AN: So I have done some minor edits to this chapter, but the bulk of it remains the same.
This is all based off a prompt that was in turn based off a dance on SYTYCD.
In terms of canon, I started writing this after Thor 1 before Avengers had happened. So basically the whole murder-times never happened and Loki has been living homeless in New York since he landed. Enjoy!

They say the higher you climb, the further you fall.

Well, Loki had been a prince. Brother to the heir of Asgard, son of the All-Father. He had been regarded as one of the most powerful magicians in the nine realms and renown for his wit and intelligence. As he grew older, he earned a seat on his father's counsel and became a trusted voice of reason over his hot-headed older brother.

Then he learned the truth. The throne was thrust upon him and he just climbed , higher and higher.

And so he had fallen. Fallen so very, very far.

Midgard was a horrible place for those without power. He landed on the streets of a city he learned was called New York. And there he had stayed. His magic was there, at least at first, but Loki hadn't the desire to use it and the longer he didn't the harder it was to feel the pull. Now he wondered if it would ever be able to claw his way out of this pit, to climb again. To risk the fall, to risk the landing.

He had intended to fall, after all.

He just never thought he would survive the landing.

A great prince of Asgard, reduced to begging for change in the dark streets of downtown New York. Loki ad ventured out today, past his normal haunts. Beyond the safety and familiarity of his home ground. He travelled to central park, it was sunny and he hoped to get enough money for at least two days of food. He wore a green beanie pushed down over his head, raven locks escaping from the bottom. He'd washed his hair and shirt in the shelter he'd been lucky enough to get into last night. He couldn't slick his hair back anymore and without the beanie it fell in soft curls around his face. It was long, too long but Loki had no money to get it cut, so he had resigned himself to constantly pushing the bangs out of his eyes. At the very least, long hair helped covered any bruises he was unlucky enough to acquire.

He arrived in the park and glanced up at the sky. It was blue.

It reminded him of home.

He felt sick.

His skin was pale and Loki was thin. He had never been as muscled as Thor but the trickster wasn't exactly a weakling.

He'd lost almost all his muscle in the first few months.

When you spend most of your time running from thieves or people whose desires were too dark or twisted, muscle just weighed you down.

It was a risk Loki couldn't afford to take.

It was spring and the air was crisp. At least the cold didn't pose a problem for Loki. He'd seen others, humans, perish over the winter. Simply not able to handle the snow and biting cold that winter swept in, they withered. Loki felt nothing of cold. He'd never noticed it before The Fall.

His fall.

Now it was everything.

All the differences, the little things, the big things.

Everything.

And nothing.

He was nothing.

A sudden shove sent him stumbling. Loki span, looking about wildly for his attacker. A pair of men were staring at him greedily. Whether it was for money, the clothes on his back or something more sinister, Loki didn't wait around to ask. He was gone before they took another step. Sprinting away, he raised a hand to yank the beanie firmly down almost over his eyes.

Loki ran quickly but carefully, tracked a convoluted path through the park to discourage any potential followers. But soon, too soon, his legs burned and his chest tightened.

There had been a time when he could have run for days on a hunt or climbed the tallest mountain.

But now, Loki was hardly better than the mortals he begged money off of.

He paced off the footpath leading into the zoo and lowered himself down, legs hanging over a small stone wall. It was quiet in the park. He'd picked a bad day. There were few people and fewer still who looked like they had any money. He sighed and worked on catching his breath.

That was when the talking and laughter caught his attention.

"I can't believe you've never been here Steve!"

"Thank you for taking me, Tony. I do appreciate it,"

"Bah, it was worth it to see Goldilocks confused over the animals, where is he anyway?"

A lengthy pause followed and Loki got to his feet. The second voice, Steve, sounded kind-hearted. Naïve perhaps. Loki adjusted the beanie to sit crookedly, the guilt card, it seemed, was to be played.

"I think he went to get fairy floss,"

"More? He already ate four bags!"

Loki approached slowly, taking in the two men talking. One was short, dark hair, sunglasses. Had money by the look of his clothes and seemed vaguely familiar, but he wasn't the one Loki was interested in. The other man was tall, blond hair, blue eyes. Had a smile on his face that reminded Loki of his not-brother. He held himself like a warrior but had the face of a peacemaker.

Loki walked up slowly, keeping an eye on the short one but focusing his attention on this, 'Steve'. He was mere metres away before they noticed him. Loki opened his mouth to speak but the short one held up a hand. He lowered his sunglasses ever so slightly, tilting his head to assess Loki.

"No way, beat it," he said, waving a hand in dismissal. Loki stopped in his tracks.

Steve frowned. "Tony, don't be cruel,".

"Don't be naïve, Steve, the guy probably makes a couple hundred a day," Tony replied curtly, already stalking off. But Loki would not be put off that easily. He pulled off his beanie and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the curls.

"Please, just some change. Anything would help," he asked.

Not begged.

Gods do not beg.

Then again, Loki was not a god.

Steve sighed. "I don't have anything on me, but my friend does, let me talk to him,"

Loki nodded eagerly as the blonde walked to his friend. They had a quiet discussion. Eventually the black haired man took his glasses off in what seemed to be frustration and Loki suddenly realised what he recognised the man from.

Stark. That was his name. Loki had seen him in a paper.

Every paper actually. And magazines.

The fabled Iron Man.

An Avenger.

Thor was an Avenger.

Loki had seen it in the paper.

What if his brother was near?

What if his brother found him?

Loki immediately started backing away. He needed to leave. To get away. He started to turn, prepared himself to run.

"Friends! This thing, the floss of fairies? It is wonderful! I had to acquire more. Who is this? Another friend?"

It was too late to freeze, too late to hide. Loki found himself face to face with Thor.

His once-brother.

His once-friend.

Neither spoke.

Neither moved.

Thor dropped his food and stared at Loki.

"Brother?"

The whisper broke whatever spell was keeping Loki in place and then he was gone in a flash of black hair.

Thor was left.

Standing, hand outreached.

And all that was left was a green beanie.

Left on the path.

Forgotten in haste.

Fallen.