Chapter Text
Chapter 1: The variant
'A fugitive variant's been killing our minutemen.' Finally, they're getting to the interesting part.
'And you need the God of Mischief to help you stop him?
'That's right.'
'Why me?' Because I'm brilliant. Because I'm so smart I'm the only guy who could ever manage to catch him. Because I'm 'The One'? Because of the Prophecy, ooh. 'Loki, you are the most powerful variant the TVA has ever seen.' Go ahead and say it and I'll make them beg for my help...
'The variant we're hunting is... your brother.' ..Oh. Of course.
___
That night, he has a terrifying dream.
He sees it all again, the pictures Mobius showed him, the evidence of his failures in the 'true' and 'sacred' timeline – like a chained-up hostage in the worst theater show. But this time, there's a figure in the shadows that he just can't quite see. A hooded, dark shilouette; always just barely visible in the background, like an oily stain. No matter how hard he tries, his gaze can just not grasp it, and soon it turns painful, like he's straining his eyes to look at something out of frame.
Eventually the scenes turn darker and darker like a shadow descends upon them. He can make out stars now, and the hooded figure, finally floating into full view. There is nothing around them now but void and star dust, and the creature is stretched out before him, impossibly large and ancient. There is no face, no expression he can study, but somehow an intense aura of loneliness envelops them both. Whatever this creature may be, it has lived in intense isolation for millennia, perhaps for longer than his mind can even comprehend. Something reaches out for him, tries to relate. See, we are both lonely. You know my pain. But the grief that assaults his mind is too much, and he just barely manages to sever the connection before it overwhelms him.
He wakes up panting the word sacred, fingers clutched around sweat-soaked bed sheets. For a while, he lies awake, trying to gather the fragments of his dream while they shift like quicksand. They go the way of most dreams, and when he wakes up again in the morning none remain.
___
He stares at the heap of files on his desk, partially coffee-stained, in disarray. On top lies the first one they'd let him read.
THOR ODINSON
Variant T508
The picture shows a variant that isn't too far from the Thor he knows, but battle-hardened, short of hair, with a stare of desperate determination he hasn't seen often in his brother before. He's not stupid - obviously, this variant comes from somewhere after the times he saw on the tape - after the time he died. He's read about it all now – Ragnarok, the complete planetary destruction of Asgard, the snap, the way the Avengers managed to travel back in time and right what Thanos had wronged. He learned, as assurance, that the real Thor goes on to have a long, long life afterwards. But Mobius refuses to tell him or let him access anything more, since 'it's not relevant' and 'the variant we're seeking wouldn't know any of that either so stop asking me, Loki'.
Mobius had readily accepted his theory in the end, although he hadn't appreciated the means of explanation. Loki likes the guy well enough, but it was just so fun to tease him. The TVA may well be powerful, but simple mischief never fails to earn him the looks and sighs of exasperation he so enjoys.
'Ok so, let's say this salad, that's Thor. Right? Thor's mind, if you will.' He starts shaking the salt and pepper with glee, savoring the old guy's reaction. 'Say this is all trauma. Failures. He became king, right? The thing he's always wanted. Except, at the time he maybe didn't want it so much anymore. He's not the stupid old brute anymore who thinks being king just means you get to throw your hammer around a bunch. Slightly less stupid.' More pepper. 'So, he had this cozy life, for a thousand years. Dad's favorite. Golden prince of Asgard. Can't do no wrong. Shines even more compared to his greasy, weasely brother. Right? But then? Meets a bunch of humans. Oh, blah blah, mwah mwah, we're not so different after all. Brother kind of tries to kill him.' He flicks his eyes to Moebius in case that gets any sort of reaction, but the man's eyes are just fixed on what's becoming of his lunch in a mixture of horror and interest.
More salt. 'Brother dies. Well, seemingly. Wasn't even his brother, not really. Dad's lied to him for years. Not everything is really so golden in Asgard's halls, is it? Next thing he knows is, said brother reappears and kind of tries to rule the world. Kills a lot of the humans he likes so much. Sure, in the end it all works out well, and he's the hero again, with his new hero friends. But this is all a little different than punching out a few trolls and then drinking and laughing about it in the tavern, right?'
He stands up to make a point, grabbing Casey's juice packet from the next table over. 'But this is all nothing – nothing – compared to what's yet ahead. Within a few years, he loses his mother, father, and brother – again - ' he begins to squeeze the juice onto the already ruined lunch, a slow trickle at first that steadily increases. 'his weapon - he loses his kingdom and most of the people he was sworn to rule and protect. Then the whole Thanos thing. Oh, they fight hard, and in the end he sinks his axe in the villain. This is where the happy end takes place, right? That's how it's always been. Except the snap still happened, and everything's still broken. They didn't fix it, they couldn't fix anything. And that's it.' He squeezes out the last of the juice in an explosive squirt for effect and throws the carton behind him. 'That's when he breaks, and something happens. He branches off the timeline.
Now, what would be on his mind? To undo everything, plain and simple. To go back and find a way to make it all gone. After all, time travel exists, right? He knows that now. And.. the stones are around. The infinity stones. Thanos has done it – what's to say a god can't use the stones to reverse the flow of time?' He sits down, satisfied with the impression his little monologue seems to have had. 'That's what must have happened. He got his hand on the stones, or some of them, somehow. He probably withstood the temptation a thousand times – but not this Thor, not in this one timeline. He travels through time, or perhaps reality. He... commits a bunch of murder and arson on the way.' His assuredness vanes for a second as he looks back at the files naming all the TVA agents this Thor has killed in whatever mad scheme the man is pursuing. Now that is still a mystery – what is the variant's ultimate goal? He can't say, for sure, because he has never dealt with a Thor so ready to leave a trail of innocent corpses for his goals to steal a few reset charges. He simply doesn't know, can't know yet. It bugs him immensely.
'Whichever way, he's trying to undo what he perceives as his greatest failure. And believe you me: if I am an expert in anything, then surely it's in failure.' A little self deprecating quip to finish the presentation with a final flourish. Satisfied, he waits.
One look at Moebius' face and he knew the man believed his theory. Which felt new, because usually he had much more success making people believe in his lies than in a plainly spoken truth.
'Not bad for a scared little boy, I must admit. A - scared little boy... ' There's a clear glimmer of recognition in the man's eyes and Loki waits impatiently until Mobius takes a sheet of paper out of his pocket and unfolds it on the table. 'He gave this to a kid in one of the timelines. We thought it might be some sort of code but noone can make anything of it. This tell you anything?'
Loki stares at the paper and the Asgardian runes on it. Yes, this tells him something, and for a second his heart grows painfully at the fact that the variant's first action was to contact him, with a message that could only possibly mean anything to the both of them. 'Yes, this tells me something.' He glares up at Moebius who leans forward in frustrated anticipation. 'And I'll tell you – if I get my daggers back.'
'The only thing you're getting is a new LUNCH – for ME!' Moebius growls, and Loki grins broadly. He likes this dynamic of them, the teasing that comes to him as naturally as breath. It's definitely got nothing to do with the fact that it reminds him of something, another dynamic with another man, before everything went awry.
___
He did not get his daggers back. Of course that is of little consequence – he has other means. Stabbing people along the way is really mostly just for fun, and flair. Something about knives and their sharp, painful edges has always attracted him, and so he made them part of his whole theme. That, and the whole snake & wolf motif. I bite, apparently they say. Stay away for your own good.
He feels the weight of this ace in the sleeve, the stone he'd palmed when Casey was distracted trying to not get pruned. For such a powerful organisation, the TVA really does have awful security. Most likely hubris has made them reckless, something he himself is terribly familiar with. To the TVA these might be little more dangerous than paperweights, but out there he knows what he can do with it. He'd have grabbed more, but maybe it's best to be careful this time. One little paperweight gone missing won't sound the alarm for a while. Not until it's far too late. It will serve him excellently on his quest to overthrow the timekeepers and seize control of time and fate itself.
If this is what it takes to unbreak all the things he broke, a galactic time war is barely just a blip on his conscience and a risk he is happy to take. After all, chaos is always more fun anyway. And what gives three space lizards the right to decide over fate? They must be overthrown, not just for his sake, but for the thousands or millions of timelines, thousands of Thors and thousands of Lokis, free to reach success or damnation by their own free will and power. He grins in excitement. Moebius isn't watching.
The portal opens, and they step through.