Chapter 7
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Mobius really wasn’t prepared for what he was going to see when he stepped through the time door. He had anticipated maybe something bleak and empty, like an extension of the void, or something magnificent and beautiful befitting a powerful god.
He didn’t expect the first thing that caught his attention to be the god of stories, the architect of the tree that held all of life within it, looking up at him with an expression so vulnerable, so afraid, so broken , that Mobius felt the tears rising in his eyes even before either of them had spoken.
“ Mobius ?”
Loki’s voice was barely a whisper. Tears shone in his eyes, reflecting the all pervasive green glow around them, and he didn’t move. He was seated on a something pure gold. A throne, but not an ornate one. It, too, was broken but beautiful.
“Hey,” Mobius found his own voice cracking with emotion.
“I didnt realise…you didn’t warn me you were…”
Mobius shrugged, smiling softly, “Well, you didn’t warn me either.”
At that, Loki smiled, that fond, genuine, amused smile few before the TVA had ever been gifted the chance to see. He stood slowly, and in one step had closed the short distance between them.
They paused there, inches apart. Almost touching, but not quite.
It was terrifying. The possibility that Mobius might reach out and find nothing there. An illusion or a dream that would break the moment he tried to make contact. Maybe Loki feared the same, watching Mobius with uncertainty and fear in his eyes.
Finally, the analyst shook his head.
If this was an illusion, he should break it sooner rather than later. If it was real, he had to know.
He reached out and gripped Loki’s elbow, felt the real form beneath his hand, and immediately tugged the god into a desperate hug. He shut his eyes and finally let his breath go as Loki’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and he buried his face against Mobius’ neck.
When he saw Loki walk away, Mobius was certain that was it. He would never see or speak to him again, let alone hold him.
“Please tell me this isn’t a dream,” he mumbled, voice muffled against Loki’s shoulder and the fine fabric of his clothes.
“It isn’t,” Loki replied softly, “Trust me.”
Those two words made Mobius laugh.
“You should’ve trademarked that phrase.”
Loki let out a soft chuckle, pulling back but not letting his hands leave Mobius.
This close, Mobius could see just how tired and drawn he was.
Broken, beneath his beautiful majesty.
Loki had already looked fractured when he turned to face Mobius at the blast doors, moments before he moved out into the relentless temporal radiation. At the time he hadn’t wholly understood why. Now he knew it was the pain of his decision overlaying the repeated timeslipping and attempt after attempt to save them.
“I can’t go far from here,” Loki said quietly, “I need to be able to maintain a connection, reach the branches with my magic, see the timelines…but I-I need not always be there…I…”
His expression fell and he looked away.
“Loki?” Mobius reached out, gripped his elbow gently.
“I never intended for you to come here. I wanted to give you a chance, a choice, to live the life you chose. Not be bound by my decision.”
“This is what I choose, Loki,” Mobius replied firmly, reaching out to gently turn Loki’s face to look at him, “My old life on a branch isn’t mine anymore. Maybe it never was really right for me. The TVA feels wrong without you there annoying me and ruining my lunch with your theories. This is where I’m meant to be now. Always.”
That brought a smile, gentle and familiar, to Loki’s lips. A smile that Mobius echoed.
“Is a bit cold though,” Mobius continued teasingly, “Don’t suppose you wanna grab a coat out of an apocalypse for me?”
Loki tilted his head, and keeping one hand on Mobius’ shoulder, raised the other. A branch drifted into his hand, suddenly drawing Mobius’ attention to all the branches weaving around them, each permeated through with the beautiful green glow of Loki’s magic.
As he watched, Loki’s eyes glowed green for a few seconds before he released the branch, letting it drift away. As it parted from the god, a shape began to grow in his hand, slowly resolving into a blue, insulated jacket.
“Neat trick,” Mobius grinned.
With a proud smile, Loki handed the coat to Mobius.
It fit the analyst perfectly. No surprise there that Loki had somehow memorised what size coat he wore.
“Warm enough?”
“Perfect.”
“Good,” Loki replied, the warm richness of his voice soothingly familiar, “Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.”
He pressed his hand to Mobius’ back, guiding him beyond the gold throne. Branches, thick around them before, parted for them, arcing to allow them to move from the throne towards a tall archway not far behind it. The branches closed back behind them and still surrounded them. A moving, living, forest of timelines filling all the space around.
Beneath the solid archway, Loki flicked one hand, and immediately rows of torches lining the walls burst into flame, illuminating a short corridor. Two doors were set into each of two of the walls, and a final, larger, door stood at the end.
Mobius recognised the architecture within as well as if he had lived in it himself.
This was part of the palace of Asgard. Or, maybe fragments of different parts of it, splintered and fitted back together with bands of gold. Damaged structural elements, probably taken from Ragnarok.
“Given that it was glaringly obvious what you were planning, I decided to make the place somewhat more accommodating,” Loki said, looking from the corridor back to Mobius, “It’s a little haphazard, given you gave me no warning of your arrival, but it is still far more tasteful than either the TVA or the citadel that stood here before. Granted that’s not saying an awful lot.”
“What’s wrong with a brown-beige-orange colour scheme?”
“Trust me, it’s hideous.”
Mobius chuckled, stepping forward to start examining the rooms, opening one door at a time onto variations on what he knew of the Asgardian palace. Similar, but slight differences in furniture or size, and in some cases with Earth features, including a leather recliner in the library and bowl of candy in the kitchen.
“Just one bedroom?” Mobius glanced back from the second door on the left, which opened onto something similar to Loki’s bedroom on Asgard. That room had remained unchanged after his first believed death and subsequent arrest, never being used by anyone else throughout all the time Asgard had left.
Loki walked closer, shoes soft on the stone floor, and paused in the doorway beside Mobius, “I can’t sleep.”
“Don’t have to sleep in a bed,” Mobius replied without thinking, and without caring that he hadn’t thought, because really, he didn’t care about any of it now.
He was here, with Loki, watching with amusement as a slight flush rose in his pale skin.
“Indeed,” Loki’s slight unease from those words shifted into a small smile, the sort of smile that foretold mischief, “And I expect you are already perfectly aware that this particular bed has seen no shortage of other activities.”
Mobius swallowed against the dryness in his throat. He hadn’t intended to say what he had and he hadn’t expected Loki to rise to it. Not really. Not like this.
Because Mobius did know. He had seen Loki take plenty of people to his bed in Asgard. He was a prince, after all. There were those who hoped to gain something from an intimacy with him, and others who were simply attracted to the luxurious beauty of it all.
Mobius doubted any of them really saw Loki, not the way Mobius did.
They saw a son of Odin, or maybe a charming, attractive, Asgardian, but not the layers of who Loki really was. The chaos and mischief. The sadness and desperate need for affection, both hidden behind walls of violence and playfulness and cold detachment.
The genuinely good person beneath it all. The sort who would sacrifice himself to protect those he cared for.
But then, Loki back then was not the same god as stood beside Mobius now. He had changed. Far more than Mobius really realised until he was walking away, disappearing somewhere beyond reach.
“Mobius?” Loki sounded worried, nervous, “Are you alright? I didn’t mean to…”
Mobius grabbed the neckline of Loki’s robes and pulled him down, pressing his lips against Loki’s like he had imagined doing far too many times since their strange partnership began.
The kiss was short, passion and need giving way to a sudden anxiety in Mobius, but almost as soon as they parted, Loki grinned and pressed in to initiate another.
Loki kissed with all the beautiful chaos that defined him, and it was as intoxicating as listening to him talk when he was excited or passionate about what he was saying.
“Wait,” Loki breathed, not trying to move away from Mobius, still close enough that the smallest movement would meet their lips again, “We need to finish the tour.”
“We have all eternity, right?”
Loki grinned, “We do, if you choose. However, I really don’t think this can wait.”
“You know, that phrase usually comes right before someone mentions a serious everything-ending event,” Mobius raised an eyebrow.
“I promise this is not that,” Loki took his arm and tugged him from the room, “Come on.”
He stopped them before the final door in the corridor and gestured proudly for Mobius to open it.
Immediately Mobius could see the reason for Loki’s impatience.
Beyond that door, down a small set of steps and within an arched room, was an expanse of water, illuminated on all sides by lit torches, spreading warmth and orange light that danced over the water. It was nothing from Asgard, or any Earth apocalypse Mobius knew of. He thought he recognised the style of the walls and ceiling, but he couldn’t remember from where or when.
Not that it mattered or really occupied more than a moment of thought because on that water, near the base of the steps, was something that trumped everything else in the room.
A jet ski, just sitting there, gently rocking on the softly lapping water.
That beautiful union of form and function, right there before him, and it was even more glorious than he ever imagined up close.
Mobius ran his hand over the Kawasaki brand name along the front, wondering where Loki had managed to find it without messing with any timelines with the back of his mind, while all the rest was occupied with picturing himself riding it out over this strange private lake.
“I did get the right kind, right?” Loki asked, appearing beside him, touching a hand to his shoulder.
“It’s awesome,” Mobius turned from the personal watercraft to the god, “This whole place is awesome. Jet Ski’s obviously the best bit.”
“Better than me?”
“You’re a close second,” Mobius patted him on the shoulder and turned back to the beautiful feat of engineering and design.
“Perhaps you and your watercraft would like some time alone then?”
Mobius caught his wrist as he pretended to walk away.
“Tour’s over, right?”
“It is.”
“Do you need to,” Mobius nodded past him to the golden throne beyond the doors and archway, “Tend to the tree?”
“Not right this moment.”
“Then,” Mobius tugged Loki down, pressing their lips together again, “Maybe the Jet-Ski can wait.”
That brilliant smile spread across Loki’s lips, “I couldn’t agree more.”
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