Chapter Text
The snow crunched under his feet as he turned to walk away from his adversary. His son, silent and somber behind him, watched as the two Norse deities struggled to their feet. He heard them speaking, not really paying much attention. After all, this was a family affair. It wasn’t until Atreus’s plea of “FATHER!” rang through the silence that Kratos turned to the scene.
The Goddess Freya offering herself to her son as penance for her misguided attempt to keep him safe, and the suffering that caused it and Baldur, the son so lost in his loneliness and rage that he believed killing his own mother would give him release. Kratos strode to the fatal morbid embrace, reaching Baldur before death claimed Freya.
“Why…” the other choked out as Kratos wrapped his arms around his head and neck, each knowing this was the end, “you could have - walked away.” Limply, the smaller god writhed against him, and Kratos steeled himself for what was to come.
Inhaling fortitude, he answered with resignation, “The cycle ends here, We must be better than this.” His muscles tensed, ready to snap the thread of familial violence once and for all, when a fleeting thought came to him - Atreus. He looked over his shoulder, seeing the young boy that he journeyed all this way with. The boy who was a testament of the faith placed in him by another. One who gave him, the slayer of not only his Father, but an entire pantheon, another chance. A chance to heal, a chance to be better than this.
In that moment, Kratos knew. In another world, another time, he would have twisted his arms and ended it then and there. And it would have been warranted, and probably easier, but it also would have been too...spartan. In front of him, still recovering lay Freya, downcast and bracing for the inevitable crack of bone and breaking of her heart. He couldn’t do this to her. She had helped them before, saving Atreus, and forgiving him of his own transgression in her woods.
With his left arm still holding strong under Baldur’s neck, he brought his right arm across the deity’s stomach, slowly, enough to not be construed as a threat. He shifted his feet, to allow him a firmer stance, and held Baldur to his chest. Lightly, Kratos moved his fingertips across his skin, eliciting a wince from the smaller man. Not that he had it all planned out, but so far things were going well. If they were to end so, he needed more. He changed his left hand from gripping Baldur’s shoulder to holding his neck and chin.
Kratos had been a general in the Spartan army; he fought for Ares, the God of War himself. He became the God of War, and he slew the entire Greek pantheon in his desire for vengeance. Kratos’ true epithet was the God of Rage, making him the perfect counter to the seething wire of fury he currently enveloped.. And mustering every once authority he could, reaching out to the primordial aether that is his Domain, he breathed one word into Baldur’s ear, hoping it would be enough to continue this path he rashly started, “FEEL”.
Freya had since recovered her bearing, now poised in front of the two men. Her face, stern and implacable, betraying nothing. Truly she was as strong a Goddess as any. Moments unfolded into eternity between a man who had once lost everything, but had since recovered, and a woman who was desperately clutching to the only thing that mattered to her, and still managed to push it away. With each passing breath, Kratos could feel his desperation mounting, and Baldur’s breathing quickening. Whatever was going to happen, needed to happen soon. Keeping his gaze, Freya reached out, “Why don’t you come with me Atreus. We should leave your father and my son. I can show you some more spells that may prove useful later.” A sound move, thought Kratos. Unsure, the boy looked to his father, who had now stepped away from Baldur, with only his left hand anchored around the back of the other man’s neck. “It is all right Atreus. Go with Freya.”
More crunching of snow as the young boy made his way across the drifts, his eyes never leaving the spectacle of his father holding the other god in place. As Atreus walked toward him, Kratos tightened his grip on the other man’s neck and slowly pushed him to his knees. For his part, Baldur did not resist, instead, pliantly sinking to the ground, settling there. His head lolled forward and his breathing slowed to a steady rhythm. Kratos released his grasp and stepped in front of Baldur. He kneeled and reached for his own son.
Atreus stopped just short of him, still unsure of what was transpiring. “Go on Lad,” Mimir began, breaking the silence, “there’s nothing to be afraid of.” Inwardly thanking the talking head, Kratos continued to reach for Atreus, pulling him into a deep embrace. Atreus slowly relaxed into his father, and Kratos took his time to appreciate the moment. For too long he eschewed these kinds of moments with his own son. But if he was to save another son, he would need all the strength he could get. “Take the head, and go with Freya. I do not know how long I will be gone, but you must remain strong. Can you do this for me?” He held Atreus close, feeling the young boy stifle his sniffles. “Yes Father.”
“Now go,” he held Atreus’ shoulders at arm’s length, peering into his eyes. Eyes that reminded him so much of the boy’s mother…As Atreus stepped away from him he grabbed the boy’s hand. “Wait. take this as well,” he reached back, clasping the handle of the Leviathan Axe. When Atreus made a noise to protest, Kratos silenced him, “Do not worry about me. If I need it, I can call it to me again, but for now, it is not the correct tool.” His son nodded, and after fixing Mimir to his own belt, he hefted the weapon with both his hands. “Good luck Father. We’ll be waiting for you.”
He waited until the skiff with the three travelers rounded the bend before approaching the kneeling Baldur once more. Squatting down, he gripped the younger god’s face again, bringing their eyes in line.
“We will be better.”