Chapter Text
“This mask, the easy answers that it promises…,” Kratos looked around the table, “I know this, shortcuts always have a price.”
The words caused an uneasy aura to settle upon the people in the room. Tyr’s eyes pierced into Kratos’, a strange look daunting his gaunt face. Atreus shifted as his father turned to look at him, a softer tone taking over.
“Atreus, you have carried it. What do you think?”
Atreus felt warm, fighting a smile from working its way onto the boy's face to match the serious tone of the conversation. His father trusted him, and wanted his input. It was as if dark clouds had lifted from Atreus’ mind.
“I think it’s a chance,” Atreus exclaimed, turning the mask in his hands to inspect it, “At worst, we’ll have something Odin wants as leverage. At best, if it really gives us all the answers, then we can make our own path,” The boy paused and looked back up to his father, “...and nobody has to die.”
Kratos gave him a knowing look.
Mimir piped up from the table bluntly, “Grand. Now all we need is a way into Asgard.”
The room went silent again, and Kratos began to pace. Freya’s brow began to crease in frustration. Sindri looked around, anxiously waiting for someone else to answer. Brok looked like how Brok always looked.
Tyr’s voice cut through the silence. “I know I’ve been a burden to you all,” The giant started, “I know you’ve questioned why you even pulled me out of that hole. I have too,” the man stood up, towering over the people sitting at the table. “But it’s clear now, this is what I’m needed for,” Tyr circled the table and came to stand in front of Kratos, “this is my purpose. I will pick up my spear and-”
The man stopped short, contemplating silently for a moment before continuing, “ I will lead us to Asgard.”
Kratos looked as if he were about to say something before Brok’s angelic voice cut him off,
“S’cuse me… but if you got a way to Asgard, where’s that idea been this whole fuckin while.”
“That's-” Mimir shouted in a scolding tone, before stopping and rethinking, “rather a fair question, brother.”
A tense silence fell upon the table's inhabitants. Kratos stepped forward into Tyr’s space, looking into his eyes and sizing him up. “You…withheld Asgard?”. Kratos remembered how horrible he felt watching his only son run to the realm, and the anguish after he realized Atreus stayed .
Tyr responded reluctantly, “You would have gotten us all killed. And we needed to give Loki time to find his destiny,” he gestured to Atreus. The giant grabbed the mask from the boy as his father turned to look at him as well, the indecipherable look in his eyes making Atreus antsy.
“Here is it,” Tyr gestured with the mask, “it’s all led to this.”
Freya spoke up, “If we can get inside, I’m going after Odin”. There was a look in her eye that had sparked the moment Tyr had mentioned getting into Asgard.
“And I will not stop you. We can do both,” Kratos responded.
“Spot on, brother, and if the mask doesn’t give us an out- we’ll still have the drop on him.”
“Let’s do it then, quickly, before he sees us coming.”
“He does hate surprises,” Tyr said knowingly.
The group began to disperse, each person going in separate directions of the house to get prepared for what could be the most important battle of their lives.
Atreus felt heavy. Something about the plan just didn’t sit right with him. If Freya, Mimir, and Tyr couldn’t get the slip on Odin, how did Atreus? It was almost… too easy.
The boy was snapped out of his thoughts by Brok’s gravelly voice echoing through the room.
“Slow down, ya damn spruce,” The short man hobbled in front of Tyr, cutting him off in his path. Tyr’s glowing eyes looked down on him. “I still wanna hear the details on this, uh, new way to Asgard you got.”
Tyr side-stepped him.
“It’s an ancient path,” The giant brushed him off, “We can’t reach it from here.”
“Where then!” Brok’s small form appeared in his path again, the two stopping in front of where Atreus stood still at the table. He could feel the tension growing in the room.
“Let me collect my things and I’ll show you,” The tall man answered, his calm facade slipping into annoyance.
“You ain’t got no things,” Brok quipped back immediately, eyeing Tyr, “And where you goin with that mask-” the mask flew past Atreus’ head before he had time to process Brok’s arm reeling back and smacking it out of Tyr’s hand, the Dwarf pointedly ignoring his protests, “That belongs to the kid. He earned it.”
Atreus stood there in shock, barely noting that sometime during the conversation Sindri had slid up next to him, ready to put himself between danger if necessary. Atreus quietly grabbed the rope securely tied around Mimir's head and dragged him off the table so he could get a better look.
“All you’ve done is made passible dirt soup,” Brok mocked, getting closer to the giant. Tyr stood stock still, not saying anything, just looking at the dwatf. The pool of sudden anxiety returned to the pit of Atreus’ stomach and before he knew what he was doing, he had passed on Mimir to (a now quite green looking) Sindri and his legs moved to stand between the two men arguing. Sindri, despite looking like he was about to pass out, moved to follow the boy.
“Brok it’s okay-” the boy began.
“No it ain’t,” Brok cut the boy off, his usual gruff exterior replaced with something different. More protective. “This ain’t right. The pieces ain’t weldin’ together true.”
Brok then turned to look at him, no longer paying attention to Tyr. “And what’s with him callin you ‘Loki’ anyway?”. Atreus tried to give him a response but drew blank, his mouth floundering with silent words. He offered the blue man a semi-shrug.
Brok suddenly approached where Tyr was standing off to the side, Atreus quick to follow with Sindri behind him. “You know that ain’t his name!” the blue man shouted. Tyr ignored him, his back turned, but the dwarf wasn’t done just yet.
“Hey! I’m talkin’ to you-”
Atreus felt the world around him halt as he caught a glimpse of light bouncing off something metallic in Tyr’s hand before he whipped around and pushed the blade directly into the Dwarf's stomach. Brok’s usual drawl was shortened by his own breath. Blood dripped down the knife and onto the floor as Tyr shoved the knife higher and higher into his flesh with immense cruelty.
“DO YOU EVER SHUT UP?”
Frozen in place, Atreus could only watch as his father and Sindri rushed over to Brok’s form (too s till too still why isn’t he moving- ). His breaths came out in short puffs as panic took over his system. His legs, as if broken from ice, suddenly moved towards Brok, before he felt arms that were too familiar wrap around him and a sharp edge press against his neck. His father halted in his path, arms coming up in an offensive position, ready to strike at any moment. Freya joined him to his right.
“Let the boy go and face me,” Freya shouted, eying Atreus to make sure he wasn’t hurt. The boy felt it press deeper into his throat, a small droplet of blood slipping off the knife. Freya tightened her grip on her sword hilt and glared holes through Odin.
“Toss me the mask and I’ll think about it.”
Atreus felt Odin pull them both farther away from where the weapons were pointed. The boy noted the slight shake in Odin's arms. This wasn’t part of his plan , he dully realized as Odin showed the vulnerability, his carefully crafted facade cracking.
Freya paid a glance back where Sindri was desperately trying to stop the blood flowing from his brother. “If he dies…” she growled. Atreus could feel Odin smirk from above him.
“Then we are fair for Heimdal, and honestly, you got a deal.”
Atreus’ eyes met with his father. The older man looked tense but focused, like he usually did when Atreus was in danger. But something was different this time. Usually his father worries (forever hovering, criticizing. Atreus is all he has left) but he knows Atreus can handle himself. He’s gotten himself out of countless sticky situations before. This time however…
The knife is cold. Atreus isn’t sure if the wetness he feels is his blood or Brok’s.
“Freya, please! ” Sindri calls.
“Can’t be two places at once, Frigg,” Odin mocked. The woman grimaced and looked between the two before grunting in frustration and running over to Brok.
The knife pressed even deeper into Atreus’ neck and he winced. His father looked like he was ready to rip Odin's head from his neck.
“Hey- I don’t move, you don’t move. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.
“I regret many things, but killing you will not be one of them. Release my son .”
The boy feels Odin's arm tighten around him- using him almost like a human shield. Odin, still trembling, shouts, “I am in control here!”
Kratos sends Atreus a hard look, as if to say don’t worry- I’m here. No one will ever lay a finger on you again . Atreus keeps his eyes locked with his father.
“Throw me the mask- now!”
A tense silence lays like a blanket over the room, the only sounds Atreus hears being his own labored breathing and Freya, doing her best to cure a dead man in the corner.
Kratos looks torn, glancing at his hands where the mask is held back up to Atreus. Finally, the man reeled back and threw the mask at the one-eyed god. He caught it, releasing his hold on Atreus’ torso. The knife, however, stayed firmly in place.
“Release the boy,” Kratos seethed impatiently.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Odin responds, smoothly. The boy could see the faint glow of white hot burning rage under his fathers skin.
What?
It hits Atreus, suddenly, that he is the only thing standing between Odin and this mask. Without Atreus, the man has no way to use it. Without a Giants touch, it’s just a wooden bauble with dead writing carved into it. The only other person who could do it was Angrboda, and he’d die before he saw Odin go anywhere near her.
“I’ll never go with you,” Atreus growled, doing his best to look up at his captor.
With a hard shove, Odin pushed the boy’s head down to look at his feet. Atreus was confused for a moment before he saw what Odin was getting him to look at; Mimir’s head wedged between his foot and the floor. The old head looked to be in pain from the pressure Odin was putting on him, creeks in the floorboards being evidence as to how hard the god was pressing down. It dawned on Atreus that he didn’t see the head in Sindri’s hands when he ran over to check on his brother. He must have dropped Mimir in the haste to get to him.
Shit .
“Will this change your mind,” Odin sneered.
“Mimir!” the young god shouted, unsuccessfully lunging away from the All Father to get to the head.
“Atreus,” Kratos said quietly, his eyes never leaving Odin’s knife.
“Come with me, Loki, and nobody needs to get hurt.”
“Don’t listen to him, laddie!” Mimir grunted out, struggling to speak with the foot pressing down on his skull.
Atreus’ breath picked up in panic as everything suddenly became overwhelming. He couldn't think between his fathers enraged grunts, Sindri’s heartbroken sobs, and Mimir struggling to speak. His eyes flashed around the room in indecision.
“I-I…”
“Atreus!” His father pleaded. Atreus snapped his mouth shut and closed his eyes, grimacing and forcing the frustrated, stressed tears to stay at bay.
Then, an idea came to mind.
It was a stupid idea, but it was an idea.
“Okay…I’ll go with you.”
A chorus of protest rang throughout the room as a dark grin spread across Odin’s face. Atreus saw his father jolt, looking heartbroken. He prayed to anyone who would hear him that this would work.
As the flutters of raven’s wings and caws filled Atreus’ ears, he acted quickly. In one motion, he buckled his legs, dropping and making Odin stumble with the unexpected force of his whole weight. He then swiftly kicked Mimir away and channeled the inner anger he had felt throughout the entire interaction into himself, shifting into a wolf and tackling the still recovering god to the ground. The mask in his hand slid across the floor, just out of arm's reach.
Odin, who’s mind had finally caught up, launched Atreus off of him so he smacked against the wall and made a run for the Mask. Atreus shifted back into his human form, a bit dazed and held his head as his father swiftly helped him up, but upon seeing Odin going for the mask, he broke away from the grip and lunged.
It was no use, however. As Odin reached the mask, he saw Atreus approaching at the same time and reacted quickly. He yanked the boy by his arm closer and stood tall as the birds circled him aggressively.
“Looks like war afterall”
It happened so fast that Atreus didn’t even have time to retract his consent, his mouth opening with intention. The last thing he heard was the sharp shing of his fathers spear launching towards them before feathers clouded his vision.
Atreus yelped as he roughly landed on the ground, the harsh stone flooring scraping against his cheek. He heard the sound of Odin crashing into the other side of the cave as scrolls and books collapsed around the impact. The loud squawks of his crows petered out, and dusty air filled Atreus’ lungs. Dazed, the boy stumbled to his feet, instinct taking over. He bolted towards the ascending staircase leading up to the large wooden hut above, not thinking to look for his attacker.
The feeling of hope that planted itself in his mind when he took off was silenced when he heard a shout of ‘ Halda!” along with the sudden weight bearing down on his feet, forcing him to fall to his hands and knees. He started to kick and scream, feeling hands grip the back of his tunic pulling him to the side of the room only lit by the pulsing green light of the rift and the various flickering candles. His mind started to drift and unanswered questions spun through his head with no time to process any of them. Does Odin have the mask? How could they have not seen through his disguise? Where is his father? Is…
Is Brok even alive?
Atreus snapped back to the present when withered hands dug into his chin and forced him to look at Odin, whose once soft and kind demeanor had been replaced with a seething, burning, hatred.
“What have you done,” he growled, releasing Atreus’ face after a painful minute and pacing around in front of him with, to Atreus’ relief, no mask to be found. “I gave you everything you wanted! Freedom, power, friendship, and you spat it all back at my face!” he roared and flipped one of the tables over, scattering its contents along the floor. Atreus flinched but clamped his mouth shut, his eyes never leaving Odin's enraged form.
“What do you have to say for yourself? Anything? Answer me!” Odin cried, not waiting for a response before Atreus’ head whipped to the side from the force of Odin's slap. The adrenaline did little to stop the stars from clouding his vision.
The scene of a knife coming from nowhere ( a trusted friend, a brother ) and planting itself inside Broks gut replayed in Atreus’ mind over and over. He could still hear the sickening squelch as it found its place. Anger and sadness rushed through his body. I should be there, Brok needs me. He’s injured, he’s bleeding out, he’s dea-
Atreus had to cover his mouth to stop the bile burning his throat to come out. His lower lip trembled in a way it hasn’t since he saw his too-pale mother laying on her bed, beckoning him for the last time to come closer so she can kiss him goodnight.
Atreus heard the comforting baritone of his father in the back of his mind reminding him ‘ Do not let your emotions take over you. Control it and use it’ . He stilled his breathing and wiped the unshed tears from his eyes. Atreus knew that while he himself was not in the best position, his father still had the Mask and Gjallarhorn. They still had the upper hand.
If Atreus could play his cards right, he could come out of this relatively unscathed. All he had to do was earn back Odin's trust-
No, Odin was too smart for that. Too clever.
A Knife
Sindri’s yell
His mothers axe pointed at him
Brok
Yes, Atreus heard his fathers voice.
Loki, however, had never been one to listen. The kneeling boy looked up, glared, and spat at Odin.
The old man paused, then silently dragged a hand over his face, his expression shifting very suddenly to an eerie blank page. Loki’s breath began to quicken, all the emotions he felt in the past 10 minutes bubbling in a dangerous boil under his skin, threatening to blow over.
“What- What did I do?,” The boy seethed, ”What did I do?” his voice trembling with rage, his legs shaking as he stood to meet Odin's gaze. Odin remained quiet
“You’re a selfish asshole, you know that?” he laughed with no humor, “you just take and take and never know when to stop. All you’ve ever done is hurt people. You can’t even stop for one second and see how this stupid mask has torn your family apart.”
Loki’s words began to approach something close to hysteria as he rambled on, his voice becoming watery as grief soaked into him. Odin rose to his full height, straightening his back and staring down at the Atreus. Loki glared back, unwavering as tears shimmered in his eyes.
“These people look at you and see a leader. You put on this big show of being kind and helpful but you know what you are?” The boy took a step closer to Odin, “Just a selfish, cruel, arrogant coward who can’t do his own dirty work,” Loki stood so his chin reached Odin's collar bone, his eyes staring wide into the older gods' half-lidded ones.
“And as long as I live you will never, ever , get to know what the mask does.”
Atreus felt the lack of air before he saw the fingers enclosing around his neck. Odin lifted the boy up like he weighed nothing and brought him up to his eye level. Atreus kicked his legs out in a panic, tugging and pulling at the hand cutting off his airway.
Atreus felt Odin reel back slightly before he flew across the room. All the air that was left in his lungs was forcefully ripped out as the wind got knocked out of him. His pitiful gasps trying to collect air did little to sway Odin as he stormed over and began to take out his anger on the boy.
“You don’t understand. You will never understand! Do you know what I’ve had to go through to get here? What I’ve had to sacrifice? I don’t ask for much,” he kicked Atreus hard in the abdomen, causing the boy to open his mouth in a silent scream.
“Just some answers!” another kick, this time cracking across Atreus’ nose
“Is,” crack
“That,” crack
“Too,” crack
“Much-”
Merciful darkness took over Atreus’ vision before he heard the rest of Odin’s vengeful yells. Odin panted heavily, observing the deep red blood coating the floor beneath the collapsed boy under his foot. He stared at Atreus’ prone form for a moment before sighing and rolling his eyes.
“Great.”
The spear made a dull thud connecting to the wall where Odin and Atreus once were merely seconds ago. The mask hanging from it glowed a fading dull green where it stared at Kratos blankly as if to say ‘ was it worth it ’. The normally stoic man stared wide-eyed into the space where his son once was, his body numb, as if devoid of a missing (vital) piece. Sindri’s desperate pleas and Freya's frustrated huffs were a dampened afterthought.
With a sudden cry, Kratos raised his fist and slammed into the wall next to the spear, anger and grief clouding his senses.
The weight of a past life crashed down on him like a pile of rocks. His son was right there, right in arms reach and he couldn't even protect him from the damned gods that seemed to haunt his every step. How could they have all been so deceived by this mockery of a god so beloved? He had never let his guard down so much before, he never had a reason to trust so easily until he came to these strange lands. The family he had made, not even of blood, had softened him. He trusted them. He trusted his son with them-
“-tos,”
Kratos flinched into the present, the feeling of a hesitant hand lay on his shoulder bringing him back. Freya's soft gaze met his and he noted the barely visible watery sheen that coated her eyes. He dimly realized that her hands were drenched in blood, but a quick glance down confirmed it was not her own. The lack of both Brok nor Sindri in the room lay heavy on the two.
“Brok, he-” Freya rasped, “he’s gone.”
Kratos stared hard at her hands, still resting in comfort on his shoulder, as the grief he felt moments prior rapidly turned into rage.
Rage against himself. His failures and insecurities are so carefully hidden from the people he loved. So much so that what he did to protect them hurt them even worse. Guilt and shame did nothing to stop the fires that burned inside him.
He could hear Faye’s soft voice telling him it was not his fault, and somewhere deep down he knew it was true. She was always right, and even if she was wrong; she had a way with persuasion. That woman could convince you the sky was purple, and it had been all along. Kratos always saw that part of her reflected in their son.
Their son…
His clenched fists shook with force at the thought of the God that had him. Odin had disguised himself as a brother, Kratos had confided in him with the sins of his past, thinking that he could help this man he saw so much of himself in. He saw a mirrored reflection in the giant's yellow eyes, a ruse so convincing Kratos swore he saw years of pain inside of them. Odin had made a fool of them all with so much ease. He had snuck into their home, a trusted ally, and had left with the one person Kratos had sworn to protect with his life.
Kratos felt sick to his stomach.
When Atreus first left for Asgard, leaving a trail of hurt behind him, Kratos at least had the comfort of knowing that Atreus went there by choice . He knew Odin was not to be trusted, but his boy was smart and could handle himself for the time being. Now however…
“We need to go to Asgard, now ,” he pushes past her towards the table with sudden conviction.
“Woah, woah, woah, brother, we need a plan first, we cannot just go rushing in as we like,” Mimir cut in. His voice was still a bit raspy from being squished and then kicked across the room, but he didn’t seem to pay much attention to it. He had been quiet since it all went down, occasionally glancing over to the spear in the wall with a sad look.
Freya joined the men at the table and leaned in, regaining her composure slowly. “As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. We have no army, no backup plan-”
“He has my son and a reason to harm him. I will go alone if I must so long as the job is done”
“But we don’t even have a way into Asgard!” Freya cried
In response, Kratos pulled the Gjallarhorn from his hip and slammed it onto the table. Normally he wouldn’t be so reckless as to suggest something like this, but his ability to make rational decisions had left along with Atreus.
“You would start Ragnarok on a whim just to save one person? With no army? You doom thousands of people to an eternity of suffering if you fail!” Freya yelled.
“I will not fail-”
“How do you know? You heard what the Norns said.”
“This is not the first time I have killed a god, woman.”
“And how well did that go last time? You cannot avoid the carnage if you do this, Kratos, you need to remember the bigger picture!”
“Nothing else matters-”
“You don’t think I understand?”
The silence that filled the room was tense. Guilt washed over Kratos as he looked into the eyes of a grieving, angry mother. Mimir stayed quiet, observing from the table.
“You don’t think I would do anything to protect my child, no matter who was in the way or what I would have to sacrifice. I did. And it cost me everything,” Freya spoke, a softer tone taking over, “I know how it feels, not caring who I hurt so long as my son was safe. But we have the power to be better. We have the power to make things better. Both of us.”
Freya clenched her eyes closed in an attempt to keep her tears at bay as he did her best to chase away recent bitter memories.
“I want to get Atreus back and kill Odin just as much as you do, but you cannot risk the 9 realms by rushing in without a plan.”
Kratos to a deep breath and forced the anger he was feeling down. His mind still rushed with the urgency of action, but he knew that it was his responsibility as a god to make sure Odin was gone. For the sake of everyone in the 9 realms and all the people Odin had stepped on to get his power. If Atreus were here, he would probably agree.
He looked to Freya’s determined eyes and saw clarity for the first time in years. He knew she craved Odin's blood for the milenia of pain and suffering he put her through. He knew the feeling all too well. But seeing her push down the urge, to become stronger than her grief made Kratos pause. He had always held nothing but respect for the Valkyrie Queen, but in this moment he looked up to her.
“...Fine”
Freya gave him a small, relieved smile. She returned her hand to his shoulder, grounding the man. “We will get him back, Kratos. I swear it.”
Kratos gave a quiet ‘hm’ before gently removing her hand and looking over at the map Freya had provided. Mimir, reminding the two gods of his presence, spoke up.
“Where do we start?”
When Atreus woke up the first thing he noted was the feeling of tight binds holding his hands behind his back. The more he came to consciousness he realized that his feet were bound together as well by what seemed to be a glowing golden string. He tugged at both testing their strength, but nothing budged.
The boy looked around the dark, unfamiliar room, but found that his vision was hazy and he had a hard time focusing on anything. The dull ache in his head made itself more clear as it pounded in rhythm with his heart.
Heavy footsteps echoed off the walls of the barely lit room and Atreus, finally regaining his senses, tensed up in fear. He scooted backwards as far as he could go.
“...you finally awake kid?”
Thor’s gravelly voice served as a harsh reminder of their last interaction. He was so close to getting through to the older god. And then the man tried to cleave off his head. Atreus decided at that moment his best course of action would be not to respond.
“I saw you move idiot, I know you’re up. Don’t be a coward,” the man muttered and crouched in front of the small cell door. Piercing blue eyes met with Atreus’ as dread settled through the boy's body.
“...Where’s Odin,” Atreus muttered, his voice peaking from unuse.
“Busy.” Thor said bluntly. He reached for the door and unlocked it with a small key, stepping inside and towering over the boy who was doing his best to put on a brave face. Atreus noted how the air in the room had shifted into something more sinister. Thor's face darkened and Atreus’ heart sped up.
Thor stood there just looking at Atreus for a moment before speaking again, “Lucky for me, he gave permission to pick up where we left off.”
Atreus’s heart dropped in his chest and his eyes darted around the room looking for any sign of an exit, the open door behind the large man tantalizingly calling to the boy.
“Anything short of killing you, he said” Thor smiled maliciously before Mjolnir lit up in his hands and was raised above his head.
As the electricity flowed painfully through his body, he could only think of his Father. The memory of the older man’s warm, trusting gaze being the only comfort Atreus realized he would find while at the mercy of Odin.
Loki convulsed.