Goddess of Stories | Loki & Peter

Endgame

"We're in the endgame now."

Final chapter.

Have fun :)

Epilogue to be posted next week though, of course~

"What's- what's happening?" Peter asked, hands shaky, voice shakier.

Loki struggled to find words that his panic didn't instantly strangle. "What do you mean?"

"My... my spidey sense. It's going off like crazy... I don't know what's happening." Loki noticed before Peter did, noticed the fingers of his left hand slowly drifting away in the air as they turned to dust. Peter raised the hand to his face when he noticed the disappearance of weight. His eyes somehow widened more than they were already. Loki could see the sweat glistening on his skin. "Loki? What's going on?"

"I don't... I don't know, Peter," Loki said softly, "I'm sorry."

Peter's entire forearm was gone, his right hand was starting to go. The realisation that he was dying seemed to finally set in. He looked like he was holding back vomit before he rushed forward to wrap his arms around Loki and press his head into his chest.

Loki didn't have anything to say, he could barely register how he was feeling. All he knew was that he should be the one dying, not Peter. Peter was a child.

And by the Norns did he look like a child now more than he ever had. Peter let out a shaking sob. "I want Aunt May."

Loki wrapped his own arms around Peter as he felt the weight of Peter's arms disappearing. "I know... I know..." He reassured because there were no other words. Loki's thoughts felt like fog he was scrambling to catch with a fishing net.

"I don't want to die. I don't want to go." Peter sobbed again. "Tell Aunt May-" Peter choked on his words before he looked up at Loki with pure unfiltered panic.

Loki was left grasping at empty air. He kept his hands up – unable to process, unable to move.

Tell Aunt May what? If he had known would he even have said it to her? Most likely not. He was ever the coward.

Loki felt completely dissociated. He didn't even realise he was crying until he tasted salt on his lips, didn't realise Strange was in front of him until a hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Loki," Strange said, "It's time."

"Fuck. Off." Loki spat out.

Ah, there was the emotion he was looking for.

Anger.

Loki thrived in anger, revelled in wrath. Sadness was a liability, grief was a hindrance, happiness was a distraction. Anger was a tool that Loki had long ago learned to twist into whatever purpose he needed it to suit. He hadn't felt true anger in such a long time. He felt powerful in a way he hadn't since the invasion of New York.

But this time he didn't have the mind stone limiting him and poisoning his mind. He would rip Thanos to pieces.

"Loki." Strange repeated, and Loki finally noticed the specks of dust drifting away from his shoulder. Strange held the time stone between his fingers without the casing of the Eye around it.

"What? Now you're using the time stone? After people have died? Peter was sixteen." Loki spat every word out, like they were acid on his tongue.

"I know," Strange said, "but I had to make sure you were properly motivated. I didn't want you to try changing anything else."

"You chose the death of a child as a motivator? You're vile. A rat in human form."