#beiskaldi

Loki is dead. Thanos has snapped his neck and the last thing he remembers is the pain of all his nervous system shutting off. His soul makes his way to Helheim. He’s not even surprised to end up there: as heroic as some of his last acts on life were, apparently they weren’t enough to override all the awful things he also did.

He takes his time wandering around. He has read enough to know he will be going to Náströnd, but he’s in no hurry to get there yet, unless someone forces him.

“What are you doing here?!” Loki suddenly hears, and turns to see no other than his big (adopted) sister Hela.

“I’ve come to visit.” He deadpans sarcastically. Hela just raises an eyebrow, clearly not amused. Loki rolls his eyes and shows her his bruised broken neck. “I’m dead, why else would I be here?”

“Who killed you?”

“Thanos.”

It is Hela’s turn to roll her eyes. She knows the name, and the creature attached to that name. She knows him way more than she’ll ever admit.

“Hmm.” Hela looks at Loki with a hint of a smirk. “Do you want to stay dead?”

Loki nearly jumps in surprise. “What?”

“I am the goddess of death.”

“I know that.”

“So, do you wanna stay dead?”

Loki looks at Hela with half a smile. “I’m guessing you won’t be helping your little brother out of the goodness in your heart, if you have one.”

Hela laughs coldly. “I like you.”

“What’s the price, then?”

“You get revenge, I get revenge.” She explains simply. “You live and send that purple son of a beiskaldi here.”

Loki looks at her, rather amused. “I’m afraid to ask–”

“Then don’t ask. Just say you accept.”

Loki ponders for a few seconds.