Unfortunately, this is based off real events :( One of my closest friends did the same to me, but the letter was longer. So...yeah.

Much thanks to anon and Vidgealz C Valvatore for their reviews.

He had really only ever had Thor, his brother his only friend. No one had wanted to be friends with Loki, with the shadowed younger brother. Thor's friends had tolerated him, since he was the younger brother of one of theirs, but no more than that.

He had had another friend once, or so he had thought. The other boy, Mottull, the smith's son, had listened to him, made him laugh, had made him feel wanted.

"Hey, Loki, come on!" Mottull shouted, bursting into Loki's room. The dark-haired prince looked up from his new poetry book, a belated nameday present from Odin, one of the many books the court had scrambled to get for him, from various sources, most likely forgotten bookshelves in their own apartments-they had all forgotten his nameday, except Thor, and when his brother had made a big deal of throwing Loki a party, they had all been shamed into joining in. Books were the best present to get him-no one thought that maybe the quiet, studious boy would like to train alongside his brother, so while Thor on his namedays received weapons and armor, anything suitable for the warrior he was to become, Loki received books and the like, as he was one of the few Asgardians with a proper thirst for knowledge, not just warfare. Not that he was complaining, but something different would also be nice.

"What is it?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. The book was fascinating, a Midgardian epic called Beowulf, and he had stayed up all night reading.

"Your nameday present is done," Mottull announced. He claimed to have not forgotten Loki's nameday, insisting instead that his present just wasn't ready. Loki hadn't been sure he believed his friend, but at least he was making an effort, more than could be said for most everyone else.

Mottull led Loki through the halls until they reached a large metal door. Loki knew full well what laid behind those doors-the armory, one of the few rooms he rarely, if ever, entered. There was nothing for him there; he had been kicked out before. But this time Mottull led him in, and Loki felt as if he was in the right place.

"Close your eyes," Mottull commanded, and Loki did so. "Hold out your hand," came the next command, and he followed that as well.

A cool weight, something metal, was laid in Loki's hand, and he opened his eyes. He was holding a slim dagger, the hilt dark green and black.

"I had Father make it especially for you," Mottull explained excitedly. "I noticed that you didn't have any weapons, so I thought you might like one."

Loki grinned. "Thank you," he replied. "I like it very much."

The boys had gotten on fantastically, Loki ignoring the startling changes in his friend's behavior. He had gotten moodier, quicker to anger, yelling one day at Thor, causing Loki to yell back, and then, one day, he had just stopped talking to Loki all together.

Loki walked up to Mottull. "What happened?" he asked. "Why are you ignoring me? What changed?"

Mottull, naturally, didn't answer, but the next morning he found a note outside his door, written in Mottull's blocky handwriting.

You asked what changed. You did. You spread those rumors about me and my "anger issues" which, by the way, you caused. You accused me of mistreating your brother. All of this, all of it, is on you. You tore me up, then lied about it, insisting you did nothing. You were one of the only people I trusted, and you betrayed that. Maybe we can still be friends, but it's going to take a while.

Loki stared, confused, at the letter. He didn't even know what Mottull was talking about. What rumors? What betrayal? He had tried his best to be a good friend, but apparently that wasn't enough. The only thing that he could think of that might have made Mottull mad was complain to Thor and his friends about the hastiness of Mottull's anger after he had taken out his rage on Thor.

That was Loki's last attempt to have a friend. He decided that the pain wasn't worth it. He had only been hurt.