Contest of Champions

4

I don't stop running until I'm out of and away from the palace. Skidding to a stop, I bend over and place my hands on my knees, gasping for breath. It's not even ten o'clock and already I've done more running today than I expected. Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I straighten.

I'm standing in a covered corridor, huge statues of past Asgardian kings and heroes staring down at me judgmentally. Their stares make me uncomfortable, like they know I'm not worthy, like they know I am not accepted by my own people.

But at least they've never roared at me.

I walk down the corridor, thinking about how Asgard – and the rest of the galaxy – has changed since Thanos found all six Infinity Stones, forty years ago. The Contest of Champions was the biggest change, but there were others – the Black Order, the Children of Thanos, who watched over each district; the limit on training how to fight; the erasing of trillions of beings from existence. Thanos had chosen his targets for the snap carefully, wiping out most of the life in the universe. He had left only thirteen districts intact, the rest of the planets kept only for their resources. We had plenty to eat, plenty of supplies, but although Thanos can be quite benevolent, he reminds us of his power and the ultimate Balance by hosting the annual Contest of Champions, a cruel reenactment of our failure.

I have lived all my life under Thanos' regime. I don't know anything different. Thor was young when the Infinity War was fought, so he only remembers a little of what it was like when Asgard was free. I used to think, when I was younger, that that was the main reason Odin preferred Thor.

Now I know better.

The covered walkway ends and I stroll out into the sunshine. Asgard is starting to awaken now. It's late, but Reaping Day is a universal holiday. Might as well spend as much time with your family before facing your neighbors and friends with the grave knowledge weighing on you of the possibility – nay, the eventuality – of one of your relatives, or even yourself, being chosen. The age limit is traditionally from fifteen to thirty five, excluding the initial six champions. Most of them had been older than the age range, but participating in the Contest had been the punishment for those champions, as they had been the main leaders of the rebellion against Thanos.

But in Asgard, our long lifespans make us eligible for extra years in the reaping pool. From our fifteenth year to our equivalent of the humans' thirty-five, we can be drawn for the Contest. Rumor has it, however, that the names of the quote "unpunished" rebels, the Avengers, are still lurking in the reaping pool, despite being outside the age range. It's to spice things up a bit, they say, but really, it's a reminder on how much control Thanos has over us. But an Asgardian Avenger hasn't been drawn since the Contest went from punishment to random. Not yet, anyway. They punished all the Asgardian Avengers in some way or other already.

The walkway ends by a well-trod path that leads down to a large old building, a training arena, which is used often to practice fighting among the young Asgardians. It's overlooked by the two daughters of Thanos, who are a little more lax about the fighting laws than the other members of the Black Order we've had in the past. In fact, there have been times when Gamora and Nebula have actually joined us to practice there.

Those sessions are always both interesting and stressful. Interesting because Gamora and Nebula are so skilled at fighting. Stressful because Thor's friends really resent them for that.

But it's fun to watch Gamora hurl Volstagg into the wall with a well-placed kick or Nebula practically beat Sif into the ground. Those are the moments when I actually enjoy being with Thor's friends, being able to gloat when they are forced to face the fact that they aren't worthy enough.

It's funny, there are days I can defeat Gamora in a fair fight, and days when she can beat me. We're very well matched, sparring wise. But those fights never occur here, never occur in public; they occur on the mountainside, where it's only the two of us. Honestly, I prefer it that way. I like being alone with Gamora. It's peaceful, somehow, without her sister or my brother anywhere near.