Though it would be in her right to be angry over this, Hel found the way that Loki, even at such a young age, could be so clever rather hopeful. She did not despise her father in the least, after all, and his or her accomplishment added honour to herself as well. She sat back and drank her wine as Bucky’s face turned angry, the sadness leaving him as if the name of Stark filtered out even more of his personality.

“I feel like I’ve always been dead,” he stated, because in this Realm, time could not be measured. One day or a thousand, they all felt the same. An ounce of joy could last forever year, but so could an ounce of pain. The Buckys that remained seemed to be incapable of anything but anger. “But I remember Stark. He can never keep his mouth shut.”

And that was true here as well as in any other Realm.