It was a small room indeed. The two hardly fit together and Loki was uncomfortably aware of the man's proximity, of the fact that the man was so much taller than he was. But again he did not need to think of that too much because what was in the middle of this small room was interesting enough.
It was a staff, a staff standing vertical with something glowing, a blue gem almost but not quite a gem, perhaps. It stood in the middle of the staff like a claw, with the gem in the middle and he could feel a magnetism from it, a swirling, pointed, inexorable power that made him feel almost giddy and before he knew it he had reached for the staff.
But the man reached a hand out and grabbed his arm so tight it hurt, and he made himself relax, made himself shrink back, look at the ground. Then he let go, and Loki lowered his arm.
The man chuckled. "Everyone does that, the first time," he said. Then he turned, he moved to block the view of the staff though Loki could still feel it, whispering to him, tempting him. "I am going to show you something," he said. He reached out and grabbed Loki by the shoulders, forcing him down to kneel at his feet, and Loki hid his flare of annoyance, that if he wished him to kneel, he could have only asked.
And then he moved away and reached toward the staff, and Loki followed his movements curiously wondering what he was going to do and then he picked up the staff.
He turned around, and came forward, slowly, tip outstretched. And yet he surely wasn't planning to kill him, his movements did not seem to presage that, and so he watched, as he brought the tip closer to his chest, to rest against his heart.
And then he could feel it more than ever. The power of the staff. The great, vast power as if all the universe resided in that little gem, and he could not help but be pulled toward it, and the man knew it.
And as he watched, the swirling mists that came from inside the gem flowed from the tip of the staff and into him, and through him, and he felt as if light shone from his eyes and his mouth.
"Watch," said the man, and Loki obeyed.
He saw vast spaces before him, and the power to destroy them with a whisper. Secrets he had never known. He felt at once the most powerful being in the universe and the most insignificant, and he stood on the tip of a precipice and watched the ground crumble under his feet and a thousand songs sprung from the rain and withered and died as a thousand lifetimes passed and all the antlike people scurried around like miniature candles. And he saw Thanos, as he knew the man's name to be, hold out his hand, and the lights were dimmed—he took one step and the ants were crushed under his feet. And he felt the part of him that cared for these little things wither and die in the ecstacy of that eternal dance, because of course Death was greater than all of them, and his purpose was only to serve.
And then Thanos turned his eyes upon him, and reached out for him and took hold of him, teaching him everything that he would need to know to complete his purpose. He was the finest honed blade in the universe, and Thanos was the whetstone. And all about them Death, in all her glory, made war.
.
.
.