Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Freya’s not sure when it happened. 

For years, Midgard had been her prison, a constant reminder of all she had lost and was being kept from. Her sadness and regret soon turned to anger, anger she satisfied with every monster or raider she could get her hands on. 

But the carnage did little to fix her past mistakes or mend her broken heart. Her rage eventually died out.

But with time, came perspective. Freya learned to accept her place in this realm, finding appreciation for its beauty, and comfort in its creatures. But even then, her heart did not beat for this realm. It beat for Vanaheim, for her brother… for her son . 

But everything changed once she met them.

For all her magic and clairvoyance, Freya could have never predicted just how pivotal her meeting with the tattooed man and his child would be. Kratos and Atreus had brought many things back into her life that she thought she had lost forever. For better or for worse, she was who she was today because of them.

And that is when it happened. When she was able to deal with her past properly, and finally sever Odin's hold on her. That is when Freya stopped thinking of Midgard as her prison and began thinking of it as her home. 

Normally, having such thoughts would be distracting, which once would have been dangerous to do while traveling through Midgard. But ever since Ragnarok, things had died down significantly. Hel-Walkers had been completely wiped out, courtesy of the Shield Maidens. Most Raiders had moved on to different lands, and the Draugeur and Troll population had all but dwindled out. Humans that had taken up shelter in Asgard were slowly beginning to repopulate the lands. Things had gotten so busy, that Freya had decided not to walk on the main road, opting to fly above the trees of the Wildwoods in her bird form. 

Freya looked down at the ground below. Were she to fly east, she would reach Kratos's home in just under 10 minutes.  It had been a while since she had seen the spartan. Ragenrok had left many scars on the remaining realms, along with many issues that needed to be addressed. It would have taken 10 years for anybody else, but with two Gods and the self-proclaimed “smartest man alive” working in tandem, it had barely taken 2. 

Once some semblance of peace had been restored, Mimir had proposed that they temporarily go their separate ways, reasoning that they could do more good for the 8 realms spread out than gathered in one place. Freya had agreed and Kratos had…grunted, but Mimir took that as a yes. 

So, Freya returned to Vanaheim to help Sif and the remaining Aesir and Vannir, Mimir left with Sigrun to find a proper replacement for Hræsvelgr, and Kratos returned to Midgard, overseeing the mortals and becoming something of a guardian. 

After all this time, visiting Kratos wouldn’t be uncalled for. Freya still didn’t know if she was capable of forgiving Kratos for what he had done, but she was long past hating him for it. 

Besides, it’s not as if he was going to visit her. 

Suddenly, Freya heard a very familiar piercing scream, and the sounds of combat coming from somewhere east of her. 

Raiders

Without a second thought, Freya took off in the direction of the sound. Normally, Freya wasn’t one to seek out combat without reason, but she hadn't had a good fight in a long time, and she desperately needed to blow off some steam. 

Using her superior senses, Freya quickly honed in on the source of sound. She dove under through the trees and came to a small pass near a water stream. Freya landed on a nearby tree and was horrified at what she found. Over 2 dozen dead raiders were strewn about the pass. Bodies were missing limbs, blood stained the grass. And in the middle of it all stood not a beast or monster, but a man . 

The man had bronze skin, dark blonde hair, and a shaved face.

He wore a simple outfit, black pants with some light metal plating, and simple robes that were lined with gold. He wasn’t dressed like a warrior or even a merchant. But his outfit did little to hide his muscular frame, or the sword strapped to the side of his belt. His hands were covered in blood, but the stranger showed no signs of injury or fatigue. 

The fact that this man was most likely responsible for this massacre wasn’t what worried Freya.  She had encountered many beings over the years, all capable of similar, if not greater power than what the stranger had displayed. No, what worried Freya was that there was a being capable of such power that she wasn’t familiar with. He wasn’t of any species she recognized, but there was something familiar about him. 

“You know,” The man said, interrupting Freya’s thoughts “While I do not mind having an audience, it is quite rude to spy.”

Freya tilted her head in confusion. Who was the man talking to? It’s not like he left any surviv-

Then, the man looked up at the trees and looked directly at  Freya. His face wore a friendly smile, but his eyes bore into her.

“Why not come down here and have a closer look?” the man said in a welcoming, almost condescending tone. 

Freya was in shock. No mortal should be able to see through her transformation unless she let them. Which meant only one thing….

Freya dropped from her perch and flew down to the man. If he was what she thought he was, then she couldn’t afford to let him run wild in the woods. At least not until she figured out what he was doing here. 

The man watched Freya as she returned to her normal state. His eyes widened slightly upon seeing her, though he didn’t look surprised or concerned when seeing the many weapons she had with her. 

“With a form such as yours,” The man began, “Why would you ever feel the need to change?”

Freya didn’t react to his attempt at a compliment. While Freya couldn’t deny that the man was… fairly attractive, as the goddess of love, she knew the difference between chivalry and a distraction. 

“You slaughtered these men,” Freya stated, looking around at the bodies he had left in his wake. She felt no sympathy for these creatures, but acting like she did was a good way to gauge the man’s character.

The stranger looked around at the corpses, almost as if he was just now seeing them. “ Men, you say? That’s being quite generous, no?”

Freya looked at the men, intently, trying to discern if he was being sincere. He looked back at her, his face open but unreadable. 

The man smiled before turning around and walking to the water stream behind him. “Believe me milady, I would have been more than happy to settle things without violence, but these “men ” as you put it held no such desires.” The man stuck his hands in the water stream, washing the blood and dirt off him.

“Although,” the man said “ I did not speak their tongue. Perhaps they did wish to talk things out.”

The stranger turned to face Freya again, his smile ever present. Freya was, frankly, at a loss. Was this the same man who had just laid waste to the raiders? He seemed far too relaxed to be capable of such a thing. However, if Freya had learned anything in her long life, it is that things often aren’t what they seem. 

“Why?” Freya asked the words leaving her mouth before she could register them.

“Well the large one came at me with an axe and then-”

“No,” Freya cut the man off, which he didn’t seem entirely pleased about, but remained calm, “Why are you here , in this realm?”

The man’s smile dropped a bit, and his eyes narrowed. “ This realm?” The man repeated, taking a step toward Freya. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

Freya didn’t falter, but her guard was up. “You are a God, that much is clear.” The man raised his eyebrow at this statement but didn’t deny it. “But I do not recognize you, so you can’t be a god of these lands.”

The man paused, watching Freya carefully for a few moments before smiling again, only this time it seemed genuine. 

“Are all the women in these lands as perceptive as you?” the stranger said with a chuckle. 

Freya remained silent, which the stranger took in stride. 

“You are correct of course, I am a God,” The stranger continued, “And to answer your previous question; I have traveled to these realms in search of something.”

“And what would that be?” Freya asked neutrality.

The man’s face darkened for a moment, his smile giving way to a snarl, before shifting back to his usual smirk. “Oh, nothing for you to concern yourself with, I assure you. Just know that I am not here to cause trouble.”

Freya watched the stranger as he spoke, searching for any signs of deception. While he certainly had a cryptic way of speaking, his words seemed honest. Still, if this man were to come across one of the newly rebuilt Midgard villages in his search, things may not end well for the mortals. 

“You being here is trouble enough,” Freya responded, taking a step toward the mysterious God. “Once the gods of these realms learn of your presence here, they will stop at nothing to be rid of you. It would be in your best interest to leave now while you are still able.”

The man watched Freya closely, seeming to ponder her words for a moment before speaking again. “ On any other day milady, I might just agree with you.” The man said, taking a few steps away from the goddesses. “But unfortunately…I can’t put this off any longer than I already have.”

The man smiled one last time at Freya before being enveloped in a blinding light. Freya had no choice but to avert her eyes, and when she looked back at the man, he was gone. 

Freya let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding. She had no idea who that was, or what this meant for the 8 realms. But one thing is clear. 

She needed to find Kratos. 

Chapter Text

Kratos was glad that Fimbulwinter had passed. 

There were few memories that Kratos held dear from his homeland, but the days of sun and warmth served as a better alternative than the days of blood and vengeance. 

As Kratos stood thigh-deep in a stream, searching the water for his next meal, he recalled an afternoon he had spent with Atreus when he was still too young to speak. Faye had left the two of them alone for the day, so Kratos was forced to bring Atreus with him as he left to catch them food. 

The fish that day were…difficult. Kratos remembers himself growing more and more frustrated with each failed attempt, a familiar anger bubbling to the surface. Kratos eventually decided to relent, allowing his anger to subside as he sat by the side of the creek, his son resting in his arms. Kratos remembers looking down at Atreus and questioning how he played any part in the creation of being so… innocent . The boy had fallen asleep, and with the warm summer breeze and the sound of the calming waves, Kratos soon joined him. 

He later awoke to Faye standing over him with an amused smile. She teased him for many days following that. 

Suddenly, Kratos felt movement beside his right leg. Almost instinctively, Kratos summoned the Draupnir spear, pointing it downwards and skewering the fish.

Kratos brought the spear up to inspect his prize. The fish had died in an instant and likely didn’t feel a thing. There was a time when Kratos would have chided himself for worrying about such a thing, but no longer. 

Kratos exited the lake and dropped the last fish into his basket. The amount he had caught was not large, but it was more than enough to feed one. Especially if one did not need to eat. 

Kratos lifted the basket with ease and began his trek home. There was a time when simply walking from one side of the wildwoods to the other would have been dangerous, ill-advised even. But now it was almost…enjoyable.

Not to say Kratos would have been opposed to a few draugr. It was difficult to keep his skills sharp with no real enemies to fight…or allies to train with

Kratos paused for a moment in his walk. He had noticed his thoughts drifting towards his companions more and more as the days went by. It had only been a span of a single season since Kratos had parted ways with Mimir and nearly a year since he had last seen Freya or any of his other allies from Ragnarok. The weight of their absence weighed on him far more than he expected.

Kratos was no stranger to loss, one could even say he was an authority on the subject. But in those instances, the ones he cared for…the ones he lost, were torn away from him, and he was left with only his anger to keep him company. 

But this was different. There was no battle to fight, or vengeance to seek. The few people that Kratos called friend were alive and well, and he could go see them whenever he wanted. Well..save for one . 

Kratos reached down to his belt, wrapping his fingers around a familiar leather grip. He brought the knife up for inspection like he had done many times before, though his mind wandered to its twin, and the young warrior who carried it.

Atreus had no doubt grown since his departure after Ragnarok, though he wondered how much. Kratos had known that his son’s mission would take him far beyond the reaches of the 8 realms. His path was a noble and arduous one, and Kratos was proud. Though… after 3 years …a visit or even a letter would have been appreciated.

“Take care of everyone.”

Those were the last words he heard his son say before he left, and if not for them, he would have no doubt marched down to Jotunheim and demanded Angrboda take him to his son before now.

Even when faced with an unknown and frightening future, his son still thought of others before himself. Armed with that knowledge, Kratos would not allow himself to act on his selfish feelings. His son would return when he was ready. Until then, Kratos would stand guard and fulfill his promise to him. 

Kratos continued walking for a while longer, the environment around him growing more familiar as he approached the gates of his home. He walked through the gates, expecting to be welcomed by the wolves…but he was met with nothing 

Kratos walked over to check on Speki & Svanna, only to find them cowering in fear.

“Come” Kratos commanded, intending to check them for signs of injuries or illness. They did not heed his commands. 

Kratos grunted and took a step towards them, but this only caused them to whine louder. Kratos initially recoiled his hands, thinking they were scared of him. But they did not look at him with fear. 

Immediately, Kratos scanned the area for threats. As far as he knew, the protection stave was intact, and even if an enemy had made its way here somehow, Kratos would have spotted their tracks on his way here. 

Shifting the basket of fish to be under his left arm, Kratos walked up the path toward his house. He spared a single glance towards Baldur's chasm, the scars left from his battle with the tortured god remained to this day. Kratos stopped at his door, which was open by just a crack.

A small part of Kratos naively hoped that his son had finally come home, but that wouldn’t explain wolves agitation.  Speki & Savanna still acted apprehensive whenever Freya visited, but she’s never entered Kratos’s home without permission. 

Readying himself, Kratos entered the house, being met with darkness. His eyes took a moment to adjust after spending hours in the sun. He scanned the small area for intruders but found nothing, His home was exactly as he had left it.

For a moment Kratos allowed himself to relax, telling himself that he had simply gone too long without rest. But then he heard it. 

“God of War.”

Kratos had summoned his weapon before he even fully looked around. He pointed his spear in the direction of the noise, finally laying eyes on the source of his paranoia.

Sitting comfortably in a chair next to Mimir’s old headstand, was a man. The man had bronze skin, dark blonde hair, and a clean-shaven face. His simple attire consisted of black pants, light metal plating, and plain robes trimmed with gold.  His face was… familiar somehow, though Kratos was positive he had never met the man.

The stranger looked at Kratos and smiled, his eyes practically glowing in the darkness.

“It has been a long time.”

Kratos’s mind was racing, trying to identify this stranger. The fact that he knew of his former title sadly didn’t narrow it down, as stories of the “General” spread like wildfire following Ragnarok. 

“Apologies for the intrusion,” The stranger said, though there wasn’t a hint of remorse in his voice, “ You were busy when I arrived, so I thought it best to wait for you here.”. The stranger's eyes drifted towards the scattered basket of fish, which Kratos had dropped in his shock. “Catch anything good?”

“Who are you?” Kratos growled, ignoring the stranger's question and laid-back demeanor. 

The man looked at Kratos once again, a hint of surprise subtly etched across his features.

“You do not know me.” the man stated, before rising from his seat, though curiously making no effort to retrieve his weapon. “I suppose that is understandable, we never did have a formal introduction. Though I must say, I am a little offended.”

The man nonchalantly advanced towards Kratos, prompting the Spartan to swiftly adjust his spear, positioning it menacingly at the stranger's throat.

The man looked down at the weapon with indifference, before shifting his eyes upwards and settling on something behind Kratos.

“You still have the blades I see.” The stranger said with a smirk, causing Kratos’s spear to dip slightly. “That is good. Hephaestus’s craftmanship is second to none, though…”

Once more, the stranger's gaze fixated on Kratos, drilling into him with unwavering intensity, “You already know that, don't you?”

The world around Kratos seemed to slow down momentarily as he processed the stranger's words. Knowing of his past was one thing, but only a select few knew the origins of the Blades of Chaos. He may not know who this man was, but he knew what he was. 

The stranger's smile broadened, reveling in Kratos's dawning realization. 

“You're as sharp as ever Spartan”

“What do you want?”

The man’s smile dropped slightly as he brushed Kratos’s spear aside and walked past him, studying his home with feigned interest. 

“I need a reason to visit family?”

“We are not family.”

The man stopped at his counter, the candles around him seemed to burn brighter when he was close. “You say that…and yet with that beard, you are the spitting image of our father.”

Had Draupnir been a lesser spear, it have no doubt snapped with how tightly Kratos was clutching it. Sensing his anger, the man’s smile only broadened.

“Do not mistake me Spartan, the beard suits you. Honest.” The man said, mockery dripping from every word he uttered.

Kratos recalled Draupnir into its ring, before taking a step towards the stranger. 

“ What. Do. You. Want?”

The man’s smile dropped completely this time, his eyes darkened with a fury that was all too familiar. 

“I am not here to kill you if that is your concern.

“I do not believe you,” Kratos responded. 

The man raised his eyebrow, amused by Kratos’s retort. “No? And why is that? Vengeance is your thing, after all, not mine.”

“Why are you here? Why now?” Kratos insisted, his patience wearing thin. 

The man rolled his eyes, though it was clear to Kratos that the stranger was merely trying to conceal his frustration.

“I am only seeking to understand something,” The man finally answered, though it unsurprisingly raised more questions. “ I am having trouble grasping how the Ghost of Sparta has been reduced to… this” The man said while gesturing around the cabin. “A quiet house in the woods, roasted fish for dinner. To put it bluntly, it makes no fucking sense.”

Kratos tightened his fists upon hearing his old moniker. “That is no longer who I am.”

"Clearly," the man deadpanned, regarding Kratos with something akin to pity. “To think Olympus fell to the likes of you .”

“Olympus earned it’s fate.” 

The man's eyes narrowed, giving off a faint glow as he glowered at Kratos. “And what about the rest of our homeland Kratos? Did they earn their fates as well?”

Kratos hesitated, foolishly allowing the stranger's words to give him pause.

“And now you think you can just walk away? ” The man continued, the anger in his voice rising. “ Start a new life. Tell yourself that it wasn’t you who did all those terrible things, no, it was someone else. A monster.”

“No,” Kratos responded, causing the stranger to stop his rant momentarily. “ I did those things. I do not hide from my past, but I have put it behind me.” 

The stranger studied Kratos for a few more moments before speaking again. “Well, you may be done with your past, Spartan, but that does not mean the past is done with you .”

The man approached Kratos, bringing himself to eye level with the Spartan.

“You have a debt to pay, Kratos.”

Kratos took another step towards the stranger.

“Things did not end well for the last God to say that to me.”

A more twisted version of the smile the stranger had on before made its way onto his face. He reeled his head back slightly, almost as if to laugh, but then brought it forward, headbutting Kratos at the bridge of his nose.

Kratos staggered back slightly, disoriented by the unexpected attack, but instantly thrust his hand forward, wrapping his fingers around the stranger's neck. Though the man in question simply smiled at Kratos, as green veins began to surge from his neck, and a familiar green mist surrounded the air.

Poison.

Suddenly, Kratos felt his grip begin to loosen as his whole body started to feel like it was on fire. His knees began to buckle as he let go of the stranger's throat.

“Of all the lives you should be concerned with Kratos, mine is not among them.” the stranger said condescendingly, kneeling to inspect Kratos's writhing body, green veins snaking around him.

"Now, I have waited centuries to settle things with you, so I have no issue waiting a bit longer," the man declared with a patient tone. The God of War harbored an intense desire to tear the smiling man limb from limb, but Kratos found himself struggling just to keep his eyes open.

"Once you regain your strength, I will find you, and we will continue this conversation. Until then, do try and get some rest, brother .”

Kratos's eyes began to close, the last image he saw before drifting off being the stranger being enveloped in a blinding light. 

Chapter Text

Freya was no stranger to worry.

She could scarcely remember herself not wrapped in turmoil, constantly fretting about what the next day may hold.  Yngvi often teased her, saying her face would one day remain frozen in constant agitation, brows forever furrowed. 

One positive of being trapped in Midgard for so long is that she finally learned how to relax, her two main causes for concern removed. Vanneheim was far from safe, but she stood powerless to aid it, so any thoughts on it would have been a waste. And as for Baldur…Freya had already seen to it that nothing could harm him. 

Save for his mother. 

Midgard had given her space to breathe, and the fall of Asgard even more so. Amidst such comfort, she had forgotten what it felt like for her heart to seize in her chest, to feel muscles tighten to the point of pain

However, seeing Kratos of Sparta, lying on the ground, motionless, was enough to remind her of the feeling. 

Freya had raced to Kratos's home as fast as she could manage, not bothering to knock as she burst through his door. There he was, dark sickly veins working their way up his body from his arm to his upper chest.

Freya wasted no time, dropping to her knees beside her friend, the words of healing magic flying from her mouth before she could even think about it. A familiar energy filled Freya’s body, exiting through her hands into Kratos. 

He had been poisoned, that much was obvious, but the thing that truly scared Freya was that she didn’t recognize the type of poison used. She grew up in Vannahiem, the most corrosive realm of the 8 remaining. There wasn’t a toxin or venom in those realms that Freya was not familiar with, so that meant only one thing.

The poison came from beyond the 8 realms. Just like the Kratos, and just like the stranger. 

Thankfully, her unfamiliarity with the poison did not stop her from treating it. This had fourntanely happened recently, and Freya soon saw the veins begin to recede, and Kratos's breathing returned to normal. 

Satisfied with her work, Freya removed her hands from Kratos’s chest, feeling the familiar sensation of exhaustion that often plagued her after healing someone. Counteracting the poison had taken more out of her than she expected, and in the end, all she had done was slow it down. It would soon return with a vengeance if Freya did not treat it properly. Though, for the time being at least, Kratos was stable, and would likely not take too kindly to being removed from his home in his sleep if it could be avoided. So, Freya elected to wait until he awoke. 

Kneeling beside the former god of war, Freya let her eyes travel across the man she had not seen in nearly a year. He looked the same, with a few more gray hairs in his beard, wearing only his dark leather pants and shoes, accompanied by a simple leather waist guard lined with metal. 

Gazing at his face, she couldn’t help but be shocked by how calm he looked. Sure, he was not the rage-filled monster he was in Greece, but even the Kratos she had become acquainted with rarely let his guard down, especially in the years she had known him. They were similar, in that respect. Among others. 

The illusion of ease was soon shattered when Kratos's eyes shot open, darting around frantically. His eyes were rheumy and unfocused, but their rage was clear. 

“Kratos-” Freya began, but was quickly cut off. Before she could react, Kratos’s hand shot up, his fingers wrapping around Freya’s throat like a vice. 

Kratos let out a deafening roar, shaking the very house they stood in. She had witnessed such fury many times whilst fighting beside the Spartan, it was enough to give even the fiercest monsters pause. Despite their bloody history, Freya had never been on the receiving end of it. 

“ Kratos, it’s me ,” Freya choked out, causing the god’s hold on her to loosen. Her vision was beginning to go black, but suddenly there was a shift in Kratos’s eyes, a fire lost its intensity but did not die out.

“Freya?” Kratos said uncertainly, his expression mirroring that of a wild beast when cornered. “ Freya! ”

Kratos released his hold on the goddesses, who then lurched forward whilst gasping for the breath she had lost. Kratos's hand remained suspended in the air, its master horrified by what it had done. 

“Freya! You are hurt,” Kratos said, moving his hand towards the goddess, but quickly recoiled it as he truly began to take in the moment. 

“ I hurt you.” Kratos's words struck a chord in Freya, causing her to look up at the Spartan.

“You bruised me,” Freya corrected with a wincing smile, tenderly rubbing her neck, “Don’t give yourself too much credit.”

“I thought you were…your neck is-”

“ My neck is fine Kratos. As am I.” Freya insisted. In truth, she was far from it. Kratos’s hands, weakened as they were, could have ended Freya’s life in moments. And not because of their strength, but because Freya hesitated . She could have removed Kratos's hand with her sword, transformed her body, and escaped his grasp. But she didn’t. Because at that moment, she was more worried for Krato’s safety than her own. 

Freya…wasn’t sure how she felt about that. 

  “I did far worse to you during Fimbulwinter.” Freya continued, “If anything, this makes us even.” 

Kratos looked at Freya, seemingly moved by her words, Even Freya was surprised by how casually she brought up their past quarrel. 

Kratos attempted to rise from his position on the floor, only to let out a grunt of pain. Freya placed a firm hand on the Spartan's shoulder.

“Careful, you’ve been poisoned,” Freya said quickly, forcing the man to remain on the ground. 

Kratos raised his arm to his face, inspecting the green veins and protrusions along his pale skin, and let out a grunt of discontentment 

“I found you here, laid out on the floor,  “ Freya continued, “ I did what I could to slow down the poison with my magic, but you’ll need something stronger to be-”

Before Freya could finish talking, Kratos closed his eyes in concentration, and ripples of heat rolled off him as the veins of poison permanently receded. 

“...Or you could do that.”

Kratos rose to his feet, this time with no issue, and instantly walked towards his Levithan Axe, which hung on the wall near his bed. 

“ How did you know I needed aid?” Kratos asked, hooking his axe to his back before opening a compartment below him and bringing a chest out. 

“I encountered a man in the woods,” Freya replied,  “He had killed over a dozen raiders, then disappeared in a flash of light.”

Kratos's eyes narrowed as he looked at Freya, the fire from earlier returning. 

“Did he attack you?” 

“No,” Freya answered, trying not to be surprised by his sincerity, “ We only spoke for a few moments.”

Kratos's shoulders relaxed, but only slightly. His gaze was severe but determined, an expression she had only seen on him once. 

“He said he was looking for someone,” Freya continued as Kratos opened the chest, revealing a familiar set of red and black armor. “I assume that person was you.”

“Hnng,” Kratos grunted as he switched out armor pieces with surprising speed, a feat Freya would never fully understand.

Freya waited for a few moments, hoping he would elaborate. He didn’t.

“Do you know who he is?” Freya eventually prompted.

Kratos walked over to his blades and fixated on them as if the answers he needed were etched into its metal.

 “No.”

“But you know what he is,” Freya stated, causing Kratos to glance over his shoulder at the goddess. His gaze held no aggression, but it was far from friendly. He nodded, and Freya cursed under her breath, her suspicions confirmed.

A foreign God had once again found his way to Midgard. And not just any God; an Olympian. 

What little Freya knew of other pantheons, she had regrettably learned from Odin ; being married to the most avid collector of information in all the realms had some advantages. Much like Tyr, her bastard of a husband had traveled to other lands such as Greece, albeit in disguise, to gain information on these different societies. He had described the Greeks as chaotic and unpredictable, an army of brutes led by an even bigger brute. But Freya knew Odin, and “unpredictable” really just meant that Odin couldn’t control them if the need ever came. He would never admit it, but Odin was scared of Olympus; he certainly wasn’t disappointed when news of its’ demise reached Asgard. 

Some of the stories she heard…the wars, the plagues, the destruction …even the most heinous acts of all the Aesir combined paled in comparison to what a single Olympian could. To think that even a small fragment of that culture had made its way here , and so soon after Ragnarok…

Kratos began to walk out the door, and Frey quickly followed him, already knowing his destination. “ Kratos, wait!”

Kratos was making his way towards his wolves but was quickly stopped by Freya, the goddess placing herself in front of him.

“ Freya, this is not the time for a discussion,” Kratos said through gritted teeth. Freya cared little for his frustration, but there was something more… frantic about it. Whatever the stranger had done or said before she had arrived had shaken him to his core. 

“Nor is it the time to be reckless.” Freya refused to back down, returning Kratos's glare. “ A god from your homeland has come to Midgrad Kratos, this is not something to be taken lightly.”

“I take nothing lightly!” Kratos snapped, taking a step towards Freya with his eyes blazing. This time Freya did not hesitate, unsheating her sword, and bringing it to Kratos's throat before he could take another step. They stood like that for a few moments, nearly nose to nose, neither willing to yield. For a moment, Freya thought Kratos may force his way past her, but his eyes soon softened and his voice returned, this time softer. 

“This man…this God,” Kratos said carefully, “ He is part of a matter I believed settled; a past I thought buried.”

Freya’s eyes widened slightly, finally recognizing what was ailing the Spartan. The Greek Gods had taken everything from Kratos that there was to take: his family, his freedom, and his humanity. He wanted to settle this matter quickly so that history would not repeat itself. A feeling she knew well, learned from her days wrapped in vengeance and hate. 

“The burden is mine, and mine alone. I would not have those I have come to cherish, pay for my past sins.” 

Freya sighed, bringing her sword away from Kratos and sheathing it. “Kratos, you of all people should know…”

Freya turned her head, looking towards the aptly named “Baldur's chasm”, created when Asgard first sent her son after Kratos and his family. 

“When two Gods come to blows, they are rarely the ones who pay the price.” 

Kratos followed Freya’s gaze, frowning when realizing her meaning. A tad manipulative, perhaps, but letting Kratos run off on his own was too risky. 

“What do you propose?” Kratos finally asked, having seemingly calmed down entirely. 

“We do not know what this God's intentions are, how dangerous he is, or if he is the only one. The 8 realms cannot be caught unaware.” 

Freya reached into her side pouch, bringing out a familiar realm seed. 

“ We travel to Vanaheim.”

Chapter Text

Out of all the sights Kratos has been forced to see, while in service to the Gods of Olympus, the mountaintop itself stood as the most infuriating. 

If any mortal had laid witness of such sight, they would fall to their knees in appraisal, eyes filled with awe and reverence. But Kratos saw through the illusion of the Gods; a feat only made possible by falling prey to such illusion time and time again. Kratos knew the nature of the monsters that toiled within the halls of Olympus, the evil that lived in each of their hearts. During his latest campaign at the behest of the Olympians, Kratos had become particularly acquainted with this nature.

Helios, God of the Sun, had been captured by the titan Atlas, threatening to drown the world of God and Man in eternal chaos. Under the orders of Athena and later Eos, the sister of the sun god, Kratos moved to free Helios and return Atlas to his imprisonment. Only to discover, that Persephone, wife to Hades and goddess of the underworld, had been the one to free Atlas and capture Helios.

The… witch manipulated Kratos, taunting him with visions of his Caliope, nearly tricking him into bringing the world to ruin. A fate he would have gladly embraced had his daughter not remained. 

To save Calliope...Kratos was forced to shun her, to slaughter the innocent souls in the Elysium Fields to regain his lost power, forcing his daughter to witness what he had become. Once his power was restored, Kratos turned his wrath on Persephone, showing the goddess no mercy as he ripped the heart from her beating chest. The first God he had ever slayed in battle.

Kratos had only just returned from the Aegean Sea, having been marooned there after he escaped the Underworld atop Helios's chariot. Of course, it would have been too much to expect the sun god to return him to Olympus, after all, Kratos only freed him.

Regardless, Kratos was now marching towards the temple of Helios, the one that resigned on Olympus. Even if Helios himself were not there, his worshippers would answer his questions until the sun god appeared.

As Kratos approached the temple, walking past the marble pillars and lush greenery of Olympus, he almost drew his blades upon spotting the Cyclops. He had fought against and alongside these hulking brutes many times, witnessing firsthand the devastation they could wreak. Despite their massive numbers and monstrous strength, Kratos had never once encountered a free Cyclops. The Cyclops had sided with Olympus during the war with the Titans and had forged weapons for the Gods, turning the battle in their favor. Their reward? Eternal servitude to Olympus. The larger and older Cyclops fought and killed for the Gods, while the smaller ones worked directly for Zeus, forging his lightning bolts and, at this moment, repairing the damage Mount Olympus had suffered during the Gods' slumber.

They were slaves, every one of them. The fury and passion that was normally present in their eyes were now dull and lifeless, mindlessly trudging away as they rebuilt the monuments of their oppressors. 

“ Bless the fates, you're alive!”  An incredibly annoying voice called out from behind Kratos. Reluctantly, he turned, being met with the insufferable eye sore that was Hermes. 

“It warms the heart to see you yet among the living,” Hermes said sarcastically, dressed only in his lower robes, his arms wrapped around two scantily clad women. “ Well, mostly living.”

Hermes erupted in mocking laughter, joined by his whores. Kratos gave no reaction, having already learned that anger and frustration were what the god of thieves desired.

“ I have no desire to hear your lies, Hermes.” Kratos scowled, turning back around to continue on his path.”

Before he could take a single step, however, Hermes had raced in front of Kratos, now leaning on a pillar while passing a golden coin through his fingers.

“ Lies ?” Hermes feigned innocence. “My words are genuine Kratos. A vast majority of us had thought you for the afterlife.”

Kratos gritted his teeth at the mention of the afterlife, instantly remembering the feeling of Caliope tugging at his leg, begging him not to leave her again.

“ It would have been a shame if you died,” Hermes continued, undeterred by Kratos brushing past him with little acknowledgment. “Before Zeus could properly deliver your punishment that is...”

Kratos marching screeched to a halt, wondering to himself if he had heard the speed god correctly.

“ Punishment? ” Kratos growled, barely containing his anger as looked over his shoulder to glare at Hermes, who was amused to see he had finally wrung a reaction out of the Ghost Of Sparta. 

“You killed an Olympian, Kratos,” Hermes said condescendingly. “And not just any Olympian, but the Queen of the Underworld, Hades’s wife!”

Kratos turned to face Hermes once more, taking note of the fury in his eyes. For a fleeting moment, Kratos believed Hermes was genuinely enraged by Persephone's death. However, he quickly realized that Hermes' anger stemmed not from grief but from the implications of her demise. The slaying of an immortal by a mortal tarnished the divine image, casting gods like Hermes in a less favorable light.

“Persephone betrayed Olympus.” Kratos said plainly, “ Had I not killed her, you and the rest of the Olympians would still be trapped in the land of dreams as the world crumbled around you.”

Anger flashed through Hermes' face, before he quickly composed himself, an easy smile finding its way back onto his face. “ So you say. It is a shame there is no yet breathing who could confirm your tale.”

“Helios will-” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on any help from him”  Hermes interrupted, a malicious smirk widening across his face. “ Zeus is very angry with him after his capture nearly led to the fall of Olympus. There’s even talk of stripping of his title, permanent-”

“ Causing trouble again, little brother?” 

Both Hermes and Kratos turned their eyes towards the goddess Athena, clad in her battle armor and white dress, icy blue eyes glowering down at Hermes, who now looked very small in comparison. 

“Sister!” Hermes said surprised, quickly straightening out to look the goddesses in the eye. “You know, it’s considered rude to sneak up on family.”

Athena raised a single eyebrow, “ And it is considered unwise to tell secrets of that family, without your Father’s permission.” 

Hermes seemed to pale at the mention of Zeus, a reaction that brought Kratos the closest thing to amusement since his arrival.

“ If you do not wish for me to inform him of your… misstep , then return to your whores,” Athena said stoically, before raising her eyes to meet Kratos.

The war goddesses' eyes softened when falling upon the Spartan. “ I would have words with the Spartan.”

Sensing he had lost dominance in the conversation, Hermes simply huffed, spared one last look of disdain for Kratos, and then sped away, the women from earlier disappearing with him. 

Athena looked in the direction her brother had run, exasperation evident on her face. “ Forgive him. He hides it well, but his experience with Morpheus has shaken him. The same can be said for the rest of Olympus.” 

“But not you?” Kratos asked, unable to mask his curiosity. Athena was…an enigma to Kratos. Out of all the Gods he had encountered during his time serving Ares, she leveled no insults at him, nor did she look at him with disdain and mockery. She was different from the other Olympians, stoic and calculated, never saying more than she had to. She never held a grudge against him for attacking Athens under Ares's orders, and wisely never brought up the fact that his wife and child had been among those slayed. 

Athena smiled at Kratos. “ I never doubted you would save us Kratos. Just as I had no doubt you would find a way back from the Aegean Sea.”

Kratos's eyes narrowed as he connected the dots. He had known that a god had to be responsible for stranding him on that spec of stone and dirt, and now their identity was revealed.

“It was you! ” Kratos snapped, nearly pulling out his blades to attack the wisdom goddess. “ You stranded me there, you took the weapons I had found on my journey!”

Athena simply looked at Kratos, seemingly intrigued by his anger. “ The Shield of Helios and The Gauntlet of Zeus have been returned to their rightful owners.” Athena took a step forward, entering Kratos's personal space. He did not want her close to him, but the mortal refused to retreat from the goddess. 

“As for deserting you, well I’m afraid that was necessary. Had I returned you to Olympus promptly, you would quickly become a reflection of our recently departed goddess.”

“Speak plainly Athena,” Kratos snarled, “I have no patience for riddles.”

“ Nor do I have the patience to present them,” Athena replied, her eyes now hardened. “My brother is a fool, but he spoke the truth earlier. Zeus was not pleased to hear of Persephone’s demise and your part in it. Had you been present when his fury was at its peak, your life would have also been forfeited.”

Kratos took in Athena’s words, relaxing slightly as he understood the implications. “ You lend aid to me. Why? ” 

Athena’s smile returned as she placed a hand on Kratos’s shoulder. “ I see a great future for you Kratos, I see you bringing Olympus and yourself much glory. I would not see you perish short of achieving your destiny.”

Kratos slapped away Athena’s hand. “ I care little for destiny. I desire only one thing now.”

Athena nodded. “ Yes, to be free of the nightmares that have plagued you since the death of your family, I know.”

Kratos's eyes widened slightly, and a glimmer of hope sparked inside of him.  “Can you…?” Kratos trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Unable to let himself dream. 

With what appeared to be sadness, Athena slowly shook her head, causing Kratos to clench his fist in anger once again. “ Zeus agreed not to punish you for killing Perspohone, but he also forbids that you receive any reward for that act. I cannot grant you what you seek, not at this time.”

Kratos looked down at the ground, his anger being replaced with an impending feeling of helplessness. Atlas had been correct, he was a fool to lay trust in the Olympians. After all, he had suffered, after what he had to sacrifice to save Olympus, it still scorned him. 

“Your suffering will never end…Ghost of Sparta” 

Those had been Persephone's last words to Kratos, and they possessed more truth than he had ever received from another Olympian. 

“ But do not lose faith, My Spartan,” Athena said, once again placing her hand on Kratos. “ Stay on the path you are on now, and this I promise you; you will receive all that is owed to you and much more.” 

Before Kratos could respond, Athena retracted her hand and began to walk away. Kratos considered simply letting her go, but a second question had been eating at him since Hermes had left.

“Wait,” Kratos said firmly, causing Athena to halt.

“Yes, Kratos?” Athena asked, her voice remaining calm and tranquil.

“Before Hermes left, he spoke of Helios being stripped of his position as the Sun God. Is this true?”

Athena hesitated, and Kratos internally cursed himself for asking. Athena was the goddess of wisdom, if anybody would be able to glean the true nature of his questioning, it would be her. 

“Yes,” Athena finally answered, “Helios is to be replaced, and another will be named the God of the Sun.”

Kratos's eyes narrowed as he considered the goddess's words. “Such a thing is possible?”

Athena turned slightly to glance at Kratos. “ Not by force, and certainly not be a mortal . Do not allow your victory over Persephone to inflate your confidence beyond reason. Be mindful Kratos.”

Athena turned around continuing down the halls of Olympus, and Kratos watched her until she was out of sight.

Kratos considered Athena’s words, gauging their validity. The goddess's words rang true, Kratos would present no challenge to Olympians as he was now. But if the Gods continued to toy with him, he may be left no other choice, than to turn his fury on them.

So, seeing no further reason to remain in the confining walls of Olympus, Kratos made his way back from where he came, to the land of mortals…

“ Kratos… Kratos!”

Kratos’s eyes shot open and met with the shimmering void of the Yggdrasil. Kratos found himself on the edge of the path, nearly tipping over. The strange part was, it seemed as if he was walking towards it.

“ What are you doing?” Freya demanded, grabbing Kratos’s shoulder and forcing him to face her.  “ Was the poison not deadly enough for you?” 

Kratos looked at Freya, his mind felt like it was wrapped in fog, making focus difficult. “ I…did not see it.”

Freya’s eyes narrowed. “ You are having visions?”

“Memories,” Kratos rubbed his forehead to clear his thoughts, “From long ago.”
“Regarding our visitor?”

“I…do not know.”

Freya grimaced, turning towards the newly opened gateway into Vanneheim. “We should hurry. Whatever that man attacked you with it may still be affecting you.” Offering no argument, Kratos followed Freya through the doorway. 

As usual, Kratos smelled Vanneheim before he saw it. It was a potent and musty aroma, one of rich fauna and wildlife. The ygrós of the realm had settled since Ragnarok, and that was hardly the only change. Thanks to Lunda, a mystic gateway had been constructed in the heart of Freyr’s Camp. The camp itself had expanded to accommodate more people, and now served as a first line of defense for a much larger structure; a place where Freya’s council of representatives met regularly to discuss the state of this realm and others. It also acted as a temporary place of refuge for all creatures of the 8 realms to come and seek aid, counsel, or simply a place to rest their heads at night. 

Not long after exiting the portal, The sound of a familiar hammer clanging against the metal filled the air, making Kratos relax ever so slightly. 

“Hey, look who it is!” A familiar voice called out. “ Back already your majesty? If I didn’t know any better-”

Before Kratos could lift his head to see her, Lunda had already materialized in his face, eyes brimming with concern.

“Gefjon’s cleavage, what happened to you Muscles?!” Lunda exclaimed, scanning Kratos repeatedly.

“ Nothing happened to me, Lunda,” Kratos said, his tone more defensive than he would have liked.

“ “Nothing happened” Your fine ass! I know foreign magic when I smell it.” Lunda insisted, circling Kratos for what he hoped was injuries.

“He was poisoned, but he’s fine for now. I want to give him some herbs to help with his recovery.” Freya answered, continuing on their path to the entrance of the sanctuary. 

Freya spoke a few quick words in her native tongue, and the words Hæli fyrir öllum blazed above them, the vines that blocked them now creating a path.

“You need any help with him?” Lunda asked, though whether it was out of concern or desire to touch Krato’s body, he wasn’t sure, nor keen to find out.

“I have him for now,” Freya responded, “ But if there is something I would ask of you,”

“Name it,” Lunda responds with no hesitation.

“Gather up as many members of the council as you can, and tell them to come to the council hall as quickly as possible.” 

“What do I tell them?”

“Tell them it’s an emergency, and that I am demanding their presence.”

Lunda nodded and then disappeared before their very eyes.

They arrived at Freya’s study only moments later; a simple area filled with herbs and fauna, reminiscent of her place back at Sindri’s house. Kratos leaned up against a wall, allowing himself to catch his breath. Kratos was no stranger to the effects of poison, but his body still felt the impact even after he healed himself. It was his fault, for allowing himself to be caught off guard. 

“Try to relax, it will take me a few moments to create the remedy,” Freya had already busied herself, gathering up different herbs and mixing them. 

Kratos grunted in affirmation, though relax he did not. His mind was taken with thoughts of the stranger, and what his identity might be. Kratos was sure he had never met him before, but that vision…those memories , they had to mean something. 

“Here,”  Freya handed Kratos the bowl, the crushed herbs now glowed with magical energy. “ It should drive out any poison that may still be in your system, and should strengthen your body so that if you are poisoned again, its effect on you will be greatly lessened.”

Kratos nodded, drinking the herbs with no hesitation. It tasted…awful. It reminded him of the time he had cooked and eaten a Draugr, during his years in Midgard before meeting Faye. Still, it served its purpose, and Kratos felt himself becoming rejuvenated. 

“ Thank you.” Freya leaned on the table across from Kratos, who confusedly raised his eyebrow.

“...I have done nothing deserving of your thanks,” Kratoas said uncertainty, causing the Goddess to smirk in amusement. ‘

“Thank you for being here,” Freya clarified, “ I know you’d rather be in Midgard right now.”

Kratos lifted off the wall, putting his full weight back on his feet before relaxing and tensing different parts of his body, pleased to find there was no discomfort to be found. 

“You were correct,” Kratos said finally, “ It would have been foolish to hunt him as I was. And the Council should know what they are dealing with.” 

“Oh?” Freya asked, her smirk becoming genuine “ Could it be that you’re warming up to the idea of the council?”

Kratos tensed up, knowing full well where she was going with this.

“I…was never against the idea of your Council. No civilization can survive without leadership.” 

“ Oh, I remember your stance on leadership Kratos, don’t you worry,” Freya responded in a teasing tone, causing Kratos to look at her sternly. 

“Freya…this is not the time.”

“ On the contrary,” Freya countered, her face growing more serious. “I believe this is the perfect time.”

“If we’re lucky, this God will be a simple matter to resolve, but if he is simply the symptom of a much larger problem, then wouldn’t it be better if we did not need to scramble for allies as we did during Ragenrok? Wouldn’t it be better if we were unified?” 

Kratos folded his arms to keep them from shaking. This was not the first time Freya had broached this topic, not the first time she had asked him to make his “General” position more… official . He saw the logic in her agreement, and the merit in what she suggested, but Kratos desired no lofty title, or accolades for his past… achievements. He had allowed ambition and power to twist him before, and the result was the loss of everything he held dear. He would not let history repeat itself.

“ I came here because I agreed that the 8 realms should be aware of all those who would threaten them.” Kratos looked off to the side, out the window into the dense forest of Vannaheim. “ But the responsibility of dealing with this stranger, and any allies he may have, is still mine . I would not risk any more people than I already have.”

Freya’s eyes narrowed as she listened to Kratos’s words, seemingly unsure of what to make of them. A suffocating silence filled the room, reminiscent of the last time they spoke. 

Before either could break the silence, footsteps and the district sound of shuffling metal wings filled Kratos's ears.

“Brother!” Mimir called out, carried into the room by Sigrun. “And Lady Freya too? Well isn’t this a happy reunion!”

“Sigrun?” Freya asked surprised. “ Well, this is…a surprise! How did Lunda find you two so fast?”

“ We were already in Vannaheim when Lunda found us, milady,” Sigrun saluted Freya.

“You were?” Freya raised her eyebrow, leveling a suspicious gaze at Mimir.

“Nothing nefarious, Your Majesty” Mimir assured, “We came to this realm on a matter of great importance when Lunda appeared and claimed the same. Suppose we should have guessed that you two would be in the middle of whatever’s got the council all frantic” 

“Is the council ready?” Freya asked anxiously.

“Nearly,” Sigrun confirmed, setting Mimir down on the table next to Freya, “Why did you call such a sudden meeting? What is the problem?”

Freya and Kratos exchanged a look, and a silent message passed between the two of them.

Not yet.

“It can wait,” Freya answered, “ At least until the entire council is gathered,” 

“In that case, I would ask for a moment of your time, My Queen,” Sigrun  said, “There is a matter I would like to speak to you about, before the meeting.”

Freya’s eyes narrowed but nodded in acceptance. She then turned to Kratos. 

“You remember where the council hall is?” Kratos nodded in response but did not hold Freya’s gaze. 

“Don’t you worry, I’ll drag him to the council hall myself if need be,” Mimir called out, causing both Valkeryine Queens to roll their eyes in amusement.

“Thank You, Mimir, that is comforting.”

“Any time.”

Both Sigurn and Freya left the room, leaving Kratos alone with Mmir, for the first time in nearly 4 months. It was a trivial period, especially for a God, but it was still the longest the two had been apart since they had met. 

“So….” Mimir began “Are you gonna make me guess ?”

Kratos grunted, leaving the wall he had been hugging since his arrival, grabbing a chair, and seating himself across from Mimir. He said nothing, unsure of where to start, and Mimir thankfully didn’t push him for a response. 

“ A god attacked my home,” Kratos brought out his axe, standing it upright and gripping the handle tightly. “ He was…not of these lands.” 

“ Oh… oh .” Mimir said, slowly realizing what Kratoas was implying, “You’re… certain of this?”

“Hmm,” Kratos grunted with a small nod.

“Bloody hell,” Mimir muttered, “ As if Helheim wasn’t bad enough..”

Krato raised his head, eyeing the head suspiciously. “What is wrong with Helhiem?”

“ With the realm itself? Absolutely nothing.”

“ Mimir .”

Mimir sighed, “ In the words of our favorite goddess, it can wait , at least for now.”

Kratos frowned, deciding to drop the issue, but making a mental note to question Sigrun when given the chance.

“It certainly isn’t as interesting a foreign god once again finding their way into Midgard!” Mimir continued, “Did you know this one Brother? From your time in Greece?” 

Kratos’s grip on the Levithan Axe tightened. “ He knew of me, I did not know him.”

“Hmmm,” Mimir hummed, Kratos could almost imagine him stroking his beard in concentration.  “Well considering your reputation and tendency to stand out in a crowd, it isn’t surprising that those of other lands would have heard you. Is it possible he’s using that fact to his advantage? Trying to get inside your head?”

Kratos considered Mimir’s words, wishing that they could be true. “No. The things he said, the things he knew… I may not know who he is, but what is obvious.” 

"Ah, well," Mimir sighed softly, his tone disappointed. It wasn’t often that Kratos looked at Mimir when he spoke to him, he had become so used to only hearing the man's voice, discerning his moods through tone alone. Seeing his face now, Kratos realized just how tired Mimir looked, the age that was etched across his features. 

“How are you faring then, Brother?” Mimir asked after a few moments of silence.

“I am unharmed.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Kratos sighed, his grip on the axe growing slack as the tension in his body built.  “I…do not know what to do Mimir. This God…he is not like the others we have fought.”

“Kratos,” Mimir said firmly, “ While I agree that a God from your Homeland is a matter to be dealt with caution, this is hardly the first precarious situation we have found ourselves in.”

“My worries lay not with the battle ahead,” Kratos stated, “But with it’s cost.”

“ Ah, ” Mimir remarked, understanding Kratos’s meaning instantly. A skill Kratos appreciated. “ So you fear that in defeating this foe, you’ll only end up doing more damage?”

“As I’ve done in the past,” Kratos confirmed. 

“Well in that case, do you intend to let this God wander about Midgard, doing whatever he pleases?”

Kratos snapped his head up at Mimir, shocked by his friend's question.

“No.” 

“ Exactly ,” Mimir said, a satisfied grin on his face. “ You won’t leave well enough alone, you can’t, because that is who you are.”

The tension bled out of Kratos’s body as he listened to Mimir’s words, each of them striking a chord in the Spartan.

“ Now, I don’t know what this God said, or what his intentions may be, but I do know you, Brother. The life you have now, the person you are now, it didn’t just happen , you earned it! You’ve proved time and time again that you are capable of making the right decisions at the right time.”

Kratos fixed Mimir with a skeptical, yet intrigued stare. “And you would place faith in me continuing to do so?”

“Brother, I’ve been betting on you since the day you cut off my head,” Mimir replied glibly, “You haven’t disappointed yet, and I have the stump to prove it.” 

Kratos was at a loss for words, astounded by the Puck's declaration. Mimir had only part of the story and no idea what kind of threat they were dealing with, but he did not doubt that Kratos would prevail. No one save for his son had that level of faith in him, warranted or otherwise. 

“Thank you,” Kratos said sincerely, “ I do not know if I am deserving of such praise, but I will do what I can to make it so.”

"Of that, Brother, there is no doubt," Mimir remarked, smiling at the Spartan. Kratos returned the smile, albeit a small one.

Kratos rose to his feet and lifted Mimri off the table. “It will not be easy.”

“Never said it would,” Mimir retorted as Kratos strapped him to his belt, “But  we will figure it out, as we always do.”

“So you are not nervous?”

“Never said that either.” 

“Hmm.”

Chapter Text

Together, Kratos and Mimir had navigated the worst the eight realms had to offer. They had seen their way across the searing cliffs of Muspelheim, the winding tunnels of Svartalfheim, and even the treacherous labyrinths of Ivaldi's Workshop. Yet finding the entrance to the Grove Hall of Vanaheim was proving to be an equal challenge.

“Brother, that’s the third time we’ve passed by that cluster of Emberblooms—I think it’s fair to say we’re lost.”

“How do you not know the way?” Kratos growled, his frustration growing by the minute. “You are on the council.”

“When you have a partner who can fly , memorizing the floor plan doesn’t seem all that necessary.”

After they finished talking, the two of them had left to meet Freya and Sigrun in the council hall, Kratos telling Mimir of his encounter with the stranger as they walked. Having only been there once, the path was unfamiliar to him. If not for Mimir, the red blossoms of Emberblooms, as pleasant as they were, would have looked no different than the countless other flora they had encountered.

It hadn’t taken them long to find the Grove itself; it was a large tree that had been hollowed out by Freyr to serve as a secondary stronghold during his war with the Aesir. The fortress was well fortified, and its entrance well hidden. Very well…

“Steady on, Brother,” Mimir chimed, sensing his companion’s agitation, “I’m sure we’ll find a way in soon enough. It’s not like the ladies can start without us... well, you , anyway.”

Mimir was not wrong in this, but Kratos refused to slow his pace. When Kratos first stepped foot in Vanaheim, the realm mirrored his own state of mind: hostile, distrustful, and weary of conflict. But now the realm was at peace, peace it had bled for. Kratos refused to let any specter of his past disturb that peace.

“Hnn,” Kratos broke away from the path he and Mimir had been on and walked towards the base of the Grove Hall tree.

“I know what that means,” Mimir groaned as Kratos drew his Blades of Chaos, their chains clinking faintly as they slackened. “Don’t suppose you’ll consider leaving me down here? Freya isn’t around to catch me, after all.”

“No.”

“Worth a try. Carry on, then.”

Bending his knees, Kratos inhaled deeply before launching himself skyward. Freyr’s camp became a speck in seconds, the only sounds he could hear being the wind howling in his ears and Mimir’s shrieks. His blades trailed behind like the tail of a Tatzelwurm.

Once he started to feel the pull of gravity, Kratos yanked the blades forward, embedding them in a massive chunk of the tree above him. With another might yank, Kratos and Mimir were once again propelled upwards, this time reaching the top and landing on the wooden floor.

“Bloody Hel, Kratos!” Mimir cried out, “It’s a good thing you didn’t take my heart with you when you freed me from that tree—’cause I’m pretty sure it would’ve given out just now!”

“We are fine,” Kratos huffed, sheathing the Blades of Chaos before turning his gaze forward.

The war room-turned-council hall was impressive. It’s rough exterior had been smoothed out, yet still retained its natural look, Branches arched to form the walls and ceiling, slivers of light shone from above, along with glimpses of Vanaheim’s horizon. Pathways extended outward like veins, weaving through the tree and leading to other chambers or balconies. At the center of the room was a long table, carved from a darker wood than the rest, bearing intricate designs and symbols that were mostly lost on him. Circling the table was the council, which had expanded since his last visit.

Freya stood at the head of the table, looking on in amusement, joined by Sigrun, Hildisvíni, and a second woman Kratos did not know. She appeared younger than Freya but no less wise, dressed in a green woven dress you would have found in Asgard—though instead of gems, colorful flowers adorned the fabric. Her presence seemed to invigorate the room as she studied Kratos from afar.

Next to Sigrun stood a representative from Alfheim—unexpected considering their self-imposed exile following Ragnarok. His attire was a blend of armor and elegant robes, reminiscent of both the Light and Dark Elves, marking him as a rare voice for both factions. He was agitated, staring at Kratos with clenched fists.

Across from him sat Sif, who seemed more exasperated than alarmed by Kratos' presence. Seated at the foot of the table were Durlin and Lunda, both far more relaxed than the others—Durlin with a bored expression, his chin resting on his hand while Lunda whispered something to him with a suggestive grin.

“Kratos, Mimir,” Freya greeted, her tone light and teasing. “So glad you could join us.”

Tearing his eyes away from the gathered council, Kratos turned his scowl on her. He didn’t care much for her taunts, though it was far preferable to their past animosity. She met his glare with calm defiance, a single eyebrow arching as if to ask, Do you really think we have time for this?

They did not.

“Hnn,” Kratos grunted, stomping to the table and placing Mimir down across from Freya.

“Apologies, your highness,” Mimir said smoothly, regaining his composure. “You know how easy it is for him to get sidetracked.”

“How could I forget?” Freya chuckled lightly. “It’s a miracle you two made it here at all.”

Kratos bristled at their teasing, but he knew better than to react. They weren’t mocking him for fun—not entirely anyway. Their banter was meant to ease the tension in the room, a moment of levity to relax the council. Shrewd maneuvering, worthy of Hermes himself. He would let it pass… for now.

“Freya,” Sif interrupted, rising with the authority and grace of royalty, “I believe I speak for everyone when I ask—”

“What the fuck are we doing here?” Durlin exclaimed, earning him a scowl and an elbow from Lunda.

Sif’s frown deepened at the interruption, yet she remained poised. “Crudely put, but yes— that .”

Freya raised her hand, causing Sif to stiffen and the entire room to quiet.

“I take no pleasure in calling you away from your realms,” Freya began, her tone placating, “I know we all have our own problems to deal with.”

Sigrun and Mimir shared a knowing look, to which Kratos could only glower. What were they hiding?

“I assure you, however,” Freya continued, “this could not wait .”

She turned back to Kratos, her expression grave. “Perhaps it’s best if you lead?”

Her tone left no room for argument, tempted as he was. As Kratos stood to address the council, each member turned their attention to him. In that moment,  he couldn’t help but be reminded of their gathering in Tyr’s Temple, moments before storming Asgard. The threat they faced now was different, but the moment felt just as heavy.

“We face a new threat,” Kratos said, wasting no time on theatrics. “A god from Greece.”

Unease crept back into the room like poison from a Revenant. No one dared speak a word, each council member drinking in what Kratos had just said with varying levels of shock. Freya, Sif, and the woman in green looked particularly shaken.

“Where?” Sif was the first to speak, her voice lacking its usual sophistication.

“Midgard,” Freya answered. “I encountered him in the woods not long before he confronted Kratos in his home.”

Sif turned to the Spartan, her gaze far too condemning for Kratos’s liking. “ Which god is it?”

Kratos leaned on the table to meet her eyes, feeling the wood creak under his fists. “ I do not know. ”

“His identity isn’t what’s important,” Sigrun interjected, sensing the incoming confrontation. “What matters is what his presence means for Midgard—and the rest of the realms.”

Kratos and Sif remained in their standoff for a few tense moments before the former queen relented. Kratos could feel a growl building in his throat, but he swallowed it for the time being.

Hesitantly, though not lacking the sternness befitting a leader, the Alfheim representative looked over at Freya. “ᗰIᒪᗩᗪY.” Speaking seemed to require great effort from him; he was clearly unfamiliar with their tongue. "ᑎEᗯ GOᗪ IS OᑎᒪY Iᑎ ᗰIᗪGᗩᖇᗪ, YES?”

Freya nodded. “Yes. And we have no reason to believe he can realm travel.”

“GOOᗪ. ᗯE ᒪEᗩᐯE ᕼIᗰ TᕼEᖇE.”

Several scoffs erupted throughout the chamber. The tension in the room had become so thick that even a Kelpie would have trouble swimming through it. To his credit, however, the Elf showed no signs of retreat. Instead, he pointed his peculiar weapon at Kratos—a Dark Elf spear, seemingly powered by the Light of Alfheim. Its glow became more volatile as it was leveled at Kratos, yet he made no move against it.

“ᕼIS ᖇEᗩᒪᗰ. ᕼIS GOᗪ. ᕼIS ᑭᖇOᗷᒪEᗰ.”

The Elf’s hostility was of no consequence to Kratos, yet he could see why he had been chosen to represent the elves. He spoke without waste. The rest of the council was not as convinced.

“And since when does Alfheim run from a fight?” Lunda called out, causing the Elf to show the first sign of anger since Kratos’s arrival. He looked down at Lunda and let out a series of incomprehensible words in native Alfheim. For the first time since Kratos had met her, Lunda appeared speechless, silently staring up at the armored warrior for a few seconds… before launching herself at him with a feral expression on her face. She was stopped only by Durlin grabbing her by the arm and yanking her backward.

“YOU SHUT YOUR GAPING MAW, YOU GLOWING SACK OF DRAUGR SHIT!” Lunda cried with enough vitriol to make Brok proud. “FREYR WOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOU!”

Clearly slighted by her last remark, the Elf growled and spread his arms in a familiar way, welcoming Lunda’s challenge. Durlin lost his footing at the worst possible moment and was dragged along with Lunda as she tackled the larger adversary—and surprisingly brought him down. Both Sif and Freya rolled their eyes at the display, while Hildisvíni rushed forward in an attempt to break the two up. The woman in green leaned forward, enraptured, a wide grin betraying her excitement.

“This is madness,” Kratos growled.

“This is politics,” Mimir retorted, his voice carrying a tinge of nostalgia. “But you’re right; this is hardly helpful. Perhaps we should step in—before Liosvak loses an eye? Not everyone can pull it off as well as me.”

Kratos exhaled roughly, only resolving to help because Lunda’s blacksmithing skills would be hindered if she were to lose an arm. He summoned Draupnir and slammed its hilt down on the wooden ground. The deafening sound echoed throughout the chambers, causing the chaos to cease almost instantly. Kratos glanced at Freya, urging her to seize this opportunity. With a nod—and a small, knowing smile—she obliged.

" Well, " Freya said, her voice laced with mock enthusiasm, "I’m glad to see you are all taking this threat seriously, but you all know the rules of fighting in the hall."

She shot a pointed look at Lunda, who reluctantly pulled herself off of 'Liosvak.' Whilst doing so, she muttered something under her breath, which none but the Elf could hear. Fortunately, Hildisvíni pulled him away before he could make a move.”

“Good, good. Now then,” Mimir started—to the chagrin of Sif and Hildisvíni, “I believe the thought Lunda was trying to convey—in her own colorful fashion—is that we simply can’t leave Midgard at the mercy of a foreign–potentially hostile– God.

“Exactly ,” Freya continued, her glare shifting to the Elf. “Same as we wouldn’t leave him if he’d found his way into Alfheim.”  He flinched slightly under her stare but didn’t argue further. Wise.

“So what do you intend to do?” A new voice asked, the pleasant sound drawing Kratos’s attention to Freya’s side.

The woman—or rather, the girl —in green had finally spoken, her posture relaxed and her gaze warm as she addressed the room, but her focus remained on Kratos. “If you went through the trouble of gathering us here, then surely your strategy extends beyond simply ‘Let Kratos handle it.’ ”

Her forwardness gave him pause. His eyes flicked to Freya for direction. The queen’s face faltered, clearly caught off guard, yet she recovered quickly and spoke.

“Kratos is the obvious choice to lead the charge, as he has the most experience—”

“Killing gods?” the girl finished, to the shock of many. She seemed unbothered, almost amused by their stupor.

Kratos did not like this girl.

“With gods of other lands,” Freya corrected, her eyes betraying an otherwise calm expression with flickers of frustration. He was beginning to regret coming here.

“Ah yes, my mistake,” the girl agreed, her impish grin showing no signs of guilt as she looked up at Kratos. “And what of you, Kratos? Do you believe you can simply… kill this threat?”

The girl was challenging him, but why, he did not know. Still, if she wanted to know him, then she shall know him.

“As you said,” Kratos said plainly. “ I have experience .”

Unsurprisingly, she was not intimidated by his decree. On the contrary, she seemed captivated by it, her emerald eyes widening with giddy fascination, like a child who had just found a new toy. Though frustrating, Kratos noticed no malice in her actions—only an unrelenting, almost childish curiosity.

“Yes,” the girl agreed, tilting her head to the side as her smile broadened. “You do . And yet—that very fact makes this stranger’s arrival even more baffling”

Kratos gritted his teeth, growing tired of her toying with him. “Speak plain.”

The girl’s smile shifted. Less playful now, it took on a sharper edge.

“Unlike the foes you faced in Ragnarok, this god should know exactly who you are,” she began, plucking a flower from her dress and pulling off its petals one by one. “We’ve all heard tales of your might—legends of your vengeance . But he supposedly bore witness to all of it and somehow survived . Taking that into account, I can’t see why someone like that would willingly seek you out. Unless…”

She trailed off, her focus entirely on her wilting flower. After a few moments, Hildisvíni spoke.

“Unless what, Lady Idunn?” Hildisvíni prompted.

Kratos’s breath hitched as he looked at the woman in green with renewed intrigue. This was Idunn? This land’s equivalent of the goddess Hebe?

“ Unless ,” Idunn mused, twirling the now flowerless stem between her fingers, “The tales of the Greeks’ power are surpassed only by tales of their arrogance …” She reached over, tucking the petal behind Hildisvíni’s ear. The hardened warrior, whom Kratos had grown to respect, made no move to remove it.

“I sense there is an ‘or’ coming?” Mimir said dryly. Idunn beamed at him—earning a sharp glare from Sigrun.

“ Or –this new god doesn’t intend to fight Kratos,” Idunn finished, causing each council member to stare at the girl-goddess as if she had gone mad.

“ Idunn ,” Sif began, her tone wary, “If this god isn’t seeking revenge, then why is he here?”

Idunn glanced at Sif, her expression briefly souring before returning to its usual lightheartedness. “How should I know?” She shrugged. “I’m no Heimdall.”

“Even if you’re right,” Mimir interjected, “that still doesn’t mean we should just leave him be.”

Idunn tilted her head again, intrigued by Mimir's statement.

“Why not? If he’s wise enough not to attack Kratos, then it’s unlikely he’s foolish enough to threaten any of the eight realms, weakened as we are.”

Freya frowned, folding her arms across her chest.  “Weakened ?” 

Idunn nodded, either unfazed or unaware of Freya’s annoyance. “Yes, weakened. Due to Ragnarok—and the events that led to it—we are lacking quite a bit of firepower. Cruel as they were, the Aesir were exceptional deterrents.”

Idunn looked around the room, spreading her hands as she addressed the council as a whole. “If this is the best our realms can muster in a crisis, then I’m afraid we were better off under Odin’s thumb. Our enemies are many, and our allies ,” Idunn's eyes lingered on Kratos, “Are few.”

Shifting her gaze back to the council, she smiled, “Taking that into account, can we really be so quick to execute a potential ally? Wouldn’t it be wiser to-”

Kratos slammed both his fists into the table, shaking the table so much Mimir toppled over.

“An ally?” Kratos snarled, making no effort to hide his anger. Each member of the council, especially those who had seen his fury in action, backed away at the sight.

All but Idunn.

The girl didn’t cower from him, but her smirk had melted off her face. She swallowed, showing the first signs of hesitance since his arrival. 

“I was merely suggesting—”

"Enough," Kratos announced, taking Mimir from Lunda, who had picked him up off the ground. "This discussion is over."

He turned to exit the hall, but not before sparing one more glance at Freya, who was silently pleading with him.  He felt a pang of guilt, but continued on. As the Elf said–this was his problem, and he would handle it his way.

But before he could take another step, he heard it. Heard him.

"Well, I must say, I am flattered."

Instantly recognizing the voice, Kratos spun around, Leviathan Axe in hand, searching for the source. Yet no one stood in the room, and those who were present seemed just as mystified as he was.

"It does me good to be discussed with such reverence again, though being referred to as ‘The New God’ is getting old.”

It was as if the voice emanated from every corner of the room. With every word spoken, the light in the hall became more volatile, more alive. The calming beams of light that shone through the trees now twisted and writhed around them like snakes.

"Perhaps it is time for a proper introduction."

Finally, the light converged at a single point, shining so intensely that even the Elf had to avert his eyes. When it finally dimmed, Kratos looked up—and there he was.

Standing at the head of the table, where Freya had moved aside out of necessity, was the stranger from his home. Arms crossed. Eyes locked on Kratos.

His attire had changed—now ready for combat. His flowing chiton replaced by a flawless, sleeveless bronze cuirass. He wore a golden bracer on only one arm, and a flowing loincloth, accompanied by golden greaves. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the sheathed sword attached to his belt, and the arrogant smile that never seemed to leave his face.

"I am Apollo," the god said, his voice laced with pride—and something else entirely. "Son of Zeus and the Titaness Leto. God of Light and Prophecy. The last living Olympian."

Apollo paused, before sending a more playful smirk towards Kratos. 

"Besides my little brother, of course."