It was cold. So unbearably cold.

The icy wind stroked your cheeks as you managed to open your eyes a crack wide and Catalan a glimpse at the sky above.

The lighting and thunder had calmed down. It didn't rain anymore.

Somehow, that made you feel unhappy. You had wished to feel the rain one last time on your skin. And even if it hurt, you wished to feel something, anything else, than this pain that nestled inside your numb limbs like a parasite.

Swallowing hard, you tried to tilt your head to let some blood run out of your mouth. Choking on it would have been a terrible way to go.

Only thinking about it made you chuckle with bitterness.

"What... a fool I am...", you whispered and turned back to the sky to greet it with a smile. "A fool... worthy... for a coward... isn't it..? Baldur..."

A shadow crossed the growing darkness, cut through the cold for a moment.

You dared to believe it would be a valkyrie, if the gods were kind enough to send one for a lousy soul like yours.

The ground started to shake with force, as the shadow landed and a person jumped off its back.

A soft smile appeared on your bloody lips.

"Baldur..?", you asked, hope filling your voice.

Weak, you managed to raise your hand and reach out for him. Fingers touched yours, wrapped around your hand and have it such a hard squeeze that you groaned in pain.

But it didn't matter. Pain didn't matter anymore. It was the only thing your body was able to feel. And it would be the last.

Breathing heavily, Baldur dropped to his knees, his fingers tensing around your weakening hand. He could feel how the strength to breath was slowly fading.

Blood adored the snow and painted a picture of pain and suffering.

"Did you fall from the sky, little butterfly?", he asked, but his voice was shaking. "Your wings are broken..."

He reached out to stroke a tear from your face. But the touch was so harsh that the skin next to your eye broke and blood covered his fingers instead.

A soft smile appeared on your lips.

"Baldur..?", you asked, not realising it was him but hallucinating. "I'll... I won't... suffer no more..."

"No. No, no, don't say that. You'll fly again."

"The clouds are so soft..."

He frowned and glanced up.

There wasn't a single cloud in the sky. Not even birds.

"What are you talking about?"

Slightly, you shook your head. A soft breath escaped your dry, cracked lips.

His hands grabbed your face and forced you to look at him. His touch left marks of his fingers on your fragile cheek.

"Look at me...", he begged. "You need to stay awake."

Your eyes turned to him, but looked right through flesh and bones into nothing.

Blood was running from the corner of your mouth.

"I... won't... go... to Valhalla...", you chuckled. "I'll end up... where... where will I... go..?"

Unsure what to do, he just shook his head. Something lit up inside his eyes.

His grip on your face tightened and left marks so dark, it seemed like he had hit you. His nails dug into your skin, his fingers stiffened. In his uncontrolled helplessness, he stiffened so hard that his fingers tore your cheeks open and made more blood flow.

"Little butterfly...", he hissed, unable to think of something. "I'll... I'll bring you to the ponds. Just... stay awake a little longer."

Without thinking, he pushed his arms under your back and legs and picked you so fast that an unholy pain made you scream. He froze in fear, his widened eyes glued to you.

Blood ran over his arms, down his torso and fell into the snow to leave a trail of death.

In that moment he realised he was trembling.

Why was he trembling?

He was unable to feel anything. He couldn't remember the last time his hands had been trembling.

So what was this feeling that grew inside his chest and made the beats of his heart the heaviest they've ever been?

A deep breath escaped him.

His feet started moving again. Magic lit up around his hands.

Fire started burning.

The emotions he was feeling, or thought he felt, started to get out of hand.

The magical fire hit into your arms, right where his hands were holding you and made you scream with the last bit of strength that you had. Tears filled your eyes and dripped over your chin.

Unsure what to do, he wanted to gently lower you again. But his trembling hands lost the grip and let you drop harshly down into the snow instead.

Baldur's breathing quickened. His bright blue eyes were glued to you.

He didn't know what to do. He didn't wish to be your end. But doing nothing would have killed you as well.

Forcing himself to calm down, he raised his blood soaked hands to his eyes and watched how the fingers trembled.

Was this how humans felt like?

Was this how he had been supposed to feel like all those times?

But why?

Why did he feel it now and not then?

"No...", he whispered while white clouds rose from his lips. "No, no, no, no... no!"

Slowly, he took a step back, still not able to take his eyes off your bloody, suffering form.

Letting out a scream of frustration, he grabbed his head and squeezed it so hard, he hoped it would make his skull crack.

"No! No, you coward! You stupid, stupid coward!", he hit himself. "No! It's dying... My butterfly! My beautiful... my (Y/N)... Why? Why?! Why did you allow me to shatter you?!"

With his teeth bared, he jumped forward, blinded by his own anger and wanted to wrap his hands around your neck. But as your eyes caught his, weak and dark as if death was already nestling in them, the anger faded.

Instead, he felt weak. Or at least that's what he thought.

"No...", with his face disfigured by pain, he reached out to slowly pick you up again and place you on a safe spot on the dragons back. "Hold on just a little longer. I'll make it up. I'll be better. Just... wait a moment..."

Closing his eyes, Baldur slowly bend down and pressed a kiss to your lips.

Your blood in his mouth tasted like ashes.