Loki gasped, his breath coming raggedly, as Thanos pulled the staff away, his hands reached for it unthinkingly and Thanos brushed them aside, and he was still. The wild happiness of what he had seen still filled him, and yet it was draining away, leaving a hollow bitterness on his tongue. Once again, he was being used. Once again he was nothing more than an instrument of some higher will. And he resolved to fight with all he had against it.
But he looked up as if he were affected, and he asked with a voice raw and hoarse what he must do.
"What I have given you is only a taste of what you will experience," Thanos said gravely. "Only a single drop in the ocean of knowledge and power you will gain if you help me in my designs."
"Of course I will help you," Loki said. "Have you not seen my very heart? Am I not worthy?"
Thanos smiled. He reached out and cupped his chin, gently, in his hand. "Not yet, my pet," he said. "Not yet. But you will be."
And that single phrase broke him, and he was crying as Thanos held his head up and then he let go, and Loki cried. That now. Of all places, of all times, of all people, that for this he might someday be worthy. And before him in his mind he saw the face of his father, as he told him he would never be enough.
.
.
.