EPITHET || [l. loki]

ix. And Will Only End Up

──⇌•♚•⇋──

❝That's not a performance issue❞

WHEN SHE WAS younger, she remembered a specific instance clearly. She was so small that she needed help climbing onto a chair when she asked her father a question.

Thanos had sat there on his throne as the metallic screech filled the room, sharpening his sword. Cyra was never afraid nonetheless, despite the weapons lining the side of the walls and the crimson sprays of blood.

"Father," she entered as properly as possible without toppling over. She recalled vividly the smile on Thanos's face as he set his weapon aside and lifted her on his lap.

"What is it, daughter?" There was an amount of foreign patience in his voice.

Seeing this scene now, Cyra would've been shocked. This side of her father had long disappeared from the galaxy.

"I don't like the screaming."

"Hmm?"

"The thin man dragged me out today saying that I needed exposure."

"Thin man?" A look of amused confusion came across his face, "Today? As in the extermination?"

"The creepy gray-colored man who always makes triangles with his fingers. He dragged me out and made me watch the scene," Cyra spoke slowly to make her words clear. She stumbled on a few words, "It was really loud," she winced and covered her ears as an example. "There was a lot of red paint. It smelled weird too. Thanos chuckled, his laughter echoing around the room as the younger Cyra looked even more confused, "Did I do something wrong, Father?"

"Not at all, my daughter," He turned to her earnestly, "One day, "You will lead the front lines of the extermination."

"I don't like the screams..." She looked down and wrung her small hands nervously.

"The screams are good, daughter," he brought out a dagger adorned with a glittering emerald jewel on the center of the handle, "They are a sign that you are feared."

"I don't want to be feared..." Cyra took the dagger reluctantly, her eyes glued to the jewel in obvious interest.

Her father chuckled again, an amused smile spreading on his face, "Being feared is also power, my daughter. And in this universe, power is everything." Cyra felt the dagger fittingly in her hands. "One day, you will become a feared general of this galaxy. You will eventually succeed me."

"Will I have to... kill others?" Her grip clenched around tightly on the hilt of the weapon, still captivated with the green glow around it, "I'm not sure I quite like that."

"It will make me extremely proud knowing that you will have taken my place with ease, daughter," Thanos placed a hand on Cyra's head almost gently, "After I fulfill my purpose, you will lead the galaxy to a better future." His eyes almost glazed over, replaced with a longing light.

"The shiny stones!" The girl exclaimed, "Is that your purpose, Father? They are magical, right? They will make the screams stop peacefully."

"That is right..." Thanos seemed to be talking to himself, "This galaxy will be at peace at last." He turned back, "Peace is a much more beautiful thing than you can ever imagine."

"Where will you go then?"

"A peaceful farm," he sighed blissfully, "A place war will never reach. In a galaxy where suffering is only a thought." His expression then hardened, "But before that, there is much blood to be shed."