Loki felt his vision go dark, closing in around that disgusting purple face, and finally admitted that he'd lost his touch.
He supposed it was inevitable, really. He'd just expected that he wouldn't have become so predictable at such a young age. Regrettable. He blamed all that time he'd spent in Asgard eating grapes in his bathrobe. He was out of practice. If Thor had only gotten over his loss sooner and returned home this never would've happened. Loki would have had plenty of time to keep his mind sharp dodging Thor's ill-timed perceptiveness.
Loki berated himself for blaming Thor, which was another thing that had started to happen lately. He wasn't sure he particularly cared for this new conscience he seemed to be developing. The one good thing about getting choked to death was that he would never reach the stage where he would feel guilt over what he'd done to Thor or Midgard.
When Thor and Loki had wound up on Sakaar, Loki had been faced with how far he had truly fallen. He'd gotten sloppy on Asgard; building statues of himself and letting the Nine Realms burn were dead giveaways. But how could anyone blame him? After all the years of trying and all he'd lost, how could anyone say that he hadn't deserved to celebrate his victory?
To be honest, he supposed he'd always wanted the throne more than the responsibilities which came with it. And besides, everything he did or said in Odin's body was haunted by memories. He'd started drinking and reveling to push away thoughts of the family he'd turned his back on. He'd told himself that he was just taking a break to enjoy his success. He'd said he was as sharp as ever.
It wasn't until Thor returned with the crown of Surtur that he started suspecting he might have grown stagnant. Thor had…changed. He had regained the confidence and playfulness his banishment and subsequent losses had torn from him, but they were different. More focused, maybe? More mature? It wasn't until he saw his brother's single-minded determination to fight a losing battle to save Asgard that he realized the difference was in Thor's intentions.
Thor wasn't in this for the glory or the thrill anymore; he was doing this because he had decided who he wanted to be as a person and was making his choices based on that. He wasn't trying to be a great king or a good son or some sort of god. And he wasn't pretending to be perfect. He knew who he was, he accepted it, and he tried to be better. He tried to be the hero everyone saw him as – the hero they needed him to be.
Being jealous of Thor wasn't a new feeling, but this time Loki caught himself admiring his clumsy, oafish brother at the same time.
"You seem to want to stay the same."
Normally Loki would've taken Thor's words with a grain of salt, but the thunderer had actually anticipated one of Loki's tricks. If Thor could see through him, something was seriously wrong.
It was no secret that Thor had a hard time grasping ideas and concepts. He'd dropped out of school; only partially because Odin had drafted him. Thor didn't learn at a normal pace. He thought of everything in absolutes, which Loki took advantage of over and over again. To Thor, people were either with you or against you. Loki's ability to switch between the two had baffled him for centuries. But, over the time Loki had spent ruling Asgard, Thor had somehow come to terms with the idea of betrayal.
"You're you and I'm me."
Not only betrayal, it seemed, but he'd also learned acceptance. Forgiveness. What had Loki learned?
Loki found himself feeling like the younger brother watching Thor succeed effortlessly all over again. And he tried to catch up. Fighting Hela, their sister, really brought into perspective what it was like to fight a seemingly unstoppable family member with a zombified army bent on world domination. It was…not as fun from the defensive side of things.
When Asgard was destroyed and its people were left in space, refugees, Loki vowed to keep an open mind regarding Thor and his ideas on life. Maybe this time things could be different. Thor welcomed him back with open arms, of course. Some things never change.
But Loki had gotten greedy and Thanos had come looking for his prize. The trickster saw his second chance go up in smoke. The only way they were getting out of this was if Loki could play Thanos like he'd played everyone else in his life.
Loki had run this con hundreds of times; flatter them, gain their trust, betray them, and take their throne. Simple, yet devastatingly effective. The only problem was time. That kind of con required dedication and slow, sometimes nonexistent, progress. It required absolute clarity of mind and a distinct separation between the job and the personal side of things.
Loki was not removed from the personal side of things. The Hulk had failed. Heimdall and Brunhilda were dead. Thor had been tortured in front of his eyes and Thanos had him subdued. As Loki spoke, exhaustion and fear clawed at his resolve. It was like he could see Thanos turning away from him, marching over to Thor, and crushing his skull. Thor screaming in agony. Thor dying, brutally murdered by a madman.
There was no time for the long game. Thanos had to be stopped now, before he had time to order Thor's execution.
Loki knew it was sloppy, materializing the blade while Thanos' children were behind him. He knew it was suicide to try to stab someone wielding even one of the infinity stones. But maybe he really had learned something from Thor, because he knew he had to try anyway. He must have missed whatever trick made the losing battle inexplicably turn out okay, though, because he knew he was dying.
He'd lost his touch a long time ago. He had once been the greatest trickster in the universe. He had once been able to talk his way out of any situation, lie like it was the truest thing he'd ever said, and break six promises before breakfast without feeling the slightest bit of guilt. He'd had no qualms about committing genocide to gain a little respect or approval. He'd cut down anyone who might have been in his way. He'd turned up his nose at Thor, someone who trusted him every single time he said, "I'm sorry."
Loki's vision went black and his thoughts started to swim from lack of air. Just before Thanos snapped his neck, he was locked in a battle between two sides of himself. One side was horrified at dying such an undignified and useless death. It lamented all the unrecognized dreams and ambitions resting in his dying mind. The other was tentatively at peace. It took pride in dying for Thor and wondered if the first side hadn't been phrasing things incorrectly the whole time; maybe Loki hadn't so much lost his touch as he had grown out of it.