I cast you out.

The words still rang in Loki's mind like the toll of a great bell that allowed for no other thought. The look in Odin's one remaining eye had been of disappointment, heavy and complete, in both of his sons. Was he a true son? No-- No, he squashed that at once, he could not afford to get tangled up in what he had seen on Jotunheim until he had the opportunity to find answers. Perhaps it had been an illusion? A trick played by a desperate mind? His skin could not have turned blue where he had been touched by one of those Jotun monsters.

The Casket of Ancient Winters could have answered his questions. But it was far from his reach now, all of Asgard was far from his reach now.

Where had it gone wrong?

His plan had been flawless. None would have listened to his words should he have told them all of his doubts that Thor could be King, they would have labelled him Liesmith and jealous. It had been for the good of Asgard that he show them all, show Father, that Thor was not yet fit to rule. And oh-- oh, how perfectly his fool of a brother had played into his hands, proving himself all that Loki thought of him and more. Arrogant, cruel, warmongering, and selfish. How was he the beloved, the chosen, the worthy?

How had it gone so far out of his control? They never should have made it to Jotunheim, never should have fought there. Heimdall was to blame for opening the Bifrost to them, that guard to blame for not fetching Odin faster. With his ever discerning eye, Odin had snapped that he saw Loki's hand in Thor's actions and his manipulations across the whole situation, though thankfully he did not seem to know Loki had allowed the Frost Giants into Asgard, and had banished him.

The last thing he had heard before being snatched away in a whirl of confusion had been Thor's angry shout, and Odin's equally angry rebuttal that Thor ought to count himself lucky he was not also suffering the same fate. Blind Thor, foolish Thor, still unable to see he had been the subject of manipulation even when it was pointed out to him.

And now here he was on Midgard, mostly powerless.

But not completely. He could feel magic within him still, though he doubted he could do more than cast the most paltry of illusions. He did not understand why he had been left any magic, he could not know that stripping him of it completely risked exposing him as a Jotun beneath. For surely that had been a trick of the mind, some ice magic on the part of the monsters, anything but what it appeared to be.

The swirling vortex of the Bifrost had only just vanished, leaving him in the dusty wasteland, when Loki was already on his feet and moving away from the pattern burned into the desert sands. He did not wish to think, his head hurt from the implications of all that had transpired in the last day. He just wished to find his way back to where he belonged.

Because he did belong there. He must.

It had been many long years since he had last set foot upon Midgardian soil, he knew little of what to expect from the humans now. Yet Loki was nothing if not resourceful and intelligent, swift to learn and assimilate from the information presented to him. It helped that he threw his whole focus at it, pursuing the knowledge he needed in order to springboard himself back to Asgard with a single-minded determination that kept him from thinking on what he suspected lurked beneath his skin.

An encounter with a man in a lonely truck stop taught him about the language and style of dress, as well as the currency used and the transportation available. He bought himself water with money stolen from the till with a brief wave of his hand, a petty magic but thankfully one still within his control. He was forced to buy new clothing, unable to change his attire by will alone, though he also paid for this using stolen money. Some simple trousers of a strange, coarse blue material, and a loose fitting white shirt.

Four days passed, news headlines from abandoned papers and seen flickered on television sets in the stores of towns he walked through told him of a man called Tony Stark, the Iron Man. A mortal with wealth and technology beyond any others on this pathetic realm, also one he knew from reading these headlines who had been investigating the fluctuation in energy and strange patterns left by the Bifrost itself, therefore his best chance at constructing a device to open the Bifrost from this direction without the need for Heimdall.

Eleven days and nine hours after arriving on Earth, Loki walked into the reception of Stark Tower and smiled confidently at the receptionist, tone smooth.

"Good afternoon, I have an appointment with Mr. Stark regarding the anomaly near Puente Antiguo."