When Loki journeyed into the forest, he certainly hadn't expected to find home - or, well. From the distance he first viewed it, it looked like home - the closer he got, the more apparent it became that it was different in the most subtle of ways. Living for millions of (human) years in a place tended to make one familiar with the cut of its silhouette against the sky and the arrangement of buildings, windows and spires. Regardless of the differences, this was not something Loki could doubt. It was Asgard's palace, from a different version of the world - perhaps as Torunn was and Atreus, with his knowledge of Jörmungandr and the other legends of Asgard and the Aesir.
It likely wasn't the best idea but Loki simply couldn't help himself. His feet were moving of their own accord as they took him past empty buildings and through empty streets that were similar yet different to those that he had walked in his youth. This place was- odd, to say the least. It looked like Asgard. It felt like Asgard, but- it also felt like a secret, somehow. A secret he almost selfishly wished to keep to himself, if only for a short period of time. He knew it couldn't have been something that had arrived for him because of the differences but Loki still found himself walking through the grounds, running his hand over golden walls as he followed a familiar pathway to Frigga's gardens.
They were as beautiful as he remembered them being in their glory days, so to speak - when it was Frigga maintining them rather than himself as Odin, heading down in the dead of the night so that he could breathe both seidr and life back into the plants to remind them of their true caretaker. Perhaps he could... take some cuttings.