•Loki's POV•
I looked down once I had spoken.
Thinking.
I had originally thought of spending my last few hours isolated.
Like I've been all my life.
But as I thought about it, I wanted to be with Stark.
Because he doesn't deserve to spend his last moments alone.
I do. But that was besides the point.
I stood up, my hand was asleep and it felt cold. I realized I had created a thin layer of ice around the spot where I was.
I was dying.
I half smiled.
I walked to the upper part of the ship, clenching my sides as it was painful to walk.
When I got to the top, I saw Stark had propped himself against the wall of the ship. He was asleep, not dead yet, though, as I was seeing his chest slowly rise and fall.
I sat down next to him, putting my arm around his shoulder awkwardly.
I felt myself sink down, as my heavy eyelids tried hard to close.
I felt content in an odd way, that everything was going to be over and I wasn't going to have to worry about anything else.
I might even see strange again.
It was hard to explain how I felt, though. My mind was filled with thoughts but my feelings felt so weirdly empty. Like I was a hollow shell of a person.
I thought of all the memories I had, all the painful, dreary memories.
Thinking of everything in my past, everything I had to let go.
My mother,
Frigga,
I might see her again.
That was enough.
It made me happy to think of it.
It made me okay with the idea of death.
But I never get what I want, do I?