Beyla - Loki

The Mask of a King

Loki lounged on the throne, cloaked in the Allfather's form, admiring the gleam of gold and ivory. A guard's voice echoed from below.
"Lady Beyla seeks audience, my King."

"Beyla," Loki said warmly, spreading his arms.

She bowed with grace. "Good morning, Allfather."

"Leave us," he ordered. The guards exchanged puzzled glances before obeying, the doors groaning shut.

The moment they sealed, Beyla's laugh tinkled through the air. "Change," she teased, climbing the steps.

In a shimmer, Odin melted away, leaving Loki in his true form. He caught her hand and drew her onto his lap. "Did my Queen sleep well?"

"I've never slept better," she sighed, brushing her lips against his jaw.

"Ah," Loki smirked, "so my silver tongue deserves credit?"

Her giggles were muffled against his neck. "Perhaps that... and a little of mine."

The chamber doors slammed open. "Allfather! My King!" a guard barked, breathless.

Beyla gasped and scrambled up, nearly slipping. Loki shifted in an instant back into Odin's shape, steadying her by the waist as though nothing were amiss.

The guard faltered at the sight of them together. "Ah-Lady Beyla, forgive me, I-"

"Silence!" Loki thundered. His gaze cut to her, softer but firm. "Tend to your gardens, child."

Flushed and rattled, she nodded, slipping past the guards. Their stares followed her.
"She spends much time with the Allfather of late," one muttered.
"Aye," said the other, eyes narrowing. "Too much."

⸻

Later, in the gardens, whispers slithered between hedges.
"She must be working for the crown-why else linger at his side?"
"Comforting him, perhaps. Though he seems hardly grieved."
"A shame. She was always so proper."

Beyla parted the roses, her glare cutting like a blade. "Excuse me?"

The women startled, bowing low. "Lady Beyla-"
"What were you saying?" she pressed, voice flat.

"Nothing... forgive us." They fled with hurried apologies.

She exhaled sharply, only to hear that familiar voice at her back.
"Ah, there she is." The Allfather again, all regal calm.

Her scowl softened, if only a fraction. "Good to see you too."

"What troubles you, my flower?" he asked, feigning Odin's grave concern. "Shall I fetch you anything?"

"No, Loki." Her eyes darted to the lingering gazes of others. "Later. Alone."

His lips curved into a knowing smirk. "Alone," he murmured, savoring the word. "Perfect."

Gasps rippled from onlookers. Panic burned her cheeks as she turned and fled. The whole realm thinks I share Odin's bed... gods preserve me.

⸻

That night, Loki lay reclined with a book when she entered.
"Darling," he greeted, setting it aside. "I wondered where you had vanished."

She kicked off her shoes and climbed beside him, tucking close. "Loki, we need to talk."

His hand flew to her chest, checking for any dark stain of the Aether. "What has happened? Are you unwell?"

"No." She caught his wrist, steadying him. "It's the people. They think... I am comforting Odin."

Loki blinked, confusion giving way to grim amusement, then to disgust. "By the Norns. I hadn't even considered-"

"See?" she groaned. "It looks wrong."

He exhaled slowly, thumb brushing her cheek. "Then we shall be more careful. Secret meetings, like before."

Her laugh was soft, legs tangling with his. "And what harm could come of that?"

His eyes glittered in the dark. "Only the sweetest kind."