Death had not been the end of his troubles it seemed. There had been the golden caress of Valhalla, the song of long fallen Valkyries. Had he not died in battle? At the end of a cruel slaughter in one last bid to assure his brother's survival?
That isn't the only reason you chose to die, Loki.
Was that his own thoughts or whispers from elsewhere?
You couldn't live with the guilt. You couldn't live without him. Not truly alone, not with what you had done. This was your fault. They are dead because of you, and perhaps he will perish, too. You don't deserve the hallowed halls.
Loki, please!
That last voice. One he had yearned to hear. Spectral fingers seized the essence of him and dragged down, and down, into the frozen embrace of Hel. Had he been rejected from Valhalla? Had his own doubts made him succumb? Or had someone sought revenge? Without answers, he cried out for that soft voice he had been yanked away from.
"Mother!"
In body once again, his knees struck rock and he felt his throat burn in memory of the cause of his demise. Clad in his battered black armour and singed cape, Loki looked up at the woman who had been waiting for him.
"Ah. Hello again."
@divinityrisen
