It was dark when he stepped out of the pathway, hissing in pain as his wound reopened and fresh blood spilled between his fingers. He huffed as his vision swam and his shoulder hit the wall hard enough to bruise.

"I'll just... take a moment..." Loki muttered to himself as he slid down the stone, black spots dancing in his vision and his head swam, light headed from blood loss and exhaustion. 

He jolted awake an indiscernible amount of time later, but when he pulled himself to the mouth of the cave the sun was just disappearing over the horizon. It was dark when he'd arrived so it had been at least a day from when he'd passed out.

He pulled at his magic and built it up until he had enough to transport himself towards the palace. only just having enough forethought to make himself invisible beforehand.

He slumped against a tree in a painfully familiar garden. Figures he would take himself to his late mothers pride and joy. He blinked silent tears from his eyes when he remembered he would never she her tending to it again at odd hours of the day. 

He remembered when he was small and she would place his small frame on her knee, somehow managing to keep her dress pristine and un-rumpled. She would conjure small balls of light that danced between her fingers as she moved them to a melody only she knew. He remembered the first time he had purposefully used his magic.

 "Now you do the same." She told him softly, giving him a comforting squeeze with her arm, which had been around his middle to steady him. "Concentrate on the feeling of your magic, can you do that for me?"

He had nodded, eyes closed and brows drawn in concentration as he felt inside himself, gripping clumsily at the green-gold strands.

"Now put your hand out in front of you like I did- yes that's it. Now I want you to shape the magic into a little ball of light. Can you see- no don't open your eyes yet. Can you see it in your mind?"

He had frowned as tried to shape the light into just that and push it towards his outstretched hand, pausing a few times to pull it back together as its shape wavered.

"Loki." She crooned, pride lining her voice, her breath coming out in a gasp of amazement. 

He had opened his eyes, looking to his mother in confusion, thinking he had done something wrong before he caught sight of his hand. He'd given himself such a fright that the small orb of green with thin ribbons of gold light had flickered out of existence for a moment before he forced it back and it reappeared. He had grinned until his face hurt, making it move around his hand slowly with clumsy gestures.

Frigga had smiled and conjured a slightly larger ball of light blue-silver light that danced lazy circles around his own light. He remembered asking why they were different colours, and his mother had explained that no two peoples magic manifested itself the same way and that the colour reflected the personality of the wielder. 

They had spent hours in her gardens throughout his childhood, doing small things with his inexperienced magic. Small and uncomplicated illusions, lights, and making things move without touching them. It was one of his happiest memories, when it was just Frigga and Loki alone in her gardens while she taught him about magic and healing, and how to use words to his advantage. 

He sighed shakily, wiping his dirty face with an even dirtier sleeve in an attempt to rid himself of the tears, probably only really succeeding in smearing blood on his cheek. He forced himself to stand again, double checking his spell was still holding.

It was slow going and by the time he'd made it near enough to his destination the moon was already a fair ways up in the sky. The stairs had bothered him and reopened his wounds again, and he was feeling light headed again, which did not help matters.

When he reached a familiar door he nearly sobbed with relief, dropping his spell in the empty hallway and raising a trembling fist to the wooden door to knock weakly against it. He barely registered smearing his fresh blood on the polished wood when one of his legs buckled and he had to catch himself. 

He was so tired, his vision was dimming again and he knew he was going to collapse any moment. He forced himself to knock on the door again, more forcefully this time.

He almost missed the grumbled "Enter." and fumbled for the door knob, pushing the door open and stumbling inside.

He heard a gasp somewhere ahead of him. Deliriously he realised this probably hadn't been the best idea he'd ever had, as he heard the door swing shut behind him with a click.

His knees gave out and slammed painfully into the ground, doing nothing for the throbbing behind his eyes. His hand felt warm again, meaning he'd opened the wound yet again. He looked down at his bloody hand, blinking owlishly at the redness of it, finding himself wondering why his hand wasn't its usual pale pink colour of Æsir flesh.

"Loki?!" Someone- Thor, he corrected after a moments consideration, half shouted. He heard movement and then someone- Thor, the hands were too big and callouses in the wrong places to be anyone else's- was holding his face between them.

He flinched at the suddenness of it, blinking hard to clear his vision and only managing to make out blue eyes and blonde hair in front of him. He shook his head slightly, his mind wasn't processing as it should and he couldn't remember why.

"Thor?" Was all he said, frowning at the face in front of him. He'd momentarily forgotten where he was. If anything else was said, he didn't hear it because his body slumped forwards and all he knew was darkness.