Mastering Illusions

31

Despite everything, I actually sleep through what's left of the night. But when I wake up, sunlight is streaming into the room and Gamora is gone. In the palm of my hand is her double-sided switchblade, the one with the rubies on the handle that she showed me all those years ago, on her first arriving in Asgard.

Slowly, I sit up, a headache gathering in the back of my head like a thunderstorm in the distance. I look at the knife, remembering how she used it to demonstrate Thanos' conception of the Balance. I had told her knives were better used for stabbing than for remaining perfect balanced.

Whatever it takes, she said to me last night. And in response, instead of saying I know like any sane person should, I had told her I loved her.

Had she responded? I don't remember, can't remember. Is that why she left? Was...no. Be rational, Loki. She must have left because she's the daughter of Thanos and has duties to attend to. Hopefully.

No. It was an illusion, all of it, and we both knew it. I so wanted it to be real, to be genuine and possible, but that defies the nature of an illusion – which is to deceive, to be fake. And again, I fell for it. Fell for her. And for one brief moment, I had her – but like all illusions, it faded right when I thought I held her forever.

Gamora promised she wouldn't leave me.

Slipping off the bed, cursing myself, I place the dagger in my belt and leave my room. I'm exhausted and drained and sentenced to die. The only worse combination than that is being exhausted and drained and sentenced to die and in love.

Which I am, so bingo.

My feet carry me to the living room, not sure where else to go. As I enter, the room is empty, and I cross to one of the sofas, sinking down onto it. Putting my head in my hands, I sit there for a while in contemplative silence, just mulling over the tumultuous events of last night, before someone enters.

And it's Veers.

I rise instantly on seeing who it is. She hadn't watched the announcement with us last night, but I know she knows. Someone would have told her, sometime between last night and now. The Kree walks right up to me, her expression a mix of sorrow and set determination.

"I'm sorry," she says, and hugs me.

Absently, I return her hug, wondering again whether she'd be a champion for Asgard or for Hala. I pull back, the question on my lips, but she seems to know what I'm going to ask.

"I talked to the Allfather. I will be a champion for Asgard in the Reaping." She amends her statement. "A possible champion. It'll be a choice between me, Valkyrie, and Hela, anyway."

So it will be me and one of them. By the look in Veers' eyes, I can tell she wants to go back in. Why, I don't know. But I know it will be a good chance it will be Veers and I both in the arena. How symbolic for Thanos will that be? The two responsible for upsetting the Balance sent back in to fix it by their blood.

We retreat to the sofa, sitting together in companionable silence. Neither wants to talk about the impending doom – and it's worse for me, because I don't have a choice. There's two thirds of a chance it won't be Veers.

Eventually, Thor and Odin enter the chamber and we both rise, as if we were waiting for them. In a way, I think I was.

Odin approaches me and Veers steps back, retreating away as if to grant us some privacy. I'm not sure what he's going to say when he places a hand on my shoulder. There's a long moment of silence, and then "Son, I'm sorry."

Then he's enfolding me in his arms and I'm hugging him back, like I never have before. I don't want to cry again, like I did last night, but then Odin's shoulders begin to shake and I can't cry now, because he is.