EPITHET || [l. loki]

ii. I Begged of You

──⇌•♚•⇋──

❝It's okay to be hurt❞

CYRA WOULD KNOW all his plans for the future, but never the truth regarding her past. Her entire life had been hell from the moment she had woken. Her life after taking his hand hadn't changed much except for those few precious hours in the day.

She remembered her seventh birthday. Her gift was a sheet of all the names of his battleships. The booming of the ships and the guns deafened her ears and penetrated her peaceful little world at first, but she got accustomed over time. 'Must adapt,' she told herself, 'Must survive.'

Her eighth birthday, the gift was her very first gun. Physical combat and weaponry introduced. She remembered every bruise on her body after her first day. The terror she held within her heart that she didn't dare show in fear that her father would name her a disappointment.

There came ninth. Physical combat and weaponry mastered. All battleship manuals memorized. Accustomed to the sight of blood. She had witnessed her first mass annihilation after brutally fighting and being dragged out by Ebony Maw, her first subject of her hate aboard the entire ship. Her birthday was held on in a few minutes night of bloodshed and screams.

By far, her happiest birthday was her tenth. The arrival of her first sister, Gamora. Arrival of her second sister, Laria. The happiest year of her childhood where a fresh breeze came to her and undid her shackles for a brief time. Her heart felt heavy knowing that it will never last forever.

──⇌•♚•⇋──

There was never a hesitation in her task and there would never be regret in her kills. Cyra was made to be his deadliest general. Trained to turn away attachment and personal reason for absolute loyalty. She never questioned her teachings. Not until the first person she was willing to protect entered her life. The time when she succeeded like all other times but failed herself and the only people who gave her life.

Cyra slid her hand over her forehead, swiping the sweat away as she knocked down another of her father's best guards. The armored creature thudded heavily on the ground of the training room, when Ebony Maw arrived, sending all her remaining opponents crashing against the side of the walls with a sickening crunch.  She retracted her blood while her eyes rose defensively to glare at him with all her might as her nose wrinkled and he glided closer.

"Father has returned," He announced in three simple words, "Prepare for his arrival, youngest."

"You couldn't wait for another second, can you?" She snarled, using the back of her hand to wipe the side of her cheek where a single, narrow cut grazed her. 'So soon?' Cyra shivered mentally, showing slight disappointment as she trudged towards him. With a snap of her hand, her wound closed up.

"Father has returned," Ebony Maw repeated, his slender fingers lacing together to form a triangle, "Does any such thing outweigh the importance of this?"

"No. I will see him immediately," Cyra immediately whirled towards the door, "If that is all, I will be on my way." Concise. That was how she wanted all conversations between them to go. She had barely taken two steps when his voice began once again.

"Wait-" the other member of the Black Order raised a hand to shut the door, stopping her in her tracks, "Wait."

"What is it?" an expression of annoyance spread across her face, "I am sure you wouldn't fancy a fight at a time such as this."

"I am very much tempted to seal your mouth shut for the rest of eternity but no. I am warning you for once: I hear he has brought back someone from his... expedition to Zen-Whoberei. You just might not be his most favorite child anymore," His eyes glinted.