A valiant battle blazed the icy realm of Jotunheim. Thor, Loki, and a batch of Asgard's bravest war heroes razed the land of the ice giants who threatened war. At the Throne of Ice, Thor battled his father's ancient rival, sending sparks of lightning to ripple through the waves of ice that chilled the air. Loki assisted with conjured blasts of condensed fire-energy, firing them off from his staff as he swung it around like a baton. The men of ice were decimated and shattered as they stood powerless against the demigods. In his final defense, Utgard, the tyrant, rendered his chest to tear at his heart. It created a reaction in which gales of winter's air seeped from the wound of his heart to freeze the area over in a timeless setting. Loki defended his brother and his friends by shielding them from the blast with an energy field created from the remaining magick left in his soul. When the coast was clear, Loki dropped, feeling weak and powerless. However, Utgard was destroyed and victory belonged to Asgard once more. "Take us home!" Thor shouted amongst the cheering of his friends. A beam of light engulfed the group, sending them up to the heavens. Except...
Loki remained in the frozen throne. In the solitude of fresh ruins, he looked around him in bewilderment. Without an ounce of energy left in his body, there was no way for him to return just yet or even conjure up a portal. He huddled behind the stiff "statue" of a frozen ice giant corpse, keeping his legs huddled against his chest to keep warm as he waited for Thor to retrieve him.
Seconds passed, minutes passed, the twin suns began to set over the horizon of Jotunheim's vast mountain range. Loki watched with curious blue eyes, passing time as he waited for his pickup.
Back on Asgard, Thor partied with his friends in the grand hall of Odin's castle. There was fresh meat handed out, mugs topped off with mead thrown around, and bodies swayed and danced carelessly. Even a sweet kiss was stolen from the lips of Thor by none other than the usually cocky Lady Sif. It was met with much ogling and echoes of "ooo!" and "awww!" shouted by the warriors and their serving wives. It was a celebration not to be missed; a wonderful gift to reward valiant behavior and victory.
The suns faded now. The moon was Loki's only company as he continued to wait. He turned his staff over, drawing lines and circles in the snow with the sharpened tip as he waited. But no one came. After so many hours, he gave up. Though his home was a starry distance away, he had no choice but to brave the cold to walk to it. He kept his arms huddled under the fur scarf that kept much of his upper body warm. His eyes squinted as the wind blew snow in his face. All he could think about was eating steaming hot boar and downing one... no two!... mugs of ale. He daydreamed about Odin patting him on the back, Thor giving a speech about being proud of him, Lady Sif perhaps being kind enough to lay a kiss upon his cheek. The blushing thought was enough to keep his face warm. He dreamt that perhaps now he'd be remembered. He dreamt perhaps he'd get to hear a speech about how his sacrifice saved the entire kingdom. The imagined sounds of warriors cheering were transitioned to the howling of the wind. It was relevant that he still had a long journey home.
Night turned to day and the man still trekked the snow. His optimistic face sagged with sorrow and hurt as the denial faded. Loki was forgotten. His deeds went unnoticed. He began to walk much slower. "Why should I go home to a place where they don't even know I exist? Can I even call it home?" he asked himself. His feet began to lazily drag in the snow as he felt chained to Jotunheim by the unwillingness to face his friends and family. Loki's grasped hands against his chest raised higher to cover his heart as it skipped beats. Sensible beads of water trailed down his cheek only to freeze under his jaw line. "I'm still here!" He raised his head to shout at the sky. His cry went unanswered. "I want to go home!" He pressed on, but each cry was still met by silence. "Please..."
Numerous days now passed as Loki continued to sluggishly trek his way home. As the twin suns began to set before his eyes for the possibly 4th, no 5th, or 6th, maybe even 11th time-Loki collapsed. His knees dipped into the snow as he hunched over, hanging his head down low enough for his golden helmet to slide off. Lonely blue eyes stared intently at the sparkling snow crystals below. It reminded him of the sky above. He thought he could see Asgard and other realms twinkling before him in the ice. He dragged one hand into the snow, scraping it aside roughly out of anger. "I do not belong..." he whispered. Loki's eyes started to swell, but the tears that escaped froze over almost as soon as they were released. For years he had the assumption that home was where the heart was; that Asgard was his home; that his father Odin and his brother Thor would always be there for him as he would always protect them as well. And yet, his father turned a blind eye and Thor paid no attention.
As he sat in the snow thinking to himself, the white crystals began to pile on his head and shoulders till the man looked like a statue covered in snow. Loki began to shiver, keeping his arms crossed against his torso to keep his body warmth in. But it was all in vain. He collapsed to the ground, burying his face in the snow below as his eyes wandered out lifelessly. Soon enough the snow began to accumulate on his face and the side of his body till he became one with Jotunheim.