Wrapped in silence, Baldur sat at the edge of the cliff and watched from afar as the tattooed stranger and the boy absolutely demolished his nephews for being the big mouthed idiots they were.

Truth be told, he was angered by the sight. Not because he loved his brothers sons, but because he would have felt a lot of satisfaction seeing how the two got their asses handed to them.

But the curse made it impossible for him to feel anything. He just watched and realised that the one opportunity he had to see these two idiots suffer was wasted and felt like any other day.

"What a disappointment.", he growled to himself and crushed a rock between his fingers.

The small pieces cut into his skin and made blood pour out. As the thin trails of red danced over his long fingers only to fall into the snow below his feet, he wondered how it would feel to bleed.

But it wasn't just any kind of bleeding he wanted to feel. He wanted to know how it felt to be like you, so fragile yet innocent. The world had done its worst to you and yet you smiled for the beauty that was death in disguise.

"How I envy you, little butterfly...", he mumbled and watched as the cuts in his flesh grew together again. "Let me understand why you are full of happiness. Give me some of it. Will you?"

As his eyes rose again, just in the right moment, he witnessed how the guardian raised his axe with a mighty scream, and bury the sharp blade inside Magni's throat.

A twitch chased through Baldur's neck as he saw his nephew scream and turn in pain, blood rushing out his body. For the first time in ages, he thought he'd be able to feel something. But it was just a small wave, one like any other that only resolved in a small spark of hope, only to be crushed mere seconds after.

He had felt this kind of spark yesterday too, as his fist had missed you. In that moment he had thought that regret had made him hesitate.

Now, he wasn't sure anymore. Maybe it had been something else. The desire to be good to you, since nobody else ever had been. Yet again, he felt mocked and tortured by those constant signs of affections, signs he wasn't able to feel nor enjoy.

He just had to imagine them being nice. It tortured him even more knowing that you did this unintentionally.

That meant he had only made a fool of himself that night.

Again, a wave of feelings washed over him but faded as he took the next breath to calm the rising anger. His hands clenched into fists.

"Why, little butterfly?", he asked, his voice tense. "I just want... you... so why do you keep torturing me? Showing me that I could have what I desire but leave me so unsure... Why? Why am I such a coward?!"

Power lit up around his feet. The force made the ground below crumble and crack.

But he didn't have a lot of time to get himself riled up.
Down below, the stranger was talking to Modi. It was hard to tell what he was saying from afar, but something dangling on his wirst caught Baldur's attention.

Frowning, he squinted his eyes and tried to take a better look.

"Mimir?", he mumbled, both confused and angered at the sight. "That old bastard... how did he?"

He wanted to take a step forward and help Modi out before death would also come for him. But something else distracted him again.

The sound of wings cutting through the air sounded.
Irritated, he threw a glance over his shoulder. The only dragon that was able to fly free was his own. But he had left him with you.

So why was he here?

"I hope you didn't do something stupid, boy.", Baldur growled and retreated from his position to greet the creature with a grim expression on his face.

His hand stroked through the strands of his beard that you had braided. They unwrapped easily, not strong enough to get twisted between his finger and still keep their shape.

A pity, truly, because he actually liked the way it looked on him.

As the dragon landed next to the corpse of the giant, he let out a soft breath and bowed his head to greet his master.

Out of curiosity, Baldur stretched his neck to see if you were sitting on his back. But the saddle was empty.

He frowned. A low growl escaped him.

"What did you do?", he asked the dragon and wanted to grab him by the reins.

But as his eyes fell onto the red handprint, that was decorating the tip of the creatures nose, he froze.

All of a sudden, the muscles inside his body tensed.

Slowly, he dared to reach out and touch the dried blood.

The touch must have felt rough, not that he was able to tell. As a different kind of smell reached his nose, only the gods knew what kind of smell, a strange, numb feeling filled his chest.

What was this?

Surprise?

Regret?

Fear perhaps?

Baldur pulled a face.

How was he supposed to know?

"What happened?", his eyes found the ones of the creature. "What happened?! Where's my butterfly?!"

A low sound escaped the dragon, filled with sadness and guilt. In that moment it seemed more human than Baldur's could ever be.

Gritting his teeth, he jumped up into the air and onto the dragons back to force him to fly again.

With a deep growl, the huge wings spread and he pushed himself back up.

Cold wind chased through his hair as Baldur closed his fists around the reins, so tight, that he almost tore the leather into pieces.

It was rare that he felt anything, even if it was just a different kind of numbness. But he dared to believe that in that moment, his heart was beating faster than it had ever done.

Why did he feel this way?

Just why did he feel like this was how it felt like to worry?