Chapter Text
Stephen knows he needs to check in at Kamar-Taj, knows he needs to check in with the Ancient One (dear Vishanti, he doesn’t think he’s ready to stand in front of her again) (but he’s going to have to because there’s going to be an uproar about Zotia), but he quite honestly can’t gather the strength to leave. Because that would mean having to take his eyes off of Tony Stark (and Peter Parker, but Peter was alive before everything went to shit) (again). Tony who is vibrant and whole and in his element as he sets about demanding what he wants to happen with an ease of years being the top dog and just alive. It makes his chest hurt just watching. A good ache, but an ache nonetheless. If Yggdrasil hadn’t left, he might’ve been slightly okay with leaving (the fact that Zotia, Nuelle, and Sephtis hadn’t seemed alarmed when she vanished calms him somewhat). However, despite Barnes being Sephtis’ Champion, Stephen doesn’t trust him with Tony’s safety, and he doesn’t want to put the weight of that expectation on Peter’s shoulders (by the Vishanti, the kid puts enough on his own shoulders).
“Even if you do not trust Father’s Champion, you may at least trust Father himself,” Zotia says softly into his ear. “None of us will allow anything to happen to the Kingmaker.”
“You know why this is hard,” he mutters back peevishly.
“Hm.” Zotia gives him an unimpressed look. “You will not be able to remain at his side every second of every minute of every hour of every day, Champion mine. He will not thank you for that, not right now.”
“I’m aware.” He curses the fact that he can literally feel his cheeks warming. On the other side of the room, Peter’s masked eyes meet his own and his (not yet) son tilts his head questioningly. Stephen waves him off, wanting Peter to remain by Tony’s side because the kid can get away with hovering.
“Then let us go now, while you know the Kingmaker has adequate protection. As I said, Father will not allow anything to happen to the Kingmaker.”
He hates it, but Stephen knows that Zotia is right. So he grits his teeth and crosses the room. Tony’s still yelling at people on his phone, but he side-eyes Stephen despite not pausing in his tirade. “Spider-Man,” Stephen says, only just managing to catch himself before he uses Peter’s actual name (Tony will kill him if he ends up being the one to out Spider-Man as Peter Parker, and Stephen wouldn’t even protest) (not after the way the kid was outed last time, even if Tony doesn’t know anything about it yet).
“Doctor Strange?” Stephen isn’t ashamed to admit that it’s ridiculously cute the way Peter comes to attention at the sound of his hero name.
“I have to go check in with my Order. I’ll be as quick as I can, but some people probably aren’t going to be happy about Zotia.” He’s really not looking forward to confronting Mordo (because once upon a time he looked up to Mordo, and having someone who you look up to walk away from what you believe in is always the worst) (to say nothing of how Zotia might react if the man starts spouting off his ‘natural order of things’ shtick). “Can you keep an eye on Tony until I get back?”
“Rude!” Tony hisses before going back to his conversation on the phone (the fact that the man also has a tablet that he’s frantically typing away on too is nothing short of awe inspiring).
Stephen feels a fond smile tugging at his lips and he ruthlessly squashes it. Instead he just looks expectantly at Peter who has a hand pressed to his face as if to stop anything from coming out of his mouth. He’d call the kid on it, but he’s just happy that he knows Peter (the kid’ll probably be able to get away with a fair bit of stuff for a while between him and Tony) (although Tony’s Dad instincts might kick in sooner rather than later, who knows). “Well?”
Peter vigorously nods his head. “Yeah, I’ll stay with Mr Stark.”
Stephen’s shoulders slump despite his best efforts. “Thank you.” He eyes Barnes on the other side of the room, but the man has his eyes closed and his head tipped back. Sephtis, however, almost regally inclines his head when Stephen makes eye contact. That’ll have to be good enough for now. He takes his sling ring out of his pocket and focuses on Kamar-Taj. Specifically the training area. Then he twists his arm in the familiar motion to call up a portal (he really has to ask Zotia about his magic displaying green now instead of the usual yellow). Before him blooms the achingly familiar grounds of Kamar-Taj. He steps through without a second’s hesitation because this place is still somehow home to him. Of course, the usual hustle and bustle that keeps the place running comes grinding to an abrupt halt as he steps through his portal. Since he can actually hear Zotia’s footsteps as she follows behind him, Stephen assumes that she’s letting everyone else see her as well.
“Where would I find the Ancient One?” he asks no one in particular, figuring he’ll get an answer quicker that way (or maybe not, given how spooked they all look).
“I’m right here, Stephen.”
His spine goes rigid, entirely unprepared to hear her voice again even though she’s the reason he came back.
“Steady, Champion,” Zotia murmurs, laying a hand on his arm.
He’s slow to turn, but turn he does, and in doing so lays eyes on his mentor for the first time in years. She’s entirely unchanged from his memories, but that’s to be expected (both because of her channeling energy from the Dark Dimension and because he knew her for less than a year). Still, his knees threaten to buckle out from underneath him because her death has always been something that’s haunted him. He knows she had no real chance, not with the height she fell from, but that hadn’t made her death any less painful (any loss was painful, even more so when it happened on an operating table) (and he doesn’t blame Nic for losing her either, not after the conversation he and the Ancient One had on the balcony).
Flanking her on either side are Mordo and Wong.
(He’s not ready to talk to them.)
(But he will because they need the Masters of the Mystic Arts in their corner preparing for what’s to come.)
There are three others behind them, and Stephen only really knows one of them. Tina Minoru, the Master of the Hong Kong Sanctum. As both the Sorcerer Supreme and a fellow Master of a Sanctum, the two of them had gotten somewhat acquainted during his time on Earth (and the seemingly endless lifetimes he’s lived). He recognizes one of the two men, if only because the sight of Daniel Drumm, former Master of the New York Sanctum, has been seared into his mind after the events that had Stephen taking on that particular role (the sight of Drumm’s broken body haunts Stephen’s dreams more than he cares to admit). The final person he can only assume is the Master of the London Sanctum who was killed during Kaecilius’ attack (Sol Rama, who he really only ever saw in passing during training exercises) (sometimes Stephen curses his photographic memory).
(In a nutshell, it’s the librarian, his two mentors, and the three Masters of the Sanctums gathered to integrate him.)
(He vaguely recalls Zotia ordering the Ancient One to gather everyone here right as he’d portaled himself and Peter to Siberia to go after Tony, but he’d been more focused on Tony than what his Infinity Stone was doing at the time.)
Stephen clears his throat in a vain attempt to dislodge the lump rising up in it. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
“Of course. Will anyone else be joining you?” the Ancient One inquires.
His lips twitch as he glances briefly towards Zotia. “No, just us.” He doesn’t think that Kamar-Taj, even with all their knowledge and experience, is ready for all the Infinity Stones and their Champions to converge on them (they’re probably not ready for him and Zotia either, but needs must).
The Ancient One nods briskly before turning on her heel and striding away, clearly expecting them all to follow. It’s with a vaguely amused smile that Stephen does just that, despite the twenty-nine and then some megaannum it’s been since he answered to her. Of course, it’s to be expected that all the other Masters fall in behind Stephen, essentially bracketing him between them and the Ancient One (he tries not to grin because they won’t find it amusing) (it’s amusing because once upon a time Stephen was intimidated by the oceanic depths of the Ancient One’s powers, but his could almost engulf the vastness of space nowadays). She leads them to a not often used room that in Stephen’s mind, far back though it might be, has been semi-labeled as hers. He doesn’t think he ever saw any other master use it.
Once they’re all inside, it’s second nature to immediately move them all into the Mirror Dimension. However, it’s become so easy for him that everyone save the Ancient One jolt when he uses no hand movements. “Sorry.” He drops fluidly down onto a cushion and waits for the Masters to settle themselves on the other side of the table before inclining his head respectfully. “Master Rama, Master Drumm, Master Minoru.”
Drumm is the one who replies, his voice a deep rumble. “Novice Strange. I must admit, it is a sight to see a relic I have guarded for many years on your shoulders when your time with us has been so minimal. Your usage of magic is also significantly better.”
Stephen nearly snorts at the mention of time, just barely managing to keep it in as he feels Levi (Tony’s name, he hasn’t been able to call the Cloak anything but that since that particular lifetime) start to poke insistantly at Stephen’s cheek. “Will you stop that?”
“The Cloak of Levitation, it came to you,” Mordo says, an almost reverent tone in his voice as if he hadn’t realized what exactly hung over Stephen’s shoulders until Drumm mentioned it.
“No minor feat, it’s a fickle thing,” the Ancient One comments.
Stephen feels a chill slide down his spine, because that was word for word what the both of them said the first time he got Levi. He turns to Zotia with narrowed eyes. “Was that you?”
She just smiles serenely at him as she settles herself on the cushion right beside Stephen. “Some things, Champion mine, are just meant to be. In this case, words were meant to be spoken and thus they were again.”
“I’m going to feel perpetually ill if it feels the same every time that happens,” he grumbles.
“You will become used to it.”
“Joy.” He refocuses on the others in the room, mainly on the Ancient One though. “So, you have questions, I probably have answers, don’t know if I can give you all the answers you want.” He leans forward, bracing both elbows on his knees. “What I do know I can tell you is that I am your Stephen Strange. I’ve not replaced the one of this reality. The Infinity Stones, with the blessings of Life, Death, and Fate, rewound time to today’s date for a very specific reason and brought with them the memories of all the Champions they’ve chosen save one and the memories of the one they’ve claimed as Kingmaker.”
“How many years?” the Ancient One asks bluntly.
He blows out a lungful of air, already anticipating her next question. “Eight years, technically speaking.”
She doesn’t disappoint. “And for you?”
He offers up a smile that betrays all he’s endured (Mordo and Wong both inhale sharply, the Masters of the Sanctums narrow their eyes, but the Ancient One merely watches him with the calmness of the ocean) (which is as changing as the tide, now that he thinks about it). “Twenty-nine million, six hundred thirty-seven thousand, eight hundred ninety-one years, three months, and twenty-two days, give or take a few hundred years.”
“Strange, what did you do?” Mordo whispered, looking just as horrified as Stephen had expected him to the instant how many years he’s lived is brought up.
“What I had to do,” he snaps back. “I was Sorcerer Supreme for all those years, Mordo. You were off skulking who knows where because your faith is rigid and when it was tested, it broke and you left the Order. Wong went through the same crisis of faith and yet he stayed. He stayed and while he definitely took me to task multiple times over both my ignorance and arrogance, he was by my side very fucking step of the way. You do not get to judge me and my choices until you have died for this planet and her people over fifteen million times!”
“Ṩⱦëǻḓŷ Ȼḧǻṃƥȉǿṋ, ṩⱦëǻḓŷ,” Zotia soothes, touching his trembling hands with one of her own. Across the table all six sorcerers flinch, but Stephen just feels a warmth permeating him from where their skin meets. She keeps her hand on his as she looks directly at Mordo (Stephen knows it’s Mordo because he’s the one who rears back slightly from his edge of the table) (and also because Zotia is protective and on edge, much like Stephen). “Ḿįṉᵭ ỹöʉꞧ ṯøʼnğȕɘ, ṃõɾʇӓɬ. Ĩƫ ĩş ñǫṫ ỹöʉꞧ ṕļǎƈȩ ťơ ᶁéĉȋđē ḧǫẘ ḿỷ Ȼḧǻṃƥȉǿṋ ɱȁȳ ⱳįǝļᶑ ᵯę.”
“There are natural laws that must be followed!” Mordo protests (and Stephen quite honestly wants to punt the man through a few choice realites) (although he’s a bit curious how exactly Zotia will react).
“Ĭ ɐᶆ öᵮ ṱĥȅ ɲãṱűɍąĺ ļɐẅ, ṃõɾʇӓɬ!” Zotia thunders, her voice rattling the table between them all (so that’s how she reacts) (and Stephen really hopes that doesn’t carry over into their dimension because who knows who might respond and how). “Ĭ ⱳàṣ ɓõȑȵ âʂ țħȩý ẉèṟé ŵṝɨṫṭɇñ.”
“Zotia, please,” Stephen mumbles, turning a hand over and wrapping still shaking fingers around her wrist in a vain attempt to ground an Infinity Stone. “Mordo and his rigidness are of no threat to me. Not now.”
“He would have been,” she states with extreme displeasure, though thankfully no longer in that weighted, divine voice of hers. “His displeasure of how you saw fit to wield me would have driven him to such extremes.”
Stephen exhales, wondering why exactly he’s pleading for his old friend. “He finds comfort and peace in the structure and order he demands of those around him. It is the rock of his foundation, and his crisis of faith shattered that rock beyond recognition.”
“I hold dominion over Time, Champion mine,” she hisses almost indignantly. “I saw beyond the moment we stopped to start anew. I saw what he would do if we had not reached out as we did.”
“I was probably an arrogant bastard. I know I was one when the crisis happened.” He’d been riding the high of managing to bargain with Dormammu (although just thinking the word bargain sparks pain all over his body as the memories of all the ways he died come forward) and he hadn’t really taken Mordo’s departure as seriously as he probably should’ve (then again, he was also still reeling from the lost of the Ancient One, the person Mordo had lost absolute faith in) (and then Stephen went and did something similar, and practically rubbed it in the man’s face). “Besides, he hasn’t done it yet, and I’m fairly certain that knowing he’ll have a pissed off Infinity Stone hounding his ass should he go off the deep end again will be a good enough deterrent and quite possibly push him to take a good, long look at his rather rigid morals.”
“I will not ‘hound his ass’,” Zotia scoffs, the words sounding odd coming from her. “I will simply unmake him.”
“Because that’s so much better,” Stephen mutters. “I would apologize for Zotia’s threats, but quite honestly, I can’t find it in me to really care. She walked the fourteen million six hundred and five lifetimes I lived with me as I tried to find a reality where we won.”
“Stephen, what adversary were you standing before that necessitated such extreme measures?” the Ancient One asks before Mordo can say anything else (Wong has been silent this whole time, which is starting to make Stephen a tad suspicious) (then again, the man was like this before until Stephen dealt with Dormammu and then he wouldn’t shut up). The other Masters have been quiet, but Stephen doesn’t know enough about Drumm or Rama to know if that’s good or bad. Minoru, he knows, will follow the will of the Sorcerer Supreme in the face of an unknown but confront him (the Ancient One, he’s not Sorcerer Supreme here) (the mere year of Wong being Sorcerer Supreme for Stephen pales against the twenty nine megaannum Stephen held that title) afterwards once they’re alone if she has issues with the decisions made.
He keeps his eyes fixed on his former mentor. “There is a being that is known throughout the cosmos as the Mad Titan. He is the last of his race. His planet fell to overpopulation, and in the midst of the panic he offered a solution. One half of their people, randomly selected, to die so that the other half might live with enough resources. They did not like that solution, but he became fixated on it after Titan was finally lost. He chooses to see this problem everywhere he goes, and so he’s decided it’s his duty to perform this ritual on every planet he visits. Only now it’s become too slow of a process for him, this planet by planet conquest. He seeks to bring about his version of balance to the whole universe at a much more rapid pace.” Stephen’s lips curl back in a sneer. “So he’s commissioned a gauntlet with which he can wield all six Infinity Stones before setting off to search for them. He eventually finds them.”
Stephen hadn’t actually been aware that the Ancient One could go that pale.
He knows how to read Wong and Minoru, both having similar dispositions, and they are absolutely horrified in their usual subdued manner.
Rama is just plain horrified.
Mordo and Drumm are both a rather unbecoming shade of chalkiness.
“By the time I got pulled into the fight, he already had Power, Reality, Soul, and Space. He sent his followers, his Children, to acquire both Time and Mind, both of which were here on Earth.” He drags the hand not still holding Zotia’s wrist over his face. “I was taken, along with two others from Earth, and eventually ended up on Titan. We knew Thanos was coming, so I used the Time Stone over and over and over again because I needed to be explicitly sure that we won.” He huffs out a pained sigh. “There was only one. In all fourteen million six hundred and five lifetimes that I lived, there was only one that we won, for a given sense of the word.” He tightens his hold on Zotia as if to spare her from the horror he’s about to say. “So I gave him the Time Stone.”
The full weight of the Ancient One’s strength crashes over him like a wave from a tsunami, seeking to display her utter displeasure for such a decision and leave him broken in the aftermath.
Fourteen million six hundred and five lifetimes ago, Stephen would’ve been crushed by the weight of it.
Now, though?
Now Stephen is unmoved by such a demonstration of power, even as the others falter under the weight though they aren’t the Ancient One’s target. However, because they aren’t alone, Stephen doesn’t waste time letting the Ancient One eventually wear herself out (because she will). Instead, he moves his arms in practiced, jerky movements and the golden cuffs that appear on his former mentor’s wrists abruptly cut off her power.
The other Masters sag, trying to keep the fact that they’re gasping for breath a secret.
(It’s not a secret, but Stephen will let them keep what dignity they can scrounge up after what they just experienced.)
(The Ancient One’s fury has never been a kind thing.)
The Ancient One, however, just seems to crumple in on herself. It’s sad, really, but Stephen’s fourteen million six hundred and five lifetimes removed from being the man she remembers. He’s seen whole planets die, imploding in on themselves from whatever madness Thanos infected them with. He’s held his dying children in his arms, whole or otherwise, cradling them as close as possible to offer what little comfort he can. He’s watched time and again the man he loves with every fiber of his being sacrifice himself over and over and over again, completely unable to change the course they’re inevitably set on. So maybe once upon a time he might’ve cared more about the defeated posture of the Ancient One, but no longer.
“We were too far into our endgame,” he states bluntly, letting his hands drop and the cuffs vanish. “The only way to survive was to lose, so I gave him what he wanted. He left, returned to Earth, and proceeded to rip the Mind Stone out of a being called Vision. Then he snapped his fingers and half of the living universe ceased to exist. Myself included.”
“Then the Mad Titan proceeded to destroy our physical forms to prevent anyone from undoing what he had done,” Zotia interjects blandly. “The backlash cost him dearly, as my siblings and I were not amused. After the destruction of our physical forms, we retreated in an attempt to heal ourselves from the horrors we had been forced to both perform and experience. Though we did not know it at the time, that is what began the downfall of your previous reality.”
“Those of us Snapped away were kept in a suspended animation of sorts courtesy of the Soul Stone for five years. I never really bothered getting the full story out of anyone, but Tony discovered a version of time travel that didn’t need the Time Stone. The remaining Avengers used it to collect the Stones from alternate realities and Snapped back everyone dusted into existence again. Unfortunately, an alternate Thanos managed to follow behind them, and in the end, Tony Stark wielded all six Infinity Stones to Snap away all those loyal to Thanos at the cost of his life.” Stephen bows his head, fighting back tears. “It’s the one fucking timeline I saw that was even semi-acceptable, and all I had to do was offering up Tony fucking Stark to do it!”
“He will forgive you for that, Champion,” Zotia murmurs.
“I’m going to hate myself for the rest of eternity for having to do that,” Stephen says flatly.
“Such dramatics from my Champion.”
“You knew what—” Stephen falters momentarily as something pings against his senses, even though they’re in the Mirror Dimension. Across the table, Drumm’s shoulders stiffen just a bit at the exact same time. “Ugh, Asgardians,” he grumbles, getting to his feet. “Why the hell are they poking around at my Sanctum?”
“Your Sanctum?” Drumm repeats, very much unimpressed (right, not really his Sanctum just yet) (then again, he’s not above being petty).
“My Sanctum,” Stephen throws right back childishly, even as he calls up a portal to where the wards of the New York Sanctum are telling him Thor and Loki are standing. The portal opens up into the foyer and four heads turn towards him. “You know, I distinctly remember telling the both of you to get off my planet the last time I had both of you in my Sanctum.”
“And yet I’m fully aware your planet gladly welcomed what was left of our people after Thanos decimated us and I was dead by then,” Loki says dryly, stepping through the portal without so much as a by your leave. Thor follows a bit docility behind him, the two unknown Infinity Stones (because that’s the only thing they can be because of how much they make Stephen’s skin kind of itch) much more firm in their supposed welcome.
Zotia gets to her feet and extends her hands to the two of them. “Dilys, Zarek, it is good to see you again.”
“It is because of you and your Champion that we even have this chance,” the woman says, taking one of Zotia’s hands and squeezing it between her own before turning red rimmed eyes to Stephen (Reality Stone, going by the yellow in the man’s eyes). “Truly, Stephen Strange, know that you have the thanks of all six Infinity Stones for however long you live.”
“No pressure,” Stephen mutters under his breath unintentionally.
Loki scoffs, dropping onto one of the unused cushions with all the unassuming grace of royalty (it would normally piss Stephen off, but he’s a little too amused by the faces the other Masters are making at being summarily ignored). “Strange, this entire mess is your fault for saying yes. There is all the pressure.”
“Brother,” Thor says despairingly, even as he follows Loki to a seat. Their Infinity Stones sit on the opposite side of the table from them (and since there isn’t another door to the room, the Ancient One and the Masters who’d come with Stephen to talk about Zotia are now effectively boxed in) (not that he doesn’t think they can’t hold their own for a time trying to make their way out, but there’s now three Infinity Stones in the room).
“Not your brother, Uncle,” Loki immediately shoots back, causing a rather constipated look to flash across Thor’s face.
“Excuse me?” Stephen deadpans, because while he’s always taken the Norse legends with a grain of salt (especially after his coming to Kamar-Taj) he hadn’t expected the truth to be that far from what had eventually gotten recorded.
Loki waves a hand lazily through the air. “Unimportant.” He turns far too knowing eyes onto Stephen (his hackles raise at the attention, though Stephen doesn’t think he’ll be able to catch the god unawares again and have him fall like he did before) (he’ll just have to relish the lovely indignity of it instead). “How long, Strange?”
“Excuse me?” he repeats, just as unimpressed as the first time.
Loki leans just a hair closer over the table. “Don’t insult my intelligence, mortal. You are the Champion of the Time Stone. How long?”
“Twenty nine megaannum,” Stephen states blandly, not really feeling up to playing dumb with someone he’ll have to work with in the future (doesn’t mean he’s not still bitter about the fact that he’s remembering that Loki threw Tony out of a window when they first met) (he ignores all the other ridiculous shit he got Tony mixed up in all the lifetimes they lived together because he’s fully aware he’s a hypocrite about himself). “Give or take.”
“Why?”
“I needed to know we’d win,” Stephen says softly, appreciating Levi wrapping himself just that bit tighter around his shoulders. “It took fourteen million six hundred and five times until I found one where we did.”
Loki wrinkles his nose. “And this idea of winning included allowing half the living universe to be Snapped out of existence?”
Stephen raises an eyebrow. “I thought you were dead by the time that happened.”
A rather unpleasant smile spreads across the god’s lips (the other Masters stiffen or lean away at the sight) (Stephen’s seen more horrifying things). “I have five years worth of memories of being dead, which is rather odd. But Thanos’ madness did not account for the doctors tending to patients, pilots in their aircrafts, or the ordinary people in their vehicles when he Snapped away half of life in the universe.” His lips twist into a sneer. “Of course, that is hardly surprising. He is rather stuck on his ideal balance and will listen to no advice on the subject. In any event, there were a number of deaths we could eventually attribute to the aftermath of the Snap.”
“I’m well aware,” Stephen says dully, recalling some of the more horrific times Thanos had struck any member of his makeshift family down for daring to stand in his way (the alien has a disturbing need to gloat/explain his madness, so Stephen has heard the stupid monologue over and over again) (he’s mocked Thanos by saying word for word what the Titan wanted to say only once).
A hand slaps against the table, making Stephen jump. “Wherever you are going in your head, Strange, do not,” Loki warns.
“I’m not above making you fall endlessly again,” Stephen growls, dropping back down onto his cushion with far less grace than the two royal Asgardians.
“I would dearly love to see you try.”
“Champion, what did I say about antagonizing Stephen Strange?” the man grumbles, dropping his face into his hands like he’s embarrassed to be seen with his Champion (although Stephen doesn’t know what to think about Infinity Stones warning their Champions not to antagonize him) (a bit chuffed that they think he’d be a legitimate threat, but also apprehensive because that doesn’t seem like a good foot to start on with his fellow Champions).
“You said you only had requests for me, Zarek,” Loki states blandly, earning him an unimpressed look from his Infinity Stone. “Do you plan on going back on your word so quickly?”
Zarek heaves a sigh before turning his eyes to Zotia. “My most humble apologies for my Champion, sister, but please do try to not unmake him.”
The kindness in her smile is belayed by the barring of her teeth. “My dear brother, I would never do such a thing to a Champion. However, they might have issues arriving at things on time for a bit.”
Stephen wants to bang his head on the table (he nearly does). “Zotia. By the Vishanti, please stop threatening to unmake people.”
She scoffs, flicking strands of her hair over her shoulder (he’s dangerously reminded of chick-flicks with that motion) (he curses Peter and Harley and their friends for the fact that he knows that). “Then perhaps people ought to stop threatening you.”
He does let his head drop to the table with a soft thunk (because as much as her ardent defense of him is heartening, it’s already getting old). “We’ve established that I’m an asshole, there’s always going to be someone who takes exception to me.” Though he likes to think that most of his arrogance nowadays is rightfully earned (fourteen million six hundred and five lifetimes) (twenty-nine million, six hundred thirty-seven thousand, eight hundred ninety-one years, three months, and twenty-two days).
“You are mine to defend as I see fit,” Zotia loftily informs him. He turns his head so he can scowl at her. She just raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him.
“Mother will be unhappy if you go around unmaking every being that you deem an affront to your Champion,” the Reality Stone (Dilys) states blandly. Stephen’s only mildly surprised when Zotia cringes at this announcement (apparently avoiding a mother’s disappointment is a universal thing). “Nor will Nuelle be all that pleased with your actions.”
“I didn’t come here to get snipped at by Infinity Stones,” Stephen mutters.
“Then why did the great Stephen Strange come here?” Loki asks mockingly.
Stephen lifts his head up from the table and glares at the Agardian (at least he’s pretty sure Loki’s partially Asgardian). “Ah yes, you just barged in without so much as an introduction.”
Loki shrugs carelessly. “You opened the portal, Strange.”
“Then let me belatedly welcome you to Kamar-Taj, the headquarters of the Masters of the Mystic Arts here on Earth. Across from me we have Master Karl Mordo, Master Wong, the librarian of Kamar-Taj, Master Tina Minoru, Master of the Hong Kong Sanctum, Master Daniel Drumm, Master of the New York Sanctum, Master Sol Rama, Master of the London Sanctum, and finally the Ancient one, Sorcerer Supreme.” He gestures with a hand towards each person as he says their names. “Masters, let me introduce you to Thor Odinson and Loki Odinson, Princes of Asgard.”
“You will not protest the title?” Thor asks unexpectedly, looking at Loki in hopeful puzzlement.
Stephen can almost see the way the man works his jaw. “I will not,” he states, voice void of all emotion. “Do not hug me, Thor, I will stab you.” Thor just beams at Loki, eyes glittering with unshed tears. Loki makes an unhappy face at him before returning his attention to Stephen. “No longer the Sorcerer Supreme, Strange?”
“Not yet,” Stephen corrects him. “I’m not yet Sorcerer Supreme. I didn’t take up the mantle for another six months when the Ancient One perished against Kaecilius last time. Don’t know when or if I still will this time round.” He’d really rather not have to bargain (fucking hell) with Dormammu again.
The Ancient One speaks for the first time since he told her he gave up the Time Stone to a madman hellbent on universal domination with a twisted idea of balance. “You were always meant to be the best of us, Stephen. I see no reason for that to have changed.”
“Master!” Mordo immediately protests. “The natural order—”
“Ḿįṉᵭ ỹöʉꞧ ṯøʼnğȕɘ,” Zotia hisses. Both Zarek and Dilys tense, eyes now boring into Mordo who pales rapidly (opposite them, both Thor and Loki’s spines straighten minutely as well, not that Mordo notices) (but Stephen survived as long as he did by getting good at noticing those little cues).
The Ancient One raises a hand in request for silence. Zotia huffs, but surprisingly falls quiet. “She speaks the truth that the Infinity Stones were born as the natural laws were written. It is not our place to protest what they deem okay for their claimed Champions to do with their powers.”
“Indeed,” Zarek rumbles. “Your rigid faith will not serve you in the long run, mortal. All that is rigid will eventually break and the breaking is never kind.”
“Brother, your hand,” Dilys unexpected demands, holding one of her own hands out palm up. Zarek blinks at it before placing his hand in hers. His mouth opens in a silent oh. “Stephen Strange, I apologize if this distresses you. Champions, I suggest you brace yourselves.”
Stephen only has a moment to realize that this is the Reality Stone warning them to brace themselves (and to remember what Thanos did on Titan) before the room they’re sitting in disappears and they’re rapidly thrown through multiple planets as Thanos’ forces massacre the local people over and over and over (and over and over and over) (and over and over and over) again. Screams and sobbing fills the air with the humming of Chitauri guns intermingled. Stephen nearly gags as the smell of smoke and burned flesh fills his nose.
“Your planet was on the brink of collapse. I’m the one who stopped that. You know what’s happened since then? The children born have known nothing but full bellies and clear skies. It’s a paradise.”
Stephen grits his teeth as Thanos’ voice echoes around them, though the Titan himself isn’t shown. “No more, please,” he begs, pressing trembling hands to his eyes.
The dizzying display vanishes, returning them all to the room in Kamar-Taj.
“Was that necessary?” Thor asks weakly. Both he and Loki are paler than normal, with both of Loki’s hands twisted into fists. Stephen can just barely see the trembling in the man’s body (he’s intimately familiar with that).
Drumm has his head bowed, hands resting against his forehead (Stephen doesn’t really know much about him to know what he’s thinking).
Rama has his hands pressed to his mouth, the lines drawn on his face indicating that the man is scowling behind them (same as with Drumm).
Minoru has her face tipped skywards, eyes closed as her lips move soundlessly in some sort of prayer Stephen can’t make out (probably praying for all the souls of those lost to that madness).
Wong has that glazed look on his face Stephen rarely ever managed to produce (not that he actively tried to get Wong to make it) (well, not every time), meaning the man is already running through what books in the library he needs to pull out and look through again.
The Ancient One is solemn in her grief, but grieving she is with her hands folded neatly (tightly) in her lap.
Mordo looks green around the gills, mere seconds from throwing up (Stephen will sooner portal himself away from here before dealing with that) (he might be trained as a doctor, but there’s a reason he went into neurosurgery).
“That is the result of the rigid view of the mad Titan Thanos,” Dilys says blandly, although Stephen can hear the furious rage hidden in her voice. “And through us, he was able to force this rigid view on the entirety of the universe. You lived through that once and given how carefully my sister Zotia is watching you, it did nothing to change your own views. You are entitled to your views, whatever they may be. Something tells me that you will never see eye to eye with my siblings and I, nor with our Champions. However, you are not allowed to take your world views as the be all, end all.” She leans forward, red light engulfing her hands as her eyes glow the same metallic red. “Know this, Karl Mordo, should you choose to take a stand against our Champions, we will not be kind. We have been forced to commit endless atrocities for pointless endeavors. We will not allow ourselves to be forced to do that again. Do you understand me, mortal?”
“I understand,” Mordo says like it’s pulled from him, “that this is not the meeting for me. If I may be excused?”
The Ancient One’s gaze darts momentarily to Zarek, whose eyes flash yellow so quickly that Stephen almost misses it. “You may. Please return to helping the novices should you feel up to it.”
Mordo nods to her and all the other Masters, shoots Stephen a rather hard look (it’s not really intimidating) (he already knows that he disappoints the man on many levels, so it’s nothing really new), and then he leaves.
When the door shuts behind him, Zarek blows out a gust of air. “That one will be trouble, mark my words. He has no intention of meditating on relaxing his rigid views.”
“Then they’ll just inevitably break again and we’ll deal with him then,” Stephen mutters, still horrendously rattled from Dilys’ little show (a testament to the fact that they have far bigger things to worry about than one man) (although one man can make a hell of a difference, Stephen doesn’t think that Mordo will be that man). “What exactly did you do to him?”
“He will be unable to speak of what he has learned if he does not have permission from anyone currently in this room, nor will it be able to be taken from his mind through force,” Zarek states calmly. “We have too much to lose should we not all be ready to stand against Thanos once he comes. And he will come. He knows that I was left here during the invasion and that Sitara was here as well. He might not know of Zotia’s location just yet, but he will make an example of Earth because of Anthony Stark if nothing else.”
Stephen groans, already dreading that conversation (because he’s had similar conversations over and over again with Tony) (and Tony never remembers them because Stephen has to start all over again). “Please don’t tell Tony that just yet. He has enough pressure on his shoulders already as it is.”
“Then ensure that he has adequate support soon,” Zarek gravely informs him. “This is not something that may be delayed for long. Remember that it is to the Kingmaker that everyone will rally.”
“I’m aware.”
“Good.” Zarek nods briskly. “Then, now that they are aware of the direness of the impending arrival of the mad Titan Thanos, perhaps we can start discussing what exactly the Order that has protected my sister for over seven thousand years can offer us to begin preparations that the Kingmaker cannot.”