Loki awoke to an aching throb behind his eyes. He was met with blinding white light streaming in from the window across the room, and with a groan he rolled over.

There was still a dull pain in his shoulder from the earlier - turns out arguing with Thor's friends while out in the woods alone with them was not the brightest of his ideas.

He knew they hadn't meant to hurt him too badly; they knew if they did Thor would go from laughing to attacking them himself. But that didn't make his 'accidental' tumble down the 'small' incline any less painful.

He'd taken a minute to get up, head ringing as a thin line of blood trailed across his lips from his nose, his shoulder screaming in protest of the slightest movement - but he'd gotten up.

He had gotten up and, just as Thor's laughter began to slow towards something more like concern, he's marched off.

Well, limped off, but it was dark, so he hoped they didn't notice that detail. At least then he could abandon them with some dignity remaining.

He'd managed to slip back into the palace without confrontation, and he slunk unnoticed to his chambers, locking the door behind him before collapsing onto his bed.

Even now, alone in his bed, as pain still echoed in his head and made his right leg uncomfortably numb, he refused to admit he had shed tears the walk back.

Loki didn't know how long he'd been asleep. It seemed shortly after daybreak now, but they had been out late. He could have left at midnight or four in the morning, there was simply no telling.

He thought about sitting up, and the mere mental mention sent his nerves into overdrive. His shoulder stabbed at him, his right knee tensed agonizingly, and the throbbing behind his eyes flared to maximum.

Loki closed his eyes tightly, curling slowly into a fetal position, distantly realizing he hadn't changed when he got back - he was still wearing his boots, even. But he was in too much pain to care that much.

Had it felt this bad when he first fell? Surely not - he had walked the two and a half kilometers back to a the palace and scaled three flights of stairs to get here. Now he doubted he could stand without vomiting.

That was odd. He hadn't felt like vomiting a moment before.

Loki vaguely remembered being woken up during his restless slumber by an insistent banging. By Thor's muffled voice pleading for him to let his brother in. He'd stayed an annoyingly long while.

He wasn't here now. Loki supposed he must have given up - he wasn't sure whether he was glad of this or not. The last thing he wanted was his elder brother poking and prodding at him, but he really would like someone to bring him a glass of water.

No, not water, his stomach protested. Okay, not water.

He wanted something. At least someone to draw those gods-forsaken curtains; even the light bouncing off the walls at him was too much - and he still had his eyes closed!

Oh gods why did he have to argue with Volstagg about the usefulness of magic… couldn't he have let it be for once? A thousand insults was better than this!

Loki curled tighter into himself, as if that might lessen the pain. Somehow or another, he drifted into the chilled bliss of unconsciousness.