Return to Midgard

Chapter One

Shadows filled the streets, the moon illuminating the walls of the buildings around, peaking through the clouds as the stars seemed to have vanished behind the darkness of the sky, mist covering the ground. All was silent, no one in sight as the cold breeze blew through the trees, the last leaves falling as winter was soon on its way. The lights from the near by shops were dimmed, nothing but a few flickering signs here and there. It truly was the perfect place.

A smirk formed along Loki's lips upon entering the quite city, a hood over his head so whomever might be out at such time wouldn't recognize him. The Gods hair has grew out quite long, his eyes dull, feature emotionless, his clothing underneath ratted, ripped, no longer of quality. A cold breath escaped from the trickster's lips, his once vibrant emerald eyes locked on a near by inn, it's light broken, as the building itself looked worn down. The right spot to re gather his strength, to plan his next move, to find those who call themselves the Avengers.

Walking towards the inn, Loki's hand clutched his side, stopping the bleeding, easing the pain in some odd way. Groaning, the once prince made his way threw the doors, his eyes gazing over at the lady at the counter. Her hair was just passed her shoulders, a mix of brown with grey peaking through, indicating she was on the older side of the mortals life span, though what stood out the most was the fact the woman directed him to a room, free of charge. This was odd to say the least, but Loki was not going to complain for he was in need of rest, a way to stop his wound from bleeding out.

Upon entering the room, the first thing to pop out to the trickster was the tatted mattress that laid upon the ground, the curtains ripped, window cracked as a cool breeze danced within the room, finding its way to Loki's face. Sighing, he closed the door behind him, locking it as his hood dropped to the ground, revealing how battered, broken he was. Surely it wasn't a sight to see, a once powerful god stripped of his powers, beaten and banished to Midgard, the very place that caused all this. Loki felt worthless, forgotten as he stripped of his shirt, biting his lip as the pain was unbearable, his shirt now laying upon the ground. He made his way to the washroom, crunching his nose as the smell was truly disgusting. "Mortals.." Loki hissed, turning the tap on, cupping some warm water into his hand, gently putting it on his wound.
Tonight may of been the perfect night to find his way, to seek out help, but the trickster wasn't ready for that, wasn't ready to feel the wrath of the people whom defeated him at his own game, who had embarrassed him and his purpose in front of millions. His fragile mind couldn't take that, not now and perhaps never, but Loki knew sooner or later he'd have to face them.
Stripping down from the rest of his attire, Loki gazed out of the window, eyes focused on the empty streets as he wondered how he was to survive here, to fight back of one realizes who he truly is. What then? Annoyed with such thoughts, the fallen prince laid himself upon the mattress, eyes glued to the ceiling as he took a deep breath, hoping the pain would stop, hoping his mind would stop playing tricks on him. Though that was only a fools wish.

As the sun began to rise, shining through the cracks of the rooms window, Loki found himself gazing out on the streets, eyes cold, face emotionless. The once god couldn't even remember when he had woken up, nor did he even remember falling asleep, though the painful trip to get here was still fresh in the trickster's mind. Sighing, Loki rested his head against the mossy wall, arm wrapped around himself, eyes closed as memories replayed in his mind, haunting his very soul.

Hours had passed and Loki hadn't moved, ignored the knock after knock upon the rooms door, tuned out the sounds of his surroundings. His mind was to focused upon what had happened the day he had been banished, sent to live among the mortals, powerless, left to die. It angered him, only fuelled his desire to find the so called Avengers, to put an end to this. Though, even Loki knew he was to weak, fragile and pathetic to do a thing at this point. His skin burned, body aching, wounds re opening everytime he moved. The raven-haired man knew all to well he needed to be stitched up, but was to full of himself to ask.

Another loud knock came upon the door, groaning Loki finally snapped out of his thoughts, slowly standing his beaten body up and shuffled towards the door, whincing at the pain. "Who's there?" He asked, hand hovering over the knob, eyes locked on the door, waiting for an answer. "Sir, I'm the owner of this inn. I noticed last night you looked in pain and I have come to see if you need a doctor or anything?" The lady asked, biting the inside of her cheek nervously. Loki sighed, and turned his body away from the door. He was about to say something, but he began to feel funny, a wave of dizziness hitting him hard as he fell to the ground, agonizing pain taking over his body. Loki's vision began to blur, his thoughts mixing into one. The last thing the trickster heard, saw was the door being opened, a woman coming to his side, repeating sir over and over again. As his closed, Loki entered into a dream like state, the pain slowly fading, though the scene before him was all to familiar.

"LOKI!" A voice yelled, one Loki hated oh so much, one that always used such a tone towards him. "Odin" the trickster spat, a smirk along his lips, arms chained to the wall that kept him in place, blood trickling down his chin. "Is that the best you have, father" Loki hissed, chuckling lowly, eyes cold, filled with rage, hatered. "You are no son of mine" The all father spoke, as a whip smacked across Loki's bare chest, the skin red, burning and all Loki did was laugh, his grin only growing the more Odin did to him. "If this is supposed to be punishment, I do believe it's not working for you are a coward, won't face me yourself. Instead to chain me up, exposed for the people to see. You whip me like you have done before, embarrass me in front of your people. The people whom blindly follow-" he was soon cut off, another agonizing whip to his chest, followed by a spear to his side. "Pathetic" was Odin's last words.