Hero.
The definition for the word was such a sketchy, elusive idea.
The Avengers, for instance, were obviously heroes. They'd fight the bad guys, the monsters, the villains, and would lay down their lives to protect those they loved, or even total strangers.
But, what if the monster was the one laying down his life? What if the villain was saving lives for a noble cause? Could we then define him as a hero?
Perhaps.
Perhaps not.
Consider our resident god of mischief, limping down the street, more blood trailing onto the ground than still pumping through his body. Unbeknownst to the city, he'd just saved all their live, but... There was that adage. If a tree falls in the forest, and nobody hears it, did it make a sound?
If a villain falls in battle for a righteous, noble cause, and nobody even knows...
Is he a hero?
Loki shuddered against the freezing, biting cold, hugging his arms closer around his chest, and trudged determinedly onwards. He had no idea where he was going, no idea how to get there, and no idea what lay in between. Asgard had forsaken him. In all truth, Asgard thought he was dead, but at this point, it was one and the same.
He could not return to Asgard, and Asgard would not come to him.
He was weak, exhausted from his battle, and all he really wanted to do was curl up into a ball, and sleep for several years. Yet, he knew that was the stupidest thing to do in this scenario. If he slept, he'd die.
He'd lost too much blood, he was over-exhausted, and stopping, now, would spell his end.
Loki hadn't realized a Frost Giant could be cold, but the chill, biting at his extremities, and freezing him to his very core proved otherwise.
He pressed his fingers to the wound in his side, trying, and failing to stem the flow of his life force.
Staggering forward another step, he glanced up through weary eyes, attempting to get some semblance of his whereabouts. He was in a neighborhood, houses lining the sides of the streets like great walls. It was too late at night for there to be any pedestrians out for an evening stroll, and the houses were dark, and quiet. The only sounds were the distant blare of a siren, sometimes a car passing by, and nothing more.
Detachedly, he realized that this was the end of him.
He was dying, and there would be no rescue, nobody to come heal his wounds, nothing.
At least he'd die doing the right thing, for once.
He hoped Thor would be proud, even if he'd never know the true sacrifice Loki'd made.
Weakly, Loki stumbled, and fell to his knees, still crawling forward, for reasons not even he knew. Wearily, as black spots welled before his eyes, blocking out the street-lights, he laid his head down on the steps leading up to one of the quaint little apartments.
He supposed it would be slightly unnerving, for whoever came out of the house the next day, to find him lying there, but at that point, he was too weak to do anything for someone else's convenience.
The last thing he noticed, before blacking out, was a figure swinging over-head on what looked to be strings, and landing with a soft thump beside him.
"Excuse me, mister? Are you okay? Hello? Can you hear me?"
First chapter, huzzah. Shorter than I thought it would be, but hopefully angsty enough!
This bookie, I had help with for the chapters written. The second chapter, and most of the fourth were written by my very good friend, Lane. A big round of applesauce to her, Lunchies! She did great!
TheOnlyHuman.