Beyla - Loki

Trust My Rage

The golden halls of Asgard shook with a sudden shriek of alarms. The sound cut through Beyla's chest like a blade, her head snapping toward the throne where Odin sat rigid, his single eye narrowing.

"Guards," his voice thundered, "take Lady Beyla to her chambers. Do not let anyone in. Protect her at all costs."

Before she could protest, strong hands seized her arms. "Wait!" she cried, thrashing as they rushed her down the corridors. Her fists pounded against the locked door when they shoved her inside. "What is the meaning of this?"

No answer came. Only the echoes of boots, the rumble of war, and the distant screams. Beyla stumbled to the window, her heart clenching as she looked down upon the golden city. Sleek, T-shaped ships tore through Asgard's skies, their weapons raining fire upon the gleaming spires. The clash of steel and the roar of beasts filled the air for what felt like an eternity-an hour, perhaps two. Her people's cries carried up to her, each one an iron nail driven into her chest.

Then, a flicker of hope. She saw the hammer-Thor's hammer-soaring through the storm. Mjölnir struck against one of the ships with godlike force, yet missed by inches as the vessel blinked away into nothing.

Her door burst open. Guards rushed her into the corridors again, their faces pale. "It's the Queen," one whispered, and Beyla's blood turned cold.

She ran. She didn't remember the path, only the weight in her chest, only the sound of her feet slamming against marble until she reached the chamber. And there-

Frigga lay limp in Odin's arms. Thor knelt beside them, his face twisted in anguish.

Beyla's knees buckled. She fell to the floor, her sobs tearing from her throat unbidden, raw. Her chest burned as though her heart itself had cracked open. She had lost a mother once before. To lose another...

⸻

The funeral was a sea of silence. Asgard gathered by the water, each head bowed as the Queen's body was laid upon a vessel. The boat glided out into the silver sea, its golden trim catching the faint starlight. A flaming arrow arced across the sky, striking true, and the ship erupted in a blossom of fire.

Ash and smoke curled into the heavens. All of Asgard wept.

Beyla's tears blurred her vision, her hands trembling as she held them clasped at her heart. She had no strength to stand proud, no power to keep the bees from pouring from her palms and scattering into the air, circling in mourning.

⸻

The dungeons smelled of dust and iron. Thor stood before his brother's cell, his shadow falling across the bars.

"Thor," Loki's voice was venom, sharp enough to cut. "After all this time and now you come to visit me. Why? Have you come to gloat? To mock?"

"Loki, enough. No more illusions."

With a breath, the glamour dissolved. The pristine walls gave way to chaos-shards of shattered furniture, blood smeared across the marble, scraps of torn cloth strewn across the floor. Loki himself sat slumped against the far wall, unkempt, his eyes rimmed red.

"Now you see me, brother."

Thor stepped closer, his voice low, stripped of its usual thunder. "Did she suffer?"

Silence. Loki's eyes flickered, a shadow crossing his features.

Thor pressed on. "I did not come here to share grief. Instead, I offer you the chance of a far richer sacrament."

"Oh?" Loki's voice quivered with mockery, though his lips twitched, hiding something else. "Go on."

"I know you seek vengeance as much as I do. Help me escape Asgard, and I will grant it to you. Vengeance. A reunion with Beyla. And afterward... this cell."