Gluttony.

Since that first day, delivering food to Fenrir had become routine, not because Tyr actually wanted to do it, or because he was driven by some moral code, but simply because he was aware of the fact that it was required of him. If not him, than whom?

“Don’t look at me like that.”

The ferocity of this statement jolted Tyr from his thoughts, and he gazed at wolf-child with a newfound awareness. The God wasn’t often prone to day-dreaming, but the heat of Asgard’s sun seemed to have put him into a bit of a lull that day. He was naturally a winter creature and warmth usually set him to sleep. Normally, such a thing wouldn’t have been a problem, but today he had decided to take the food to the boy early. He should have used the time to take a nap or read - after having nothing but napping and reading to do for centuries, he had grown quite fond of it - but somehow or another, he found himself consistently wandering toward the place where Fenrir lay in wait for the day when he would break loose from his bonds and begin, with earnest, the next chapter of this saga.

Tyr shifted positions on the stone where he’d sat outside the cage, placing his hands on his knees to straighten himself into an attentive position. Fenrir’s gaze gleamed in the afternoon sunlight, two dark lightning storms that threatened to burn a hole straight through his steel prison. The way it glanced just slightly upward, protectively, hot with rage and dissatisfaction, it was an expression that seemed out of place on a child’s body, an expression that was altogether too wise and too stubborn. However, there was no fear. The bars had not yet failed to hold the beast, even in his most furious of outbursts, and so, with a raise of his eyebrow, Tyr replied simply and concisely.

“Like what?”

“Like that.” Fenrir’s face was turning red now. His body rose upward like wave ready to smash the shore, his voice hard, unforgiving and unnatural. Tyr didn’t have to listen, but even as he attempted to zone out the verbal assault that was to come, he found that he could no longer pull his attention away. His eyes were locked. “Don’t play dumb. Stop it. I don’t look at you like that.”

“Like what?”

Fenrir’s fist rose and with a mighty heave he threw his bread down onto the forest floor, teeth bared and eyes wide with fury. He stood, throwing himself against the side of the cage, reaching outward to grab a hold of Tyr with his tiny hands tearing and thrashing. In the abruptness of this outburst, Tyr leaned back, eyes opening. “Why do you keep coming here? I don’t like it when people come here to look at me. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t do anything wrong! You’ll be sorry that you ever came to feed me. I’ll get out and I’ll find you and I’ll eat you. I’ll eat you, bones and all!” His shoulders shook, his body broke with anger and within each grasping movement he threw all of his tiny weight. Tyr watched this display with a kind of shock, and then, after a few moments, his face began to contort, and out from his lips, passed the hand that moved to cover them, there came a hysterical chuckling. It rose in volume, falling and veiling everything around him until, against the walls of the valley it echoed and sounded back to them. Fenrir stopped thrashing, his eyes narrowing and mouth agape. “Wha-what’s so funny?” Tyr didn’t respond, holding his sides, and Fenrir’s rage reached its peak. “What’s so funny, you senile, useless bastard!”

He stuttered, trying to force out a first sentence, but had to pause for a moment, and even then when he began to speak, his laughter broke loose once again. “I-I’m sorry. I imagined your body- your tiny body scooping me up like a bird.”

“And?” Fenrir asked, and the fact that he did not seem to think this idea ridiculous left Tyr in hysterics all over again. Finally, still chuckling, he stood up from his rock and turned around, beginning his trek back down the path in the direction of Valhalla. “He-hey! That’s not funny! I really will! I’ll eat you!”

Tyr stumbled, leaning against a tree for support until he felt he was able to move again, and then he lifted a hand in silent farewell. “Too much sun today,” he called out, ignoring Fenrir’s frantic cries. “Tomorrow will be cloudy, I’m sure.”