HI THERE :D Okay. Before you go any further, read this. This story is slightly AU. Pretend that Loki never made it back to Asgard at the end of Thor: the Dark World, pretend that the Avengers timeline is a little screwed up and take in stride a whole bunch of weird crap that will happen later on.

Yep, I think that's all you have to keep in mind...

Well. Um. Okay, just read it, I'll see you at the bottom.

Chapter 1

Sometimes I think the universe really is out to get me. I mean if you think about it, it was all the fault of the convergence that I ended up the way I am. That day I thought the universe was giving me a break, what with the good fortune I had by not running into anything unexpected while making this trip to England. Things were going fairly well, and by fairly well I mean I still had a house to live in, back home. Okay, so it doesn't exactly heat itself but you know, at least I'm not homeless.

I stepped out of the building and breathed in the cold air. Greenwich was so different from New York. Relatively quieter. Relatively neater. I inhaled another lungful of fresh air, pleased at how clean it smelled in comparison to the streets of the empire state. This may also be because my nose was numb. Oh well.

On the other side of the street the lake shimmered in the weak sunlight. So pretty. My mother would have liked this. I felt a twinge of sadness as I thought about her, with her dark, waist length hair and chocolate brown eyes, how she smelled like lavender and cinnamon, and made the best apple crumble pie ever.

"I miss you Mum," I whispered, "This trip is for you." It was her dream to travel the world, not mine. The furthest my dreams went were to settle for a high paying job in New York. I come from a small town in the States, where I had lived all my life with my mother. My dad left when I was three. I don't know why, and frankly, I don't care. My mum was my everything and I was hers. Being pregnant at eighteen, and then a single parent at twenty-two, life was always tough for her. In spite of all that, we managed damn well. When I got into college in California she was so proud, I kid you not, she burst into tears and then made baked goods like a maniac for five hours straight.

"We'll celebrate after you graduate Louie," she told me the day I left, "We'll go on that trip around the world we always wanted to go on, just you and me."

"Ma," I laughed, "trips around the world don't exactly come cheap." She waved her hand airily. Did I mention she was the dreamer and I was the practical one?

"I have some money put away. If we keep adding to that nest egg, we'll be able to go someday."

Four years later, I completed my degree in English, acing my classes and faithfully saving as much money as I could for our nest egg. We didn't expect to save much; it was an unrealistic, foolish dream, but it was what kept us close over the distance. Whenever she phoned we would end up chatting for hours on end about this far-fetched trip.

Then, two days after graduation she phoned me, and I could tell from how calm she was being that something was very, very wrong.

"Hey Mum," I said cheerily, hoping I was just being paranoid, "I'm taking the flight at three on Friday okay?"

"Louie," her voice shook a little. My stomach twisted.

"Mum what's wrong?" she made a little choking sound before clearing her throat and continuing in a whisper. "Louie honey, I've- I've got cancer."

"Mum…"

"Yeah I know, I know… Breast cancer to be specific. I knew these things were a bother." She laughed a little breathlessly.

"I'm coming home today." She didn't even argue. All I heard was a small "okay."

I hung up, sat on the floor and cried for an hour before going online and booking the next flight home. She refused treatment after the nest egg depleted on just one round of chemotherapy. So, two years later, here I was in Greenwich, honoring my mother's last wish and burying her ashes at her birthplace. I could feel myself getting sucked into that pit of depression just thinking about it. Shaking my head a bit I tried to clear my thoughts and compose myself. I was not going to start crying in the middle of the pavement. I did my duty. I was going to enjoy the rest of my stay as best as I could and then go home and start a new life.

Pulling myself together, I crossed the road, and that was when I saw it. For a second there I couldn't figure out what it was. First the air above the lake shimmered and rippled and then all of a sudden, a ship materialized. Out of thin air. In broad daylight. What. The. Fuck. I mean really, a spaceship? In Greenwich? What tourist comes across that?

Several people screamed. The spaceship was moving fast and moving straight towards the green courtyard that the buildings surrounded. It didn't look like it was going to stop.

"RUN!" someone hollered. I stumbled backward, stunned. Was this a normal occurrence in England? I watched as it barreled straight through the concrete and tarmac as if it barely existed. And I realized I was sort of in its path. Shit.

Time stood still and the noise in the background reduced to a dull roar. I was going to die. A spaceship was going to crush me and I was going to die like an ant under a boot.

Well, I thought dryly, that's an ungainly way to go. Here's me accepting my fate. Like Harry Potter I shall welcome Death with open arms. I braced myself for the impact and my inevitable demise. Except I didn't die because someone with grabbed me and dragged me out of the way.

"What the hell are you doing?!" my savior yelled in my face, her hair blowing in the wind as she pulled me to safety. Oh, another American. Though unlike me she seemed to know what she was doing. Following her was a tall, lanky young man with an armful of tech-y looking poles.

"I – I wasn't-"

But the young man cut me off. "Darcy! We're running out of time!"

"Right!" Darcy dropped my arm, which she had been holding with a vice like grip and sprinted off, yelling over her shoulder, "Don't hang around, I won't be there to save your ass again!"

"Right," I mumbled. Good advice. I should probably run now.

It took me all of ten seconds to launch myself onto the road and start running as far away as I possibly could from the giant, obviously hostile, alien space thing. The screaming and shouting was getting louder and I could've sworn I heard shooting. Overhead, two fighter planes flew towards the ship. Turning around, I power-walked backwards, stumbling over rubble and once (oh, God) a foot. Slowly, I glanced around. The scene that greeted me was one of absolute disaster. People running, screaming, glass shattered, broken buildings, police cars with their sirens blasting, ambulances... I looked to the sky and my jaw dropped open.

Sweet baby Jesus. It was a fucking tornado up there. Complete chaos engulfed the area, and once in a while there was a crack and lightning would strike the ground, somewhere near the ship. I wouldn't know where exactly; the buildings were blocking my view. Over to the left, a new disturbance was taking place in the sky. Clouds were parting in the air, forming perfect circular holes in the thick, red smog. The two planes I saw earlier fired missiles but to no avail. They were sucked in to the, well, portals, like dust bunnies to a vacuum cleaner.

Then, when I thought it couldn't get any worse, a car fell out of thin air, three feet in front of me. With a shriek I jumped backwards, throwing up my hands against the shower of glass.

"Bloody hell!" I screamed to no one in particular, "what in God's name-!"

It was then that I, being the graceful being I am, tripped and fell backwards. Suddenly the whole world seemed to tilt on its axis, and everything went black.

Loki POV

Pain. Pain was the driving force in him. The poison in the wound was spreading fast. Thor's face swam in and out of focus and Loki struggled to concentrate on what he was saying. Faintly, he heard his brother's words.

"I'll tell Father what you did here today." If he could have snorted he would have. He struggled to form words.

"I didn't do it for him." Loki gasped and stilled as everything went black, a deafening roar rising in his ears.

Pain. So much pain. Loki could feel himself beginning to panic. No. No, no, no. He was a God. He was born with a purpose and that purpose was not to die alone in a barren wasteland.

Pull yourself together, you fool, he silently told himself, it is not time to die just yet.

Motivating as these thoughts were, Loki was still unable to move. The poison made his entire body feel like it was on fire and he groaned. Everything was still dark, still loud, and still painful. His stomach hurt, badly, and soon he went spiraling down to the dark, blissful silence that comes with passing out.

He reckoned he must have been unconscious for a while and when he came to again, the pain had reduced considerably. The black was fading away and the wasteland was slowly appearing before his eyes. He could make out the shapes of fallen ships and bodies strewn across the dusty ground. Gods. How was he going to get out of this?

Groaning, he sat up and examined the wound carefully. Hm. Well, something was off. It took him a moment or two to figure it out.

Ah. He was blue.

"Interesting," he murmured softly. In his weakened state his body had reverted to its natural state. Chastising himself for taking so long to figure it out – really, did Thor hit him on the head with Mjolnir or something? – he tried his best to peer at the wound in his stomach. The pain now came directly from the gaping hole, only worsening when he moved. It was an intense pain, yes, but it seemed that the poison had just… disappeared. How strange. Was it his Jotun form doing this? Experimentally he reverted to his Asgardian form and then gasped as the pain doubled. Alright then, he was going to have to remain as a Jotun for a while. His nose wrinkled in distaste. What a way to add insult to injury.

Once he was blue again he lay back, breathing hard. The smallest amount of magic weakened him so much. He tried to collect his thoughts. He couldn't stay here forever. Firstly it was a wasteland. Anyone or anything he came across was very likely hostile. Secondly, it was not like the place had any sort of food or water to offer. He would either be killed or die of starvation. So, he had to leave, to another realm, and soon.

But how? Heimdall? Heimdall was probably distracted at the moment. Besides, if Thor had made it back to Asgard alive he would have told everyone that Loki was dead by now. Heimdall wouldn't be on the lookout. He could wait for a patrol to be sent from Asgard but Loki wasn't sure how long he had been out for. There was a chance that the scouts had already been to the Dark World and left with only news of a body to report. Besides, going home, even like this, meant days and days of trials and courts and Loki wasn't sure he could face Odin after the loss of Frigga. The gap between them would only increase further. Loki knew Frigga was the reason Odin had dealt him life-long imprisonment and not death. Without her presence, it was unlikely he would be treated very well.

So how was he going to escape?

Think, fool, he snarled to himself. You escaped the clutches of Thanos - not very well, but nevertheless escaped. A wasteland shouldn't be too hard.

Lifting his hand to brush hair from his forehead her noticed it was slick with blood. Ah. So the first order of business was healing. In his Jotun form it seemed to occur much faster. If he found shelter he could stay, rest, and once he had enough strength to summon his magic, continue the healing process himself. So all he had to do now was to find shelter.

Too tired to sit up again, he rolled his head, searching for a cave, a cavern, even a mere crevice in which to rest. He was in luck. There, out in the hills from which they tumbled down in their pseudo-fight, Loki noticed several caverns. Surely they were safe. He stood, groaning loudly at the pain. For the thousandth time in two years he was thankful he wasn't some weak Midgardian. Slowly he shuffled forwards, picking up a staff along the way. It was a weapon, he assured his bruised ego, not an aide that he required to hobble along.

Oh, the dignity of a fallen king, he thought dryly.

Picking a cave at random, he entered slowly and finding it thankfully empty, lowered his aching body to the ground. After a few adjustments and a very weak illusion, he was fairly sure that while he was able to see the outside, no outsider could see him. Closing his eyes he sighed, suddenly so tired of it all. All the illusions, the lies, the trickery.

He thought back to the battle and wondered if Thor had succeeded in defeating Malekith. How long had he been out for? It felt like days, but common sense told him it could only have been a few hours, if the bodies strewn out there were anything to go by.

He supposed Mother really would have been proud of him today. Loki still felt a twinge of anger at not being able to attend her funeral. Thor's mortal woman had been present, but he, he who loved her the most had been sitting in the dungeons, completely unaware of what was happening until it was far too late. He stared up at the jagged ceiling as something wet trickled down his face and into his hair. He could have helped. He could have saved her. Angrily he scrubbed away the tears. Tears would not bring her back. Nothing would.

A low rumbling, followed by a terrific thud disturbed his thoughts. Startled, he raised himself slightly. Out in the distance a new body lay, faintly stirring. There was no mistaking that long, white blond braid. Malekith. With a growl he made to rise; it did not matter that a hole had been ripped through his insides, he would kill Malekith or die trying. He'd only just sat up, however, when with another rumble, the Elves' ship materialized out of thin air. In slow motion it fell, creaking and groaning and shuddering, crushing Malekith under it. Well.

A startled laugh escaped Loki's lips. There was no way the Elf could have survived that. What an ungainly way to die. He chuckled darkly. Nothing more than what the bastard deserved. And yet, he was probably going to die here too, alone and friendless. He would be lucky if it was a fast, painless death like Malekith's. The thought sobered him up fairly quickly.

Alone and friendless. Not that he had many friends to begin with, but the thought that he had been about to die in his brothers arms had, at that moment been a strangely comforting one. It made facing the inevitable seem easier. Ugh. He was picking up all this sentimental rubbish from his brother. Stupid oaf. He felt an uncomfortable twitch at the insult he made and then an even more uncomfortable one when he realized his mind had not automatically denied any relation to the god of thunder. He was accepting Thor as a brother. Dear Gods. He felt like bashing his head against a rock.

Yet, he couldn't help but dwell on conversations of the past. Words from what seemed like eons ago echoed in his mind.

"We played together, fought together."

"You come home."

"I wish I could trust you."

Bitterly he turned his head to the inside of the cave. Perhaps Thor really would see to it that he had died honorably. An oaf his brother may be, but Loki couldn't deny that his heart was in the right place. Probably one of the few reasons he would make a good king.

Glowering, he picked at his wound. It seemed to have healed almost halfway already. His Jotun form really did heal faster. Maybe it was because he wasn't exerting any energy in holding up an illusion. He filed this information away for future use and let his eyes wander over the interior of the cave. Dark and dank, it seemed to lead on in the form of a tunnel. This made him slightly nervous. Tunnels existed only if something dug them out. He hoped he wouldn't find out exactly what.

He heaved a sigh. The minutes ticked by slowly, and he counted the seconds when he got bored. Rock, rock, rock, more rock, lots more rock…wait. What was that? Was that – he raised his head, blinking. Was that a shoe?

Ignoring his body which screamed in protest, he got up and shuffled towards it. A shoe. A Midgardian shoe. He examined it, bemused. How could a shoe from earth have ended up here, in the Dark World? Unless… his grip on the shoe tightened and his eyes widened as he made his way further into the tunnel. More and more shoes and the odd Midgardian object littered the ground. If his hunch was correct… Experimentally he lobbed the shoe a good ten feet out and held his breath. It sailed through the air and then, disappeared.

He grinned.

A/N: Et voila!

Okay, now for the proper Author's note. This is the first story I've published, so... well... a little review or two might be nice. :P

See, I get real bored, real fast, but if I know someone out there is willing to read, I just might be motivated to actually see this through to the end :')

So yeah. Let me know if you like it, let me know if I should continue or not. :3 the second and third chappies are already done, but I'm too anxious to post them unless I get a little positive feedback ehehe.

Constructive criticism only, okay? Go easy on the first timer.

25/07/2015: BIG GRAMMAR EDIT

Much Love,

Until next time,

xo