Ch.1: It's hard to dance with a devil on your back.

Loki is dead.

Thanos has snapped his neck and the last thing he remembered was the pain of all his nervous system shutting off. And those cries of despair- No, he doesn't wanna think about those.

At first he's disoriented. He knows he's dead, but… He still exists?

His soul exists? It is an odd feeling, being real, but not solid? He tried to play with his magic. Okay, some tricks still work. He can change his clothes, and he chooses a darker color and a long thick cape. He cannot change his appearance. So he's stuck being a Jotun.

He can summon black obsidian knives as weapons. A weird choice, but try as he might, his steel blades wouldn't come. He wasn't sure if they could be of any use here anyway, but they made him feel safer.

Finally looking around, he realized that his soul had made its way to Helheim.

"Why am I not surprised?" Loki muttered to himself: 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.

Though he had the distinct feeling Odin had something to do with it.

He took his time wandering around, clutching his long cape around his body. It was fairly ridiculous. He was dead. He couldn't feel cold, or hot, or anything… But it was somewhat comforting. It surrounded him with memories of home. He wondered if the scent he felt was real or just a trick of his- mind? Did he even have a mind with no brain?

Being a ghost IS weird.

Loki walked for a long time, trying to get a sense of direction. But the whole wasteland looked exactly the same. Barren, cold, dark, rotten… Dead tree trunks, hills made of black stone and ash. Not a house in sight, not even a resemblance of a settlement. He knew there was a shore, with a sea as black as the obsidian blade he had conjured, but he could not perceive its sound and there was no wind.

He tried to recognize something around him, but it was in vain. He had read many books about many subjects concerning the Nine Realms. He had learned about Helheim when he was a child, he knew the different parts of it, how the souls sent down here would be classified and punished according to their actions in life. That was enough for him to know he'd go to Náströnd, the corpse shore, reserved for murderers and traitors. Loki suddenly felt he had a luminous signal on top of his head marking him as such.

Again, maybe Odin had something to do with it.

His best choice was to keep himself hidden. If he can change at least the color of his clothes, he can blur into the landscape. Besides, his magic wasn't the only trick he had. He would survive- or something. Or not survive, but spare himself of the punishments for as long as he could. Loki felt a shiver down his back at realizing he didn't know how long that would be. Then he got distracted by thinking how it was possible for him to shiver.

Everything about this realm and his current state was shocking, and new, and different, and completely illogical. It would give him a headache if he was capable of having one. But what shocked Loki the most were the occasionally wandering souls.

They looked solid enough, but their faces were empty, their eyes sunken, their clothes mismatched, as if they lost the will to fix them at one point. They walked around aimlessly, as if they were looking for something and then forgot about it, or if they were waiting for someone who forgot about them. They weren't the ghouls or ghosts so often depicted with skeletal faces and melting flesh. They looked absolutely normal… save for the indifferent and dead stare. Can a soul lose its soul? Lose itself? Go mad?

Loki had been through many tortures and trials during his life. He had endured pain he thought he wouldn't survive. But this was the first time he truly felt fear. Fear he might become one of those wandering souls, forever not only trapped in this realm, but his mind and his will lost. A shadow of his former self, a being without purpose, barely existing.

If Loki had a heart it would've been pounding. No, he thought to himself. I will not just disappear into nothingness. He, who always was three steps ahead, whose back up plans had back up plans, who could come up with a way out for everything. Death won't be the last of me.

As he freaked out for a minute, his right hand warmed up. Loki needed to lie down, if only to find some sense of reassurance and comfort. He found a small crevice nearby and curled up inside of it, clutching his cape even closer to his being.

.-

Loki wasn't sure how long he had been in the tiny cave, there was no way of having any sense of time in this land, but he did feel a tad better with himself. He remembered Helheim having a gate that led to Muspelheim. If he managed to get there, he would escape his eternal damnation.

That idea spurred him on. If only he could find the way… Loki studied the mountains flanking one side of the land. It occurred to him that one end would fall to the sea, while the other would have to eventually lead to the frontier.

"Well, let's get walking then." Loki muttered.

First part was to get to the base of the mountains, then decide which way to go. It was a plan, at least, and he had eternity to fulfill it. His own sense of urgency was the only thing telling him to hurry up. To get out of there before his punishment caught up with him or he lost himself to the barren land.

It was a good thing he didn't have to stop for food or rest. Weird, but useful. Loki managed to reach the base of the mountains faster than he had predicted. By then, he had decided to take the left, as he had noticed the mountains were steeper and taller in that direction. Logic told him the closer the hills were to water, the smaller they would be. Of course, there was no logic in this realm, but he had to hold on to something. And if he was wrong, he could always turn around.

So left he went, keeping the mountains to his right, trying to avoid cracks and hills.

Loki walked.

And walked.

And walked.

How long has it been? Hours? Days? Weeks? The lack of ways to measure time was driving him insane. Sometimes he'd sing, or tell himself stories. Sometimes he'd get very vivid memories, that strangely enough made his right hand prickle uncomfortably. Some memories were painful, but they were real. Real is what he needed right now.

In the eternal dusk light, Loki saw something in the distance, right by the foot of the mountain. Large black spires that blended with the jagged edges of the rocks behind, long cylindrical towers with hollow windows and a balcony made of stone. A black crystal bridge led to a gate.

"Asgard." Loki gasped.

The building was a dark, cold replica of the Asgard palace.

He knew he had to be careful, but curiosity got the best of him. Slowly and cautiously he walked the bridge toward the entrance, covering his head with the cloak and willing it to be darker. He felt the windows had eyes upon him, something in the back of his mind telling him this was far more dangerous than he thought, but he couldn't point out exactly why.

There was no gate, just pillars on each side of the road. Loki took a few more steps toward the building. The eerie garden looked like Asgard too, but instead of living things, everything was made of stone, crystal and gems. There was an odd beauty to it, and Loki spent one too many minutes admiring it. His right hand was itching again.

"What are you doing here?!" Loki suddenly heard, and turned to see no other than his big (adopted) sister Hela.

Goddess of death, mistress of Hel. Of course!

"I've come to visit." He deadpanned sarcastically, trying to hide his sudden shock. Hela just raised an eyebrow, clearly not pleased. Loki rolled his eyes and uncovered his neck, showing her the bruises. "I'm dead, why else would I be here?"

Hela smirked. "Who managed to kill you? I might send them a present."

Loki wasn't amused at all. "Thanos."

Hela's smirk turned to a disgusted scowl: she knows the name, and knows the creature attached to that name. She knows him way more than she would ever admit.

"Hmm." Hela looked at Loki with curiosity, making him uncomfortable. "Do you want to stay dead?"

Loki nearly jumped in surprise. "What?"

"I am the goddess of death."

"I know that."

"So, do you wanna stay dead?"

Loki looked 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 laughed coldly. "I knew there was a reason why I liked you!" She started walking. "Come."

Loki rushed behind her. "What's the price, then?"

"You get revenge, I get revenge." She explained simply. "You live again and make sure to send that purple son of a beiskaldi here."

Loki studied her, rather amused. "I'm afraid to ask-"

"Then don't ask. Just say you accept." Hela stood by the doors of the castle. Loki pondered her offer for a few seconds.

"My goddess." He said with a mocking bow. "You might have gotten yourself a deal."

"Might?" She said, raising an eyebrow. "You better say you accept, Loki. Your presence hasn't gone unnoticed around here, and while I don't meld with the business of the guardians-"

"Náströnd." Loki gulped.

"Yes." Hela said. "The guardians are looking for you, and whatever powers you have left, will be useless against them."

"I was merely curious about what your business with Thanos is, sister." Loki managed to hide his fear behind his usual snark.

"You're not curious, you want leverage, Jotun." Hela stated. "But you won't get it. Though, if you happen to mention my name to him, he might monologue the whole story." She added, clearly annoyed by the thought.

Loki bit the inside of his cheek. "Fine, you've got yourself a deal."

Hela smiled and entered the castle, Loki followed. The interior also looked like the palace of Asgard, down to the very throne. He wasn't surprised, and had the common sense not to mention it.

"There is one catch, and that brings me to the second part of my offering." Hela sat on the throne and Loki groaned loudly. "It's not my rule, little brother." Hela added with a cold smile. "There's only one thing strong enough to reverse death, and cannot help you cause I'm incapable of feeling it." She explained.

"Love." Loki smiled again in realization, but there were no signs of snark or sarcasm on his smile.

Hela nodded. "Someone must love you back."

Loki's smile grew wider, the light of a promise long made but not forgotten shone in his eyes. "Don't worry about that."

Hela looked slightly thrown off. "Surely you aren't thinking about Thor."

Loki scoffed loudly as response. "As if…"

"Now I'm curious." She said.

"Well, we do have time to share our love stories…" Loki mused tentatively.

"Thanos' story is not one of love exactly." She spat, and changed the subject. "Whoever you think is coming to get you, better get here fast. I can offer you a certain amount of protection, which will delay the guardians from getting to you, but I am in no position to stop them if they succeed."

"I understand." Loki nodded. "But she will come, don't worry."

"She?"

Loki smiled, but said nothing. They engaged in a staring contest, both dying to know more details about the other, but knowing anything they said could be used against them.

"Anyway," Hela was the first to break the silence. "You can stay here, I will know when she comes and I will point you in the right direction." She said. "Now get out of my face, the blue is unnerving."

Loki turned around and left the throne room, looking for somewhere to lay low in the castle. Should he really trust Hela? Did she actually want Thanos dead? Well, it made sense that she wasn't able to leave Helheim, (again, Odin's doing). Having someone on the outside was beneficial for her. And it goes both ways. Loki was sure Hela would have some way to bring him back if he just ran away and didn't fulfill his part of the deal.

It would be hard, but he knew he wouldn't have to do it alone. And he wouldn't be dead. It was too good an opportunity to let it pass.

Loki walked the castle almost automatically, towards where his room should've been. It wasn't exactly like the one in Asgard, but the familiarity was enough to comfort him. He sat by the window, staring at the vast wasteland, knowing the only thing he could do right now was to wait. His right hand felt warmer, enough to change the cerulean color of his skin to pale white for a second.

Sigyn.