He hadn't been concerned at all with breaking the snowglobe. There were plenty of times he had fantasized about it, but he never once broke it. It should have been strange to him that he didn't place it atop a mountain of lit fireworks or used it for target practice with his chained knives. It wasn't until he was cleaning his room that he noticed the gravity of the snowglobe and the gripping fear of having it shatter.

Victor, the plush bear that he assigned to guard the globe, was sitting on the sill next to it when it had dropped to the floor while Ladon was vacuuming his room. He thought nothing of it, and place it back, but the bear fell back down and shoved the globe of fit's perch. Just as he turned, his eyes widened as it hit the ground, but instead of the slow motion crash he expected, it bounced once, rolled, and stopped. The sad little tune it gave started up as if to say, "Why would you be so cruel?"

It wasn't until he breathed out in relief that he noticed he was actually afraid it would shatter. This bothered him a bit. It was a snowglobe of the enemy, and he shouldn't have cared. There were plenty being sold at the moment. He could have gotten another. Why would he care if this thing busted to pieces and left the princess inside nothing but broken rubble?

It was a question he couldn't fully answer. Did he love this princess? No. He couldn't love an enemy to the Earth. Did he want to align himself with her and her side? No. He hated the senshi with every fiber of his being. Did he feel any disloyalty to Beryl? Distaste over Charonite and Nealite, but he was nothing but loyal to her side and the cause.

So why did he care?

Reaching down, he picked up the globe, inspecting it for cracks. Out of habit, he turned the key that started its song.

Was it sympathy? Pity? Sadness for a little lady locked away in the cold?

He pursed his lips, not at all liking that he might feel any iota of feelings for this woman. She was the leader of Earth's destruction, but in her glass case, she seemed harmless, innocent, and frail. His need to protect the Earth and its people were slipping into a soft, toned-down need to protect this little globe and by extension, the little person inside.

The very idea bordered treason, and he set the globe down on its perch before breathing out. No. He took it and went to his project desk and set it inside, shutting the drawer shut. It was safe there, but it was also out of sight. The safe part relaxed him, but hearing it's muffled, sad tune only made him feel guilty for locking the girl away. She looked so very alone in her snow-dusted world.

"I'm going nuts." He said, shaking his head and walking away, the tune stuck in his head and a twisting in his stomach that he denied was guilt and was only hunger. He left his room to get something to eat, but felt nervous now. Already he was thinking of putting the girl on the sill again, and wondered, on the same insane track his mind seemed to be on, to get another. Company – just like how he started collecting stuffed animals because he felt they were alone. That and insurance. The idea of not having one of the globes to torture him with it's sad song troubled him, and while he tried not to think about it, the little melody was stuck in his head.