While the knock comes with no noise preceding it, I can't say it's not expected. Despite the sun still being asleep, it's become part of the new normal that followed my victory in the Contest of Champions, and I had no choice but to accept it.

I'm lying on the cold floor of my room, black tunic cast to the side. But despite the cool floor on my back, I'm still sweating. My insomnia's been getting worse ever since I got back from the Contest, my restlessness preventing me from getting much sleep.

So when the knock comes, I'm fully awake and rise to answer the door, knowing before I open it who will be standing there. Dressed in her normal dark jacket over her sparring tunics, Veers gives me a semi-sheepish smile as I open the door. She lifts an eyebrow at seeing I'm only wearing my trousers, my tunic still on the floor where I had tossed it earlier in the night.

"Can't sleep?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

Veers shakes her head. "Wanna fight?"

I cock my head at her and stay silent for a moment. "Let me grab my tunic," I say eventually. Veers nods and I step back inside my room, snatching up my shirt and tugging it back on, securing it with my belt before taking my daggers up and leaving my room.

Veers and I have been doing early morning fights since we got back from the Contest. My mother frowned on it at first, but since both of us sleep very little and we spend the rest of the night pacing or pondering on the past, she accepted it as a coping mechanism.

It's just routine, now. And especially today, when we're hours away from starting the Champion Tour.

We walk down the old corridor and exit into the gardens, winding our way down to the fighting arena. Dawn isn't far off and it's still dark out, the air cold. I take a deep breath, relaxing as the coldness washes over my body and continues to cool my body temperature.

I enjoy my mornings with Veers for this reason. Not that I don't enjoy her company – I do. It's just that our friendship was formed under such strange and slightly awkward to look back upon circumstances, lending me some hesitation as our relationship progresses.

What began as a friendship, an alliance, was quickly turned into a romance that never was completely real, on either side. Both of us liked the other, but the whole couple thing grew old quickly after the conclusion of the Contest and we drifted away from that. So now Veers and I have returned to just being friends, although everyone outside of my family still believes we're a couple.

Reaching the fighting arena, Veers and I enter, walking on the hard packed sand. At this time of morning, the arena is empty. I prefer it empty; it means no one to watch us and judge us about our unorthodox "relationship."

I take up a spear from the weapons rack and take a few practice jabs at empty air. Veers eyes the weapons, like she does every morning, and runs her hands over the traditional styles, swords and spears and shields. But she doesn't select one and I know it will be hand to hand today, so my spear goes back on the rack.

We move into the center of the arena, circling around each other as we prepare to duel. Our eyes are locked, and the corner of her mouth twitches up into a slight grin. I know she loves this time of the day.

Then we begin.

Veers throws the first punch, moving forward as I deflect her first blow, knocking her arm down and to the side as I step closer to her, within her reach. Each of us move swiftly, throwing punches and launching kicks and each trying to get the upper hand over the other. It is so similar to what I did every day before the Contest, so close to it it's like I taste it every single morning.

But it isn't nearly the same.

Veers fights well, but it's not the same as before. With her, our early morning fights are carried out in the arena where others can watch if they wished, where before I dueled with my best friend on the mountain side, where no one could see us. I liked that, no one being able to see us.

Gamora had liked that, too.

But now she spent her time preserving the peace of Asgard like her status as the daughter of Thanos dictated, and I spent my time trying to convince myself I was fine with it.

But I wasn't succeeding, so far.

Veers and I finish our first round when I kick her across the arena and she shoots me with one of her photon blasts, slamming me into the far wall. I curse as I fall to the ground on my hands and knees, looking up at her.

"I told you not to do that!"

Veers grins at me sheepishly. "Sorry," she says as I push myself back up onto my feet. "I try."

I narrow my eyes at her. "Do you?" I ask irritably. "It happens too often for you to be actually trying, Veers."

She shrugs, her tone becoming defensive. "I told you I'm sorry, Yon-Rogg." Instantly, she colors slightly. "I mean, Loki. I don't mean to call you Yon-Rogg. Sorry."

I just glare at her. She calls me the name of her old mentor, friend, district partner, and eventual victim every so often. I mind, I really do, but what can I do? Besides glare at her, I mean. She didn't want to come to Asgard, any more than I wanted her here. She was just trying to win the Contest, just like I was.

We never factored on winning together.

We continue sparring, eventually changing to spears and swords, the spear being one of my preferred weapons. Veers has gradually improved in wielding the swords, benefiting from my instruction as I benefited from hers in the field of martial arts. We finish the morning with a session in dagger combat before stopping to watch the rising sun.

It spreads its glorious rays of light across the grey sky, reds and oranges vibrant against the dim background. The sight is breathtakingly beautiful, too beautiful to be dawning on a day like today, a day where all the memories of the past months, of our time in the Contest, will be forced on us again in a mocking parade of triumph before the other districts.

This sun should be dawning on the mountains and Gamora.

But that will never happen again. Those days are over and consigned to memory.

I see Volstagg and Fandral enter the arena, shooting glances over in our direction. Ever since the Contest, they've grown quieter. I suppose that's the consequence of realizing two of your best friends will never laugh with you anymore, or fight beside you, or dream of days of glory, because they're dead and will never come home again. Both Hogun and Sif had died in the Contest and I, the little brother of their best friend and someone they despised, had survived. Out of a field of twenty-four, I had survived.

With Veers, of course.

The two head to the opposite end of the arena from us, Volstagg selecting an axe and Fandral picking up a sword, examining the blade closely before nodding in satisfaction. Then they begin their practice, dueling silently, Fandral's slight laugh or Volstagg's grunts noticeably absent.

"I think we should leave," Veers tells me, watching the two Asgardians out of the corner of her eye. "We've finished, anyway."

I nod and replace my daggers in my belt, Veers hanging hers up on the weapons rack. We turn and leave the arena, the exhalations of relief from Volstagg and Fandral echoing behind us. I'm used to being disliked by them, but now it's more than dislike, it's resentment and perhaps something more, but I've been reluctant to attach the label "hate" to what Thor's friends feel toward me now.

The palace looms before us and I balk, stopping in my tracks. I don't want to go back inside, for that acknowledges just how close Veers and I are to being shipped off on our Champion Tour. I need air, I need the sun, I need to feel the wind and know that I am free, that I am alive, no matter what happens in the days to come.

"What is it?" Veers asks, looking at me. I force myself to take a deep breath and turn to her.

"I just need a brief walk. I'll be in soon."

Veers nods once, her expression changing, hardening, becoming distant. She doesn't offer to come along; she knows I don't want her company. I never do, when I go out walking. I wonder, sometimes, if she suspects Gamora, although she's only met her a couple times. But ever since our arrival home, when Gamora confronted me on the bridge, I've felt Veers' eyes on me whenever she's around, as if trying to read my mind.

Not that it matters. Gamora avoids me now. At least, she usually does.

I hastily walk away from the palace, heading to the road leading to the bridge. I hesitate, momentarily, thinking about heading down to the Bifrost Observatory to see Heimdall, but then I swing right and walk over the broad bridge toward the mountains. I don't want to walk through the city today; I don't want to see people now.

I'll be seeing plenty of people later, and even more will be seeing me.

The soft breeze ruffles through my hair as I walk, taking deep, calming breaths. Even if Gamora and I no longer meet in the mountains, I still go there, to reminisce or to forget. I have too many things I don't want to remember anymore, and still too many things I'm struggling to hold on to.

Ducking my head, I force myself to focus on my steps, my dark boots striding forward across the stone construction. Step, step, step, step. Step, step, step, step. Heel, toe. Heel, toe.

When I arrive on the other side, I immediately head for our regular meeting place, on a wide ledge overlooking the lake. Once there, I glance around, as if looking for something, but of course what I'm looking for isn't there. It never is, these days.

But this is the last place I saw her alone.

"Your mother is looking for you."

I start and turn around to see Nebula, Gamora's sister, looking at me with her head tilted. Her cybernetic and biological eyes watch me curiously as I press my lips together, slightly annoyed. "I needed some air."

"She wants you back at the palace," Nebula informs me. "Everyone will be arriving soon."

"I know," I brush off. "Did she send you to find me?"

Nebula shakes her head but offers no explanation for her presence.

"Why are you here?" I ask then.

"I wanted to speak to you," she says, approaching me, her footsteps silent. "You leave today on your tour."

"I know that," I tell her, unable to keep the nasty tone from creeping into my voice. "I am well aware of my approaching departure, I assure you."

Nebula pins her sharp eyes on me. "Oh, shut up. I did come up to offer you some encouragement for the coming days, but I've changed my mind." She turns to leave, but I can't stop myself from calling after her.

"Your sister didn't want to say hello?"

Nebula stops, her back to me, and she's tense. "You know damn well why she's not here. She trusted you, and you broke her trust."

Then she stalks off, leaving my retort lying on my tongue, fading away. The words What did it cost you? ring in my head, Gamora's voice from the bridge measured and filled with anger and sorrow and a multitude of other emotions I can only feel, not name. And maybe I still don't know the full extent of what my victory in the Contest cost me, but I know one thing: it's cost me my best friend.

/**/

First chapter up at last! What did you think? Excited to dive back into the world of Contest?

I'm unsure if there will be an update for this book next week - I have finals coming up, so I'll be doing a lot of studying and essay writing and I'm not sure if I'll have time to do any updating next weekend. We'll just have to see.

Thanks for reading; I hope you enjoyed it!

Skylar Wittenborn