Extended Scene: Opportunities

Summary: This is the continuation of Thor and Loki's confrontation on their "flying canoe" through Svartelfheim. Warning: spoilers. Please R&R!

My usual stream of thoughts and possibilities stirred in my mind, while I watched my brother perform worthless ministrations on his mortal pet. What I could do with the power that flows through those veins, I thought wistfully, then realized that I had spoken aloud.

"It would consume you." Thor stated this matter-of-factly, not turning to face me.

Hot irritation then flowed through my veins, at this doubt of my abilities. "She's holding up all right—for now."

"She's strong in ways you'd never even know."

"Say goodbye." I knew this would start something that would not end well, but this was the typical dance of our arguments and we were both performing our usual first steps.

"Not this day."

"This day, the next…a hundred years—nothing. It's a heartbeat. You'll never be ready." I winced at the vindictiveness in my voice, but I now yearned to force a reaction from him, something other than his self-righteous platitudes thrown over his shoulder. "The only woman whose love you prized will be snatched from you—"

That did it. He whirled around, spitting out wearily, "And will that satisfy you?"

He was partly right; I would enjoy that, yes, but it would not be enough. "Satisfaction's not in my nature."

"Surrender's not in mine." He held my gaze evenly, firmly yet not unkindly.

I was used to his white-hot temper, not these calculated arguments. I had started this train of conversation, however, and searched my brain for a retort. It was a stretch, but I returned to my fool-proof method of mocking his self-identity: "The son of Odin…"

"No, not just of Odin," Thor replied angrily, standing up menacingly to face me. "You think you alone loved Mother?" This was not an angle that I'd been expecting. "You had her tricks, but I had her trust."

On the peripheral side of my brain, I was briefly aware that this was my cue to debate which of us had been the better son, defending all our separate actions since childhood, but one word of what he had dared uttered had blanked out all the rest. "Trust?" I responded disbelievingly. "Was that her last expression?" I would never know. "Trust?" Time seemed to slow down, and everything in my vision blurred except for the clear features of his hypocritical face. "We let her die!?"

There was a minor chink in his armor, defensiveness in his voice. "What help were you, in your cell?"

That fact was exactly why I had said we let her die, instead of you let her die, although I would never admit it to him, and preferred not to admit it to myself. "Who put me there?" I might have been frothing at the mouth, and wouldn't have noticed or cared. "Who put me there?"

"You know damn well!" Thor slammed me against the side of our vessel, towering over me, a fist hovering and ready to strike. "You know damn well who!"

This was the reaction I'd expected, even wanted: proof that my big brother was the same as he'd always been, hadn't changed a bit despite his exile. We had been in this position many times in our youth, with the argument decided upon whether he was faster with his fists or I with my magic. He knew that I was defenseless before him, unable to fight back physically or magically with my hands bound by him. I stared back, wild-eyed, fighting down the urge to say many things. His action in this next moment would be his downfall, without any further provocation from me. A struggle of emotions warred for dominance on his features while he decided my fate.

Shockingly, (disappointingly?), he lowered his fist, self-disgust being the emotion that won. "She wouldn't want us to fight!" he said in astonishment, stepping back.

This interaction was so unprecedented and unexpected that I nearly burst into laughter. And the fact that he didn't lower his fist due to some higher moral righteousness, but due to what Mother might have thought. "Well…" I drawled, for once speaking plainly in response to his words, "She wouldn't exactly be shocked." Despite my valiant attempts to repress it, I felt a sad, defeated grin spread across my face.

He noticed my vulnerability and decided to match it. "I wish I could trust you," he said with the same wistfulness that I had of the Aether's power.

No one had won this argument; it had been a stalemate. I had provoked him to rage, but he had ultimately not given in to it. Urged by my own power of manipulation, I slowly started to recover, standing up and facing him again. This once we had a common mission to accomplish, but only once; we had only one mother to ever avenge. Then I would continue to define myself in opposition to him and everything he believed in. "Trust my rage," I answered quietly, the hint of defiance returning to my eyes.

"I never have been able to trust you, not since Jotunheim," Thor responded flatly, his voice even. Ironically, he had turned his back on me while uttering that statement. "What makes these circumstances any different?"

"It seems to me that you have no choice. Remember that you were the one who came to me, Brother."

"Should I not have?" A glance over his shoulder.

I grinned.

"I said no more illusions! Speak openly!"

"Your whole plan is an illusion. You think you will be king." In spite of myself, I wanted to keep the battle of words between us, anything but feel the raw pressure of his silent presence.

"That's the last thing on my mind right now, Loki."

"But according to your plan, you're the only one of the two of us who stands to gain something in the end," I replied more bitterly than I'd intended.

"No. Now I have also betrayed the Allfather, and called into question the safety of the Realms." Thor blew out his remaining breath, and passed a hand over his eyes in a gesture that was wholly uncharacteristic of him.

I stared at him for a moment, then gave in and went to stand by his side. "Since this is probably our last conversation, I'd like you to know that I hate you, Thor, I truly do."

"I believe you."

"But the one emotion that I can never claim is indifference. How pathetic, how useless it was to try to earn your attention and respect in our childhood. And now you claim you've changed…it's a little too late, Brother. Remember that I know you much better than you know me. You ignored me and took me for granted until the last few years."

"You're right." Thor still looked outward at Svaltalfheim thoughtfully, almost distractedly. "It hasn't escaped my sense of irony that I was the one who called you Brother on Midgard, and now you are the one calling me Brother. Loki"—suddenly his hand once again clenched into a fist—"Tell me that you had some more noble purpose on Midgard than merely to force yourself onto a throne. There are a great number of adopted children who don't feel the need to divide and conquer because of a misunderstood childhood."

"It is my birthright," I responded coldly. Those were fighting words. "And that's the phrase you use to sum up the root of my anger? Yes, the Allfather was so concerned about Midgard that he did not bother to come down and save it himself. And by the way, thank you so much for your consideration in not even attempting to be present during my unjust sentencing, proving exactly what a caring god you have become. And thanks to you and Odin both for not telling me about Mother yourselves, leaving me to hear it so compassionately from a common guard, and thank you also for sparing me the heartache of being permitted to attend her funeral." By now I was shaking with rage.

Thor looked at me silently for a moment, and then suddenly assumed an air of authority. "Hold out your hands."

I eyed him suspiciously.

"Come now, Loki, it seems to me that you don't have a choice but to obey me." I gasped in uncalculated astonishment as he unsheathed my dagger from the back of his belt.

If Thor cut off my hands, I would be unable ever to perform magic again. The axe of death would have made me a martyr, but me without my hands is equal to Thor without his hammer. I would have been impressed by his cunning if I weren't convulsing with horror at the possibility. "Thor…brother—"a half-sob escaped my lips as I flung myself at his feet. "Please have mercy…I'll swear any allegiance, I'll give any collateral—"

Thor pulled me ungracefully to a standing position. "I do not play by your delusional rules, Loki," he snapped. He instead cut my bonds with a few quick strokes. Then he flipped over my dagger and handed it to me.

I took it by the hilt and looked at him uncertainly.

"Oh, I'm sure you can conjure your ropes when Jane wakes up, so she feels secure until our stand with Malekith." Thor remained the same distance away from me. "We will keep our original plan. And afterwards…I swear to you by everything I hold sacred, if you are anywhere within my field of vision after our battle, I will do everything in my power to take you back to the dungeons of Asgard. Are you listening?"

"But the—"

"And if I hear of any impish tricksters with cow horns and a green cape causing mischief anywhere in the nine realms, I will come swiftly to avenge it. Is that understood?"

"…yes, Brother."

"Because of course this repressive family you speak of would never want to give you the opportunity to create a new and separate identity for yourself."

I absorbed this silently.

"But if our plan goes wrong…and it probably will…" Thor lowered his voice and glanced at the corporeal bundle at the stern. "I expect you to do everything in your power to save Jane. That is all that I want or request."

My brain was experiencing a rare moment of fog. I began to plan for a wide variety of possibilities for how this would end up.

"Are you listening to me, Loki?"

"Yes…I'm listening."

He turned his back on me to check on Jane.