Beyla - Loki

The Withering Garden

Beyla moved slowly through the garden, her fingertips grazing over the brittle leaves. The plants were pale and struggling, yet still clinging to life.

"They're looking better."

She turned at the sound of the voice, finding Thor smiling warmly at her.

"You're back," she replied, a small grin tugging at her lips as she plucked a single flower from its stem.

"And you're outside."

Beyla nodded, stripping petals one by one, letting them fall to the earth. "It was time. I haven't felt the sun in a year. The plants were calling."

She drifted away from him, walking beneath the arched trees until she reached the marble fountain. Settling onto its edge, she glanced at the rippling water. "Loki and I spent much time here."

Thor sat beside her, his reflection in the pool wearing an expression more pained than he intended to show. "How are you feeling?"

Beyla shrugged lightly. "Dysfunctional."

Thor's sigh carried the weight of his own unspoken grief. "We have a mission. If you would like to come, your help would be greatly appreciated."

Her hand lifted, droplets of water rising into the air and catching the sunlight. "No. I'm not interested."

"We could use you, Beyla."

She turned, her eyes dull and unreadable. "You need this?" She summoned what little strength she could, conjuring a cloud of bees that swarmed outward-only to falter, wings slowing until they collapsed into the grass, buzzing weakly. "I'll be here when you return."

"Still here?" Thor's voice softened, almost pleading.

"I feel no need to move, Thor. You will find me here."

He bent his head, pressing a brief kiss to her hair before walking the garden path back toward the palace.

⸻

Later, Odin and Thor stood together upon a high balcony, gazing across the golden spires of Asgard.

"Is Vanaheim secure?" Odin asked.

Thor nodded. "As are Nornheim and Ria. Though our work would have gone more quickly with you at the fore."

"You must think me a piece of bread that needs buttering so heavily," Odin remarked dryly.

"That was not my intent."

"For the first time since the Bifrost was destroyed, the Nine Realms are at peace. They are well reminded of our strength, and you have earned both their respect and my gratitude."

Thor inclined his head. "Thank you."

"Nothing out of order," Odin continued, "except your confused and distracted heart."

"This isn't about Jane Foster, Father."

"Human lives are fleeting. They are nothing. You would be better served by what lies before you." Odin's gaze shifted, first to Lady Beyla at the edge of the hall, then to Lady Sif. "I tell you this not as the All-Father, but as your father. You are ready. The time has come for you to take the throne. Embrace and celebrate what you have won. Join your warriors. Eat, drink, revel in their celebration. At least pretend to enjoy yourself."

⸻

As the hall filled with music and laughter, Thor lingered at the fringes. His eyes found Beyla seated alone by the balcony, her cup untouched.

"We meet again," he said quietly as he approached.

She smiled faintly. "Congratulations."

"You could have helped."

Beyla tipped her cup back, draining the drink in one swallow. "No. The fight was yours, not mine."

Thor's gaze flickered to her chest. The grey markings that had once spread across her heart had shrunk, now no larger than an apple.

"That doesn't mean I'm getting better," she muttered, flinging her empty cup over the balcony before snatching another from a passing tray. "It only means I have no heart."

She leaned against the railing, downing another. Thor placed a hand over hers. "I think you've had enough."

She rolled her eyes and brushed him off, retreating as Sif stepped forward.

"There was a time you would celebrate for weeks-both of you," Sif said, her smile edged with nostalgia.

"I remember you celebrated the Battle of Haragon so much you nearly started a second," Thor replied.

"The first was so much fun." Sif's lips curved mischievously. "Take a drink with me. Surely the All-Father has no further task for you tonight."

Thor shook his head. "No. This is one I set myself."

Sif's eyes narrowed slightly. "It has not gone unnoticed that you disappear each night. There are Nine Realms. The future king of Asgard must focus on more than one."

"I thank you for your sword and your counsel, Lady Sif," Thor said firmly, turning away.

He sought Heimdall at the Bifrost.

"You're late," Heimdall observed.

"Merriment can sometimes be a heavier burden than battle."

"Then you are doing one of them incorrectly."

Thor chuckled faintly. "Perhaps. How fare the stars?"

"They shine, as ever. From here I can see Nine Realms and ten trillion souls." Heimdall paused. "Do you recall what I told you of the Convergence?"

"Yes. The alignment of the worlds. It approaches, doesn't it?"

"The universe hasn't seen this marvel since before my watch began. Few can sense it-fewer still can see it. A world infected can be dangerous... but it is truly beautiful."

Thor squinted into the abyss. "I see nothing."

"Or perhaps that is not the beauty you seek."

After a silence, Thor asked, "How fares she?"

Heimdall's gaze sharpened. "She is clever, your mortal. She doesn't know it yet, but she studies the Convergence as well. Even..." Heimdall froze, his sight blurring.

"What is it?" Thor demanded.

"I cannot see her."

⸻

Far away, crimson veins of light coursed through stone, seeping into fragile flesh. Fingers brushed the rock, and the Aether surged upward, absorbing into Jane Foster's body.

Beyla gasped awake in her chamber, breath ragged. "Jane."

She seized her green robe and rushed through the halls until she reached the Bifrost. Thor and Heimdall were already there.

"Beyla?" Thor frowned.

"She's in trouble," Beyla said breathlessly.

"How do you know?"

"I saw her. I saw something evil, clinging to her. The Aether-it's inside her. I just... knew."