Beyla - Loki

Kneel

The museum was alive with grandeur, a lavish gala unfolding beneath glittering chandeliers and the swell of an orchestra. From the balcony above, Loki descended the marble steps with deliberate grace, his scepter masked as nothing more than an elegant cane. The mask slipped when he neared the stage. With a swift motion, he flipped the cane and struck down the guard protecting his target.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as Loki seized the doctor, flipping him onto a polished marble table. The scepter glowed with cruel intent as he drove its device toward the man's eye. The victim writhed, helpless under his grip.

Panic broke. Guests screamed and scattered in every direction. Loki did not flinch. He walked steadily into the night as golden armor shimmered into place around his frame, his horned helmet rising like a crown of conquest.

"Kneel before me," he commanded.

The fleeing crowd faltered but did not obey. His voice thundered again, sharper, colder: "I said-KNEEL!"

This time, silence fell. One by one, the mortals sank to their knees, fear bowing their heads. Loki spread his arms wide, smiling as though greeting worshippers at an altar.

"Is this not simpler?" His voice carried over the square, smooth and poisonous. "Is this not your natural state? It is the unspoken truth of humanity-you crave subjugation. The lure of freedom diminishes your joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end... you will always kneel."

Among the bent heads, one man stood firm. An elderly German, his back straight and eyes resolute, lifted his voice: "Not to men like you."

Loki chuckled darkly. "There are no men like me."

"There are always men like you."

His sneer curled with malice. He raised the scepter, its blue glow humming with deadly promise. "Look to your elder, people. Let him be an example-"

The blast never landed. A vibranium shield intercepted the beam, its star gleaming against the firelight. Loki was hurled back, tumbling to the ground.

Captain America stepped forward, unyielding. "You know, the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everyone else, we ended up disagreeing."

Loki glared up from the cobblestones. "The soldier. A man out of time."

"I'm not the one who's out of time," Steve replied, setting his shield in place.

Above, the whine of thrusters split the night. Iron Man descended, blasting Loki off his feet. "Make your move, Reindeer Games," Tony Stark announced as his armor unfolded its arsenal.

From the shadows behind, Beyla dropped to the ground. She had leapt from Tony's back mid-flight, landing with the light step of a predator. Her gaze snapped to Loki, her breath catching as she saw her reflection in the polished curve of his golden horns.

He was alive.

"Cuff him, Bee," Tony muttered, scanning Loki through his visor.

But Loki's eyes had already found hers. His sneer softened, his cheeks tinged faintly blue. For a heartbeat, it was her Loki again. Beyla's knees weakened as she stepped forward, tears pricking her eyes.

"Loki," she whispered, her hand brushing his cheek.

His skin was cool, familiar. "My love. Please-you'll understand. This is our-"

Her mind brushed his, and what she found made her blood run cold. Darkness coiled in the corners of his thoughts, voices urging him toward fire, toward ruin. Toward the end of her world.

Her hand trembled as she fastened the cuffs around his wrists. "This is my realm," she said softly, but her tone hardened with steel. "And whoever has you in their grip should know that."

Loki did not resist as the restraints clicked shut.

⸻

Later, aboard the jet, thunder cracked outside, the storm rattling the hull. Steve and Tony muttered to each other, neither trusting how easily Loki had yielded. Beyla stood at the window, tracing the golden filigree of her armor, but her eyes never strayed far from Loki-sitting restrained, unreadable, yet twitching at the sound of thunder.

When the storm finally broke, the ramp blasted open with lightning's roar. Thor landed like a hammer-strike, his cape whipping in the gale. Without pause, he seized Loki by the throat and dragged him into the night sky.

"Another Asgardian?" Steve shouted over the wind.

Beyla was already gone, leaping after them. Bees swarmed beneath her, a living current carrying her down to the rocky clearing where Thor had cast his brother.

"STOP!" she cried, landing hard between them.

Thor's jaw clenched. "Beyla. Leave us."

"I will not." Her hand struck his arm. "You will release him."

"He belongs at home. Not in the mortal prisons that cannot keep him."

"And then be killed?!" Her voice cracked with fury. "You will not hurt him!"

Thor hurled Loki to the ground, his hammer sparking against the stone. "Where is the Tesseract?"

Loki only laughed, brushing dirt from his armor. "I missed you too, brother."

The quarrel that followed shook the mountain. Words of family and betrayal, shadows and kingship, spat like venom between Thor and Loki. Beyla stood torn, caught between the two brothers she had once called family.

When Loki reached for her, stroking her cheek, kissing her hands, she nearly melted. His words whispered against her lips: "Stay with me. Rule with me."

But she could not. His ambitions reeked of blood and fire. The voices in his mind were not his own.

"You're changed," she told him, slipping her ring from her finger. Her hand trembled, but she let it fall to the stone between them. "Whoever rules your mind has changed you. You are no longer my Loki."

Her voice broke as she turned away, leaping down the mountain toward the clash of men below, leaving the trickster god standing alone.