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End Game

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Loki hadn’t expected Thor to discover the truth quite so quickly, but then, Loki had to muse as he watched his brother’s fist fly towards his face, he did always underestimate Thor when it counted the most. The taste of his own blood was thick on his tongue as he took the hit and allowed the elaborate illusion of Odin to fade away, and Loki grinned up at Thor, his own face and his own teeth stained red from his split lip.

“Loki,” Thor almost growled as his hands wrapped around Loki’s throat. They weren’t tight enough to truly cut off his air supply, but the violence promised in Thor’s hands left Loki’s breath coming quickly. “What have you done?”

Loki’s grin grew wider, pulling on the wound and causing him to hiss softly, before his face softened and the smile dropped away completely. This was the most important part, after all, and Thor deserved his gravity. “Why, brother, I saved your life.”

Thor’s fingers curled a fraction tighter. Loki went even more limp in his grasp and brought his hands up to gently hold onto Thor’s wrists, to stroke the pad of a thumb soothingly over Thor’s racing pulse as he watched Thor.

“He was your father.”

Your father, Thor. Not mine.” Loki let go of one of Thor’s wrists to catch a hanging strand of Thor’s hair and tucked it back behind Thor’s ear. His fingers remained in the shining mass of Thor’s hair. “Not mine. Not like you.”

Thor’s hold on Loki’s neck relaxed, morphed into something much closer to the caress Thor in the past reserved only for Loki. “Why should I trust anything you say?”

The triumph was almost too much to keep from bubbling up out of his chest.

“Because I am all you have left.”