Bear smiled a pitiful smile, "Thank you, but even if I were to ever find my lifemate. The Aesir would never allow me to be happy. They would pluck her from my grasp the moment I thought I had her. I've done far too many terrible deeds for them to ever forgive me."
He glanced at Björn who was stirring the broth. "Besides, who would ever want me as their lifemate?"
Björn's brows narrowed together and his head tilted to the side. "Bear, you can't think like that."
He snorted. "I've lived almost as long as your father. I was abandoned by the gods and my kin. I've lived alone in darkness for thousands of years. I've killed hundreds of my kin, and more mortals than I could count." he looked up the ceiling.
Bear lifted his hand towards his face, his arm trembling with the simple action. His masculine hand began to radiate the colors of the Bivröst, the bridge of the gods, appeared in his palm. Vibrant shades of green, purples and crimson danced in his palm. Only to vanish as he clenched his hand into a fist.
"What creature could want a monster like me? One who controls time and space? One who has slaughtered hundreds with his untamed power?" His gaze grew solemn, dark. "I am a murderer."
Björn didn't know how to respond. Dealing with a situation like this was foreign and one he was not good with. He could handle blood shed any day, but dealing with a broken kinsman who looked as if they were on the verge of tears… He did not know where to begin.
He took Bear's clenched fist in his hand, staring at their connected hands with a soft expression. Then, locking his navy eyes with Bear's. "Bear, the gods cannot remain angry forever. Do not lose hope."
Bear smiled at him like he didn't believe him. "I'll try not too little prince."
"She, your lifemate is out there somewhere."
Bear's solemn expression turned into a scowl. If only Björn could understand the horrors he had experienced throughout his lifetime, if he had known the terrible things he has done in his past, to himself and to others. He would not spout such nonsense.
If he knew, if only he knew...
The Aesir cannot remain angry forever? They were the most pitiful and vengeful creatures he knew. The bitterness that they could hold for their enemy, their enmity would bring about torment and turmoil. How many times did he watch the Aesir squabble amongst themselves, only for their fights to turn into tantrums that would destroy the land, and those who dwelled upon it.
Despite the Aesir claiming to be beings who were near equals to man, the creatures they created, so many deaths lay at their hands.
Perhaps more blood was on their hands than was on his. Perhaps.
His gaze turned towards the clenched digits on his hands, counting each dirty nail.
No, there was no possibility.
He would never be able to count all those he had killed on these hands, not even if he counted every digit on all extremities.
How many mortals had he slain? Burning them to ash with his breath, tearing through their flesh with his fangs, plunging their souls into oblivion where they were lost in an environment that only he controlled, within the space that time was shattered, and only he could navigate it.
How many of his kin had he murdered? Feeling their talons dig into his hide as he would puncture their throats when they tried to utter a roar, rip through the membranous wings when they tried to fly away, claw the scales from their back so his scorching breath would sear the tissue beneath.
How many lifemate's had he slaughtered while their partners watched? Some helpless as they were already wounded themselves, some too far away to reach their dying partner in time, only to watch their lifemate perish, or to feel the severance in their connection from miles away.
Every time he saw the life leave the eyes of one of his kinsman, he would witness the bond that held the lifemate's together shatter. It was as if an invisible twine that linked their souls together snapped, and with it, their entire being would break.
Suffering. Agony. Anguish.
Their entire being fell into purgatory.
How many times, had he relished in the way they broke?
How many times had he felt that very pain?
"Bear?" Björn whispered, "Your soup?"
He looked towards the young dragon who still sat beside him, and he wondered. How long was he lost in thought?
"Right." he said. "Soup."
Björn helped Bear finish eating in silence. Neither one spoke to one another until he was done and Björn was at the doorway. A simple 'thank you' and 'good night' was exchanged. Bear drifted to a deep slumber once again, kept warm by the heavy blankets and flickering fire. While Björn retired to his own room, to lay on his bed and stare at the ceiling in silence. Lost in thought.
Had he done the right thing by using such magic against Bear? Had he done the right thing by saving his life? Was he right to trap him in a mortal form? Every answer was yes. So why did he feel so guilty?
He closed his eyes. Right or wrong, what's done is done.