Tom Hiddleston & Loki Imagines (xReader)

Loki: See You Again

He felt the pain.

He heard the crunch in his ears, louder than any thunder that Thor had ever conjured.

He couldn't breathe.

His vision blurred.

The ground came up to meet him. Or did he drop to meet the ground?

It didn't matter. In less than a second, Loki's consciousness was free of its prison.

—

Loki's spirit hovered over the carnage, suspended in space and time, watching the events as they unfolded.

Hm. It appears I truly died this time.

...That's a first.

He saw Thanos leave, having taken what he came for. It was with a sigh of relief that he saw that Thor suffered no further harm.

Physically, that is.

After Thanos disappeared, Thor crawled desperately over to Loki's corpse. He seemed at a complete loss as he took in his little brother's broken body.

"No... Loki..."

Thor released the floodgates of his tears, sobbing out his heartbreak as he clutched the empty shell.

Watching from above, the shell's former occupant couldn't deny the feeling of warmth that coursed through him.

Thor mourned him.

Thor mourned him.

Thor mourned him.

'You really are the worst brother.'

The new king raised a hand to wipe some of the blood from Loki's face. "Please," he whispered through his tears. "I didn't mean it. Please, Loki. Come back. You were all I had left."

Loki recalled the last words his living self heard from Thunderer. They stung at the time. But Thor's current actions belied the harshness of his words, proving that he still loved the wayward brother that had caused nothing but chaos. Most people across the Realms would rejoice at his demise. But here was one who never would.

He watched as Thor retrieved the dagger Loki had dropped. He gently wrapped Loki's fingers around the hilt, positioning the cold, motionless hands on the cold, motionless chest. No sooner had Thor completed his emotional ritual when:

"Prince Loki Odinson of Asgard. We're waiting for you."

Loki was startled by an unknown voice. It was strong, resonating, and unmistakably feminine, carrying a tone of pure power.

He turned. Behind him was a woman, tall and majestic, hair flowing behind her as if blown by a gentle wind. She wore lightweight armor of silver and gold, complete with a gleaming sword at her hip and a pair of golden wings at her back. She was watching him calmly, her expression firm and alert, yet kind and unmenacing.

Loki's eyes widened. He was standing before a Valkyrie. And not one of the common ones, like Brunhilde; this was one of the High Valkyrie, whose duty it was to escort fallen warriors to their reward.

Loki's eyes widened still further when he recognized the woman. Flowing (h/c) hair, (e/c) eyes that sparkled so that they nearly glowed, lovely (s/c) skin, regal bearing befitting a queen, powerful wings extended in all their glory—this wasn't just any of the High Valkyrie; this was (Y/N), the very highest of the High Order. None compared to her. He'd read tales of her when he was a child: how she carved her own legend as Low Valkyrie defending Asgard, only to become even mightier when she became a High Valkyrie upon her death in battle.