled over a single timeline. Loki had needed more timelines and more power in order to reignite them all back to life, twisting and weaving them around himself. Creating a small amount of order to the chaos, providing stability and support as they branched out in an infinitely expanding pattern. Like his mother with her distaff, spinning out thread while telling him and Thor stories when they were young. The endless timelines were twisted together to make them stronger and grew out from the center point that Loki had created.

After all of the discussions about “pruning” and “branches,” was it truly surprising that his efforts to keep everything growing and strong began to mirror Yggdrasil? A tree crafted from time, possibilities, people, and existences itself. A solid trunk for him to steady and stabilize while it grew, forming a canopy of branches and an ever-expanding root system. Glowing green with his magic from when he revived what was dying.

All of that had been difficult. It would have been completely impossible without the centuries of knowledge about time and physics and his centuries of practice mastering his capability to manipulate time, both of which he used to supplement his magical skills. And yet it was not the actual effort that was the hardest part of taking on his burden.

The hardest part was leaving. Walking away from that door while Mobius and Sylvie begged him to stop. Unable to give them a proper goodbye or embrace them before he did what was necessary. Not only would they have tried to stop him, but he honestly didn’t know if he would have the willpower to continue if he allowed himself that small moment. It had been painful enough when he looked back near the end, seeing all of his friends watching through those distant windows, and knowing that he could never have that again.

Everything that he once claimed to desire? A golden throne and power over countless lives? That was what he’d reluctantly accepted. He held an infinite number of branching timelines under his protection. He even gathered those veins of gold from the crumbling stone to create his throne resting on the broken remnants of the dissolving citadel. But none of it was ever what he truly desired, despite what he might have once believed or claimed. They were merely part of the heavy burden that he’d taken up in order to safeguard what truly mattered.

Wrapping himself in those countless timelines filled with infinite lives that were now truly free and binding himself to a throne, ensuring the survival of everything at the cost of an eternity of endless solitude. That was the hardest part.

That human from so very long ago, Phil Coulson, was right.

You’re going to lose. It’s in your nature.

And he had indeed lost. He’d lost everything that mattered. Not a battle. Not a play for power. Something far more precious.

He’d always felt lonely. He’d always feared being alone. And when that loneliness was finally gone, when he felt like he truly belonged, Loki had walked away from it all and condemned himself to that loneliness forever. But he did it for them.

Mobius. Sylvie. O.B., Casey, B-15, and even Timely.

He’d sacrificed centuries of effort and failures before finally sacrificing everything else. A life of his own and especially a chance to be with any of them. He gave up his freedom and, more importantly, his friends. All so that they could live and have that freedom themselves, living their own lives as they chose. He did it for them. He accepted an eternity alone for them.

It broke his heart and he could barely survive the pain of leaving. He didn’t know how he would be able to bear it.

But it was worth it. They were worth the cost. He would happily pay it if he could at least know that they would have everything that they deserved. They would move on and live and be happy. That would be enough for him.

Yes, he was self-imprisoned on his golden throne perched on bare rock in the middle of nothingness, wrapping the timelines around himself until almost all he could see was their green glow. Which did make him occasionally wonder if the Time Stone was green because Loki would someday be the one using his magic to stabilize the timelines or if his magic glowed green because he would someday be taking up this burden?

He could practically hear that familiar folksy dopey voice talking about chickens or eggs. Snakes biting their own tails.

His isolation beyond the end of time was lonely and difficult, but he tried his best to focus on other things. Certainly not how long he had been there, in that place beyond time and thus unable to truly measure how long it had been for him since he accepted his role; decades, centuries, millennia, or even eons were all possible answers for how long he had been alone. That was why he could not focus on trying to measure out eternity in a place beyond the end of time.

He tried to occupy his mind with what was pleasant about his burden. It was peaceful within the multiversal tree that he’d crafted. Quiet and calm. Everything spreading, growing, and glowing in every direction.

His power wove throughout the multiverse as a stabilizing touch. The strange amalgamation of his magic, his timeslipping ability, and the temporal radiation that tried to destroy him when he stepped out to dismantle the original Loom, but he ended up converting into something that he could use because energy was energy regardless of the source. Loki couldn’t even say for certain what kind of magic was within him anymore because he’d changed it so he could serve as a new Temporal Loom. But he knew that his mother would have never recognized his power as belonging to her son.

But at least he could see and hear her. Not his own mother, the branching timeline with her and everyone erased the moment that he tried escaping with the Tesseract and everything was pruned, but other Variants of Frigga. Loki could see every possible timeline, though it was easier not to get overwhelmed if he focused on specific people or events. That’s how he could watch and listen to all the different versions of her scattered through countless timelines.

Versions of Frigga where she didn’t die to the Dark Elves. Versions where she outlived her children. Versions where she died when he and Thor were small. Variants of Frigga where she had other children, like another son that she ended up naming Balder. Variants where she never had any children. Versions of her that never married Odin, either finding someone else or never wedding anyone. Variants where she was harsher, crueler, or colder than the woman who raised him. Versions that were so close to what he remembered that Loki could almost pretend that he was looking at his original timeline instead of one that was impossibly similar.

Loki watched and listened to others as well. Variants of Odin where he was more openly affectionate to both of his children. Variants where he favored his adopted child rather than his older son. Variants where he kept Hela, where he hid fewer secrets from his family, or where he acknowledged his mistakes long before his death. Variants who never gave any of his children reason to believe that they were not equally loved by their father. But also versions where his hot temper of youth never cooled and he kept pushing his conquests. Versions where he slaughtered entire worlds rather than bringing them under Asgardian rule. Variants of Odin where his heart was harder and he truly only kept his adopted child as a bargaining chip or a future puppet ruler to bring Jotunheim to heel. Or versions who saw a crying infant in a temple and silenced it instead.

Variants of Thor who never grew beyond the irresponsible and impulsive person that Loki had dreaded to see on the throne. Variants who became ruthless and destructive enough to be seen by the Avengers as a threat instead of an ally. Variants of him who died and remained dead when the Destroyer attacked that Midgardian town. Variants of Thor who never proved himself worthy and remained a powerless mortal for the remainder of his days. Versions of him who became a good, wise, and just ruler on Asgard or for their Midgardian settlement of refugees. Variants of him that remained with Jane Foster, whether she died young of sickness or when she reached an impressive age for her species. Versions of Thor who never made his brother feel less than equal, who grew up bragging to anyone who listened about how smart and clever his younger sibling was with his magic. Versions who died at Thanos’s hands instead of his Loki.

Loki could also see the different lives that he could have lived instead now that there was no one forcing him to be the villain doomed to failure. There were some Variants of himself who continued on that path regardless, sometimes even succeeding. He saw some versions of himself escape and survive Thanos, growing older like the one that eventually sacrificed himself to distract Alioth. Some of those older ones even managed to reunite with their versions of Thor in the distant future. But there were other versions of himself who never fell from the Bifrost, who never tried to destroy Jotunheim, and never tried to kill his brother. He even glimpsed a few timelines where his Variants were never brought to Asgard in the first place. He saw some who became an Avenger alongside Thor or instead of him. He watched some Variants react badly to learning about their heritage and others who took it better. There were some versions who knew from the start that they were adopted and were never given any reason to doubt their family’s love.

There were some Variants of himself that preferred growing up as a girl instead. Most of those still called themselves Loki, but not all. But even when some decided to change their name as they grew older, they remained versions of himself.

Those Variants could never be different versions of Sylvie. No matter how similar their origins might be or how much they might look like the one that he knew. Because there was only one of her in the entire multiverse.

Loki closed his eyes to the countless glowing threads that twisted and wove around him, tangled in his garments and around his hands. He did not need to see his surroundings. He’d memorized it long ago. And he did not need his physical eyes in order to witness every second of every possible timeline from the very start of existence until the very end. He could see all the potential lives, the potential choices, the potential hopes and dreams and stories played out in an infinite variety of ways.

And there would never be another Sylvie.

Because her timeline was long since destroyed. She didn’t technically belong to any surviving timeline and was left disconnected in a way. It made her unique and irreplaceable. This specific version was his Sylvie. She would appear and disappear between different time frames and different timelines, making it impossible for him to always trace the order of her journeys with the TemPad. And perhaps it was better that he could only catch random glimpses of her life, both before and after they met. Loki didn’t want to risk following the linear path of her existence too far and see how it ended. He just tried to take comfort in the knowledge that she mostly seemed happy in those brief moments, enjoying her new life and freedom.

He tried not to watch those quieter moments where she seemed more solemn and withdrawn.

There would only ever be one Sylvie. Just like how he might find countless Variants of the others, but there would only be a single version of his friends because their original timelines were long gone, leaving them unmoored from time and having to forge their own paths regardless.

Loki saw so many versions of Frank Lee Morris. A bank robber who escaped from prison. One who failed to escape. Who drowned during the escape. Who was never arrested. Who never committed a single crime and became a mechanic instead. Who moved and became a farmer. Who became a fisherman. Who died as a child. Who grew old with a dozen grandchildren.

But none of those were Casey.

He saw different Variants of Verity Willis. There were versions of Dr. Verity Willis who treated and healed children. Ones who were nurses. Who were survey checkers who spent hours on the phone instead. Ones who were married. Ones who were single. Ones who were happy and content before dying because the Loki of that timeline brought the army of Chitauri to New York City, catching her in the crossfire of the invasion.

And yet there was only one B-15.

A.D. Doug lived so many different lives. A writer and teacher of theoretical physics was only one possibility. Sometimes he wrote sci-fi, but other times he wrote fantasy, mystery, or historical fiction. Sometimes he never sold a copy, but other times he became famous for his works. Sometimes he focused more on his more scientific projects, discovering and creating to the point where even Tony Stark would someday reference his genius. Other times, he devoted himself more to his wife and children. A few Variants would rather open a laundromat than pursue any other purpose.

But as diverse as those lives and stories might be, none of them were Ouroboros. They weren’t O.B.

Loki could rarely glimpse O.B. or Casey now. They spent most of their time within the TVA, outside of time and beyond his reach. If a version of Victor Timely remained at the TVA, he couldn’t see him either. But B-15 had spent most of her career as a Hunter and Loki could trace her old missions when a reset didn’t completely erase all hints of her presence. And she would still visit the timelines occasionally.

She was another reminder of why he chose a cold and lonely throne out of reach of everyone that he cared about. He could still see her as she moved randomly between the timelines, without any pattern that he could predict. B-15 wasn’t there as much as Sylvie though.

Or even Mobius.

In many ways, Mobius hurt to watch. While Sylvie tried to figure out how to live and enjoy her new freedom, only succumbing to melancholy when the world grew too quiet to distract her, Mobius seemed to move through the timelines like a ghost. Struggling to find reasons to smile whenever Loki glimpsed him somewhere. Staring at the house, the children, and the life that should have been his until the sun set. Wandering aimlessly through parks or sitting at a diner booth until his untouched coffee grew cold. Watching the world move around him while refusing to truly join in.

Loki traced some of his drifting travels. A more peaceful Pompeii. A movie premiere in London. The Chicago World’s Fair in a timeline where Victor Timely pursued other interests. A version of Asgard at the height of its glory, safe from Ragnarok. He tried not to think about what drew Mobius to those destinations. Loki wished that he would someday find a random timeline where Mobius was riding his beloved jet ski, but it was always a Variant of Don instead.

But he knew that he would someday find a moment on one of the timelines where Mobius would begin to live again. Where he would forget about that single version of Loki that was gone and move on. Where Mobius would heal from having his entire worldview and role within the TVA torn asunder. Where he would smile, laugh, and find a new purpose. There was an entire multiverse out there for him and the others to experience. He would be all right.

Loki just hadn’t identified that moment. It was an extensive and ever-growing multiverse. He would find that point in time and space where his friend was content eventually. The way that Mobius and Sylvie flashed and danced around the multiverse like fireflies merely made it difficult to follow them closely enough. Especially in any chronological order. Coming together briefly before scattering again. And if and when they went to the TVA, he couldn’t see them at all.

Perhaps that was where Mobius found happiness again. Maybe he eventually returned there after his travels, his new experiences reinvigorating him and reinforcing his belief that he belonged at the TVA. And there was nothing wrong with that. At least he would have the freedom to choose that path if that’s what he wanted. No one else would be forcing him into the role. And he wouldn’t be alone there. Mobius would have his friends with him, ensuring that he would be all right.

That’s all that mattered to Loki. As long as they were happy, safe, free, and not alone in the end, then was the rest truly that important? No, it wasn’t. Certainly not his own fate.

And what a fate it was. The king of everything and nothing. Bound to a golden throne by metaphorical chains of an impossible responsibility that he freely shackled to himself. Alone and guarding eternity without end. Watching all that he cared about, but forever separated and unable to—

“Loki?”

He stopped breathing. Perhaps his heart even stuttered in his chest at the sound of that hesitant, uncertain, and painfully hopeful tone. A voice that he would always remember regardless of how many lifetimes it might have been since it spoke to him. But the reason why it hit him so hard was that it wasn’t a brief echo snatched up from the timelines around him.

It was a real voice coming from in front of him.

Part of him wanted to open his eyes and look. But Loki knew that it couldn’t be him. There was no reason for him to be there, beyond the very end of time and outside of the timelines. Loki didn’t even know how anyone would even find their way there; it wasn’t exactly a standard location for the TemPads to be able to reach. It was wishful thinking and possibly the start of madness. And Loki couldn’t afford to let himself indulge in any impulse that would lead to madness. It could be devastating to the entire multiverse.

Though if the isolation and loneliness were going to erode away at his sanity, he would have expected it to have started ages ago.

He kept his eyes shut. Refusing to look for the impossible or acknowledge what he couldn’t have possibly heard. He would not risk giving potential madness a chance to gain a foothold. And if he was being honest with himself, if he opened his eyes and saw that he was still alone… Loki’s heart had suffered enough already without breaking it anew.

There was no one there. Only the familiar green timelines glowing with his power, stabilized and maintained by his presence. Ensuring that everyone could leave their own lives, make their own choices, write their own stories. No one was there because he gave them more than enough reason to be anywhere else. He gave them a chance to laugh, to cry, to explore, to live, to experience, to choose, to heal, to love—

“Loki?”

Another achingly familiar voice that he knew couldn’t really be there. She sounded more worried, more resigned, and less hopeful than the other. Like she expected to see everything shatter apart and was ready for that moment of heartbreak. Hope was harder for her. After everything that she experienced and lived through, he knew that hope was something that she didn’t completely trust. The voice sounded so much like her and so real.

But it wasn’t. He knew that neither of them were really there. Maybe he could imagine them trying to reach him at the beginning of everything, before eternity truly started weighing him down. But not after such a long time. Though it was admittedly hard to judge such a thing in a place where time did not truly pass. If they had tried, they would have long since given up on such an impossible task and moved on. They wouldn’t come for him now.

They weren’t there. His mind was playing tricks on him. He knew that. But that didn’t stop his eyes from burning with unshed tears even while closed. Or the way his throat had tightened like how Thanos strangled him in numerous timelines. It hurt, but he knew the truth. No one was there and he would never truly see them again. Only glimpses on them on the timelines, watching their lives from a distance.

“Loki,” said the first impossible voice, “please.”

The desperation, diminishing hope, the sorrow, and the surrender in that tone. The way the voice cracked and broke slightly with anguish. The pain and grief in two small words.

He knew it was all a lie from his lonely mind. But hearing his voice like that was too much to ignore. It was instinctive and involuntary to react to it. Loki opened his eyes—

—and knew without a doubt that his heart must have truly stopped. Because he must be dying. A dying dream of what he desired most. Not even madness would be so generous to him. But if this was the gift that death brought, he welcomed it.

There wasn’t much solid ground left. Most of it had disintegrated while Loki had claimed his broken throne. Perhaps he could have tried to restore some of it if he wanted to divert his focus and energy towards the task, but it might require more effort than he could spare without risking harm to the timelines in his care. Besides, there was no point. Loki never left his throne once he accepted the heavy responsibility. And there was very little extra space within the tightly-woven center of the multiversal version of Yggdrasil.

That meant the translucent orange-gold of a Time Door was not far from him at all as it stood among the glowing timelines. No more than a few steps away. Certainly close enough that he couldn’t mistake it for anything else. Not when everything else around him was green and supported by his magic. There was literally nothing else in the entire timeless place.

Except that wasn’t true anymore. The bright patch of color that hit him like a sunrise after an endless dark night could not hold his attention for more than the briefest moment. The two impossible, yet agonizingly familiar figures standing in front of the Time Door, carefully not touching the glowing cable-like timelines around them as they stared at him with wary and hopeful expressions, were of far greater importance.

He was dressed as he was the last time that Loki truly saw him through that small window, though he knew that the man had at least worn other things within the timelines when he tried to catch glimpses. The TVA standard-issue pale blue button-up shirt, the brown jacket that matched the trousers with both being mass-produced and poor quality, the belt with the organization’s logo on the buckle, and the ridiculous dark necktie that was practically begging someone to strangle the agent. And yet Loki couldn’t help being comforted by the familiar, even as he took note of the dark circles under the eyes and the faint shadow of a man overdue for a shave. It was the look of a man who had not slept in a while or did not find his sleep restful.

His companion hid her weariness better, but her guarded eyes still carried quiet grief. Both ancient and more recent. Hope was more exhausting for her than loss. But she was there as well. Beyond the reach of everything and outside of time, she was there. Loki still thought that the state of her once lovely green-and-black Asgardian leather tunic, now held together in places by Midgardian safety pins and the gold insignia across the chest torn away to expose smaller pieces of metal that once attached those decorative flourishes, was a tragedy. But her now-absent broken crown had already proven that she was rough with her belongings. And the state of her armor and the threadbare houndstooth long coat that she’d gained told Loki that she felt safe enough in her new life that she was no longer worried about needing that protection. He was happy about that sign of her healing from her past.

But it was impossible for either of them to be there. Loki knew that. Their presence must be further madness in the form of a hallucination or a subconscious use of his magic in the form of an illusion or perhaps he’d fallen asleep somehow for the first time since taking on his burden and was dreaming or…

Or what he was seeing was real.

His lips parted slightly as he tried to remember how to make his tongue cooperate. It had been far too long since he’d spoken. There had been no need to in his isolation. His first attempt didn’t produce a sound, but then the words came out as he tried again. Slow, rough, barely a whisper, and filled with choking amounts of longing, loneliness, and heartache.

“…Mobius? …Sylvie?”

The fear, worry, and doubt in their eyes melted away as their timid hope blossomed. Mobius stumbled that single step forward to collapse at Loki’s feet, dragging his hand down his face while chuckling quietly in a way that seemed more like relieved sobbing. Meanwhile, swiping her hand briefly across what looks like He Who Remain’s unique TemPad strapped to her arm and banishing the Time Door, Sylvie practically stomped those two steps next to Loki’s broken throne. Right next to where his right arm rested. Both Mobius and Sylvie so close and yet taking care not to actually touch him or the infinite timelines coiling around him and practically weaving into his very clothes. Not fully abandoning caution. As if Loki had become inherently dangerous to them since last they saw him.

Maybe he had. He certainly wasn’t the same as he was when he let himself fall from the Rainbow Bridge. Maybe his presence could peel away their skins from their body with rapid aging destroying them in an instant or cause spaghettification.

“You remember us. You’re still you,” said Mobius shakily. “You’re still Loki.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, the words coming out a little easier.

Crouching down a little beside him so that they were closer to eye level with one another, Sylvie said, “Because O.B. didn’t want us to get our hopes up just because his system upgrades detected something inside the multiversal ‘tree’ and warned that you might be an empty husk serving as a power source with no awareness left. Basically a brain dead battery.”

“Or dead.” Mobius raised his head to look at him, the pain in his eyes stealing Loki’s breath away again. “He said we might just find your dead body.”

Trying to aim for a reassuring smile and almost certainly failing, Loki tilted his head and asked slowly, “And when did O.B. start having such little faith in me?”

“Loki…” Mobius trailed off, looking away as he ran a hand through his short hair. But after a shaky breath, he continued, “You need to understand, none of us knew what you were doing. We thought there was a plan. Attach the Throughput Multiplier to expand the rings of the Temporal Loom? Keep everything from going kaboom? But suddenly, you—”

“It didn’t help,” he croaked roughly.

Blinking in surprise at the interruption, Mobius asked, “What?”

“The Throughput Multiplier.” Loki swallowed, trying to figure out what to say and also banish the lump in his throat. “Even when it worked exactly as designed, it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. It only delayed the inevitable a few extra moments.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Sylvie. “You didn’t even give us a chance to test it.”

“That’s the problem. We did try to fix the Loom,” he said quietly. The words came out slow, but steady. “Over and over and over again. The timeslipping returned,” Loki briefly met Mobius’s eyes, “but I figured out how to control it. I could move backwards through my own personal past… Among a few other tricks after I mastered it. I kept trying different ways… Learning everything I…”

“Loki?” coaxed Mobius.

He opened his eyes again. He hadn’t realized that he’d pressed them shut. Even after all of that time, the frustration and futility and mental exhaustion of his struggles hurt to remember. Not to mention the actual pain of timeslipping; he got used to it after a while and barely acknowledged it, but the process was never comfortable. And he’d wasted all of those precious moments pursuing the impossible. He hadn’t even appreciated how those endless cycles would be his final conversations with several friends.

Except Mobius and Sylvie were somehow in front of him, though part of him still held doubts that it was real. But if they were there with him, maybe someday he would be able to speak to B-15, Casey, O.B., or even Timely.

No, he couldn’t think about that. Hope was hard, but an impossible hope would only lead to pain. It would be better to be satisfied with the one impossibility that he’d already been granted.

“Everyone died. Torn apart as the Loom failed and the branches snuffed out. Again and again,” he continued. “Even when it worked, it didn’t fix the Loom. Because the Loom was fulfilling its true purpose. Destroying every other branch except the Sacred Timeline, even if it means taking out the TVA in the process.” Loki gave them a grim smile. “After all, if it came to that point, then the TVA clearly weren’t doing the job that He Who Remains gave them.”

“How do you know— No.” Mobius shook his head. “How long? How long were you stuck living the same few hours on repeat?”

It was getting easier to remember how to speak and he knew that his expressions were improving. But his reassuring smiles still felt more like grimaces.

“Three… Four hundred…”

“Tries?” asked Sylvie.

“Years,” he corrected. “Approximately. It got hard to judge after a while.”

“Oh, Loki…”

She reached out instinctively, apparently forgetting their previous caution in the need to comfort him somehow. Loki stiffened and his breath caught in his throat as he felt her hand brush against his cheek. Warm, gentle, covered in the calluses of centuries of combat, and beautifully real. He vaguely noticed that Sylvie froze as she realized what she’d done, but his thoughts had narrowed down to the feeling of her hand against his skin.

How long had it been since he’d felt anything? Since he’d felt the touch of anyone? Long enough that the simple sensation was overwhelming to him. Loki couldn’t stop himself from leaning into the touch. And despite shutting his eyes, he couldn’t stop tears from running down his face.

He didn’t have to open his eyes to tell that it was Mobius, clearly emboldened by neither Sylvie nor Loki being harmed by the contact, who decided to reach for his hand. Carefully avoiding the timelines coiled around his wrist and just sliding it under Loki’s palm until he was properly grasping it. Firm, steadfast, and deliberate. And warmer than Sylvie. Both of them were making him far too aware of how cold he felt. He welcomed their warmth and comforting touch. And when Mobius added his other hand on top in order to hold onto Loki more thoroughly, as if Loki was something fragile and precious to be treasured, the simple tears gave way to silent sobs. Loki curled his own fingers slightly, holding onto him in return.

It couldn’t last. Loki knew that it would be over far too soon. But for the moment, he wasn’t alone. His friends were truly there. He could feel them. Loki hadn’t allowed himself to weep in a long time. It would solve nothing and only make his eternity more miserable to endure. But those tears fell now as he leaned into their touch, their warmth, and their presence. Soaking in the contact with all the desperation of a starving man presented with a feast.

But even in that timeless place, nothing lasted forever. The storm of overwhelming emotions subsided enough for the tears to slow. And eventually Loki felt calm enough to open his eyes and shakily continue his explanation. After all, they deserved to know.

“When the Throughput Multiplier proved to be useless,” he continued slowly, his voice rough again, “I tried other solutions.” Loki purposefully did not look towards Sylvie. “I ended up speaking with He Who Remains. He confirmed that the Loom was a failsafe. Whether he lived or died, the other branches would be destroyed. But I found the one solution that he never expected me to try.”

Straightening up, but still holding on even as his head bowed, Mobius muttered, “The sacrifice play.”

“Yes,” he said with a small nod. “My freedom to ensure everyone else on every timeline could be safe and free instead. To ensure my friends could be safe and free. All of you able to live your lives without them being dictated by another.”

He just couldn’t be in those lives.

“I wish that you could have told us all of this sooner,” said Mobius, sighing tiredly.

Closing his eyes briefly, he said, “There wasn’t any time. And even if there was, you would have tried to stop me.”

“You’ve got that right,” muttered Sylvie.

“You would have tried to convince me that I didn’t have to do it. That there must be another way. That I could be selfish and that I needed to think about myself as well.” Smiling sadly, Loki said, “And despite knowing that there were no better options and that I was the only one who could do it, if you had tried to stop me… I don’t know if I would have been strong enough to go through with it.”

Sylvie’s thumb brushed back and forth against his cheek briefly. He leaned further into her touch. Practically nuzzling her palm, though he would not describe it as such in order to preserve a faint hint of dignity. Then she pulled her hand away from him and Loki could barely smother a desperate whimper from the loss. But she was only taking the opportunity to sit down on the stone next to his throne. Then her hand slipped into the one that Mobius wasn’t still clutching, pulling it slightly towards her. Loki shuddered a little as she pressed her own cheek against the back of his hand.

He could have never imagined how much he would miss physical contact during his isolation. He wanted to cling to them. Both of them. Their simple and comforting touch seemed to soothe something in him and made it easier to breathe.

Mobius tried his best to settle into his own comfortable position sitting on the cold stone at Loki’s feet, drawing one leg up and letting the other one stretch out. And at no point did he relinquish his grip on Loki.

“I still wish that we’d known what you were doing and that…” Mobius shook his head, that look of old grief and frustration crossing his face again. “We didn’t know why you suddenly changed the plan. We didn’t know about your other attempts or ‘mastering timeslipping’ or anything. And when you locked up on the other side of that door, we honestly believed that you were about to die.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Why?” Mobius gave off a bitter and miserable laugh. “Because the temporal radiation was terrifyingly high when you went out there without a protective suit despite O.B.’s warnings about losing skin and spaghettification and— Because after donning the biggest set of horns that any version of you has ever worn, you tore the Loom apart in what was an admittedly impressive display of magic that couldn’t have been easy. Because you failed to reignite two dying timelines before you disappeared with all of them and— and after your magic couldn’t keep two of them alive, suddenly countless timelines were thriving. But you— you just…”

Despite his best efforts, Mobius’s voice was cracking and his eyes were wet with unshed tears. Sylvie couldn’t even look at either of them, staring out at the hypnotic movements of the glowing timelines surrounding them instead. Loki silently squeezed both of their hands. Perhaps they needed the reminder of his presence as much as he needed to reassure himself that they were really there too.

“You never made it back,” continued Mobius quietly after a moment. “All of those timelines were restored to life when we saw you fail with only two. An entire ‘tree’ of them growing and thriving. But you didn’t make it back to us. And what you said at the end felt pretty final, like they were going to be the last words that you would ever say before sacrificing yourself.”

“At the time, I highly expected that would be the case.”

“But we didn’t think it would be like this,” he said, letting go with one hand to gesture towards their surroundings. “It sounded like you planned to die fixing everything, Loki. All of this time, we thought the effort of reviving the timelines and doing all of this killed you in the process. That it took everything. That you saved everyone in every possible timeline and it killed you…”

The way that Mobius trailed off made Loki’s throat tighten once more. What could he possibly say in response to that raw and heartbroken grief, confessed at his feet? He had no words.

Not when it was sinking in just how much he’d inadvertently hurt them. Loki had seen that they were hurting in the aftermath, but he didn’t truly realize how deep that grief went. Because he did not merely leave all of them behind. He had allowed them to believe that he died. Without any answers before he disappeared, they had assumed the worst.

Loki could see it now, casting his senses into the various timelines where they’d wandered. The slump of Mobius’s shoulders as he watched his Variant from across the street. The distant look in Sylvie’s eyes as she stared out at the night sky. The almost listless way that Mobius was moving, like he didn’t know what to do. The mournful way that Sylvie was singing the same song that Loki sang back on Lamentis-1. They were suffering. Grieving his death.

No. Loki shook his head. They were in front of him. The past and the future were all happening simultaneously because he could see every instant on every timeline at the same time. But despite all of that happening currently for him, it was their past. Because they found their way to him. They weren’t grieving his death anymore.

But he’d still hurt them. It was the only option, but he still regretted it.

Loki hasn’t tried to stand up since he claimed his throne. Hundreds of years? Thousands of years? Even longer? There had been no reason to try. There was nowhere to go and the glowing timelines clinging to him would make it difficult to move around much anyway. But holding onto their hands wasn’t enough.

He didn’t know if his legs would cooperate for a moment. Time didn’t truly pass there and just as he didn’t starve, his muscles shouldn’t have withered away. But it took a moment for them to remember how to move. And the thick timelines behind him that seemed to wrap and weave into everything felt heavy, trying to hold him down.

But Loki forced his legs to straighten, lifting himself from his broken throne and startling Mobius and Sylvie into standing as well. He let go of their hands. One arm reached out towards the man and pulled him close. Hugging Mobius to his chest just as he did so long ago, before heading off to face Alioth. Loki reached out blindly with his other arm for Sylvie, guiding her into the embrace as well.

He didn’t care about the timelines that still wrapped around his body, which didn’t seem to be causing his friends any harm or vice versa. He could keep subconsciously sustaining them even as he closed his eyes and kept his attention of far more important matters. Loki focused solely on the warmth and solid feeling of the people that he cared about in his arms. Someone’s fingers were digging into the fabric of his robes. He felt them squeezing back. He couldn’t tell which of them was the most desperate. But the hug was everything that Loki could have ever wanted.

He breathed in deeply. Soaking in their scents. The faint citrus-and-wood aftershave and not-quite-pine soap. The Asgardian leather and the hot grease from her job at McDonald’s. He wanted to bury his head into the shoulders of one of them and simply breathe in those scents until he forgot all about the long isolation. But Loki resisted the impulse because his crown would get in the way.

There were so many arms and so many bodies. He couldn’t tell which limb belonged to which. But Loki felt one hand move up and down, rubbing his back. There was a head leaning against each of his shoulders. The pressure and weight of them pressed against him, hugging him back, felt reassuring in ways that he couldn’t describe. Scraping away layers and centuries of loneliness from him. Tears prickled in his eyes anew. He never wanted the embrace to end.

“I’m sorry, my friends,” he whispered. “I did not mean to hurt you. I did not intend to make you mourn for me.”

“If O.B. hadn’t been tinkering around, trying to get better data and readings on the new configurations of the timelines, we would have never realized that you were here,” said Mobius.

“Send him my regards when you return.”

Quietly, Sylvie said, “We’re hoping that you’ll be able to thank him yourself eventually.”

Loki stiffened at her words. And despite wanting nothing more than to remain in the tight embrace, he forced himself to loosen his hold just enough that he could pull back and look at them.

“Sylvie… Mobius… I wish that I could. I wish I could go back with you and see everyone. But if it was possible… don’t you think that I would have already come back?”

He turned his eyes up. The timelines were twisted and woven together thick enough that he couldn’t see the dark space beyond them. Only the green glow. Alive and thriving, his magic sustaining and stabilizing them.

Trying to find the right words, he said, “There’s a place on Midgard in most timelines. A series of islands called Japan in the majority of those timelines. And in some versions, the humans there develop an entire artform of controlling the way that trees grow. Forcing those ‘bonsai trees’ to remain small and compact to remain in pots that would fit on tables. Only allowing them to exist in pleasing shapes through careful pruning and wrapping wires around the trunk or branches to guide the directions.”

Loki could see them working on their small bonsai trees. Thousands of people across centuries of time. But he could also see them splitting across numerous timelines. More and more glimpses of numerous lives being played out. Millions of faces with different stories and choices. All of the different people encountering each other, marrying, having children, dying, and cultivating those trees. But then some didn’t raise bonsai trees in a different timeline or were never born or died too soon. Sometimes the islands were wiped out by an invading alien race early in history or they conquered the rest of their planet to become the primary power or most of the population were replaced by Skrulls or never developed the technique for creating bonsai trees or one particular family line ended up moving across the planet a generation early or—

“Loki,” said Mobius, cutting through chaos.

He blinked a few times, trying to focus back on his actual surroundings. The looks on both Mobius and Sylvie’s faces suggested that it took them a little while to get his attention back. Loki couldn’t help grimacing.

“My apologies. If I’m not careful, it is easy to get overwhelmed and lost. There is so much. All of those lives, all of those people, all of their stories… Every moment of their existences is always happening simultaneously, from beginning to end. And they are also happening in the other timelines as well. It helps to focus on a specific person to avoid losing myself.”

Pulling Loki back into a tight embrace, Mobius muttered, “You don’t have to apologize. It’s fine.”

“I know you’re a better liar than that.”

Despite his obvious and grim worry, that blunt remark managed to startle a laugh out of the man. Loki buried his face back into his shoulder. He focused hard on the feel of the TVA jacket beneath his fingers, the aftershave that he could smell with every breath, and even the comforting presence of Sylvie’s hand moving up and down his spine. Letting all of those sensations ground him to reality until the timelines weren’t drawing him in quite as strongly.

“There’s too much sometimes,” he admitted softly. “No one could possibly comprehend it all at once without being lost to it. No mind is made to handle everything simultaneously. There’s too much. And they’re always expanding outwards. Branching and dividing into more. When I get lost in the sheer amount of all of those lives and stories in every timeline, I never know how long it will take to find my way back to myself.”

That was one of the reasons why Loki couldn’t say for certain how long he’d been at his self-appointed task. Between being outside of the flow of time and occasionally losing himself to the sheer volume of those countless unfolding lives, there was no way to judge it accurately. Besides, there was no reason to measure out eternity.

“I wish that we could have done something. I wish that that this didn’t happen to you,” said Sylvie quietly.

“There was no one else who could have done it instead,” he said.

And as hard as it was for him to bear it, Loki highly doubted anyone else would have been able to manage it. If he struggled at times to keep afloat of the chaos that he maintained, giving it just enough structure to stabilize, he couldn’t even imagine how much anyone else would be drowning in the knowledge and stories weaving around the multiverse.

It was still difficult to end the embrace enough to pull back and look at them both. But he knew that as temporary as their presences might be, they weren’t going to let go of him completely for the moment. He knew that they weren’t going to disappear yet. His hands found theirs as he met their concerned gazes again.

“You mentioned bonsai trees?” prompted Sylvie gently.

Nodding, he said, “That’s what He Who Remains was doing to maintain the Sacred Timeline. The Temporal Loom was the wire bending it into shape.”

“And the TVA pruned the branches to further maintain the shape,” said Mobius. “Not a bad metaphor this time.”

“But now the timelines, the bonsai tree, is no longer being forced to grow any specific way. No wire and no pruning. It can grow and spread out like it was always meant to. But it has spent so long as a bonsai, cut and trimmed and bent into a tiny shape, it no longer knows how to thrive as a proper tree. And the cramped roots in their tiny pot are not enough to sustain a full-sized tree.” Smiling sadly, he said, “The multiverse needs me to sustain and maintain it. That’s just the way it is. As much as I might wish to visit O.B. or to see a version of Asgard again in person or even simply rest in an actual bed, that will never happen. I have long since accepted this fate.” Trying to sound a little more light-hearted, Loki added, “Besides, I do not think that me setting foot in an actual timeline would be safe for anyone. It might tangle them into knots or cause an existential crisis.”

Mobius and Sylvie exchanged looks. Some form of silent communication taking place that he couldn’t decipher. More evidence of how long that he’d been gone even from their perspective. When he was last with them, she might have accepted Mobius as an ally and someone important to Loki, but there were still some rough edges that scraped and scratched against each other. The easy companionship and knowing looks were new. They’d grown together somewhat in his absence, even if their paths were only occasionally united in what he’d glimpsed of their new lives.

His heart ached over what he’d missed and would never be a part of again.

“That is part of what O.B. talked about with us,” said Sylvie slowly.

“Between warning us not to get our hopes up about you being alive and not some shriveled up husk,” added Mobius.

Squeezing his hand, she asked, “Loki, is it more difficult now to maintain all of these timelines than it was when you started?”

“The loneliness got harder to bear,” he admitted quietly.

“We mean the amount of energy it is taking from you,” said Mobius, giving his own encouraging squeeze. “Is it taking more power the longer that you’ve been here or is it still around the same?”

“No, those demands have not increased. The most challenging part was reigniting them at the beginning. After that, maintaining and stabilizing them all has been more manageable.”

Both Sylvie and Mobius grinned at that. Which made Loki extremely suspicious of what they might be thinking. He might be able to unravel their thoughts with some consideration. But then Mobius patted his arm with one hand and that was all he wanted to think about instead.

His desperate need for their physical contact was rather distracting. It truly was amazing how much a person could miss a simple touch after so long alone.

“If there are more and more timelines forming constantly, always growing and spreading,” said Mobius carefully, “then according to O.B., it should be taking more and more energy in order to maintain them if every timeline requires the same amount of power from you in order to stabilize and maintain everything. Which means it would eventually take more strength than you have.”

Remembering something from long ago, Loki muttered, “Scaling problem.”

“But you said that it doesn’t. Which is what he figured out during his more thorough scans of your artificial Yggdrasil,” said Sylvie. “You’re using the same amount of energy to keep things going, but it is spread out further and further so that each individual timeline receives less and less overall. And what we’re all hoping is that—”

“That at some point,” interrupted Mobius with the biggest grin possible, “the amount of magic that you’re pouring into this entire thing? For each separate timeline, it’ll be so small that it is basically negligible and completely unnecessary. Meaning that your presence here, keeping it all alive and thriving? Won’t be needed. At least not constantly all the time. Maybe just every now and then to check on things.”

Loki almost pulled away, but he couldn’t bear to let go. The all-consuming need for contact, for connection, and to no longer be utterly alone won out over the impulse. But he did close his eyes and shake his head.

“Don’t,” he whispered.

Squeezing his hand, Mobius asked, “Don’t what?”

“Don’t offer me hope. Please. I… It’s difficult enough at times, but I can handle it. I can manage all of it, knowing what my decision means. But if… if I let myself believe… And then it never comes?” Loki took a shaking breath. “It would be too much. That’s what would break me.”

“Loki,” said Sylvie, her voice firm enough to make him look at them again. “Hope is hard. Trying to fix what’s broken is hard. But that has never stopped you. If you gave up or broke that easily, none of us would be here now.”

Smiling encouragingly, Mobius said, “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m not giving up. Especially now. And Sylvie isn’t the type to surrender either. So until that day when we can bring you home, because it is coming, we going to try to make it easier for you. We aren’t abandoning you to sit around on your fancy throne, tangled up in multiversal knitting, playing gardener all alone forever.”

“No,” he said, yanking his hands free and stepping back. He bumped slightly against the throne and he immediately missed the warmth of their touch, but he couldn’t be selfish. “No, you can’t. I did all of this for you. For all of you.” Loki gestured wildly at them. “So you can have freedom and lives of your own choosing. So you can go out there and write your own stories. You… I won’t chain you to this throne for all eternity on the mere possibility that it might end someday. I can’t ask that of you. I will not.”

They didn’t belong in the timeless and lonely place, cocooned by glowing timelines and isolated away. They deserved so much more. They deserved life, happiness, and freedom. They deserved a multiverse of choices. They deserved everything.

They deserved more than him.

“Loki,” said Mobius, reaching for his arm again. “Hey, look at me. You need to breathe.”

Breathe? Was he breathing? He must be. But it was too shallow, too fast, and not enough. It was getting hard to focus, which was bad. That could easily lead to him getting lost in the sheer volume of all the lives scattered through all of the timelines. Mobius was right and he needed to calm down enough to breathe properly, but his body didn’t want to cooperate. It was too much. Everything was spiraling.

Another set of hands on his other arm, easing him back down onto the throne. Sylvie’s worried face in his sight. But his ears were ringing too much to hear her properly. He didn’t know what she was saying. He just saw her lips moving. Loki clung to it though, watching her and focusing solely on her so that his mind wasn’t scattered all across the multiverse and the glowing threads still coiled all over him.

Then someone pulled his hand over to press against their chest. Mobius. Taking slow, deep, and steady breaths. Trying to show him what to do. It was a struggle to convince his own lungs to match what he felt. But they were right that Loki didn’t give up easily. And eventually he managed to slow down, his chest loosened, the ringing stopped, and his body felt less like it was about to fly apart. He almost felt like he was getting back to what counted as normal for him now.

“You know,” said Mobius gently when he seemed certain that Loki was calmer, “you were far more clever before you became God of Time or the Multiverse or Stories or whatever you want to call yourself now. First of all, freedom to choose means that we could stay with you here if we wanted. It would be our choice.”

“You’d be wasting your lives,” he said quietly.

“Not if that’s what we wanted to do with them.”

“But I wanted all of you to go out and live. To have everything that I’ve given up.”

“And we will,” said Sylvie. “But until you can leave here, we’re also going to come visit you. We don’t have to give up our lives on the timelines while waiting, but we don’t have to make you face it all alone either. There are more than two options here.”

“You’re not getting rid of us that easily,” added Mobius. “We know the way here now.”

Loki barely managed to avoid tears, too overwhelmed and warmed by their determination. By the feeling of being wanted that strongly. He blinked rapidly and soaked in their touch, trying his best to survive the waves of emotion that they were stirring up.

The hope of someday no longer needing to maintain the infinite timelines and might regain his freedom from the self-imposed duty? That was too much to consider. Too impossible and fragile. But the hope that they would come back to him? That was the type of hope that could sustain him when his burdened seemed too heavy.

“I suppose,” he said, his voice tight and unsteady, “it would be rude to chase you away after you’ve come so far. If… if you would want to stay a little longer, I would like to hear about your new lives.”

“Can’t you see all of that from here?” asked Mobius.

“I can. But I would rather hear it from my friends. Please.”

Neither of them seemed to have a problem with his request. They let go of his arms, but only so that they could sit down on the cold stone at his feet rather than remain standing the entire time. Though Loki noticed that they leaned slightly so that they could press against his legs. The warmth and pressure from them were almost as welcome as their voices.

They took turns. Sylvie talked about her peaceful and quiet life that she’d built for herself on the timeline, with regular customers that she saw every week, friendly coworkers, and pleasant people around the small town that she’d claimed as her own. And Mobius talked about all the different places that he’d gone and the things that he’d witnessed while wandering across the various timelines without a specific goal. None of those stories were unfamiliar, but Loki let the words wash over him. He could almost pretend that they were somewhere else. Maybe sitting at a table at the TVA sharing a few slices of that neon green pie that Mobius enjoyed.

Loki would give anything to be back there.

They covered a variety of topics. They talked about their lives, the changes at the TVA, how his other friends were doing, and anything else that they could come up with. Loki managed a few questions to continue the conversation, but it was easier to simply listen to them. He listened to his friends talk until their voices started growing quiet. Running out of stories to share. They tried to keep going. Prolonging the visit. Delaying the inevitable. Even when the periods of silence between topics grew longer, they reached up to squeeze his hands and did their best to remind him that he wasn’t alone.

“It really is beautiful here,” said Sylvie when the quiet had stretched far too long, staring up at the glowing green timelines surrounding them.

Loki nodded slowly, never looking away from Mobius and Sylvie. He didn’t want to say it. But someone needed to do it. No matter how much it might hurt.

“You… probably need to be leaving soon. Someone needs to tell O.B. that I’m not dead after all.”

He felt the hands tighten around his. He saw the shine of their eyes as they looked towards him with tears that would not fall, just as heartbroken at the idea as him. But they didn’t argue. They knew that he was right.

They couldn’t stay forever. He refused to let them.

Mobius groaned and muttered darkly about his knees as he climbed back up. Sylvie complained less and regained her footing faster. But she also looked like she wanted to stab someone to make herself feel better about the entire situation.

“At least we can have a proper goodbye this time,” she said quietly.

Shaking his head, Mobius said, “This isn’t goodbye. That sounds too permanent. This is more of a ‘see you soon’ type of deal.” Smiling at Loki in a way that didn’t hide the true emotions in his eyes, he said, “Think of it this way. We’re just going out to collect some more stories for our next visit.”

“I look forward to hearing them,” he said.

He didn’t try to stand. The idea that he was about to be left alone again with only the infinitely growing multiverse as company would have left him collapsing to his knees. But that didn’t stop Mobius and Sylvie from leaning down one at a time to give him a hug, though somewhat awkward due to his position and the countless strands still woven around him. Loki held tight and stretched out the hug longer than necessary.

The embraces from them were still over too soon.

The sight of the Time Door materializing drove all the air out of his body. He couldn’t breathe, but he also couldn’t look away. At least Sylvie looked just as reluctant to approach it after opening it. Loki buried his hands in the thick bundles of glowing timelines to keep himself from reaching out to them.

“It’s not forever,” said Mobius, trying and failing to smile. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

Loki gave a small nod despite knowing it was a lie. It would be decades, centuries, millennia, eons of solitude once more. No matter how quickly they tried to return, it would feel much longer for him.

But there was hope now. They would come back. He would see his friends again. Maybe believing that he would be able to someday leave— not to the timelines perhaps, but at least the TVA— was too much for him to currently accept. But he could hold onto the hope of them coming back. That was far more than he had when he took up his burden for all of eternity.

He didn’t look away. He didn’t even blink. Loki kept watching them and tried to memorize every detail as they reluctantly stepped through the Time Door. Only when the golden-orange light vanished from his realm of green light did he allow himself to collapse into heartbroken sobs. His arms curled around his body and he tried to convince himself that he could still smell them in the fabric of his sleeves.

His solitude wouldn’t last for all eternity. Loki held tight to that knowledge. He could do anything for the sake of his friends. He could maintain the multiverse and handle the loneliness. And someday, he would see them again.

Chapter Text

He’d lost track of himself. His mind pulled across the multiversal Yggdrasil, spread to the farthest branches with almost no remaining similarities to what was once the Sacred Timeline. Far from the sturdy trunk and anything recognizable.

He hadn’t meant to let himself be pulled under. But it had been too long and too difficult. His focus slipped. And the infinite swallowed him. All of the multiplying timelines filled his mind. He couldn’t find his familiar anchors to focus on. It was slipping away, leaving him in an eternal free fall.

He was gone. Stretched across everything until he was nothing. He was the multiverse.

An empty husk. A living battery. A memory of that description briefly flashed, but immediately vanished.

It was easier not to resist. To let himself be lost to the infinite and be nothing. No loneliness, no emotions, no memories, no name, no sense of self. No hoping and waiting for something that he could no longer remember. He’d fought for a while to surface from the rush of all those infinite variations, but he hadn’t managed to pull free this time. He’d drowned and was lost.

Voices. Images. Infinite lives. Infinite stories. Too many to comprehend. Blinding and deafening in the sheer volume. Never stopping and ever growing. His mind could never hold them all.

It had always been like that, scattered and stretched across it all. Time was both meaningless and the only thing that mattered. He couldn’t remember anything before he was lost. There had been nothing before when his mind was yanked and spread across every glowing green strand. And yet he knew when it happened.

There had been disease ravaging the tree. Branches dying and withering. War. A multiversal war. It lasted eons. It lasted less than a second. That was where he slipped, his grip failing and plunging his mind into the infinite. But the multiversal Yggdrasil endured. It sickened, but healed and recovered. That was what mattered.

He couldn’t find them. That thought kept echoing through his scattered mind. He couldn’t remember who, but he could not find them. They were gone and he remained unanchored.

He was lost across the countless branches, the multiverse thriving once more. And there was not enough left of him to desire to be found.

Distant voices. Different. Real. So far away.

Scorching heat and pressure. Touch. Contact. Gentle, but almost painfully intense after an eternity without.

Both reminders that he was more than a scattered and lost mind. He had a body somewhere. A body that was hearing voices in its ears and was being touched.

The sensations were so disconnected and distant. He could barely tell anything specific about them. But they gave him something to focus on. Across every branch of the ever-growing timelines, he slowly pulled his mind back together.

Progress was a struggle, but it was happening. He gradually started making out more and more details. Muffled voices. Two of them. Shifting between apologies, coaxing, pleading, and at least one of them adding some brief angry ranting. Physical contact. Touching his hand. His arm. His face. Gentle, but increasingly desperate.

Familiar. The voices and the touch were familiar. He knew them.

Pulling himself back together was impossibly difficult. He was scattered so far away. But he fought his way back. Harder than he had in a long time. Prying his mind out of the timelines. Trying to get back to them.

One word kept repeating. Over and over among the muffled words and the way hands pressed to his chest and fingers traced along his neck.

Loki.

He was… Loki.

A hand cupping his face, thumb brushing his cheek. Voices rough and choked. Resigned. Broken. Another hand taking his, drawing it up. Warm. They felt so warm.

Lips pressed to his knuckles. More lips to his forehead. Wet droplets falling on his hand and his face.

A soft brush against his lips and the taste of salt. Tears. They were crying. For… him?

And something abruptly snapped like the string of a bow, shattering that feeling of distance and disconnection. Slamming him fully into his body and wrenching memories back to the surface.

Loki gasped hard. He heard something stumbling back and quiet curses of surprise, but he was focused on remembering how to breathe. Air pulled into burning lungs while his heart pounded hard enough against his ribs that he expected the organ to burst its way out. Gasping, coughing, and struggling to recall the familiar pattern.

There was something wrong. Something different than before, but he couldn’t think about it because he needed to concentrate on getting his breathing settled and not slipping back into the infinite timelines. Only when his racing heart began to calm and his breathing slowed did he notice that he was sitting up straight rather than slumping despite his feeling of exhaustion.

Opening his eyes was a new struggle, but he slowly pried them open enough to see them. The only people who could and would come for him. Both of their faces streaked with tears, which was especially unnerving coming from Sylvie. And both she and Mobius were backed away, their expressions wary. But there was cautious hope in their eyes, dim and yet still there.

Words refused to come. Like the last time that he saw them. His mouth and throat no longer working together. No sound came out on his first attempt. Or his second. By his third failure, Loki was annoyed.

At that point, since his voice clearly wasn’t going to cooperate enough to reassure his upset friends, he tried to simply reach out for them. But only one arm moved and even that was difficult. The other held firm. As if it was tied down.

But before he could investigate further, his friends snapped out of their frozen state. He was suddenly crowded as they murmured his name clasping at his raised hand. Their touch was burning hot and intense and wonderful. Loki suspected that there were tears on his own face. He wanted to lunge at them for an actual hug, but his right arm wasn’t the only part of him that refused to move correctly.

Fighting his uncooperative body, Loki finally forced out a handful of raspy words.

“You… came… back…”

It wasn’t meant as a question; Loki knew that they would never break their promise intentionally. But Sylvie looked away briefly while swiping at tears on her face with a free hand, but not fast enough for him to miss the flash of guilt. Mobius could only drop his head while taking a shuddering breath. He must have scared them with how hard it was for him to respond this time. Loki didn’t mean to lose himself so thoroughly. He did his best to awkwardly squeeze whichever fingers that he could reach, trying to reassure them.

“Didn’t mean… to worry…”

“Hey,” said Sylvie. “It’s fine. Don’t apologize to us.”

“Wasn’t yet…”

The tone of his grumbling earned him a wet chuckle from Mobius. Loki wanted to reach out and pull the man into a hug until he looked less miserable. But he could barely move. And struggling against the strange immobility hurt slightly. Like a deep ache. Something was absolutely wrong with him, but Loki stubbornly ignored it to focus on his friends in front of him. Everything felt too jumbled in his head to try solving that problem yet anyway.

“Are you in any pain?” asked Mobius unsteadily, eyes reluctantly flicking up to his face. “I am so sorry we didn’t make it back sooner. Those Variants of He Who Remains? They—”

“Multiversal war?” Loki gave him a tired smile. “I noticed.”

“Yeah, I guess you would. Unfortunately, the weird TemPad that Sylvie stole from him before killing him? It was destroyed during everything and most of the other TemPads can’t reach here,” he said, his thumb brushing back and forth across Loki’s knuckles. “It took a while for O.B. to build a new version that could bring us back to you.”

“Not to mention that you spent months, or the TVA equivalent of them, recovering from almost dying in that nightmare,” said Sylvie, giving the man a sharp look.

Tightening his grip, Loki asked, “Mobius?”

“She makes it sound worse than it was. I’m fine.”

“Maybe now you are, but not then. You looked almost as much like a corpse as…”

Sylvie glanced briefly towards Loki as she trailed off. Which did nothing to ease his slowly growing anxiety. How bad did he look while mentally lost to the multiverse? How badly was Mobius hurt and was there lasting damage that he was hiding? What about his other friends back at the TVA? They mentioned O.B., but did the others survive?

Why couldn’t he move?

“I’m so sorry that we took so long,” said Mobius, one hand moving to Loki’s cheek. There were still tears in his eyes. “The timelines? They’re self-sustaining now. We would have come for you sooner, but we couldn’t. We couldn’t make it back.”

“You’re here now.” Loki swallowed, trying to comprehend what he was hearing. “And… it doesn’t… need me anymore?”

If the timelines were self-sustaining, if the multiversal Yggdrasil no longer needed him to maintain and stabilize everything, then there was no reason for him to remain. His isolated task was over. That impossible and terrifying hope had come true. Loki could lay down his burden and return to his friends. He didn’t have to be alone any longer.

The sheer joy, relief, and excitement should have been overwhelming. He should have leapt to his feet or collapsed as the shock proved too much to handle. He should have been reacting to the news in a much more substantial way. And yet the observant and cynical part of him wondered why Mobius and Sylvie looked so grim.

“We were coming to bring you back with us,” said Mobius, his voice heavy with regret.

Were.

Loki didn’t like the sound of that. Once again, he tried to rise from his throne. To stand and take that first step towards leaving. Because he would not lose this opportunity to finally end his self-imposed banishment. But he could barely jerk in his seat. Trying harder only made his body ache sharply. And that sparked a growing need to fight his way free and escape.

“Easy,” said Sylvie as his useless struggles started to actually hurt. “Calm down.”

Something was wrong. He’d felt it from the start, beneath the grogginess and overwhelmed state. That was why Loki had resisted the urge to look down at himself to figure out why he couldn’t move. Part of him was afraid of what he would see. But now he forced himself to face it. Or tried to, his neck not tilting easily.

He’d thought he’d felt cold before, but it was nothing compared to the chill that ran down his spine and filled his veins with ice.

He was used to the sight of the glowing green timelines coiled around him in various ways, thick as cables and swaying in a nonexistent breeze. Wrapped around his limbs. Woven into his robes. Always there as he fed his magic into the multiverse. Loki had mostly stopped noticing their weight or the faint pressure of the lazy coils wrapped around him after the first few nonexistent centuries.

Loki did not see those loose and relaxed loops. Well, he did on the arm that he could still move. But not around the right one.

Numerous strands wrapped tightly around the limb, twisting around his right arm like he’d twisted the timelines together to create a stable trunk for his multiversal Yggdrasil. But it did more than bind. Loki could see several of the thick threads burying into him. The ones that went in and out along his arm could almost be dismissed as merely disappearing into the fabric of his sleeve. But the timeline that disappeared straight into the back of his hand was harder to deny.

No blood. No jagged wound. No pain as long as he didn’t fight against it. But the strands were going in and out of his body like his mother doing embroidery.

And not merely in that arm. He saw another buried into his knee. Trying to shift, he felt them tugging out of his back. He tried to tilt his head and saw a glowing timeline emerging from one hip before vanishing back into his ribs further up. And when Loki yanked his left hand up to touch, he could feel another strand growing out of his neck where it met his shoulder, stretching upwards and brushing against the left side of face lightly enough to previously miss.

Loki didn’t even realize that he was grabbing and pulling at it until he felt the sharp pain that dug down deep through his body. Following the path of the timeline through him. Which only spurred him to pull harder. Hard enough to rip a shout of pain out of him before hands were prying his grip free.

“Stop,” said Sylvie.

“Get it out,” he snapped. “Get them out of me.”

Loki fought, struggled, and practically clawed at where the glowing timelines buried into him, causing more flashes of pain when they pulled under his flesh. But no amount of blind desperation could overcome the restraints of both the multiversal threads and his worried friends. Especially when he only had one free limb. Far too quickly, Loki collapsed in exhaustion and failure, though he was unable to truly slump because of those same threads twisted around him and through him.

The timelines were growing into him. Or perhaps Loki was growing into them. Either way, he was trapped. A part of the multiverse that he’d helped to thrive. His metaphorical prison becoming more literal.

“It’s all right,” said Mobius. The reassurances had been coming from both of them for a while, but Loki had barely noticed them through the roaring panic. “It’s going to be all right.”

“How?” he whispered, trying to raise his head enough to look at them again. “How can you make this all right?”

Once, the question would have been bitter and mocking. But there was hope in the scared and desperate words. They found him when it should have been impossible. If there was a chance, his friends would make it happen.

Hand reaching up to brush away the tears that he had not noticed falling, Sylvie said, “We’ll figure out something.” Glancing at Mobius, she suggested, “Maybe we can cut them?”

“As the guy who used to prune branches, let’s hold off on literally cutting timelines apart. Maybe save that plan as a last resort.”

“Well, clearly pulling them out doesn’t work.”

Hands going to his hips, Mobius bit his lips briefly and said, “None of us were prepared for this when we came here. We need an expert. What we need to do is get O.B. to work on the problem. See if he has any ideas on how to untangle this mess without hurting Loki or the timelines.”

On some level, Loki knew that they were right. They needed to approach it carefully. O.B. could study the problem and figure out a solution. One that Loki was too close to and too stressed to figure out on his own. A safe and sensible way to separate him from the multiverse trying to literally absorb him. It was the most reasonable course of action. Loki knew that.

But the idea of them leaving again terrified them. Panic and desperation clawed their way back up his tightening throat, leaving him lunging in his throne and yelping in pain from the embedded timelines pulling.

He couldn’t be alone again. What if he lost himself in the chaos of the multiverse once more, forgetting himself and slipping too far to find his way back this time? What if they were delayed or couldn’t return at all? What if Loki was swallowed completely by the timelines before a solution was found?

He was so close to being freed of the eternal burden of supporting and protecting the multiverse. But if they left, there may not be anyone left to save. He would be lost.

Hands tried to hold him down while worried voices begged him to stop. But as much as he craved their touch, the warmth and intensity of the contact overwhelming, Loki refused to calm down. Not this time. He fought harder despite the pain. Harder than before. More frantically than before. If he couldn’t break free, they would leave and he would be alone. Not again. Freedom was so close.

Something gave slightly in his right arm, making him gasp at the jolt of pain that shot through his entire body and made his vision nearly white out. But now the limb was slightly above the armrest of the throne. He just needed to fight even harder. It would work.

“Loki, stop!” shouted Mobius.

The sharp, furious, and terrified tone was so foreign from the levelheaded man that Loki obeyed without thinking. Mobius and Sylvie immediately started fussing at the various points where the timelines bore into his aching body. Loki realized uncomfortably that there was now blood around the one buried into his arm that he managed to lift slightly. There hadn’t been any before. And when Sylvie pulled her hand away from the timeline to the left of his neck, there was more blood on her fingertips.

It was the same timeline at two separate points. Both ends connected together through him. All that he’d managed to do was slide it slightly through his body, causing enough damage in the process to leave him bleeding a little. Physical force would be useless to free him unless he intended to carve the timelines out of his body.

“I don’t think you’ve done any permanent damage,” muttered Sylvie.

Not looking placated by her assessment, Mobius snapped, “Loki, what were you thinking? We have no idea how those things are going through you. What if one goes through your heart? What if you pulled them too hard and you—”

Mobius closed his eyes, visibly wrestling himself back under control. It was always unnerving to see him lose his cool because it was so rare. Both during Loki’s personal observations and what he’d glimpsed on the timelines, Mobius tended to be levelheaded. But he was certainly struggling to calm down now as he sat down on the cold stone in front of the throne, swallowing hard and fingers digging into the fabric of his trousers.

Taking a deep breath and opening his eyes finally, Mobius slowly said, “I’m sorry. I know you’re freaking out about all of this. I’ll be honest. We’re freaking out a bit too. But seeing you hurt yourself? After everything else that’s happened? Terrifying.”

Loki knew that he couldn’t do what he wanted to do. Not with the glowing timelines binding him and practically impaling him. But he could reach out with his left hand, the one that wasn’t bound. After a moment, Mobius reached up to take it.

“We’ll get you out of here,” said Sylvie, sounding both soothing and firm.

His voice unsteady despite his efforts, Loki asked, “And if there is nothing left to save by the time that you return?”

Loki saw the brief flash across their faces. And he knew. They had already considered that possibility, that both his mind and body would be fully consumed by the time that they found a solution. Neither of them were fools. They had merely chosen to ignore it and pretend it did not exist. Until he whispered the horrifying outcome and made it more difficult to reject. Mobius and Sylvie couldn’t deny that very real chance because they knew it was true. It could happen.

“Okay,” said Mobius softly. “I get it. That’s… That’s not a comforting idea.”

“But we won’t let it happen,” said Sylvie, almost snarling the words.

Nodding, he continued, “Of course not. We’ll…” He paused a moment in thought before grinning confidently. “All right, this only happened when you got mentally lost in the timelines for too long, right?”

Loki managed only the stiffest and smallest nod. Terror and pain were currently keeping him intently focused on his current circumstances, but he could feel them. The countless branches. Lurking and waiting to drag him back into the infinite.

“Then we just need to keep that from happening again. Make sure that your mind stays here.” Glancing next to him, Mobius said, “Sylvie, you go back and fill O.B. in on the problem. Don’t leave out any details. Tell him everything so he can get started on a solution. And I’ll just stick around and keep Loki company.”

“Are you serious?” asked Sylvie. “You’re the one that should be explaining to them about what is happening. You actually have the patience to deal with him and not fantasize about stabbing O.B. when he won’t get to the point. I’ll stay here.”

“Out of the two of us, you’re the one with an actual life back on the timeline. You have responsibilities. Didn’t you just tell me you got a raise?”

“They won’t even notice I’m gone. Advantage of having a TemPad.”

As the two continued their debate on who should stay and who should go, Loki felt a new horror twisting around in his gut. Or rather, an old one that he’d thought was long gone. A familiar fear that was far worse than what the glowing timelines were doing to his body or the possibility of losing his mind to the multiverse. The only thing that he feared more than being alone.

His friends suffering because of him. Sacrificing their freedom and lives after he gave up everything to give them something better.

Loki could practically see it. Mobius sitting next to him in the silent eternity. Or Sylvie, his Variant occasionally counting the infinite glowing green branches woven around and above them. One of his friends just sitting next to him, talking and comforting and encouraging and doing everything possible to keep his mind from being pulled under. All the while years, decades, centuries, millennia passed them by with no other distractions.

Able to escape at any point and yet remaining for his sake. Trapped by shackles of friendship and smiling about it even as they ran out of things to talk about, silence settled in, and hope eroded away into the numb emptiness. Claiming that saving him was worth it. Not dead or dying, but sacrificing their lives because they were no longer truly living. And all Loki would be able to do would be to watch eternity grind Mobius or Sylvie down until there was only a worn shadow left of the people that they once were.

Loki refused to put one or even both of them through that for however long it took everyone at the TVA to devise a solution. Assuming that they ever found a way to free him. If not, Mobius or Sylvie would almost certainly sacrifice their lives on the timelines to stay with him. And Loki would rather be swallowed up by the multiverse than allow that to happen. But there was nothing that he could do to stop them. Especially after he let those other fears slip out.

They would not leave him alone until he was free. Or dead.

He closed his eyes as an icy calm settled over him. There was one possible way that might separate him from the glowing strands woven through his body. The slimmest, most impossible chance. Centuries of temporal knowledge, physics expertise, and magic comprehension didn’t offer up anything better. Loki didn’t know if it would actually work or if it would merely tear him apart instead, killing him horribly.

Either way, his friends would be free to return to their lives and not bound to his throne as well.

During his attempts to prevent the destruction of the Temporal Loom and then the murder of He Who Remains, Loki had fully mastered his control of time slipping and the flow of time itself. Even in places like the TVA and outside of time where it should be impossible. He could move along his own personal timeline, replacing his past self. Tracing his own path by focusing on who instead of where, when, or why. A controlled and predictable result and a more comfortable process.

That was not what he needed now.

“Let go,” said Loki softly, his voice calmer than he expected.

Mobius and Sylvie, still in their debate over which of them should remain, startled slightly at the interruption. And not only did Mobius not obey the request, but Sylvie also reached up to wrap her fingers around his wrist. Normally Loki would appreciate the rebellion and the grounding warmth of their touch. But for what he had in mind, he didn’t want to risk them being harmed by the contact.

“Please,” he tried again, “let me go.”

They still hesitated, but this time they listened. His friends let go and even took a small step back. Loki gave them a grateful and reassuring smile.

Time slipping hurt. There was no getting around that fact. Despite what he told a worried Mobius countless lifetimes ago, getting yanked through time and space was painful. The more controlled version was easier to bear and he grew used to the sensation in his endless attempts to save everything, but it still hurt. The controlled version that he mastered was merely less painful.

But he needed to move both through time and space to separate himself from the embedded strands. Not along his own personal timeline, but disconnected and to a new point. That meant the less controlled and chaotic version of time slipping that he first experienced. The one that truly felt like he was tearing apart and being pulled as shredded pieces to a new destination. That’s what Loki reached for with clenched teeth and eyes closed.

The painful sensation of every fiber of his body being yanked in every possible direction, the very core ideal of himself jerking and seizing as inertia tried to resist the abrupt change in time and space, was familiar. Stripped of all control, it was still familiar. Leaving him thrashing as he was both pulled into ill-formed strings of spaghettification and contracted back together in the same instant.

Like he was being born or dying or both at the same time.

Except it wasn’t only the briefest second of pain and chaos before landing elsewhere and else when. Even as Loki was ripped and torn, he also felt something anchoring him. Keeping him bound enough to remain in that single point in space and that single moment of nonexistent time.

The strands. The timelines. The numerous concentrated threads of essentially temporal energy containing entire realities, enough to stretch from the very beginning until past the heat deaths of each universe. All stabilized by his magic and buried into his body.

Where did they end and he begin?

But worse than merely being trapped, his time slipping continued as agony wracked his spasming form. Unstoppable as the forces tried to yank him away and nail him in place. Uncontrollable and wild. His form in flux and unstable. The instantaneous process stretching out longer and longer. Taking far too long as he remained relatively in place.

There were shouting voices beyond the chaos. Beyond the pain. But he couldn’t really see or hear. He couldn’t do anything. He could never breathe as he time slipped, his body too unstable and barely solid enough for that.

His heart couldn’t beat with everything in flux.

Loki could feel the disorientation and pain as his body tried to time slip around the embedded timelines, but he also felt everything fading. Blurring and slowing. But his mind fought against the sensation of dying. Refusing to surrender to the engulfing silencing.

Grasping for every speck of power that he could reach. Fueling the time slip, needing to break free. And reaching for them. His friends.

Who, not why.

Something gave way and he snapped together. Collapsing, nothing under him to hold him up. No longer on a throne. Only rough stone.

Gasping for air, a staggering and stumbling beat pounding hard against his ribs. Trying to restart after far too long. Moments or eternity?

Ears ringing, lungs burning, limbs twitching, body aching. Power utterly drained. Darkness rushing in to claim him.

But warm hands touching, lifting, moving him. Voices, muffled and vague. An orange-gold glow, swallowing him briefly. More voices, loud and indistinct. Familiar.

Loki wasn’t alone. Exhausted, hurting, and fighting to catch his breath, but he wasn’t alone. That thought followed him as he plunged into the waiting darkness.

A slow, steady, and annoying beeping ushered in his return to consciousness. That and a dull ache all the way down to his bones, his entire body hurting. Though some places throbbed a little more strongly than others. Pain wasn’t a new experience for him and there was a sense of healing to it. More like a fading bruise instead of recent fracture. He was recovering from the source of the pain. So it did not overly concern him.

Or maybe it was the heavy exhaustion weighing him down, making him too tired to worry.

Dull pain, exhaustion, and an annoying beeping. None of which were exactly encouraging him to fully awaken. But the quiet was nice. The quiet in his mind, timelines not crowding and pushing. The multiverse didn’t threaten to overwhelm him if his control slipped. He barely remembered what that felt like. Loki could finally relax and rest. A little muddled and confused, but certain that everything was finally all right.

But other sensations trickled in. He was lying on his back on something soft. Something else soft and warm was covering him lightly; he felt it on top of him, but not heavy enough to trap or restrain him. And there were various points of his body carefully wrapped. Bandaged. The back of one of his hands, his hip, his ribs, his neck, his back—

Everywhere that the timelines had buried into his body.

The recent memories washed over him. Loki would have bolted upright, hands patting at the missing strands and needing to know for certain that it wasn’t a dream. Or the imaginings of a mind slowly slipping towards madness. But he was too tired to try. Not immediately passing back out felt like an impressive enough accomplishment.

But he didn’t feel any of the timelines wrapped around him or buried into his body. And he didn’t hear or see glimpses of the multiverse in his mind. And the light pressing against his eyelids wasn’t a green glow, but a warmer and brighter one. That was enough to offer hope that those memories were mostly real.

Slowly he noticed sounds beyond the annoying beeping. The quiet and steady hum of machinery. And soft shuffling steps of someone carefully moving around what Loki had already guessed to be a bed that he was laying on. The presence of an unknown person should have put him on guard, but he didn’t have the energy to worry.

And he felt safe. He couldn’t explain it, but he somehow knew that they weren’t a threat.

Louder footsteps approached, stopping close to the quieter ones. Both people closer to his right, but near his legs. If he opened his eyes, Loki knew that he would be able to see them. But that felt like more of an effort than he was capable of at the moment.

“Any update?”

Loki immediately knew that voice, pitched low and tinged with concern. B-15 appeared on timelines enough that he didn’t forget it and he easily found the Variants of Verity Willis scattered across the multiverse. At least before he was lost to the chaos of it. After that, locating anyone specific was impossible.

“He’s stable, even if he’s healing slower than his normal baseline rate.” And that voice was certainly Ouroboros, even if Loki hadn’t seen him since he replaced the Loom. “I’m not a doctor and can’t give you too much information on how his body is recovering, but the readings that I’ve gathered seem promising. The temporal radiation levels in him have dropped significantly since his arrival. My hypothesis is that having the timelines apparently absorbed into his body and the time slipping immediately prior to that artificially raised them. But they are still much higher than standard safety parameters and most people would have already undergone spaghettification upon exposure. Between that and the changes to his temporal aura, it could be dangerous for him to return to any timeline.”

“Define dangerous.”

“The best-case scenario is that Loki would immediately undergo full spaghettification as the entropy involved in proper linear time progression rips him apart.”

“That’s the best-case scenario?” she asked, somehow managing to keep her voice down despite the shock in her tone.

“The alternative is that the entire timeline unravels upon his arrival instead.” His voice still cheerful, O.B. said, “At least it is unlikely to result in damage on a multiversal scale. And there is a chance that his state could improve further as he recovers. We’re still dealing with an unprecedented situation. There are several mutually exclusive hypotheses that I’m considering and I need more data before drawing any long-term conclusions.”

“But he is improving?” she asked.

“As far as I can tell from my readings. And what the medics say when they come by to check on him. We might have to reassess when he wakes up and we can get a better idea of his mental state, but he should wake up eventually. Possibly soon.”

Very soon, Loki couldn’t help thinking wryly. Though he made no promises on how long he would remain awake.

He heard a quiet sigh before B-15 said, “Then you should get some rest. You’ve been working constantly and we don’t need you burning out.”

“I’m fine. I didn’t sleep for centuries. Work piles up too fast for that.”

“Please.” There was a slight pause that he suspected was her looking at something. “Enough of us are wearing ourselves out worrying about Loki. At least a couple of us need to remember to take care of ourselves or we won’t be able to help anyone.”

After a moment, O.B. said, “All right. A short break should be safe.”

“Thank you. And look at it this way. It’s not like we’re leaving him alone.”

Loki silently contemplated what she might mean as the twin footsteps moved away. As tempting as sleep might be in his exhausted state, curiosity won out. Prying his eyes open a tiny sliver felt like as great of an effort as constructing the temporal Yggdrasil. And yet he managed the tiniest crack.

He glimpsed the ceiling first, which was not very informative. But it wasn’t the black emptiness or the glowing green strands weaving together overhead. It was brown with round lights at regular intervals. Boring, ordinary, and beautiful. Loki would have laughed with pure relief if he had the energy for it. He never expected to see anything like it again.

Barely tilting his head, Loki managed to spot the top edges of multiple bulky machines around his current bed. Some that he immediately recognized the purpose of after centuries of tutelage under O.B. and others that he couldn’t identify as quickly. Those were likely more medical-related. But at least he had identified the source of the humming noise and the accursed beeping.

Loki vaguely noticed that he seemed to be in a larger space partitioned off with cream-colored curtains. The footsteps had echoed too much for a smaller room. But it was quiet beyond the curtains now and he couldn’t see past them. It gave him a sense of privacy and security despite the thin material.

He also realized belatedly that he no longer seemed to be wearing his large and heavy crown. It would have been impractical in bed. And he certainly didn’t mind its loss. Though what felt like cheap flimsy fabric worn over the various bandages instead of his robes was a less welcome change.

Moving his head even the smallest amount was exhausting. And it made his neck ache where the timeline went through him before. But he turned it slightly to the right and caught sight of something surprising. Or perhaps, not that surprising at all.

Sitting in a chair with one leg propped up, Sylvie was sleeping right next to his bed. Not a deep sleep. Her eyelids fluttered slightly and the blade in her hand made it clear that she would wake swinging at the smallest disturbance. But her other hand rested on the blanket next to him.

Following a hunch, Loki forced his heavy head in the opposite direction. As expected, there was another occupied chair on that side. Slumped and using his jacket as a blanket, Mobius was also sleeping next to the narrow bed. Mouth slightly open, but not quite drooling yet. And one hand had snaked out from under his jacket to rest on the mattress.

Both of them. Mobius and Sylvie. Not giving up their new lives to linger somewhere beyond and outside of time, but not leaving him alone either. And maybe he wasn’t completely certain that he deserved their presence, he certainly treasured it.

He bound himself with the heavy burden of eternity, but they didn’t give up until he could set it aside and return to them. His friends brought him back. They brought him home.

Sleep was pulling hard, trying to drag him back down. Slumber would help him heal and recover his strength. But he resisted for a moment or two longer.

Loki slid his hands slightly across the blanket until he brushed against theirs. Tiny spots of warmth where they touched. He heard Sylvie beginning to stir at the contact, but Loki was already letting himself relax from their proximity.

“Loki?”

He would have responded, but he didn’t have the energy to resist the sweet lure of sleep. But they would be there when he awoke.

They had time.