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For a frostgiant, he was quite pathetic.
That was what he thought of himself after all these days, weeks or even months or maybe years. He had lost track of time over all these endless days and nights he had spent in the icy desert.
The last bit of Jotunheim he didn't manage to destroy.
He was hiding between the ruins, hiding from Heimdall's eyes, seeking comfort and shelter but never really finding it. He had started freezing a long time ago after he had resisted the cold for long enough. The cold was seeping into his skin and his bones now.
He wasn't as much of a frostgiant anymore as he had been when he had settled down. He became more and more of an Aesir again. He looked human. His skin never turned blue again.
Because he knew he didn't belong here. He had never really been a Jotun. Because he was raised as an Aesir.
Wrapped in an old thick fur which he had found, he stared into the sky, looking for the different branches of Yggdrasil. By now he knew which branch he had to follow with his eyes to find what he was looking for. The most important world in the Nine Realms.
Asgard.
He would never admit it but he knew deep down that a part of him wanted to go back. He tried to ignore it but something was pulling him, letting his desire to come back grow a tiny bit day by day. It was mentally destroying him.
He sometimes missed the warmth. He sometimes missed the food, his own bed, the books in the library, and the large gardens around the palace. The life he had before. Before he fell, before he miserably failed in New York.
He missed the comfort of not being alone, the company of other people.
The company of Thor.
Thor.
His brother who wasn't his brother. And yet, he missed him.
He pretended he wasn't missing him at all, wasn't imagining Thor looking out for him in the Nine Realms to get him back.
To get him back home.
But he got proven wrong every time he woke with Thor's name on his lips.
He wrapped the fur closer around himself. His clothes mostly torn apart over the time he'd been here. They had lost all of their glory. His magic, barely strong enough to hide him from Heimdall's eyes, couldn't keep him warm anymore.
He was slowly losing it, his magic and himself. It made him feel sick. Physically and mentally. He got weak.
A weak frostgiant.
A weak magician.
A weak God.
He had lost his powers, he was barely himself anymore.
He jolted out of his unruly dreams once more, tasting his brother's name on his lips again, when he finally made a decision.
Maybe it saved his life, saved him from freezing to death.
He appeared beneath the rainbow bridge, feeling the sand between his naked toes. He fell down to his knees, too exhausted to keep himself up any longer.
Asgard. This was Asgard and he had used nearly all of his remaining magic to get him from Jotunheim to this hidden place. But he wouldn't be able to keep himself a secret to Heimdall for much longer.
He sat in the sand for a few minutes, watching the tiny waves breaking when they washed over the sand and his feet. When he had collected some of his strength again he stood up. His legs were shaking.
He knew this place. As a child, he had come here often to play, to read, and to be alone. Sometimes Thor came here with him although he always knew he preferred to be left alone here. It had been his place. But he had never really minded Thor's presence.
But he minded his absence now.
Unnoticed, he made his way into the palace. He felt himself drawn closer to his old rooms where he had slept, studied, where he had lived. And where Thor had his rooms as well.
It was pulling him and the closer he got, the stronger the force that wanted him to be there.
He hid behind a column when he saw the door to his old room being opened and someone stepped out. He held his breath as he watched the unmistakable figure slowly walking down the corridor. He wasn't wearing his chest plate or his cloak but it was him. It was Thor.
His heart beat got faster, the urge to get closer suddenly got overwhelming and hurt inside his chest. He stayed where he was, couldn't get himself to actually reveal his presence.
But right in that moment Thor stopped. He turned around, looking down the corridor as if he had heard something. As if he had sensed the presence of the other.
Steps echoed along the walls as they seemed to come closer. "Hello?"
He suddenly felt like crying. He hadn't heard his brother’s voice for so long, he had nearly forgotten how it sounded. He swallowed, listening to Thor's words.
"Someone there? Show yourself!"
He just couldn't show himself to Thor now, he just couldn't. And so the corridor remained silent and Thor turned around again to proceed to go where he was heading first. A sad expression seemed to flicker across his face but suddenly he could feel something in his chest. The same feeling that had brought him here minutes ago but suddenly it felt like the biggest force he had ever felt in his entire life.
He turned around again and froze in every movement.
The one behind the column had decided to face him. The sad expression on Thor's face had nearly broken his heart and so he had stepped out of his hiding place and had hoped Thor would simply notice.
"Loki!"
"Hello, brother!"
They both could hardly hear each other voices. One of them out of breathe because he nearly thought he was seeing a ghost, the other one hardly able to speak because of exhaustion.
Thor found himself again, taking large steps to throw himself against his long lost brother, pressing him to his chest.
"Loki, is it really you?"
"Yes, yes it's me."
When Loki felt the strong and warm arms wrap around him, holding him tight, his knees gave in and he collapsed against Thor's chest.
Thor held him when they sat on the ground in silence, slowly letting his hands stroke Loki's back gently and running his fingers through his black messy hair.
"You are home."