I’d Search Till the Realms Fell (and Long After)
It was the sound of snapping bone that always woke him. His dreams haunted him, replaying memories he never lived yet remembered.
Sometimes, he’d gasp awake, certain Thanos had come to finish him in this timeline, furious another Loki lived. Even after, after the TVA finally came into focus and the screams faded against the threads of time, he’d feel Thor’s breath against his chest as his tears soaking into his corpse.
It isn’t often one has memories of one’s death.
Thor would be furious if he knew.
After he hugged him of course, asking him how he survived and laughing at another death failing to be true. After that, he’d be furious. He’d demand to know his sinister plot and why Loki insisted on betraying him again and again.
And again.
He always was one for the dramatics.
“I trust you, you betray me, and round and round we go.”
But this was different. He couldn’t make his way back to Thor even if he wanted to.
Not that he did.
He was dreaming again. He could feel Thor’s grip on his forearm, the weight of his brother’s face buried in his shoulder as the flames threatened to burn them alive. He tried to tell Thor to move, that he couldn't breathe with the weight crushing him, but he couldn’t make his mouth form the words his brain screamed. When he woke, jolting upward with the familiar snap still ringing in his ears, Thor was there, staring out into the void of the TVA.
“So, this is where you’re keeping yourself these days. I’d have thought Hell to be a bit more...Hellish.”
“Thor.” A statement. A wish.
“Hello, brother.”
“You’re not real.”
“Of course, I am, brother.” He winked, reminding him of days of hiding in his shadows and uncomplicated jealousy.
“It’s not possible.”
“Let me rephrase then. I am as real as you and all this...all this...Well, whatever it is. We both know this Realm is an illusion.”
“It’s not an illusion.”
“Perhaps. But you are.” Ah yes. A Loki without a home. No timeline for him to leap to and belong. No pieces to pick up and glue back together. Not this time. Yet here he was. Existing in nonexistence. “Don’t look so dismayed Loki, I’ve grown use to these games.”
“It’s not a game.” He laughed. A hollow sound is scrapping against white prison walls.
“You forget Loki, I’ve followed you to the ends of the realms. Everything is a game to you.”
“Yet here you are again.
“I have no control over the illusions you choose to cast.” Illusion. Always an illusion. “What say you then, brother, shall we have a rousing discussion about betrayal? Family? Duty? Honor?”
He had no right to feel pain.
And yet.
“Well, that’s enough of that.” A snap of fingers and Thor was gone, his laughter hanging thick in the air, taking Loki’s breath as if Thanos was there – Fingers around his neck, last words of what a God is and what he would never be.
Not that he knew.
It was the sound of his brother’s voice that haunted him. He didn’t need a Thor variant to plague him of his betrayal. Not with the dreams.
“It’s your destiny,” Mobius told him, “If you were given a thousand do-overs, you’d choose the same path every time. Lokis’ are always the same. It’s the way it’s always been. The way it will always be.”
But he didn’t need a do over. He just needed to find his way back.
It was the cell that terrified him. The glass walls, the glowing edges, how they taunted him of years thrown away in the dungeons of Asgard.
The only thing more terrifying than non-existence is existing only to live in abandonment. For all eternity. Falling through time and place without purpose or meaning. Without a soul knowing you’re out there, still, between galaxies and frozen moons and time itself.
A prisoner cast out by his own flesh.
Not that he was of their flesh.
Perhaps it was for that reason severing their connection from him was so simple.
“What is your deepest regret?” The illusion. Leaning against the wall, amusement dancing in his unfamiliar eyes.
“I’m not playing this game with you, Thor.”
“But you love games, brother.”
“Not this time.”
“You know you can’t escape me, brother, with or without my cheap imitations.”
He was right.
Mother.
Sending the frost giants her way.
But she wasn’t supposed to be there.
Yet she was.
Then she was gone. Gone in every reality, every timeline, every dream.
How he longed to see her in his dreams – but there was only dust in all her spaces.
He didn’t know then. How she died. Trapped in the world of Asgard prisons never to see the Sun shine again. How would he have known? He didn’t see her sent off; her spirit set free with a thousand lanterns floating to the heavens to meet her.
No. Thor made sure to keep him imprisoned for his mother’s ascent.
Thor’s mothers ascend.
“Am I not your mother?”
“You’re not.”
For that, he would never forgive Thor.
If he ever did see him again anyway. After he left Thor hug him, after they laughed about how Loki escaped death again, argued about his betrayal, he winked, and said, “I’ve missed you too, brother.”
After that, he would never forgive him.
And yet. Mobius was constantly there to remind him Mother’s death was his fault, not Thors.
“Do you enjoy hurting people?”
That his past was riddled with death and destruction and Thor must be terribly co-dependent to trust a brother whose entire purpose was to betray.
For that, he would never forgive himself.
And yet.
If he hadn’t sent the frost giants' mother’s way, if his mother never died, Thor never would have come to Loki asking him to save Jane and avenge Frigga's death.
He never would have seen the sun and Thor never would have learned to trust him again.
“So, you could betray him again,” Mobius reminded him, again, after Loki brought that point to his attention.
‘Well, yes, but it was harmless betrayal! Thor was happy killing giants, and I was happy -”
“Ruling Asgard?” Disappointed. Skeptical.
“Yes! Is that really so terrible?”
“Do you enjoy hurting people?”
“This obsession Loki has only left destruction in its wake. Can’t you see that? You keep doing the same thing over and over again. Expecting to win somehow. Fulfill your purpose. It always ends that same. It always will. It may be your purpose to rule, but it is your destiny to betray. It is your destiny to die.”
“You could be so much more, brother.”
But what did Mobius know of living in shadows? Chained to lies and a birthright to rule? What did Mobius know about death being marked on you as a child?
“If it helps, I do regret my betrayal to Thor. It’s become a bit of a bad habit I suppose. He's so gullible.” He smirked, making light, ignoring the wounded look from Thor’s illusion.
“Is it regret if you know you’d do it again?”
“I didn’t say I would do it again.”
“Would you?” Thor's illusion inched closer, the games and mockery playing across his eyes gone leaving frayed strands of hope. Their eyes meeting, Loki breaking away startled at what he saw. The betrayal had always been a byproduct of his purpose. Something Loki was always willing to accept, and Thor was always willing to forgive.
There was always time to build back relationships and let the hundreds of years cool the anger and pain of that betrayal. There was always time to come back.
Until there wasn’t.
“Do you enjoy hurting people?”
“I don’t know.”