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Die bravely and go to Valhalla. That was what Loki had been taught all his life. Yet when the moment had come and the last breath had left his body, he found himself walking into Helheim instead.
Of course he couldn't really be truly angry about it, now could he? Asgard was gone, and the powers that be couldn't send him somewhere that probably didn't exist anymore. Besides, the Valkyries save one had been slaughtered by Hela on her way out and while he had never fully believed that the Valkyries were necessary to get to Valhalla...well, here he was. Besides, he wasn't Asgardian, so maybe nothing else mattered.
He allowed himself a moment of resentment over that thought, but then shrugged it off and continued along the path he found himself walking. He only hoped that his sacrifice hadn't been in vain. That his death had meant Thor's life. He didn't see his brother, though he saw the other Asgardians who had died to Thanos and his Black Order. He walked along with them, not speaking. Where they were going he had no idea, but like them he felt compelled to follow the path they were on.
Time has no meaning to the dead, so Loki couldn't have said how long they were walking for before the barren wastes surrounding them opened into a village nestled in a springtime valley. It was an interesting sight, considering Loki had been taught Helheim was desolate and always cold. Not that the cold would have proven a problem for him. That thought made him wonder where Jötun spirits normally went to rest, ones who hadn't been raised on a lie.
But that thought didn't linger. Though he had made peace with what he was, that didn't mean he had any desire to connect to his own species. He didn't know them, didn't really want them. Though he claimed he was the rightful King of Jötunheim before his death, he hadn't really wanted that either--even though he could have doubtless led them to greatness if it had come to it.
Loki descended into the valley with the other spirits. Many drifted away from him, but he found some lingering by his side and he finally properly turned his attention to them. There was Gundrun, Volstagg's wife, and several of her children as well. Yes, that was right. They had managed to make it to the Ark, Gundrun wielding her husband's axe with rage and motherly protectiveness against Hela's undead warriors. She had done the same again in an attempt to protect her children against the Black Order, but it had availed her not. They had all died, and it was a shame.
But finally they moved away too and Loki walked alone, or at least he thought he did until a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"My Prince." Heimdall spoke.
Loki rounded in surprise, knocking the other man's hand off his shoulder with the motion and stared in something akin to horror at the once guardian of the Bifröst. "No..." He intoned. "Not you too. Is Thor--?" He tried looking past Heimdall to see if he spotted his brother.
"Thor lives." Heimdall stated wearily, and though he and Loki had never gotten along well, he put his hand back on his shoulder to try and reassure him. There were no quarrels between them now. "He will avenge us."
"I'm certain he will try." Loki's gaze shifted to meet Heimdall's. "But why tell me?"
"Because you gave your life to spare his, and for all your crimes Loki, you deserve better than this. Don't tell me the trickster has run out of tricks."
Loki frowned and pursed his lips, but then Heimdall was moving past and Loki held to his silence, mulling over the parting words given to him instead.
He soon found himself walking again, wandering the village until he circled around and discovered where Gundrun and her children had gone. This house was one of the largest, and it was of no wonder considering it now housed Volstagg's entire deceased family. Volstagg himself was standing before it, eyes teary and smiling beneath his beard.
"You should go be with them." Loki said, coming to a stop near him.
"Hilde said you were with them." Volstagg replied. "She said you looked lost, so I thought I'd wait and see if you showed yourself."
Loki scoffed slightly. "Old man, I've been lost for years. Your daughter is a bit delayed in her observation."
Volstagg sobered a bit at that and nodded. "Yes, you have been." He agreed. "But we're all together in this now. Do you remember when you and Thor used to sit at my knee and listen to stories?"
Loki nodded. He did remember. Volstagg had been like an uncle to he and Thor. His stories were grand and usually he was the hero of them, but they had been fun and had inflamed Thor's passion for battle even as they had engaged Loki's vivid imagination. They had loved those stories, even knowing them for the fiction they were. "What's your point?"
"My point is that my home is always open to you." Volstagg stated, and beckoned Loki over. "You're welcome at the table of my family."
Loki blinked in surprise and wariness passed across his face before he settled on confused. "Why?" He asked. "Because of me, Hela made it to Asgard. Because of me, you died. Because of me, your family--"
"You didn't kill us, Loki." Volstagg interrupted firmly. "You aren't to blame for any of that."
"If I hadn't been on the Ark...."
"Enough blame!" Volstagg stepped forward since Loki wasn't coming to him and embraced him firmly. "Blame is for the living."
Initially Loki froze, but then slowly brought his arms up to hug Volstagg back and much to his own shock and horror, soon found himself wracked by sobs. The guilt of his failures, so long ignored, the grief he had stuffed down deep. He sobbed for the dead children. He sobbed for the loss of Asgard. Most of all he sobbed for the loss of his parents and maybe even for his failure to kill Thanos before he became too powerful for even Thor to stop.
He sobbed until he was empty, and Volstagg held him all that time, only letting him go when he was sure Loki wasn't going to fall.
"Come on." Volstagg said gently, stepping back and turning away, letting Loki rub his face without an audience. "There's a seat at my table for you."
Mutely Loki nodded and followed Volstagg inside. He allowed himself to be seated at their long table and allowed himself to be served a helping of boar--it seemed even in death Volstagg would always find food--and allowed himself to be surrounded by the chatter and company of a large and loving family that welcomed him.
Loki allowed their acceptance to fill him up, allowed their love to surround and cradle him, and accepted his new role as big brother and storyteller to the youngest. Allowed himself to be cradled and comforted in the family that gladly accepted him as one of them though he was the only dark hair among a sea of blondes and redheads. But while he soothed his pain with their company, his mind kept coming back to Heimdall's words.
Was the trickster out of tricks? Of course he wasn't. Not even death could hold Loki if Loki didn't wish it, but time was an illusion only the living needed to adhere to. He could afford to heal his soul of its hurts, and then he would claw his way back to the pain of existence, if there was an existence worth clawing back to. His brother would need his guile and best tricks if he was to have a true chance against the mad Titan, after all.