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English
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Published:
2018-07-16
Completed:
2018-07-16
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2,666
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3/3
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Two beings, but one set of prints

Chapter 3: tired

Chapter Text

Kratos watched the dwarf work, arms crossed in concentration, ensuring the axe would be perfect. Atreus was over Kratos’ shoulder as short ways away, clearly looking disinterested, and he first attempted to mimic Kratos’ demeanor; an exaggerated scowl accompanied the folding of his arms and he fiddled with his stance until he felt he mirrored his father better.

Satisfied with his success, he was once more left with nothing to do but wait; Brok was busy with his craft, and Kratos would say he was busy too though there was no need to wait. They could carry on and run other errands while Brok finished the weapon repairs; with a huff, Atreus scuffed at the ground. They had left Fenrir to watch over the homestead, so he had no one to keep him entertained. With another huff, Atreus searched for a small stick and, once located, practiced his runes in the dirt.

Yet this too did not hold his attention for long; brushing the dirt into a unified canvas once more, he began brushing images along the ground. A stick figure of his father, arms crossed, accompanied by Faye’s strong stature and then proceeded to work on a likeness of Fenrir; adding one of himself completed the picture, so Atreus began another working of the dwarf brothers. Brok was distinguishable by his slouching posture, and Sindri by his more rigid nature.

More doodles joined the others, of their journeys and people they knew or met; there was little else to amuse Atreus, and he fell back onto the ground. The clouds hung low and Atreus wondered what he could make if he could harness clouds like Thor. Thankfully, the sun was still very low in the sky so Atreus could easily paint images into the sky without worrying about going blind.

Atreus felt a gaze on him, and he met his father’s even gaze; easily, Kratos turned back to watch the dwarf, only checking on his son briefly. Atreus returned to the sky; they had left early in the morning, when the sun hadn’t even been up yet, to track the travelling dwarf down for repairs and improvements. As such, Atreus felt the time pass sluggishly and, on his back, his eyes fell shut slowly. He dozed in the dirt, waiting for Brok to be finished.

“Boy. Atreus.”

His father’s deep rumble drew him out of his sleep and he squinted up at the warrior; he sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“Is Brok done? Are we going home?”

Kratos hummed a negative and reached out, scooping Atreus close. “No, but you should not rest in the dirt in a clean tunic.”

Atreus chuckled quietly, shifting to find a comfortable place to sleep; Kratos cradled him similarly to when he had rushed his son to Freya for help, though Atreus was able to hold himself upright against his shoulder this time. Kratos turned back to Brok’s anvil and furnace.

“When he is done, are we going home?”

“Hm,” Kratos rumbled under Atreus’ ear. “Yes, we will return home.”

A sleepy smile was the boy’s response; good. He wanted to go on a rabbit hunt with Fenrir today, and Kratos was building a paddock for when they would buy some yak from a village nearby.

“I can walk, ya know.”

“Yes, I am aware of your skills; I watched you take your first steps.”

At that, Atreus lifted his head. “You did?”

“I did.”

“Will you tell me about it?”

“There is not much to tell.” Though his voice was serious, his beard twitched and Atreus knew he was fighting a smile; a fond memory then, and though Kratos’ storytelling was nothing like his mother’s his father was trying. And getting better, in Atreus’ opinion. “You bolstered yourself on your mother’s knee but wanted me to pay attention to you. So you took your first steps to stop me sharpening the axe and pay attention to you.”

There’s a pause where the only sound was Brok’s hammer upon heated metal. “Was Mother proud?” came the whispered questions and Kratos held him tighter. “Were you?”

“You’re mother was overjoyed.” Kratos almost didn’t answer the last question, pressing his lips against Atreus’ auburn hair. “As was I,” he muttered, bordering unintelligible, but it still put a soft smile on his son’s face. “Now rest; the walk back home will be tiring.”

Except, axe back in his possession, Kratos did not awaken his son for the walk back; he carried him, content with the life Faye had provided him with, and he pressed another kiss to his son’s head.