Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The outlaw rushes toward him and cuts off his hand with an axe. The blood gushes out, and the man with the axe bounces back with a shriek of joy. His cronies follow suit, awaiting the screams of pain with curiosity and mad amusement.

But there is silence in response. Baldur stares at the wound for a few seconds, then sighs disappointedly. The men watch their enemy's deadly stillness with surprise and fear.

"Do you have any idea how long it takes the new limb to grow back and how nasty it looks?" Baldur looks over the men with an annoyed look.

There is genuine horror reflected in the eyes of the gang of outlaws. The two frail men dropped their weapons to the ground. Fear was evident on their faces, with sharp cheekbones and deep circles under their eyes. They began to back away.

"Where are you going, you idiots?!" the menacing bearded man looked angrily at the two frightened men, who immediately turned and ran away. "I will personally kill you!"

Baldur grinned.

"Let's go on." The emotionless god said menacingly.

The leader of the outlaws roared furiously, then lunged toward Baldur with a shout, swinging his sword.

Dodging this attack was easy. Baldur bounced to his left from a direct sword strike and struck the man in the stomach with lightning speed. The outlaw is thrown into the ruined hut, from which he no longer rises.

The remaining outlaws rush at Baldur in droves, and he sighs in frustration. It's the same thing. Over and over again.

No pain, no fun. Nothing. The fight ends quickly, and Baldur comes out the only winner. As always. No matter how many idiots he fought, no matter how many crap monsters and bastards he met... Victory was always on his side.

Baldur sighs and looks around. In the dirt he notices his severed hand. Baldur walks over to it, examines it, and then looks at his healed wound, instead of which a small, crooked outgrowth has begun to appear. He frowns in disgust.

"Oh, shit."

The process of growing a new limb was disgusting to look at. Baldur very rarely lost body parts in combat, but sometimes he did. The interesting thing was that the tattoos never went away. It was as if he'd been born with them.

The skies of Midgard were covered in clouds, so it was gloomy and dark outside. Corpses lay in blood-red snow and mud. Old little houses made of rotted boards stand around. They are few in number, no more than ten. In the distance a burning fire can be seen, and Baldur heads toward it. He walks over to the fire and sits down on the ground. Burnt meat lies at the bottom of the pot. Baldur takes the meat in his hand and squeezes it, watching it crumble.

It was probably hot. Perhaps it smelled of burning. Perhaps...

Baldur grabs the pot in anger and throws it toward the corpses. He sits quietly and stares at the fire.

A cough is heard not far away. Baldur gets up from the ground and looks around in confusion at the old houses and their remains. Are any of these hungry madmen still alive?

Someone coughs again and Baldur moves toward the sound. He opens the door of one of the relatively intact houses and steps inside. The boards creak under his feet, and water drips from the crooked and rotten ceiling. Along the walls are many shelves of various bowls and bottles, bird skulls and creations unknown to Baldur from branches and ropes hang around. It looked like a witch lived here.

By the smoldering hearth he saw an old woman. She was lying on the floor, wheezing loudly. Her gray hair was dirty and dusty, her clothes old and shabby. The woman turned her head toward Baldur, who stood motionless. She was blind in one eye and terribly thin. The old woman looked more like a reanimated dead person than a living person.

"I knew you would come." The woman said hoarsely, looking the emotionless god in the eye.

Baldur is almost interested.

"Son of Odin and Frigg." Baldur frowns when he hears this address.

"Who are you?" He steps forward and looks at the old woman.

"Almost dead." She jokes and chuckles hoarsely.

Baldur clenches his fists.

"Cursed by his own mother." The woman sees the god looking at her angrily, so she immediately continues. "Your curse can be lifted."

"What?"

The anger disappears instantly. Baldur looks at the woman in surprise, then walks over to her and sits down next to her on his lap.

"How?" he gazes excitedly into her face.

The woman smirks.

"The girl. She'll help you feel again. It won't happen right away. I don't know how she'll do it. And she doesn't know about helping you. Don't scare her, don't demand things she doesn't know. Be patient."

Baldur absorbed every word from the old woman, looking at her nervously. Many questions swirled around in his head.

"How do I know her?"

"Dragon. That's all I know."

Baldur nodded.

"Now, be so kind as to kill me." She looks at him and smirks, holding out her bony hand for a dagger. "I am tired of suffering."

Baldur gently takes the dagger from her hands. It looks old, but it is very sharp. The god only nods.

"Thank you." Baldur says as sincerely as possible, looking into the woman's eyes.

He doesn't know if there is any truth in the woman's words, but he wanted to believe it.

She smiles.

"And you."

Baldur plunges the dagger into her skull. The quickest death he can give her. After a few seconds, Baldur pulls the weapon from her skull and places it on the old woman's chest. He closes her eyes and leaves the house.

A flame of hope had just been kindled in the depths of his soul.

Chapter Text

Returning to Asgard was never a welcome thing for Baldur. He never wanted to be there for too long, even though it was his home.

Magni and Modi greeted Baldur loudly every time he returned. It didn't matter if he was standing far away from them or right in their faces.

With Heimdall, they only silently looked at each other and nodded in greeting. Baldur still remembered how close they had been as children, and the brotherly affection still lived in distant corners of his memory.

He rarely crossed paths with Thor. And most often Baldur saw him drunk with a mug of honey in his hand. Far less often they sat silently at the same table, staring at their mugs of honey and realizing that they were both in the shit.

Odin faked a smile every time he met Baldur after his journey to Midgard and other worlds. He would give the Allfather the information he needed, give him what he had to find, or bring him the right people. After that Baldur was free to go wherever he wanted and do whatever he wanted. And then Odin's crows would find him again for his next assignment.

This return to Asgard was one of the most nerve-wracking. Baldur needed time to calm his nerves and regain his calm and composure. If Odin noticed the change in his demeanor, he would have questions that Baldur would have to answer. And he won't be able to hide them for long.

Allfather was watching everything.

Baldur gave Odin the treasure he was to find. They exchanged a few words about how the search had gone. Over time Baldur learned not to ask Odin questions about why he wanted a particular person or object. Allfather didn't trust anyone and wouldn't answer questions or angrily put Baldur in his place, reminding him that his job was to do as he was told. And not to ask unnecessary questions.

Baldur emerged from Odin victorious in his own struggle. He behaved as usual and gave the Allfather no reason to distrust him. Baldur knew perfectly well that Odin would claw at any new information and, if necessary, tear it out of anyone.

He must keep the events of that house a secret. That day Hugin sat on the window just as Baldur was standing over the old woman's corpse. The raven whirled its head, looking around the house, and then sat on Baldur's shoulder with a shriek. Hugin did not see Baldur and the old woman talking, so Odin did not know what had happened.

Luck was on his side.

Once outside the high walls, Baldur made his way to his only friend. More often than not, he preferred to stay away from the gods.

The sun was shining brightly. Baldur found him in a small field. The dragon, sensing that he were approaching him, raised his head and met Baldur's gaze. Ravor blinked lazily, then let out a deep growl, greeting his friend. Baldur smiled unconsciously as he approached the dragon and placed his hand gently on its muzzle.

"Hi, buddy."

The dragon moved to meet the touch and nudged Baldur slightly, getting up on his paws. His movements were scattered and lazy after his sleep, but he never lost his mischief. Ravor's golden eyes sparkled with amusement as he nudged Baldur again with his nose.

"It's good to see you, too, friend." Baldur chuckled, placing his hand on the dragon's muzzle again.

He wasn't feeling any of the things he wanted, but even so, he was glad to meet him. Baldur had been gone for a couple of weeks and in that time, Ravor had managed to miss his closest friend. And so did Baldur.

Baldur sighed heavily and leaned his forehead against the dragon's scales, furrowing his brow. Hundreds of thoughts had been racing through his head for the day, and Baldur was aware that his condition was worse than usual. Not that he could explain it in any way, since he didn't even feel it. It was just that something wasn't the same as usual. Before, the familiar emptiness that had been with him for as long as he could remember himself accompanied him. But now Baldur could hear the swarm of thoughts that wouldn't leave his head, and hope.

The hope that Odin used every time Baldur tried to rebel and refuse orders.

There may be information there about your healing. This man may know the weakness of your curse.

Had it ever done any good? No. But each time Baldur hoped for a different outcome.

The dragon rumbled excitedly, sensing that something was wrong with his friend. The bond between Ravor and Baldur was strong, and the dragon felt the god's condition as his own. Behind the thick skin was an infinitely sensitive and intelligent dragon who worried about Baldur as if he were his own brother.

Baldur pulled away and looked wearily into his friend's eyes, where he saw concern. The god looked away, sighed, and then weakly slapped Ravor's face a couple of times. The dragon knew this gesture, which meant, "Don't worry, it's all right."

A certain girl could save him from the curse. And it had something to do with the unknown dragon.

Baldur looked up into the sky and thought. Ravor repeated after him, surveying the sky. He didn't understand what his friend was up to. A moment later Baldur climbed onto Ravor's back.

"Forward."

He was going to check on the three imprisoned dragons in Midgard.