Beyla - Loki

The Return

The months bled into years, and under Odin's supposed rule, Asgard had never shone brighter. Its people thrived, the golden streets were more prosperous than they had been in centuries, and peace reigned across the Nine Realms-at least, that was the image presented. Behind the veil, it was Loki's hand guiding it all, the God of Mischief wearing his father's face and voice as easily as one would don a cloak.

If Odin could see him now, Beyla thought, perhaps even he would have admitted pride. Wherever Odin was, though-banished, hidden, or dead-she had never pressed for answers. Loki had convinced her it was safer not to know, and she believed him. What mattered was that Loki was here, alive, ruling, and hers.

A monument had even been erected in their honor: a statue of Loki, helm gleaming with its curved horns, standing proudly with Beyla at his side. It towered at the very heart of the city, a symbol to the people of resilience and triumph. Beyla had mixed feelings about it, but Loki reveled in every chiseled detail.

One late afternoon, the two of them sat together in the palace gardens while a small stage play unfolded before them. Actors performed The Tragedy of Loki of Asgard, a dramatization of his supposed death. Loki reclined lazily on a daybed, plucking grapes from a silver dish and popping them into his mouth, watching himself die with unabashed amusement.

"This is how it happened, huh?" Beyla asked dryly, gesturing at Loki's counterpart, who now lay sprawled dramatically across the floorboards, chest heaving, every word dripping with false agony.

"Indeed, Lady Beyla," he added with a grin, mock-formal as though she were some wide-eyed spectator.

Beyla arched a brow, half a smile tugging at her lips.

On stage, the actor playing Loki gasped, clutching at the arm of the actor portraying Thor. "Sorry... for all I've done."

"It's all right," Thor soothed, eyes brimming with tears.

"I'm sorry I tried to rule Earth."

"They'd be lucky to have you."

"I'm sorry about that thing with the Tesseract. I just couldn't help myself. I'm a trickster."

"So mischievous." Actor Thor nodded gravely, weeping.

"Sorry about that time I turned you into a frog."

"It was a wonderful joke."

Beside her, Loki burst out laughing, his voice now adopting Odin's resonance. "'Twas indeed hilarious."

Beyla tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress her chuckle. "I laughed a little," she admitted under her breath.

On stage, Actor Loki heaved one last breath. "Tell my story. Build a statue for me. Beyla must be at my side."

"We will build a big statue for you," Thor vowed solemnly.

"With my helmet on... with the big bendy horns."

Beyla turned her head sharply toward Loki, narrowing her eyes at him. "You wrote this, didn't you?"

Loki only shrugged, smiling through a mouthful of grape. "A hidden talent," he murmured.

"I will tell Father what you did here today," Actor Loki wheezed.

Loki sat forward, mouthing along with the words, his lips forming each syllable with theatrical reverence: "I didn't do it for him."

Actor Loki's head dropped. His body went still. The audience gasped as one, moved by the spectacle.

Beyla wasn't watching the stage anymore. Her gaze had drifted to the crowd, and suddenly her blood ran cold.