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.

Don't misunderstand me. Gamora and I are only friends. But for some reason I cannot understand, she is my best friend. I don't know why. We just gravitate towards each other.

I enter the arena and stare around at the empty space. Weapons and shields adorn the walls near the entrance, covered by the overhanging roof. The center of the arena is open to the air, a step down from where I stand now and covered with sand. The walls are constructed from stone the color of sand, the columns old and majestic along with the thick balcony railings where spectators used to watch the training warriors. Only a waist high wall borders the far end of the arena, allowing the views of the towering waterfalls to dominate. On a windy day, one can feel the spray of the water against one's skin, the most refreshing sensation after a brutal fight.

I lean against a thick column and stare down into the empty pit. I know I have to go home soon; I am required to view the recaps of the past Contests my siblings won on Reaping Day. But I don't want to move, I don't want to see Odin's pride which I can never hope to attain.

"I thought for sure nobody would be here today."

The quiet, husky voice behind me causes me to turn. Gamora's sister stands in the entrance of the training arena, her eyes, both biological and mechanical, pinned on me.

"Ah, Nebula," I greet. "I didn't think to see you until later."

Nebula strides forward and comes to a stop beside me. "You were with my sister this morning."

I see no need to deny this. Nebula knows of the friendship existing between Gamora and me. Sometimes, I think she resents it, but I honestly can't say for certain what her feelings are on the matter.

"Yes, I was," I tell her.

"She asked you to escape with her."

Now this, this startles me. Nobody knows of our infrequent arguments about running away but Gamora and me. Nebula's knowledge of this frightens me a little.

"Don't worry," she says, noting my mostly concealed surprise. "I won't tell the Other."

"May I ask why?" I query cautiously.

She meets my eyes, and I have trouble reading her expression. I attribute that to her cybernetic parts. When we were growing up, Thanos kept implanting modifications into her body, once composed of flesh and blood, so that now it is more than that. She is more than that.

I feel sorry for her.

"I see no reason to," she replies evenly. "If my sister wants to run, then why should I stop her?"

I glance down into the arena, unsure how to respond to that. I wonder what Thor would say, if I wanted to run. He would try to talk me out of it, I know. Possibly, he'd tell Father, so I would be forbidden from running, perhaps even locked up.

But at the moment, I don't want to run.

"Are you going to volunteer, today?" Nebula inquires suddenly.

Eyes widening slightly, I glance over at her. Heimdall being aware of the question of my volunteering, that I could understand, but how does Nebula know? Or is she only guessing?

She seems to read my questioning gaze. "I, too, know what it is like to fail in your father's eyes. I know what it is like, to want to please him." Without waiting for my reply, Nebula walks away from me and selects a spear from the wall. She tosses it towards me and I catch it easily, the spear being one of my preferred weapons. Drawing her blades, she looks at me inquiringly. "Shall we?"

I am surprised again. Nebula and I are courteous to each other, yes, but not particularly friendly. But the Reaping brings beings together in more ways than one, I suppose. Even if Nebula is not subject to the Contest, she still feels sympathy, as Gamora does, for us.

Although, if I remember correctly, she laughed derisively when Thor volunteered for his Contest.

I wonder why she seems to pity me today. Yes, we have known each other for years – we were practically raised together. But we have never held any particularly friendly feelings for the other, and never looked on each other as siblings. She is always struggling to be better, faster, and there are times she looks on her sister with resentment, and at times, looks on me the same.

But as I said before, today is always different.

I acquiesce with a brief tilt of my head and Nebula and I descend into the pit. We circle around, our eyes narrowed and pinned on each other.

"Your move," Nebula says, inclining her head.

I don't make any such move, just continue with my circling. My fingers curl around the spear, gripping it tightly. The sun glints off of the flat of Nebula's swords.

Then, as if on sudden agreement, we both charge towards the other, I leaping through the air and Nebula sprinting forward. Our throats are both torn by involuntary yells.

This feeling, right before the initial clash of a duel, is exhilarating. I revel in the space of the moment before Nebula and I meet to begin our dance of death. This, this is life. It is only in this moment that I long, with all of my being, to compete in the Contest, when I swear on the promise of blood to volunteer. But only in the moment of battle, when doubt cannot plague me, am I so fully committed.

Nebula brings up her double blades to deflect my spear shaft. The clang resounds throughout the arena as I spin away, twirling the spear. She throws her blades out to the side and lunges forward, swinging her swords up before her.

I lash out with the spear, gripping it by the end as it flies away from me, under the control of my hand. Nebula ducks and moves forward as the spear spins back toward me and I grasp it with my free hand as it lands across my shoulders, moving to strike her with the spearhead.

We continue our duel, neither of us actually trying to injure the other. Today, of all days, there is a kinship between us. We do not try to defeat the other, only trying to cleanse ourselves of our past failures in the clash of our deadly weapons. We seek to find some sort of belonging in the thrill of battle, in the sweat that dampens our clothing from the exertion of the fight. In this moment, both of us are worthy of whatever goals our fathers have set for us. In this moment, we are enough.

On mutual but silent agreement, we halt when our weapons are crossed before our faces. Nebula crosses her swords across her back and I go to hang my spear back up on the wall. Unlike her, I am not permitted to carry my weapons around Asgard. Aside from my daggers, of course, but those escape official notice.

"I wish you luck," Nebula says.

"And I you," I respond, knowing she'll understand what I mean. That I'm not speaking about the Contest. That I'm speaking about achieving Thanos' favor.

"My sister has chosen her companion wisely," Nebula tells me. "She does not trust easily. But she does trust you."

"I do not know why," I murmur. I glance up at the sky, see the sun's ascending position, and know I must head home. The recaps will begin soon.

"I don't know either," she confesses, turning to leave. "I only know that she does."

As Nebula leaves, I sigh and follow her out into the morning, our paths diverging once outside. The morning is glorious, but it is wasted today. Like the Infinity Stones that anoint the Gauntlet of Thanos, the glowing beauty hides disastrous power.

Enough power to wipe out the populations of entire planets.

Shaking my head, I quicken my pace.