#kratos was a good dad ages before atreus

[angyvalentine]

Reunited, at least for a while

Summary: "Leaving the center of the city behind him, he encouraged his steed to go at full gallop, at least for the short distance toward his home. He expected to see Lysandra in the garden with Calliope, perhaps the chaos of their arrival warned his wife of his incoming return. It was late in the afternoon, but surely his baby girl was still outside playing and enjoying the last rays of sun of the day before dinner.

Instead, nor Lysandra nor Calliope were anywhere to be seen."

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Ares is nowhere to be seen for now (shooooooo!), so here's some fluff (and a bit of angst of course) with Kratos and his first beloved family. I may add some fanart later, who knows!

Words count: 5.3k+

Pairing: Kratos x Lysandra

A/N: So - uhm- here we go again! It took me ages to finish it since I kept adding and rewriting stuff, not to speak about researches. Honestly? As much as I enjoyed GoW2018 (still waiting for Ragnarok on PC), I really think that Lysandra and Calliope deserve more love. Like, A LOT (that's why I'm quite glad I found artists like @bittybonbon and @the-shy-artisan, at least I've someone who can understand me lmao). They deserved to be happy. So here I am, writing stuff (hopefully decent one!) and drawing a lot about them (even if I'm slow like a sloth :°D) =w= I apologize for any mistake, English isn't my first language ;-;

Note: I know that during the games we mostly hear Calliope call Kratos "Father", but in the first game, in the final illusion, she calls him "Daddy" (even "papa" in the second novel). And giving her age in this piece, I prefer to stick with it.

A side note about Kratos: while we mostly know him as a cold man that actually let himself go in Ragnarok, we should remember a bit of details from the comics and Ascension too: beside the fact that he challenged the Gods to save his daughter, in the comics he touches Lysandra quite often - especially holding. What about Ascension? Beside the (in)famous illusion, we can see that he held his wife's hand when he collapsed after killing her and Calliope. The man loved physical contact with his beloved ones, prove me wrong.

Read it on AO3! - I'd love to know what you think about it :3

Another battle.

Another conquest.

Another victory.

Leading back his army toward Sparta, Kratos felt good.

That one had been a good raid. No losses, no one of his men injured. Their target surely hadn’t been a great village but the resources it had could have been useful for Sparta. Still, the lord of that pathetic town pleaded to be spared, they’d have accepted Sparta’s supremacy over them. Slavery in Spartans kitchens would have been way better than death by his soldiers’s hands - but if there was something that Kratos hated, it was cowardice. That old fool was dead even before finishing his pathetic pleas. That day, heads fell like leaves in that warm autumn.

Behind him, his soldiers rode exchanging brief chatters – some remembering particular victims, sadistically laughing at their fear shortly before their deaths, some others were way more eager to come back to their women.

Kratos tightened the grip on the sack he held in his fist, treasures and gems hidden in it. He wasn’t really interested in the spoils he took from the defeated’s treasure-houses, and he well knew that Lysandra had no lust for them either. She always told him she didn’t care for gems and jewels – she just wanted him to come back home to her. He would have left them in the hands of his superiors.

And yet… he found a ring. A ring with a blue stone – was that Azurite? Funny, since they considered it related to Athena - mounted into a silvery omega symbol. Lysandra often wore blue dresses, and that hue was nice on her pale skin and dark hair. When he saw her for the first time she was dancing in the middle of the Geronos, her body hidden by blue veils, and he thought she was somehow embraced by the waves of the sea. He was a warrior, but he could recognize ethereal elegance when it danced so clearly in front of his eyes.

Not to mention that they thought clear blue had the power to keep evil away. He wouldn’t have let anything in the whole world hurt his family, he was sure of it. But, well… the stone wouldn’t have done any harm. And the symbol was so related to who he was – war itself, death for his enemies. That ring was a perfect representation of their union – he deeply loved his wife, there was no doubt about that – and he held her close to his heart just like that silvery omega held the stone mounted. It was the only jewel he actually chose to keep, and it was safe in a pouch tied to his belt.

He wouldn’t have said it loud, but he was eager to see his family again. Maybe that fool Ajax would have had to wait to have his wife in his arms sooner that the day after (or maybe he wasn’t so willing to share her again like before?), but Kratos knew that his Lysandra was waiting for him, and him only. He internally smirked, already tasting her lips moulding against his own and the warmth of her body in his arms.

And of course, he wanted to see his little Calliope. She was growing so fast into an almost-carbon copy of her mother - she had Lysandra's sweetness and soft dark curls on her head. But her eyes – oh, her eyes are golden like his ones. So similar to the pure amber made from the Heliades’ tears.

When he left for that campaign she was still learning how to properly run, still a bit uncertain on her chubby short legs despite being barely two years old. She was a little bursting ball of energy, there was apparently nothing that could stop her from exploring and gaining little bits of independency, day by day – it was something that really made him proud of his daughter. And even if he was sorry to miss all of her earlier steps in life, he had duties as a Captain of Sparta’s army, may them be the daily trainings in the fields, or the campaigns that lasted months. He had had to wait until she was asleep to depart for that raid, because the poor thing had started crying her eyes out clinging to his leg at his first attempt to leave.

They were nearby the settlements little far from Sparta. He squeezed the horse’s sides between his legs and clicked his tongue, making it sprint at full speed and lifting clouds of dust. His soldiers quickly followed him, roars in the air that in the city were welcomed like fine music. In the distance, Kratos could see the crowd gathering to welcome back the victorious army. He could hear them praise him and his companions and send praises the deities who were watching over them, granting the valorous soldiers another victory. Instructors pointed at them to the younger boys, showing them how they should have become in the future – strong, fearless, ready to do anything to bring glory to their city.

He pulled the reins to make the horse slow down into a gentle trot, before stopping in front of the king who was waiting for them with the royal guard. Dismounting from his horse, he put down the sack and knelt in front of the king, offering him the spoils of the raid.

«You never fail to show the worth of your troops, Kratos.» The older man said, looking with proud at the captain and his soldiers behind him «Our city is grateful for the honour you brought us once again. May you all go to rest now, as tomorrow will bring us all another day to prove our worth.»

More praises were shouted from the crowd, and that felt good. And he was eager to conquer even more, to show that he and his companions could have bought even more glory to their city. As he mounted again on his horse, Kratos could see the women impatiently waiting for their husbands to rejoin them in the warmth of their homes. He dismissed his soldiers, whom didn’t waste a second to search for the respective wives. With a slight flick of his head he took leave to the king and gently nudged his horse with the heel of a foot to start his depart.

He totally ignored the whores who kept calling and inviting him in the brothel, unlike some of his men who didn’t have anyone that was waiting for them at home. The days when he took countless women to his bed were long gone and he was perfectly fine with it.

Leaving the center of the city behind him, he encouraged his steed to go at full gallop, at least for the short distance toward his home. He expected to see Lysandra in the garden with Calliope, perhaps the chaos of their arrival warned his wife of his incoming return. It was late in the afternoon, but surely his baby girl was still outside playing and enjoying the last rays of sun of the day before dinner.

Instead, nor Lysandra nor Calliope were anywhere to be seen. The door was closed just like the curtains on the windows. For a moment he thought he maybe missed them in the crowd, or maybe they didn’t come across on the road. But he could see smoke coming up from the chimney, he was sure they were both in there. Yanking the reins, he quickly dismounted and tied the horse to a big ring on the garden wall, rushing toward the door. Still no noises from inside, nor voices.

He hesitated for a moment, before gently pushing it open. The light inside was quite dim, with just the fireplace lit. Kratos was about to call for his wife, when he saw her silently padding out of Calliope’s bedroom, careful to quietly close the door. He had yet to see her face, but the posture itself suggested how exhausted she was – hopefully, only due to Calliope’s vivacity. But even the hair she normally kept down her back was tied in a messy bun, and he knew how much she liked to take care of her hair. She gasped when she noticed his hulking figure in the middle of the room, and froze for a moment. He didn’t get the chance to say anything before she walked to him, gently cupping his face in her hands.

«You are finally back, my love.» She murmured, rubbing her thumbs on his cheeks and searching for his amber eyes «Are you all right? You are not injured, are you?»

«I am fine, Lysandra.» He said, softly taking her hands and kissing her knuckles «But you…»

«I am fine as well, Kratos.» She quickly dismissed his worries, lowering her gaze. She leaned forward his chest, resting her forehead on his armor and letting out a sigh «Now that you are here, it will be better.»

Kratos rested his hands on her hips, his lips brushed on her hair while speaking. «Where is Calliope?»

Before his wife could actually answer him, rough coughs could be heard from their daughter’s bedroom. Lysandra tensed for a moment, then rushed to get a clean cloth from one of the cabinets and went back into the room.

Kratos followed her, stopping at the doorstep to watch her knelt at the side of the bed, where Calliope was resting nestled under a fleecy lamb’s-wool blanket. He heard Lysandra encouraging the child to spit on the cloth, before gently wiping her lips and moving some curls from her eyes.

«Your father is back, sweetie.» She murmured, moving to the side to reveal Kratos’s figure behind her.

Calliope looked at him with glassy eyes, unhappy that she didn’t have the strength to run into her father’s arms to welcome him back. After his depart, and countless weeping on Lysandra’s lap, she had just hoped to see him again as soon as possible -  her mother had explained her that he didn’t leave to his normal trainings, and Calliope wasn’t used not seeing him at home for such long time.

«Daddy…» her voice was broken from the soreness in her throat, and she moved a bit under the blanket as to reach for him.

Lysandra got up to move and make some room for Kratos, who took her place by their daughter’s side. He gently stroked her cheek, feeling Calliope’s hand grabbing his to keep him in place.

«How are you feeling, my child?» he spoke with a low voice, as if a louder tone could bother her.

«It hurts.» she whined, placing her other hand on her throat «I want to go out and play with you, daddy.»

«You will do. When you will feel better.» Kratos rubbed his thumb on her warm skin, softly scratching the nape under her curls. He waited until he saw her closing her eyes, before turning around to look at his wife behind him «How long has she been like this?»

«Almost a week, by now.» Lysandra replied with a tired sigh.

She took a couple of steps back, inviting him to follow her in the kitchen to let Calliope rest. Kratos leaned forward to kiss his daughter’s cheek before assuring to be back soon, and got up with a grunt from his chest.

When he reached Lysandra, she was busy boiling some water by the hearth. He could see how nervous she was, even just by the fact that she kept stirring the water with a wood spoon – and he perfectly knew why.

Lysandra was a strong woman, sweet and calm, and she deeply loved her family. She had loved their child from the very first moment the healer had told her she was pregnant – and he remembered how scared she was when the midwives told her the child was sick, meant to be brought to the council – meant to be killed, because she was ill, weak – and there was no place for weak ones in Sparta. She had collapsed from the birthing table, naked, dirty, in pain and unstable on her legs, demanding to see her newborn, begging her husband to do something even if she knew they couldn’t break the laws. She had almost cried when she saw her baby, how small and cute she was despite her flush skin being scarred with fistulas and red spots. But the worst was seeing the soldiers of the royal guard bursting into their home, demanding to surrender Calliope to them – Kratos even had tried to defend them both, his sword unsheathed and ready to fight anyone who would ever dare to lift a finger on their daughter. But they had taken her, cruelly tearing the crying baby away from her arms, despite giving Kratos the chance to find the ambrosia that could have cured her.

She had spent weeks alone waiting, trying to heal, praying that her husband could come back in time to save their little Calliope. It had been pure agony looking at the empty crib that Kratos had previously built for their child.

Nonetheless…

She had seen the young boy throwing her baby off the cliff on the mount Taygetos. And she thought she would have died of heartbreak in that moment, almost collapsing from relief when she had seen Kratos flying on the back of a Roc with their baby, safe and still alive, in his arms.

For many nights after that day, Kratos had woken up in the middle of the night feeling her side of the bed barely warm. He knew that Lysandra had to get up to breastfeed Calliope, but she always took too long to come back to him. And after a couple of nights, he had discovered why – he always had found her on a chair in Calliope’s bedroom, the baby soundly asleep in her arms under her mother’s gaze. It was like she wasn’t aware of his presence, her gaze empty despite being fixed on her child. She didn’t even care to cover her breast, letting Calliope sleep with her face pressed on it – and he always knelt by her side, softly inviting her to come back to their bed.

«She is safe now, Lysandra.» Was what he always told her, gently brushing his wife’s cheek with his index finger «Nothing will hurt her ever again.»

«She will heal, Lysandra.» He said, holding her shoulders in his big hands «You know that no one will take her ever again.»

What a deja-vu. It was like she was stuck in those moments, her mind trapped in those nights she spent holding the newborn in her arms, fearing she might suddenly disappear once again.

«I know.» She lifted her chin, blinking her eyelids to stop those frustrated tears «I know, Kratos. Bad colds like this can happen, and she is a strong child. It is just… sometimes bad memories come back when I less expect them. Not much Spartan-ish for the wife of the greatest Captain of the city, am I right?» she let out a humourless chuckle, slightly turning her head to look at him.

He sniggered, mumbling in her hair «Indeed. But I would not want you any different.»

She sighed with a smile on her lips, before pointing at a jar on a shelf nearby «Would you mind passing it to me, please? The healer suggested me to brew linden tea for Calliope, it should help her healing faster.»

Kratos did as he was told, observing his wife pouring the boiling water in a cup. There was something familiar in that act, something that was buried in his childhood memories. Memories of a long lost past, when there were just him, Deimos, and their mother Callisto.

«Linseeds.» he said, getting a perplexed look from the woman in front of him «My mother always prepared linseed poultice for my brother, when he was sick. It should be useful as well.»

He rushed out of the door before Lysandra could ask him to go get some. She heard him spur his steed, its hoofs loud on the stone path. Collecting the cup she just prepared for Calliope, she cautiously walked back into the bedroom just to find her daughter looking at her.

«Where is daddy?» she immediately asked, fearing he could have left again without a goodbye.

«He just went to get something good for your health, sweetie. He will be back soon.» Lysandra helped her getting sit, bringing the cup near her pouted lips «There, your tea. Sweet like you.»

The little girl sipped slowly, her tiny hands on her mother’s ones. She coughed a couple of times, yet she was pleased to feel her throat and tummy warming up thanks to the beverage. She gladly accepted the spoon of honey that Lysandra was handing out to her, swallowing it in a single gulp.

Lysandra wrapped the cup in a cloth, so Calliope wouldn’t get her hands burned, and got up to retrieve a big, soft towel –the one she used for Calliope when she would take baths. While the communal baths were built right adjacent to the gymnasia, ready for everyone to enjoy vapor baths, they recreated a smaller one in their own bathroom. A smaller fireplace warmed up the room, bowls of water could be used with essential oils. And such treatment was something the healer suggested Lysandra to try on Calliope – peppermint would have helped her breathing better, as well the warm steam in the room. It was a short ritual, yet a nice one for both of them.

She was about to take her child to the bathroom, when they both heard Kratos coming back from the city. He dropped a bag full of linseeds on the kitchen table and reached the hearth, to check if there was still enough water in the pot. She noticed that, after all of that, he was still clad in his battle armour – and looking for a moment at her daughter, she suggested him to take the bath with their little girl. She knew Calliope wanted to spend as much time as possible with her father, even in her poor condition. Said child quietly waited near the fireplace while Lysandra helped Kratos unfastening his cuirass, the belt left already on the floor.

The armour was heavy in her hands, still dirty from the battle and the travels, but Kratos quickly dismissed her concerns – he would have cleaned it later. She left it on its stand, collecting the belt as well to place it on the shoulder of the cuirass. That’s when she noticed the pouch tied on it, and she shot him a puzzled look – it was quite unusual for him to keep stuff from his raids, but her husband was giving her his back, bended to pick up Calliope who didn’t waste a second to hug his neck and nuzzle her face on it.

He carefully sat in the tub holding his daughter close to his chest, before placing her on his lap. Kneeling beside them, Lysandra used her own headband to tie Calliope’s hair so to keep it dry, and thankfully the child let her do the job – in contrast to when she was way healthier, and loved to play with her mother in the water.

«You know what the healer said, Calliope.» Lysandra said, placing two towels near the fireplace to warm them up, as well the bowl with water and essential oils «Breath deeply, sweetie.»

The warmth in the room was making the child a little drowsy. She tried to find a more comfortable position on her father’s lap, still doing as her mother instructed. She looked so small on Kratos’s chest, even compared to his hand that was slowly rubbing her back up and down.

Even if Lysandra knew how much Kratos loved their daughter, it still almost brought her to joyful tears how such a hulking, bloodthirst warrior could be also so sweet and gentle with his baby girl. He never cared that his wife didn’t give birth to a boy, when the city itself hoped for more young, strong warriors for its army – he had loved Calliope from the very beginning. He had even challenged the gods themselves to save her, got his hands dirty with blood, even Spartan blood, to accomplish his mission. And here he was, tired after his return from war campaign, humming the same lullaby she so often sang to her newborn, with the now grow up child almost asleep on his chest. Lysandra focused on the scene in front of her, trying to imprint it on her mind – the gentle lapping of the water in the tub, the crackling of the fire, and their little family finally together. She sadly knew that would have been a rare occasion.

When Calliope started coughing again, she quickly put a cloth near her mouth while Kratos tapped – careful to limit his strength – her back. Throwing the rag away, Lysandra wrapped her in the warm towel, sitting near the fireplace to dry her and change her into a fresh tunic, while her husband finished to wash himself. Smirking to himself, he was well aware that Lysandra wouldn’t have welcomed him between the sheets if he was still dirty and smelly of blood and dust.

«Take your time.» she said, picking up the child and walking toward the door «I have yet to prepare dinner.»

«Daddy told me we can have bawley cakes.» Calliope looked briefly at her father in the tub and then at her mother, hope shining in her amber eyes «With honey.».

«Oh? He said he wants the barley ones?» Lysandra gave her an amused look, correcting her «Does he want to eat all of your honey too?»

«Not all, no.» she hid her face in her mother’s neck «I need it too.»

«But your father is such a big man, he needs to eat a lot, sweetie.» she raised an eyebrow, looking at Kratos who decided to play along.

«Your mother is right, Calliope.» he said, an unusual light tone in his voice «I need to eat a lot to stay this big and strong, and to protect both of you.»

«No need!» she squeaked, horrified at the though of losing all of her precious honey. Not even the cough stopped her «Mom is strong too. You can have two spoons of honey.»

«Two only?».

«Two.» she showed him just her index finger. Seeing her father raising an eyebrow, as if he was waiting for something more – inviting her to think – she added the thumb too.

Lysandra laughed heartfully, kissing her cheek and bringing her out, closing the door behind them to keep the room warm. They went back to Calliope’s room, where her mother made her lie on her bed while she’d busy herself in preparing the linseeds. It didn’t take her long and, when the seeds were ready, she carefully wrapped them in a linen cloth and placed it on Calliope’s chest. It was a new thing for her, it felt strange at first and she played with the jelly feeling inside the compress, moving the seeds around the cloth. She barely lift her head when she heard Kratos getting out of the bathroom, warm steam lifting from his heated skin, and peeped both of her parents sharing a hug – oh well, it was her dad hugging her mother, his arms were so massive that she could barely see Lysandra’s frame. A hand of hers lifted to caress his arm and they stayed there, in silence.

When Kratos was home, her mother was happier – she was a child, but she could see the difference. It was as if his presence could soothe Lysandra’s soul. She of course was happy as well, she wanted to spend as much time as possible with her daddy. She wanted to attend festivals with both her parents and clap her hands while both her and her father would watch Lysandra dancing with the other girls in the ritual dances. A new fit of coughs stopped her thoughts, and she saw Kratos getting closer to her. She spat again in the cloth he put under her mouth – she was so tired of that disgusting thing! – and grabbed his hand to keep him close. He sat on the floor, his features relaxed while looking at his daughter.

«I love you, daddy.» she smiled under the blanket, holding his hand in both of her ones and rubbing her cheek against it.

«Me as well, little one.» a rare smile lifted a corner of his mouth «Your mother and you are the reason I keep fighting. To keep both of you safe.».

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The silence was very comfortable while they dined. The bread was freshly-baked, the barley soup warmed their tummies, and Calliope got to have her much-loved barley cakes. She watched carefully as Kratos made a show of getting a third spoon of honey, smirking while helping himself.

«You said two.» she mumbled, counting on her fingers and showing him thumb and index ones.

«You said two, Calliope.» he replied with a smile, the spoon still over the jar «Not me.»

The child was left speechless, while she considered in silence his answer. He could almost see the gears in her brain processing the whole scene, and she showed him again the fingers.

«Two. Mom said it will help me grow big and strong.».

«It will indeed, yes.»

«So I need to eat it.» she looked at her dish, where she had some leftovers of the barley soup, and pieces of her portion of cake. She took one of those, passing it to her father «You can have this.»

Kratos let the spoon fall into the jar, gently pushing back her hand with a smile «Worry not, little one. I am fine right now, enjoy your cake and honey.».

Lysandra looked at her child with a faint smile on her lips. Despite being so adamant about not giving more honey than necessary, she was still willing to share something she loved as much. Seeing her husband poking his daughter's nose to remove crumbles and honey, she knew that she needed to hold those moments close to her heart, for times when darkness would have threated to stick her mind in horrible memories.

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It took a fair amount of time to put Calliope to bed. She was so happy to have her father home that sleeping was almost a waste of time, for her. Kratos had to promise again and again that he’d have cooked tiganites – like, a lot of tiganites – for her breakfast, and that he would have spent the whole day with her, playing or riding his horse in the fields. She held close her rag doll while Kratos bended to kiss her forehead and bid her goodnight.

Just before reaching Lysandra in their bedroom, he remembered the pouch still tied to his armour belt. He retrieved it, opening the lace and letting the ring fall onto his palm. The blue stone shined with the fire of the hearth, and Kratos took a moment to stare at it. It was perfect for his wife.

He closed his fist, hiding it, and turned around toward the room where Lysandra was waiting for him. He found her at her small toilet, busy detangling her hair before getting to bed. The light chiton she used to sleep left half of her back completely bare, much for his pleasure. She met his gaze in the mirror, smirking at his reflection.

«Seeing something you like?» she said, getting up with calculated movements.

She was his personal siren, the most beautiful creature he ever met in the whole wide world – and she was his, and his only.

He sat on the bed, grabbing her waist when she got within his reach. She felt there was something hard between her side and his palm, yet she got distracted when he started dragging her down with him, forcing her to quickly grasping on his shoulders for support. She stared down at her husband, he was looking at her with such intensity that it was like he was trying to pry into her soul. She felt one of his hands rubbing her back up and down, and she was surprised he didn’t even try to squeeze her rear.

«Under other circumstances, I would have loved you all night long.» he murmured, moving her hair from her eyes «But you need to rest. I’ll take care of Calliope if she’ll need anything.»

«Are you sure?» slowly, Lysandra laid down on his side, her head on his chest while she traced the crimson tattoo on his pec with a finger «You just came back from war.»

«The worst one was inside here.» Kratos gently poked her forehead, cradling her in a protective hug «I am not that blind that I will not admit it.».

She hid a smile against his skin, circling his torso – at least, trying to - to hug him. She was glad to have another proof that, under the brutish façade, there was a man that was trying to be considerate as well. Peeping at his face, she saw how uncharacteristically his features were relaxed, no trace of his usual scowl.

They stayed in silence for a while, and Kratos thought that Lysandra was collapsed from exhaustion, before hearing her voice again.

«Will you tell me what are you hiding in your fist?» she murmured, lifting her gaze to meet his one.

Kratos moved his hand from under the pillow, looking for a moment at his closed fist before searching for his wife’s hand with his free one. Lysandra let him move her arm, until he brought her hand in front of his face. Carefully, he put the jewel on her ring finger and waited for her reaction. And by the lack of any comment, he knew she was pretty much surprised. She was looking at the ring, examining it carefully – especially the omega symbol. But the fact that she was smiling was a good thing, he thought.

«Did it remind you of us?» she asked, leaning toward him to kiss his jaw.

He hummed in response, tightening his hold on her side. When he heard her chuckling he lowered his gaze on her, perplexed.

«It’s just funny how much you’re devoted to the rules of our kings, yet we broke so many of them just with our marriage.» she said, caressing his chest «You didn’t make me cut my hair.»

«You did. A bit.» he retorted, staring at the ceiling – he knew how right she was.

«I should have cut it short. I just cut it less than a span.»

«But you loved your long hair. It suited you better.»

«Do you remember what you told me during our wedding night?»

«… “let us do it again”.»

«What? Not that!» she playfully hit his chest, her cheeks turning crimson while he snickered at her expenses.

«I told you I wanted to see the sunrise with you. And we did so.»

«… Indeed. Instead of dropping me home and hurrying back to the barracks.»

Again, he knew she was absolutely right. But loving her that night had filled the emptiness he had felt inside himself for such a long time, he wouldn’t have even hoped to find some relief from it. No amount of battles, nor sex with random women could satisfy him anymore. Theirs, instead, had been pure harmony of bodies and souls. Of course, once found, he didn’t want to let her go.

Strangely, it was hard for him to say it loud. He just hoped Lysandra could actually feel how sincere his love for her was.

Kratos squeezed her in a hug, pressing his lips in her hair.

«Sleep now. Or morning will come before we know it.» he mumbled, holding her close.

Lysandra smiled again, finding a comfortable position pressed on her husband’s side and hiding a yawn against his pec. She finally felt safe, able to enjoy a nice night of sleep, knowing that he was watching over them both. That at least for a while, their family was finally reunited.

[visionsofmagic]

impossible to reach • heimdall, chapter one.

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― pairing: heimdall x greek goddess!reader

― summary: being both daughter of zeus and sister of kratos bring unbelievable events with them, but even them wasn't as astonishing as falling for heimdall, the son of odin who saw you as his second wife. ragnarok is at the door, odin is ready to manipulate you, kratos is there to fight for you and atreus is being a normal teenager who gets trouble. and you – you just see only him, god of foresight. what could be worse? – for the chapter: heimdall is annoying but you enjoy it.

― wc: 2.7k

― warnings & tags [for the chapter]: fluff, no mind reading, classic heimdall actions and manners, y/n being self-confident, flashbacks (little), monologue, touching, & more in the chap! enjoy. [also, so sorry for the wait but I really had to create a way about how I will use events in the story in right way and time, so, I hope this chap will make you forgive me about the days I didn’t publish this. ^^ *kisses every one of you*]

traveling around the asgard made you realize one thing at highest point than others; aesir people were living the most comfortable life they could get thanks to all-father who they have worshipped with all their living beings. contrary to them, all people outside this realm were having difficult times that too hard to survive fully. it made you sad and angrier than before because coming from a world under the judgment of zeus, your father, who looked a lot like odin in terms of being the worst dad of all times; they could make a disaster duo if they would come across to each other. both zeus and odin only were fighting for their own advantages by doing all dirty things such as using their own sons to conquer like they hadn’t their own choices.

looking at heimdall who was currently having an annoying time thanks to your dumb questions selected by you in pure purpose – it was fun to tease him since you two nearly were similar at age and mind, you realized how he was control of his father but you didn’t know whether it was a choice of his own or odin’s manipulation – maybe both because you knew how someone who needed love could give all of their royalty to the person who gave them a little affection only to use them. the path heimdall was walking on once belonged to you.

zeus, cruel and egoistic god who was your and kratos’ father, did same to you; giving you a fake love in order to make you believe he was – home, he was all you got as a family. he even tried to make you see kratos as your biggest enemy. the power you hold referred to a great weapon for zeus and seeing heimdall from this close, you could say how tables turned same for him. even if he was cocky and annoying, you pitied him, in a good way, having sympathy towards him which you could not show not to him, not to anyone. you only had one job; bring chaos to the asgard before the ragnarok begin to help your brother and nephew who were new targets of odin after kratos killed baldur; his best tracker.

however, whether you would kill all of the gods who cross your path was unanswered in your mind since you have seen them closely. some of them looked like they didn’t want war either but still, they had connections with odin and respect his choices of ruling realms. they needed to see the truth; odin only was a god who wanted power, peace and wisdom for him, not anyone else. others meant only weapons and tools which he could sacrifice without thinking twice.

turning to a statue of odin, you asked to heimdall who put a certain distance between you and him but not turning any other side than your posture. “do you love him that much?” sudden question took heimdall surprised and confused at the same time.

“what do you mean?” he asked, crossing arms together, “he is all-father. of course I love him that much.”

“so, the love you have for him is making your foresight go blind, hm.” it was rather a statement than a question. you knew it was all early to make him see his father’s doings but somehow, maybe feeling such emotions about his life that was similar to yours, you wanted to at least try. in the end, he could understand everything like mimir did.

when confused and angry expressions stayed on his face, like he was so concentrated about something, you shrugged, walking to the an area in which some aesir people were training along with valkyries who were watching them. when some of eyes turned to you and heimdall, the lord of the asgard and the enemy of it walking side by side, you felt awkwardness, so, you turned to heimdall who was looking at his surroundings now.

“you can’t read my mind, right?” you asked once again and now, he was angrier than before, especially when you left a chuckle.

“what’s funny?” he asked in pure annoyed tone, studying your body language from head to toe and making you a little nervous because it was long ago since a man was this close to you. you couldn’t count odin since it was all a play.

“you.” you said, honest. you weren’t trying to be rude or savage, no, you just liked to his company even if you had to keep this as a secret. he was the first god from asgard that gave you some joy. “because you shouldn’t be angry, heimdall.” when his name came out of your mouth so gently, he stopped for a second with confused face, making you stop in your trail too. now, you were standing in the middle of an open area, probably for fighting and training. people of aesir and valkyries stayed on your behind, not so visible from this distance but you knew how some of them kept looking at you, wondering what business you had with odin and his precious son, heimdall.

mimir said they didn’t like heimdall that much in the asgard because of his arrogant and egoistic behavior and you should give credit to them because knowing someone there to read your mind, see your intentions maybe more than you do is a hard to endure. from the perspective of heimdall, it was worse than ever. you couldn’t imagine how it was terrifying to hear all of that voices from others just for odin. knowing that odin never helped his son in this situation rather than using it for his own benefit, you smiled friendly and that made heimdall furrow his eyebrows.

“you shouldn’t be angry because now, you have a distraction.”

“a distraction? what made you think that you have such influence on me? no one can distract me, sunshine.”

you rolled your eyes. little time you spent with him but you already acknowledged his defensive mechanism; trying to see himself at the top of everything, greater than others, to actually feel powerful and known among others. he needed to know that the first person who should see him as an individual with emotions and thoughts rather than odin’s loyal son was all him, not anyone else. he should see himself, understand himself and love himself.

“I didn’t tell it was me, did I? but oh,” you intentionally bowed a little to his chest and pat his shoulder with yours like you were the best friend for a long time, “I forgot you could not read my mind. sorry.”

he looked so annoyed but for some reason, he didn’t move from your touch which was close regarding you two met just 3 hours ago. “oh, how funny.” then, he faked a laugh and you chuckled, feeling so natural around him even though you only knew him so little.

“if you found it funny I can make one of my famous jokes!”

he looked irritated by your high pitched sound, rolling his eyes, he said, “I am glad I do not see that brain of yours. I guess it is all the same in there like outside; all dummy and empty.”

you pat his shoulder, making him flinch for a moment before acting like it didn’t mean anything for him, “what you wanna believe pretty boy.”

you started to walk but when he didn’t move one bit, you turned to him, seeing an unreadable expression on his face as he kept looking at you with shinier moving eyes of his. indeed, it was a curse to be able to read minds all the time but now, you realized how you wanted to have this gift of his only to have a slight knowledge about what he was thinking in the moment because for the first time, he looked – unreadable. that was surprising and yet, impressive because in the end, he really had an individual unlike he choose to show to outside like a mask he put on his face to hide his identity – the real one, not the one odin put in him with his manipulation.

“what?” you asked, sounding curios and concern.

“don’t call me that.” he said, venom coming within his voice tone – sharp and mad. “never again.”

“what? pretty b –“

he was fast. he was really good at speed and you realized it when he suddenly appeared in front of you, close – so close, and holding your arms with a strong grip, making you look up to see his face. he was taller and from this closeness, there was only a centimeter between your nose and his lips. it was dangerously close and you could feel raising venom inside you from head to toe because the way he didn’t fear you like any other did and took a very close stance towards your body after such a long time were enough to make your stomach crumble with both anger and excitement. 

“are you really that brave to not obey something I ordered?” he said, sounding calmer than before but still holding heavy breaths which were hitting your face and giving your core chill without your control.

he was – he was looking good. with that eyes of his, golden hair that braided beautifully, and –

he furrowed his eyes, and you realized that you should give him an answer right away before he tries too hard to enter your head which he could at any moment but he shouldn’t know that there was a spell on you to keep his mind away from yours – not ‘till you accomplish your main focus on here.

“and are you really dumb to hold me like this?” you shook your arms and by the force of it, his hands loosened his power on the grip, leaving you free. you took a step forward, dangerously and determined. he took a step backward, confused and lost. “don’t think that I am a goddess who will take orders from anyone. do that again and you will face consequences.” you smirked, holding him from his chin, gently.

his purple eyes turned to your fingers on his body and then, to your face again. “and I call you whatever I like, pretty boy.”

with a mischievous wink which was a way to show him that you were the one who held superiority, you turned to other side, leaving him standing there for a while before he rejoined you, a dead silence between you.

“don’t worry.” you said, “we will not see each other that much from now on.”

both you and him knew it was impossible since you were with odin now but neither you nor him questioned him because there was a fact that you wanted to see him again – and he did too even though you didn’t know.

•

“oh, looks who are here!” odin said, happiness all over his voice. he was in his own personal room in which he was working on some papers that were placed on the table he was standing behind along side a god who had a massive body – even bigger than kratos, red hair and beard, blue eyes reflections of the sky, and a hammer on his belt. his body was covered with tattoos. from the way he looked and the weapon he was carrying on, you guessed he was thor – the god of thunder who liked to kill people – a lot. “y/n,” odin took your attention back to him when you stood still, watching heimdall took the furthest place in the room from you. “good to see you once again. I hope my boy didn’t create any trouble out there. right, heimdall?”

you nodded, “the trip was fun. asgard is more beatiful than they said.” you were being honest. Not wanting to make him mad at heimdall for anything, you added, “heimdall was a good company.” it wasn’t a lie either but heimdall looked like he couldn’t tell if it was the truth or not.

smiling more, odin nodded, pointing thor whose eyes were on you, looking uninterested about your presence but endure it for the sake of odin who probably had him in here ‘till you two arrived.

“my other son, thor.” odin introduced him to you and you nodded, giving thor a hand for him to greet you.

“y/n,” you said, “the sister of kratos.” in your previous life in the greek world, you always had introduced yourself as the daughter of zeus, like heimdall was doing now. you felt such power and proud manner while saying it because you were not the clever self you were now; blind to crimes zeus were committing while using his sons and daughters including you – mostly you even. however, it all changed when kratos came into your life and from that day, you began to introduce yourself as his sister and while saying that, it came out of your mouth so naturally and as it's supposed to be.

but when you saw the way thor’s expression changed from uninterested to angry one in a second, you remembered one thing you had not to forget in the first place; magni and modi. you cursed yourself – how could you forget about them!

thor’s hand found yours in instant but with the most hostile way ever. his grip were stronger than heimdall’s and he sure wanted to kill you in the moment.

not showing any fearless – just an empathy about his boys, you added, “glad to meet you.”

“yeah?” he asked, in a deep voice, sounding alarming. his hold on your smaller hand ended when odin faked a cough, making him obey his dad. thor nodded, saying, “yeah, yeah, all the same.” lowly.

odin left his table, coming to your side and holding you from where heimdall held you; hands on the arms. the gesture gave you realization that how heimdall’s touch didn’t bothered you or gave you any annoyed manner but when odin touched you, you only felt – disgusted. was it because the difference of the meaning of their holds or was it the owners of touches? it was odd and you had no answer.

“they can get a little weird when they meet strangers. but, oh,” odin smiled, “you are no stranger anymore, are you?”

you tried to look nice, so, you gave him a smile, “they even don’t know me in here, odin. the aesir people, valkyries and even your sons –“

“honey, don’t worry about it.” odin said, caressing your arms before leaving you alone. the nickname he started to give you were making your stomach ache on its own. you wondered how you would continue to endure this whole thing when it turned out to something you don’t want. odin pointed to outside, “there is a preparation now for your arrival – a feast. sif is already at work to complete it and after some hours, it will begin. everyone in here will get to know you.”

a feast? well, that was unexpected and since you didn’t like being the main focus of lots of people, you began to feel anxious about it. how could you face a bunch of people who would give you looks that would make your blood boil, wanting to finish all of them in there. but you remembered how you promised to kratos – your own brother. so, you kept calm, looking at odin who was pointing to heimdall now.

“heimdall.” he said, turning to you, “he will be your companion in the feast since I have a certain job to do after the introducing part. would you mind that, dear?”

heimdall crossed his arms and was ready to say ‘but’ to his father but you smiled happily, “of course not. heimdall would be happy to join me, right?”

odin turned to heimdall with a look in his face that alerting him to say the right words; the words you wanted to hear.

heimdall took the defeat, nodding to his father and giving you a look like he was trying to say he was going the night worse than you could imagine. however, it wasn’t bad because rather than thinking how odin would introduce you to the asgardian people, you began to dream how you would have fun with heimdall’s company, giving him all annoyance he deserved.

also, for some reasons which you couldn’t tell yet, you liked the idea being beside him in a room which both you and he would hate.

odin smiled proudly, “then, go and get changed, dear. this is your day after all, right?”

oh, it exactly going to be your day.

to be continued.

taglist: @iinterdimensionals , @Konigdi1ks0ck , @onlydeas​ , @hayleethefrog​ , @tartagliasrighthand , @whywouldiknowsstuff​ , @lillanirobertson​ , @itsnat​ , @Armanibxtch , @dott-up , @chiyausu , @lokigirlszendaya​ , @potentplant​ , @milf-to-be-anny , @elizabeth-hatake​ , @kuinnoa​ , @lmorg149​ , @zoleea-exultant​ ^^

♡

[daisydood]

I'll ask!! [[Also Thrùd is super cool idk why people dont talk about her more!!]]

HCs for being best friends with Thrùd?? All she's really had to hang out with is her nasty brothers oh GODS.

Ramblings about God of War: Thrùd addition!

A/N: HEY ANON!! you're the first person in my asks ever, so ty!!! Sorry this isn't really what you wanted, but I'll to add some hcs if I come up with anything ❤️❤️

I'm pretty bad at writing HCs/fics and stuff, but I'll definitely do a character analysis and rant abt her!!

(Coming from Someone with a bias cuz my favorite character is Thrúd💀)

In my humble opinon, Thrud got done SO dirty in Ragnorak. She lost both of her siblings, then her father, then lost someone who she thought was good; Odin, THEN she lost the entire realm she's lived in her entire life (Asgard). Which like, fair enough, all of those deaths made sense because it was Ragnorak, and, it would mean that we get some character develpment from her, with all the grief...right? RIGHT-

Nope. Not even a little. After her two brothers died (AS ANON SAID, THE ONLY PEOPLE SHE COULD TALK TO HER AGE IM SCREAMING) all we got was an introduction scene to her character briefly mentioning Modi, then she said we are better off without him. Which, fair enough, if that's what she thinks.

BUT. All we got for Thrúd after her dad dies was a secret scene of her inheriting Thors sword. Which, IS SO COOL, but it wasn't even an obvious part of the game😭 She lost her dad, her dads dad, her entire home, and we got almost nothing from her about it. Same goes with Sif. She was literally just there. Her and Thor had this entire romantic dialogue about like "this isn't you 🥺" then he dies and and Sif- I think Sif had like 2 lines after that? Nothing even mentioning it, too.

Freya's loss of Freyr was treated much better then this. It wasn't really talked about, except for the final dialogue post Ragnorak, when you go up the mountain looking for Kratos. She said stuff like ohhh I'm gonna move on it's fine blah blah blah. That is so much better than anything that happened with Thrúd and Sifs loss.

How did I start ranting about Sif. What.

ANYWAYS (completely different topic on how she wants to be validated 💕)

I think that Thrúd just wants to be validated. She tries so hard to be a Valkyrie, and it's like people don't care. Her dad doesn't care, and her mom thinks it's too dangerous. Odin just sucks, and he probably doesn't care, same with Heimdall.

I think her and Atreus freeing Garm really broke her down. As soon as she realized what she and him had done, she panics. She gets really upset/angry and immediately tries to get out of Jotunheim. THEN HEIMDALL HARRASSED HER. She was completely in her head before Heimdall came and bullied the two, so the things he said obviously made her mad, man. She tried punching him. Knowing Heimdall, it failed pretty bad. She had to feel so belittled and stupid, everything she's work for being thrown away because of the one bad decision that was made.

anywayssssszs

Thrúd is so cool. She is sooo underrated man. She has so much potential for when/if another Ragnorak game comes out. Shes THE ONLY THORDSITTER CHILD LEFTT

note: hahfhfbdhdh once again anon I'm literally so sorry this isn't what you wanted😭 and oh my god my last post got twenty notes what☝🏻😧 okay okay okay what else do I need to say

OH YEAH sorry this take so long for me to post writing these takes foreverrrrrrrvrrvrv

OH YEAH hit up my asks if u want sum written & I'll probably talk about Freya next😱

[dantedemorium]

god of war mpreg Rp

looking for a 1x1 god of war 2028/Ragnarok roleplay. I'm 21+ and my partner must be 18+. I reply daily and am exceptionally literate. My partner's do not need to perform to my standard. The rp will be plot driven with liberal use of smut. My primary kink is mpreg with preference for a consistent casual experience not entirely sexual.

Main pairing I'm searching for is Kratos/Atreus. There will be angst about the taboo of their relationship but I prefer things work towards a supportive dynamic where they find the relationship is good for them.

Two possible plots below with samples under the keep reading.

A cannon divergent god of war 2018. Looking fore someone to play kratos. Upset by grief of faye's passing Atreus crawls into his father's bed for comfort and fucks his dad in a desperate bid for love and touch. The next morning they find Atreus's belly has swollen with child magical matured to eight months. Kratos must avoid the truth of their godly blood while protecting his son in his who is now more encumbered that ever. Atreus is yearning for the love and touch his father won't show him. Desperate to prove his worth he is at odds with his swollen belly and it's wiggling cargo.

post Ragnarok Atreus doesn't leave and returns home to rebuild with his father. Looking for someone to play Atreus. Each night he wanders to his father's bed passed by the need to feel the drum of his heart and know he's alive. One such time struck by teen hormones Atreus fucks his father and loses his virginity unleashing a wave of magic. The next day they find the wolves and fenrir heavy with pups but are sure the consequences end there. Three moons later feeling unwell kratos finds he has become pregnant by his son. The old spartan has reservations about this. Conservative spartan teachings and his age haunt kratos. Atreus could not be more happy fawning over his father's growing belly and vibrating with excitement over being an older brother.

Like this post so I can contact you or DM me and we can discuss.

1) The cold is beginning to seep into the cabin as summer falls to autumn. The night is deep and dark with the fire in the Hearth nothing but dull embers. Despite the time Atreus lies awake looking up to the lofty darkness and counting each rumble of breath from his sleeping father a few feet away. The cabin feels large. Impossibly large in a way it never has before. Before when it was three. Mother lies delicately wrapped in the shroud she spent months crafting. She takes up their one table, but she's not really there. Her breath is absent, her warmth is gone pulling in a chill that sinks into his young bones. Atreus stand up from bed letting the furs that cover him slide off onto his mat. What little of Mani's light that can slip through the thatch renders him in a sickly tone. Skin too pale and freckles to stark as the spot his face. Limbs too thin with bony joints that stick out strongly.

Atreus creeps close to his father's cot over old boards dreading every groan of the wood. Under dark bear fur his father lays on his back unmoving. Only the subtle up and down of his breathing shows. No movement even as Atreus lifts the furs with small fingers sliding in as warm air rushes out. His father is solid not soft as he hoped. It doesn't matter. He curs into the heat melding into the curves of his father's side and placing his head under fur on the meat of his father's chest where he can hear the drum beat of his father's heart and let heat fill his hollow chest.

2) His son has been touchy lately. It had started when Kratos returned to the snow sodden shell of his home alone. To rebuild or collect the wolves and lay the poor hutch to it's final rest he did not know. In the wooden carcass he found his son perched solemn and silent upon his old cot dusted in snow that failed to mute the red rim of his eyes. Atreus had flung himself into his arms. A tight desperate hold while the boy babbles apologies. For leaving, for not leaving, for coming back, for not having the strength. Kratos holds him . Fits the boys head under his chin and holds him tight till the tear tracks are tacky. The first night they spend together huddled in the Valkyrie chamber over the cliff. It's the same. Sharing one bed room to ward of the snow which is melting fast but not fast enough. They clear the snow and down comes the broken walls. Atreus with a bright and clever fervor explains to him dwarven building techniques. They can build a bigger, better home.

It starts when Kratos begins to fell trees. Atreus's slim finger edges hand wrapped around his father's thick bicep guiding him though he doesn't need it. He indulges his son. In battle he's constantly using his father's shoulders as a spring board. Leaping and twirling in deadly dramatics like a fanciful bird performing a mating display. But it's only ever the two of them.

By the time the cellar is dug Atreus weasels his way into sole possession of his father's razor. With no mirror and Mimir absent grooming has been waylayed. No longer. Atreus takes his father's face in his nimble hands every new full moon and scraped the Ill gotten hair from Kratos's face with fine movements. Kratos does not take the razor back. Atreus delights in the practice and Kratos has always cared less for his grooming.

When the first floor is done, there will be a second. Because his son asked for it they start bathing together. Something Kratos hasn't done with his son since he was eight summers and the gulf between them reached it's widest. His boy is still pale like his mother, but new constellations of freckles cross his fallow belly. He does not shy from his father's gaze instead Atreus stretches cat-like and with a slowness when he finds his father looking. The boy latter's his father's beard and skin. Kratos works a whit froth in his son's hair. Something blooms between them but what?

On the last day of thatching his son brings him excitedly to the second floor. For the moment it's empty. Yet when he looks kratos finds a noble four post bed. On high feet to ward the rats and piled with furs. A gift from son to father. For what he does not know? That night they both crawl under the furs. It seems ignoble to leave Atreus to his old cot on the first floor. So they climb into the bed to big for one person. "It is nice. Well made" He says for what else can he say for this gift,for his son's hard work.

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

God of War (PS4) Review: Kratos’ Postal Grief Beard Versus Norse Mythology

Once upon a time, a man was born by the name of Cory Barlog and thus a coin was flipped. Would he become a videogame developer or would he take up guarding the Mines of Moria by pulling wizards into a precipice? Those really are the only two options with a name like Barlog. Anyway, apparently the Mines of Moria were a bit of a commute, so the world gained a talented Auteur developer with a unique vision for a game series about going postal in ancient Greece. Fast-foward a number of years specifically calculated to make you feel old and ancient Greece is a distant memory. Norse mythology is where all the cool kids hang out nowadays, and that’s where we’re going in today’s review.

As you might have guessed, I’ve just finished playing God of War (PS4), which is fun to say because it rhymes. It’s a very good game that should be a very bad game. When considering modern media artefacts, I’m often prompted to ask the question ‘what went so wrong?’, but this may be the first time I’ve had to ask the question ‘what went so right?’.

Let me explain: God of War 4 (I don’t care that they don’t put the number on the box art, that’s what it fucking is) makes a single, monumentally stupid creative decision that should ruin the entire enterprise, but doesn’t. And that creative decision was- wait for it- a stab at maturity.

The last time we saw Kratos- the world’s angriest mythical being- he was finishing his battle with the Greek gods in God of War 3. There was a moment in that game which, to me, typified what was so great about the series. If I recall the sequence of events correctly, you kill your way through an ocean of expendable goons and critters who are just trying to defend their home on Mount Olympus, dripping with blood and screaming furiously, then wander into the bedroom of one of ancient Greece’s sauciest goddesses and play a sex minigame that you win by fucking her so well that her handmaids orgasm too. Then you toddle outside again and, head cleared, solve an incredibly complex and cerebral puzzle involving non-Euclidean geometry and perspective manipulation that takes bloody ages. That, in a nutshell, was the core identity of the original God of War: a gleefully unrestrained and immature approach to sex and violence coupled with a grouchy willingness to make unsuspecting players feel like fucking idiots for no reason whatsoever. It was awesome. In contrast, God of War 4 picks up many, many years later with Kratos hiding out in Midgard of the Norse mythos and, for once, he hasn’t got a nark on and he’s not trying to stick his cock in someone with cartoonishly huge knockers. He’s just sad because his missus has passed away, leaving him and their young, impressionable son alone in a big, scary world full of trolls and ginger psychopaths. ‘Sad’ isn’t a completely new emotion for Kratos, but, up until this point, he was usually sad in a way that resulted in five hundred people getting their spines broken in a very colourful manner. Now he just wants to cremate the remains of the woman he loved and carry her ashes to the tallest peak in the nine realms so he can scatter her in accordance with her final wishes. And that’s what he does, with son- Atreus- in tow. It’s a twenty-plus hour game in which the objective is very simply to honour someone’s preferred funeral rites- nothing more, nothing less. It’s very modest by Kratos usual standards. Remember that his stated goal in the previous game was to punch freakin’ Zeus so hard that his face would go all concave and then repeatedly stamp on his corpse.

We never actually find out much about what Kratos was up to between games or how he met his wife. However, he’s a bit thiccer than in previous instalments and seems to have lost the use of the ‘jump’ button outside of context-sensitive environments. On that evidence, I choose to believe he’s been running a small but successful family restaurant called ‘Kratos’ Potatoes’ and enjoying it all a bit much. And why not? He beat up Zeus- if he just wants to create and sample homely yet exotic Greco-Norse fusion cuisine while growing a ridiculous straggly dad-beard, I say let him crack on. Actually, is it a ‘dad beard’ or is it a ‘grief beard’? I think they send them to videogame characters in the post whenever a loved one dies so they can signal to the world how sad they are through the medium of angsty facial hair. But where was? Oh yeah: cracking on with it.

Y’see this is where the plot comes in: the Norse gods won’t let Kratos crack on. They’re determined to make him bow before Odin- especially Baldur, who is way too invested in having a fight with Kratos for reasons that won’t become apparent until very late in the game. They just keep turning up and trying to break Kratos and his increasingly like-him-but-not-as-good-at-it son Atreus. This time around, our heroes commit heinous acts of violence to defend themselves, not enact revenge, as they travel, inexorably, to the top of a lonely mountain through landscapes of stunning natural beauty and many, many hostile creatures.

Of course, Kratos taking his son on a hiking holiday with added troll-murder and the occasional slap-fight with Norse mythology’s biggest killjoys doesn’t sound as interesting as the original games. After all, those were basically a production of Kill Bill in which the part of Bill was played by a guy with the power to summon lightning bolts and access to a seemingly unstoppable army of monsters and demigods. The ‘fun factor’ even seems to have taken another downgrade, in that Kratos no longer operates with the entertainingly demented passion of the insane: he has been tempered by time and love and managed to turn himself into a paragon of serious self control. So why is God of War 4 so bloody good? Partly, I suspect, the answer lies in the constantly evolving relationship between Kratos and Atreus, which gives the story an unbelievable amount of heart and always manages to feel very organic. Kratos never learned how to be a parent, and we essentially watch him do it in real time, forming a bond with his son that seems impossible at the start of the game and inevitable by the end. Partly, the games greatness lies in the characters you meet along the way, who range from bickering dwarves to talking, decapitated heads who prattle on like laid-back tour-guides. Partly, it’s in the beautiful, epic landscapes that make the journey across the Realms to the highest peak feel epic and significant, even while it is small and personal.

But a videogame is nothing without gameplay, and it is here that God of War 4 really shines. I loved the original God of War trilogy (especially the third instalment), but I rarely felt like I was playing as, y’know, a god of war. Kratos might not be an uncontrollable whirlwind of fury any more, but he feels truly powerful for the first time in the ongoing series. In fights, every punch feels like it could crack stone; every axe-throw like it could rend the sky; every chain-whip like it could legitimately start a forest-fire. Out of combat, Kratos moves around the environment with the stolid grace of a man who knows his movements are inevitable; irresistible; an imposition on the environment that can’t be denied. You climb and complete elaborate, complex traversals knowing that the satisfaction you feel isn’t just the satisfaction of finding the correct route or solving an obstacle, but the satisfaction of a being forcing his way through a landscape that resists him at every turn but cannot stop him. The puzzles- of which there are many- strike the perfect balance between conceptual trickiness and ease of execution to remind you that Kratos is smart as well as determined; that his mind is as indomitable as his body. Then there are the little touches involving heaving huge stone pillars and similar unnecessarily over-the-top efforts. In short, the gameplay is interwoven with who Kratos is- with what he is in way that seems completely unprecedented. Even the RPG elements feel  appropriate: they reflect the protagonist’s growing confidence in a skillet he hasn’t used in a long, long time.

Do I miss the uniquely juvenile, over the top identity of the old games? Absolutely: I’m a great fan of gratuitous gore and scantily clad women with big fuck-off swords. Usually, I find the desire for maturity in games to be a silly, pretentious trend that foolishly eschews anything obviously ‘fun’ for no reason other than courting the respect of people whose respect isn’t worth having. But I don’t think that’s what’s going on here- at least, not entirely. The developers of the God of War games are clearly artisans and craftsmen of extreme talent: their attention to detail is superb and their ability to weave a good tale from a simple premise is actually a little daunting for someone who considers himself a bloody good story-teller. It’s worth remembering that the de facto head of the studio, Barlog, became a father himself before commencing work on this game about a father learning to bond with his son. It feels personal and meant because it is. Other games might reach for superficially mature themes like family and redemption for altogether cynical reasons. God of War 4 does it because such thoughts are clearly much on the developer’s mind. I asked already ‘Do I miss the identity of the old games?’ and the answer is still yes. But that question deserves a follow-up: am I willing to embrace the identity of this new, quieter God of War anyway? And yes, yes I am.

But if we could have a few more women with enormous knockers and Kratos going properly batshit just once or twice in the next sequel, that would also be welcome. I mean, let’s try to strike a balance here, people, for pity’s sake.

[reformedkingsmanagent]

Okay, stupid question BUT. What are 4 games you would recommend someone to play in a heartbeat?

Let me preface this with: I am Sony all the way, at least up to now. If they keep on keepin’ on with the next generation, I’ll stay that way. For me, I primarily play story-focused games. So for me, Sony and Playstation have managed to secure the exclusives that appeal to me. 

Okay. So, I’m (MOSTLY) going to stick with the current generation as it’s most accessible and available. Which honestly is pretty easy given the advances in storytelling we’ve witnessed this generation alone.

And here we go!

1. The Last of Us

This is a given with me. If you’ve listened to me talk about games at all, this one almost always comes up. Yes, it was first released on PS3. So whether you have a PS3 or PS4, this title should be pretty inexpensive at this point. 

This isn’t on this list because of the gameplay. It’s fine, it’s functional, it takes some getting used to, lots of waiting because: stealth. It’s here because this is, in my opinion, one of the best told stories in video games. It’s a good story in general, but the use of environmental storytelling, the quality of the banter and moments that are easily missed, the slow growth of the relationship over time through your time with the game... It’s done masterfully well. Neil Druckmann is a genius. Whatever formula he has for writing, it’s working, with this and with Uncharted 4, Uncharted The Lost Legacy, and soon with The Last of Us Part II. I still haven’t seen anything like it.

Okay, as for the next, I’m going to go with...

2. God of War (2018)

I’ve played all the prior God of War titles. Ascension, the psp games, all of them. God of War 3 felt like the best we could possibly get with the character that was Kratos.

I’m so relieved Cory Barlog proved me wrong. 

As a female gamer, I treasure those moments where I feel powerful. It’s not too often, at least in terms of games that appeal to me (shout out to Aloy and Lara Croft!). I didn’t expect to bond with Atreus and Kratos and even Mimir as much as I did. I never felt excluded or never thought that the story was unrelatable. In fact, as with the Last of Us, my lack of a father figure growing up only made this more meaningful for me. 

This game is stunning. The combat is SO SATISFYING! It’s a grand tale of an adventure with the background of a stunted relationship between father and son. The constant over the shoulder camera, not broken at all throughout the game, gives you the sense that you are there with them. It’s such a refreshing thing, seeing game directors choose to go out of the box with certain things. This is a must play as an all-around good game. The Leviathan Axe is amazing on its own.

3. Divinity: Original Sin 2

This is not a console-exclusive game. In fact, for the longest time it was inaccessible to me as I don’t have a gaming PC, until they released the Definitive Editions for consoles. Still, it was a good while (a year about) before it was released on consoles. It’s now also available on Nintendo Switch!

CRPGs are definitely not for everyone. They weren’t for me when I first tried it. Too complicated, multiple systems running in the background, and at that point with no knowledge on the rules of D&D and how it would apply to a game like this, stats, usefulness of certain things over others, the freedom of the game, etc, it was honestly far too complex for me.

Thanks to watching some of Critical Role as well as going back and watching CohhCarnage’s playthrough of the game (some, not all, his playthrough on youtube is easily over 100+ hours) I felt like it was doable.

So I jumped back in. With a better understanding of how things worked, I spent over 120 hours on my own playthrough. The story and characters are wonderful, the grand scale of the game felt insane to me! The absolute freedom to create your character in terms of what their expertise would be, how you want them to talk to other characters, etc, it was just giving me everything I wanted from a game like Dragon Age (I will say, companion interactions and romances are obviously top notch over there, but the gameplay leaves something to be desired). It clicked so much for me primarily because I don’t have real friends to play D&D with, so this was the next best thing. It’s an amazing game. Can’t wait to see what Larian does with Baldur’s Gate III.

Finally...and narrowing this one down was difficult, let me tell you...

4. Final Fantasy X

An oldie but a goodie. This game is available on basically all consoles at this point. It’ll be on Xbox GamePass soon with all the other Square Enix titles like Kingdom Hearts, etc, so if you have an Xbox, prepare yourself.

This was one of the first games I played fully on my own.It came out in 2001. I would’ve been about 9 years old. I don’t know exactly when I played it, but I didn’t finish it the first time around. It wasn’t until high school that I went back and actually completed it all the way through. Before that I’d relied upon my step-dad’s gamesaves to experience the ending of both X and X-2. But doing it for myself still felt fresh and new. And heartbreaking.

This is the sort of gaming convention (turn-based combat) that I wish would make a real comeback. Everything about it in this title is smooth and smart. We’ll see how Yakuza 7 does! Who knows, maybe the FFVII remake in Classic mode will scratch that itch (though the new battle system looks insanely good too). 

This entry in the extensive Final Fantasy franchise stands out to me personally (next to Final Fantasy IX) as one of the best stories offered. I still cry even though I know what happens and exactly when. And I still haven’t explored the game’s depths (screw you celestial weapons!). The fact that it’s still in the back of my mind to return to this tells me it’s quality. Try it if you haven’t. Enjoy it.

Honorable mentions: Tomb Raider reboot franchise, Mass Effect 2, Batman Arkham franchise, Uncharted franchise (specifically 4 and TLL), Detroit: Become Human, Dishonored franchise, Prey, Resident Evil 7 (PLAY IT IN VR IF POSSIBLE!), Bioshock franchise.

Thanks for listening, and asking!

Go enjoy video games!

[miguels-talons]

Untitled

Yeah idk what to call this one, so... it’s just gonne be Untitled I guess. But I wanted to write something involving Sleipnir, and so that’s what this fic is about. I changed the original Norse story up a bit to make it better fit the “God of War” game and ended up with this. Let me know ya’ll think, cause I’m not sure if I like this one as much lol.

Enjoy:

Atreus glances over his shoulder quickly, widening his footsteps so he can go a bit quicker. He slithers through the trees, twisting and turning to weave through them as they get tighter and closer together. He sighs in relief as he finally steps into the clearing, shifting his grip on the bag slung over his shoulder. He walks to the center and sits down, glancing around.

“Sleipnir?” he calls, blinking owlishly as he doesn't see him. “Where are you, boy?”

There's a nicker and then bushes explode as a horse leaps out, whinnying in triumph as Atreus fakes a gasp of fear. The horse- or, foal, as it is still very small- has a light grey coat of shaggy fur, spots of a darker shade dotting it's flank. It's mane and tail are black and it's mane falls into its brilliant blue eyes- not unsimilar to Atreus’s eye color. And, most noticeably, the horse has eight legs instead of four and a human intelligence is in its eyes.

Atreus laughs loudly, hopping up and leaping at the foal, throwing his arms around its neck. The horse throws its head back, nickering in a pattern similar to laughter as it kicks its back most legs.

“There you are, boy!” Atreus exclaims happily, burying his face in his son’s neck fur. The bag is currently left forgotten in the center of the clearing. “You scared me!”

Sleipnir whinnies, snorting in Atreus’s face before the god releases the horse, falling to the ground as the horse bucks. “I know!” the horse said, grinning down at his father as his tail flicks. “I got you good!” But then the horse seems to frown, falling on his rump to pout at Atreus. “But you took forever to come back this time.”

“I know, boy,” Atreus says, sitting up and patting Sleipnir’s about. “I'm sorry about that. Had to gather up some food for you.” And avoid your grandfather. He doesn't say that part out loud, not wanting to concern the horse.

It's honestly been pretty difficult keeping Sleipnir a secret from his father, because, obviously, his father is not oblivious in any sense of the word. Because of this fact, it is extremely hard to slip out of his father’s ever watchful gaze to gather food for Sleipnir, much less visit the horse. But, he's done pretty good so far. It has been almost half a year now, after all.

And, Atreus would keep Sleipnir a secret for as long as he could. He doesn't know how his father would react if he found out Atreus had been… forcefully adulterated by a horse, gotten pregnant because of this, and then gave birth to an eight-legged horse. It's not news every son gives their father, and honestly, Atreus is still very embarrassed that that had happened in the first place.

He had just been practicing his shapeshifting skills, running around as a mare as opposed to a stallion, truthfully enjoying the fact he could change his sex, when the stallion had basically appeared out of nowhere, chasing him. In fact, the stallion had relentlessly chased Atreus for hours before finally wearing his mare body out, cornering him and proceeding to-

Atreus unconsciously shivers at the thought of it. He scratches Sleipnir’s neck, pursing his lips as he pushes to his feet. He doesn't hate Sleipnir or even regret having him. No, he loves his son, and he would try his best to be a good dad for the horse, even if he was still technically a kid himself.

Hey, fourteen is a good age.

Besides, it's not like he has much of a choice. He would not be giving Sleipnir away or leaving him. Not as long as the horse is his son. So, it doesn't look like he’ll be giving Sleipnir away any time soon.

“I brought you some more food,” Atreus informs his son, motioning to the bag. The horse’s ears perk up and he leaps to his hooves, tail wagging excitedly.

“Berries? Did you bring my favorite berries?” Sleipnir asked, his excitement clear in his voice. Atreus smiles and nods, spurring the horse to rush forward and open the bag with his own teeth, quickly eating the food his father had brought him.

Sleipnir was obviously not any regular horse. He, of course, has eight legs. But, he is also part giant and god, just as Atreus is. Because of this, magic flows through his veins and makes it easy for him to go longer periods of time without food than other horses. This also made it easier for Atreus to bring him food.

He's honestly glad Sleipnir doesn't need milk any longer. He did not enjoy that stage very much at all.

Or the birthing part. But Atreus keeps that in the back of his mind.

“Slow down, boy,” Atreus said, highly enjoying the fact he could call his son that. His own father has called him that so long, he loves that he can use the word now. “You may choke.” He stands beside the foal- who already reaches Atreus’s midsection- and rests a hand on his back.

“Sorry, Dad!” Sleipnir exclaims, pausing in his eating to look up at Atreus. “I'm just really hungry!”

“I know,” Atreus said, keeping the guilt from his voice. He really wishes he could make it easier for Sleipnir. But he knows his father despises any kind of animal, and Atreus still isn't ready to tell him who the horse really is to them. He probably wouldn't be able to. He'd probably choke up when trying to. “I'll try my best to come see you more often. I promise.”

Sleipnir grins up at him, tail flicking once more. “Yay! Thanks Dad!” the horse nickers, nudging Atreus’s face with his snout. Atreus smiles in return, scratching his son's chin. One or two of the horse’s back legs begins to kick, showing his obvious enjoyment of the affection.

Atreus stays with Sleipnir for a few more minutes. But then he knows he needs to leave and return home soon before his father could notice his absence. “I'll be back soon,” he tells Sleipnir, pressing a kiss in between his son’s eyes. The horse nickers softer, sadder now.

“But you just got here,” the horse whines, flopping down into a sitting position again.

“I'll be here longer next time,” Atreus promises, posting the bag from the ground. Sleipnir nudges at his hand and then he begins to head home, heartbreaking. He always hates leaving his son behind. He forces himself to head back. He'd return to the horse.

Kratos is cutting the fur from a deer carcass when Atreus returns home. The boy slinks the side of the house, hoping his father wouldn't notice-

“Where were you, boy,” his father asks, not even looking up from skinning the deer.

Atreus stops in his tracks, biting his lip and toeing the ground. “I was just practicing my bow and arrow shooting down at the grove,” he replies, looking towards the door. He had been so close.

“Then where are your bow and arrows,” Kratos asks next, throwing the pelt of the deer over a rack to dry. He looks to his son, his face ever that steely poker. “You could possibly have been practicing without them.”

Atreus bites his lip harder. “I left them at the grove…” he tries, already knowing his lie failed as his father stands and walks towards him, anger flashing in his eyes.

“Do you really think I am foolish enough to fall for a lie such as that?” his father demands, looming over Atreus.

He quickly shakes his head, eyes widening. “What? No, of course not!” he exclaims, cowering slightly. He doesn't really enjoy it when his father gets angry at him. Then again, this was technically his fault this time.

“So what were you really doing, boy?” Kratos’s voice has gone deeper and he's slowly dropping to Atreus’s height to lock their gazes.

Atreus looks everywhere but at his father, trying and failing to come up with a better lie, a better explanation when his father looks past him, over his shoulder. He blinks, confused, and looks behind himself as well, eyes widening to see Sleipnir standing at the edge of their yard, his own brilliant blue eyes wide.

“I see now,” his father growls, standing fully and striding straight for Sleipnir. For Atreus’s son.

With his heart beating so fast he's sure it could be heard for miles, Atreus runs forward, past his father. “You were sheltering another animal,” Kratos states, not a question, and Atreus can't stop the anger from boiling in his stomach. This is not just an animal, this is his son! Not that his father would know that, but still!

“D-Dad?” Sleipnir stammers, looking wildly from Kratis storming towards him to his father fearfully. “Who- who is that?”

“You shouldn't be here!” Atreus shouts, reaching Sleipnir and pushes at the horse, wanting him to run, to get out of here before matters could get worse. He still doesn't want to tell his father the truth, and he can feel his heart raising into his throat.

“I'm sorry, I just wanted to see you longer,” Sleipnir said and Atreus’s heart breaks more.

“Step away from the horse, boy,” Kratos orders gruffly and how had Atreus not noticed how close his father had gotten. “I am going to get rid of it.”

“What? No!” Atreus shouts, turning to face Kratos, standing protectively between both his son and his father. He glares up at the tall god defiantly, hands splaying on either side of him to make the best wall he could. “You are not getting rid of him!”

“Boy, it is a waste of resources,” Kratos states, reaching to grab Atreus, but the boy dodges his hand. “Boy!”

“No!” Atreus shouts, louder this time. He can feel his anger building to the point he can hardly contain it. “You will not touch him!”

And then there is an explosion around Atreus. It knocks his father back, sending him flying and the guilt already rips through his stomach as his father crashes into a tree. Because of his magic.

But he has to focus on getting Sleipnir out of there first.

“Alright, boy, come on, time to go,” Atreus says quickly, once more pushing at his son, urging him to move. The eight-legged horse stumbles, his many pairs of legs tangling with each other.

“Who is that, Dad? Is he mean? Is he evil?” Sleipnir asks quickly, looking over his shoulder as his father pushes him along. Then his blue eyes narrow. “Is he trying to hurt you?”

“Not now, Sleipnir!” Atreus exclaimed, grunting as the horse digs it's hooves into the ground, momentarily halting the process. “You have to get out of here-”

“Boy.” his father’s growling voice is directly behind him and one of his large hands is grabbing him by the forearm, dragging him from the horse. Atreus’s eyes widen and he kicks, grabbing at the hand.

“Put me down!” he shouts, the anger growing once more as he meets the terrified eyes of his son. He really has never felt this strong of a protective urge before.

“Boy!” his father shouts in return now, setting him on the ground further away from Sleipnir. “Listen l me!”

“No! You listen to me!” Atreus yells. “We are not ‘getting rid’ of the horse! He is staying, and no matter what you say or do will make me say otherwise! Besides, I've had him for half a year and you hadn't even noticed! I can take care of him, and I will!”

Sleipnir slowly slinks to Atreus, standing behind him and the boy wraps an arm around the horse’s neck, holding him close. “He is staying,” he says again, defiantly meeting his father’s eyes.

His father is silent, looking from the horse to his son and back again. “And what if I said no?” he asked gruffly.

“I wouldn't take that as an answer,” Atreus replied, hating how he can feel Sleipnir trembling beneath him.

“That maybe my only answer, boy,” Kratos points out. “What would you do?”

“Take him back to where I had him, and not come back,” Atreus answers, digging his fingers into Sleipnir’s fur.

“And why is that?” Kratos asks now and Atreus swallows heavily. Now or never. Now or never. He would force himself to answer. Now or never.

“Because…” Atreus trails off, takes a deep breath and forces himself to keep eye contact with his father. “Because he is my son.”

Silence falls over the three and Atreus forces himself to continue, beginning to shake himself. “He is my son, and he is your grandson. When I was practicing my shapeshifting skills, I became a mare, and a stallion caught me,” he breaks off, swallows the bile that was slowly rising in his throat. His father is staring at his face quietly, and Atreus can't read his expression. “I- I became…” he has to force himself to continue speaking, “Pregnant with a child. And then, I gave birth to him. Sleipnir. I gave birth to Sleipnir and have been caring for him since.”

Atreus forces himself to keep his gaze steady, breathing heavily as he holds Sleipnir close to himself. He can't read his father’s expression still and his heart rate quickens. Until finally:

“Why did you not tell me?” his father’s voice is soft. Atreus shakes his head, swallowing heavily.

“I was embarrassed,” he replies honestly, looking at the ground as the shame rises in his throat was once more.

There is more silence. Atreus is too afraid to look at his father, and so he looks to his son. “So I’ll just take him back,” he says, pulling at Sleipnir to move. But Kratos catches his wrist, halting his process.

“No, boy,” Kratos states. “He may stay. He is family after all, isn't he?”

Atreus’s eyes widen and a smile tugs at his lips. He nods and turns to face his father once more, letting Sleipnir stand fully. “Let me properly introduce you two, then!” he exclaims. Sleipnir uncurls himself from his bent state, looking up slowly at Kratos. “Father, this is my son, Sleipnir. Sleipnir, this is my father, and your… grandfather.” His father seems to flinch in the slightest, surprise and an emotion he can't read.

“My- my grandfather?” Sleipnir asks, ears perking up as he holds his head up, sniffing curiously at Kratos. Kratos slowly raises one of his hands, holding it towards the horse. Atreus watches as Sleipnir sniffs at Kratos’s hand, pressing his snout to his grandfather’s palm. “I have a grandfather! Hi! I'm Sleipnir! It's awesome to meet you!”

“He's happy to meet you,” Atreus informs his father, unable to stop grinning.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Sleipnir,” Kratos said, scratching the horse behind his ear. Sleipnir’s tail wags as he nudges closer to his grandfather, his four back legs holding him up to his shoulder. He then looks to Atreus, holding the four front legs of the horse. “He may stay, of course.”

Atreus's grin grows from ear to ear and he pulls Sleipnir along towards the house, babbling as they go along. “You can share my bed with me, and we’ll have great meals everyday!” he exclaims. “And maybe you could even go hunting with sometimes!”

Kratos follows after his son, still trying to process the fact that his grandchild is an eight-legged horse.

~~~

Yeah this one is a bit different. Like I said though, I wanted to write Sleipnir, because I love that eight-legged horse. And yes, as far as I’ve researched, Sleipnir is the eldest of Loki’s children. So fight me on that.

Also, let me know if you’d like to see more Sleipnir! I already have his personality planned out for when he is older, so just let me know if you want some more fanfiction with him in it ^^

My next fic should be a time travel fic, though it may take a while longer to write. Also, I’ll be posting the next part of “Silenced Tongue” tomorrow, so keep a look out for that :)

Let me know what you think, though!

REBLOGS>LIKES

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added):

@northeasternwind @cinderletters @ali-alal @thesupernova411 @the-fungeon-of-lady-lazarus @foxteeeth @hexxous @sehumksh @izzyhere @magicpandacats @pinanolada @immortanholmes999 @astronomical-gays @elitatheblackcat @atreus-kratos-mythology @shade-without-color @anafogg @warmythos @asalo @isdisorigionalenoughforyou

[rudemaidenswrite]

The Dwarves Magic

Part 7

Fandom: God of War

Pairing: Atreus x OC

by: @pusantheamazonian    not beta’d

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 

Stopping for the night, Kratos gives you Mimir to hold while he and Atreus go gather somethings. So you are hiding amongst some trees for good measure.

“Mimir it may just be me. But is it wrong that I feel like a burden to Kratos and Atreus?” Leaning against a tree, you turn Mimir to face you.

“What do you mean lass?”

“Well they are accompanying me on this quest. They can defend themselves far better than I can. I'm not used to this kind of daily travel. It feels like I'm slowing them down and that I'm basically useless.” You don't really feel at ease traveling with them but this is the only option at the moment.

“My dear Ula, you must remember that they chose to come with you. They were concerned about your safety. They knew what they were getting into. So don't you worry, just do your best.”

“Thanks Mimir.” Smiling you stare up into sky, holding Mimir tightly. The never ending snow covers everything and it feels like you are float, going through lightspeed. The effect is calming. “Mimir, how did you become just a head?”

“I asked Kratos to chop my head off.” Mimir sighs, if had any shoulder he would have shrugged.

“What?” Stunned, you raise him to eye level.

“Aye being tortured by Odin everyday isn't living. I prefer this type of living, even though I am dead.”

“Yeah I can see how being reanimated would be better than torture by Odin.”  

“That it is. Now Ula, as the little brother mentioned. Is there a reason for hiding your tattoos?”

“I’ve been hiding them for years, just an old habit. Back home tattoos are illegal if you are under eighteen.”

“That’s a strange rule. Most babes are tattooed while still young.”

“Well I had went to visit grandpa for a few days and I came back with them. My parents were pissed and I was banned from seeing grandpa for a few weeks. So to avoid trouble I’ve been hiding them.”

“Lass a person’s body is a map, showing the survival of a person's spirit through the hardships of life. Do not feel ashamed.”

“Mimir, they really should hire you to do inspirational quotes.”  

“I am the smartest man alive.” Mimir grins with a hint of sarcasm.

Staring in silence, you both crack up and start laughing. Laughing until a sudden gruff from behind startles you.

“Brother, never fails to amaze me. Giant as a mountain but silent as a statue.” Mimir is amazed.

“Head.”

“Brother we were just having a laugh.” Mimir states as you turn him around to face the others.

“In unknown woods?” Kratos grumbles, obviously scolding Mimir.

“There was no danger brother.”

Kratos grumbles again, probably inner sighing for the millionth time today. Seems like Kratos is in the constant state of being a single middle aged dad, who is constantly annoyed by random shit.

“Boy.”  Kratos drops the logs he's holding and clears the snow away. Making a diveit big enough to curl up to sleep.

“Yes father.” Atreus drops the branches he's holding and starts a fire.

The night goes quietly, well as quietly as it can. Atreus keeps asking question after question, until Kratos tells him to stop.

Atreus keeps first watch. As Kratos and mimir go to sleep, you stay awake for a little bit longer and Atreus inches closer to you. Tending the fire, moments pass in silence. But before you know it, Atreus has leaned in and grabbed your hand. Rubbing his thumb slowly over the top.

“Uh…..” Unsure and staring at him like he's a creep. Lean away you hope to increase the distance between you.

“Do you have a map? Because I keep getting lost in your eyes.”

“What?” Blinking, you can't believe he just said that.

“Is that not right? Brok said to say that.” His face scrunches up, obviously unsure that was the correct thing to say according to your reaction.

You have got to be kidding me. Is he seriously using a pick up line?

“Boy how old are you?” Peeling your hand away, you scoot a few inches away.

“Sixteen why?”

“Omg.  You are a child you need to step away.” The realization of how young, not young he is a shocker. He’s still in the no-no age. You had guessed he was younger.

“I’m not a child.” Atreus actually looks offended.

“Well where I come from pursuing what I think you’re trying to do is illegal. I will not go to jail for statutory rape. So I’m going with Brok just told you some weird shit to say.” Tucking your feet in, you rearrange the cloak to fully cover you.

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind, how many tattoos do you have? I’ve counted four different runes.” Quickly changing topics, you nod at his arm and neck.

“Just these.” Edging closer once again, he points to each one. “This one means steady mind; quick hand; strong arm or it can be read as skilled arm; and lucky shot it can-”

“Mean fortune to strike.”

“You can read the runes?” Atreus’s lights up with excitement.

“I never said that I couldn’t.” Amused at his reaction, you go back to teasing him.

“Do you know how to read and write Khuzdul? Brok and Sindri only speak it when they are really arguing.”

“Maybe.” With a wiggle of your eyebrows, you give the obvious hint of yes.