Chapter Text
“I will not stay!” Kratos roared. He was pacing back and forth angrily, smashing his fists into whatever overturned pillar or piece of marble stood in his way.
The temple was in ruins- once a glorious witness to the power of the Olympian gods, now nearly a pile of rubble. The roof was held up by a few cracked columns that were at risk of Kratos’ wrath. Not wishing to dig herself out should everything come crashing down, Athena stood just past the entrance of the temple, where once a gorgeous archway had been.
“I do not ask you stay, I ask you to help Greece recover-”
“No!” Enraged, Kratos swung his blades at a piece of marble, wrapping the chains around it in a swift motion. He then used the momentum to hurl the rock into the roof. There was now a big hole above them, showing the calm night sky.
Athena sighed. A part of her was relieved that Kratos had not killed her, an action he would be justified doing. She realized she had been spared only because she fought the pride and lust for power surging in her heart, ultimately deciding to stand up against Zeus, and side with Kratos. If only he knew how close she had come to betraying him.
“Then I won't keep you,” she said, squaring her shoulders, steeling herself for the verbal, and possibly physical, onslaught that was to come.
Kratos stomped up to her, his face mere inches away from hers. “Indeed, you do not keep me,” he growled. Athena's expression softened. She had expected a curse-filled, foul rebuke, but all Kratos did was slowly walk past her and stand outside, looking at the night sky.
“Who governs the sun?” he asked quietly.
Athena wanted to ask him why he cared, but instead, she replied truthfully that it was Eos, Helios’ sister, who had taken up the mantle, her powers having been restored.
Kratos nodded, as if assured Greece would be alright. It would not be, and she knew that, as did everyone else. Even the humans were restless, unsure, as if sensing that the temples and altars were no more than empty tombs, monuments to dead gods that could not help or save. As if a god had actually helped someone before.
Athena risked another question, and steeled herself for an outburst. “Where will you go?”
Kratos’ shoulders dropped. “I do not know,” he answered quietly. “North.”
That was not a surprising answer. The North was rumored to be cold and punishing, and Athena knew that it was penance that Kratos sought. He would never be able to find it here, in his homeland. “If so,” she said, “I wish you farewell. If you need-”
“I want nothing from you!” he snapped angrily, refusing to look at her. It hurt Athena's heart, but she knew better than to demand a proper goodbye. “It is cold there,” she only said. “Take some animal hides.”
Despite the warm air, she shivered, goosebumps traveling up her bare arms and shoulders. Suddenly, her tunic seemed to not be enough, and she wished she had a shawl to cover herself with. She wished she had her weapons, and her armor with her, but she did not want to speak to Kratos as a goddess, but as a being.
With Olympus in ruins, she was hardly the former either way.
“May this land never beckon me again,” Kratos said, and began to walk. Athena wanted to stop him, plead with him to stay, reason with him and tell him that all this could be salvaged, but even she was not so naive.
“Wait,” she said, and to her relief, Kratos stopped. “Let me prepare you for your journey. You cannot go without armor, nor without some kind of food and drink.”
How unusual this was. She was meekly asking Kratos to let her help him. Would she be able to return to her own self? A being that wasn't so broken and defeated? Would her confidence come back?
She didn't know, but at least she could aid Kratos’ journey.
He followed her, silently, to one of her temples not far away, where she laid out a golden set of armor, tailor-made for him. She had intended to give it to him ages ago, but there had never been a good moment amongst the slaughter and chaos. There were a few other things, as she promised- furs, food and even a map to guide him on his journey, but Kratos’ attention was drawn to the golden breastplate.
“It is nothing special,” Athena lied, “I just wanted to hand over something befitting a god of Olympus.” The breastplate, along with the armored belt and gauntlets were adorned with symbols of Greece: Gorgons, olive branches, meander patterns, and even the heads of female goats on the shoulders. She had been careful to not leave any symbols of the gods.
“It is fine handiwork,” he said. “I accept this Athena, but only because I need it to leave.”
There was no fight left in her. She looked into his eyes, knowing he was determined to never return. And yet she let him put on the armor, and let him leave with his few meager possessions, knowing that she may never see him again.
Power. She had given up power, for what? For who?
Kratos. A god who had not been here for a hundred and fifty years. A god who, she realized, she missed greatly.
Greece had been restored. Not to its former glory, but it had all somehow stabilized. Olympus had been re-populated by demi-gods, each taking on a role- all except the role of Zeus.
It was an unspoken taboo, reinforced by the oracles that anyone who would be in charge would suffer greatly. A vague notion that had such a powerful hold, because no one had dared to declare themselves the King of Gods, the ruler of Olympus and the savior of Greece.
No, instead the gods now adopted a system that existed in Athens, one where each sat at a table and tried to establish order democratically, and ensure that everything flowed smoothly. After all, the dead still needed to descend, the sun still needed to shine, and crops still needed to grow.
What was even more surprising was that all pride had dissipated. Sure, there were some gods that tried to fight for a higher station, but they were soon shunned, and none had tried to reach for ultimate power in a long time. Not even her. It was not worth it without him.
In such circumstances she did her best as a goddess, but dissatisfaction and restlessness plagued her, and soon, she had become weary. Power did not mean much if there was nothing to rule over. Indeed, there was even no conflict to latch onto, aside from a mild skirmish here and there. Her newly appointed role as a goddess of war felt performative and empty. These days, she found more satisfaction amongst the books, taking notes and preparing lectures she would give at forums.
It was fate that led her to a moment of hope.
She boldly walked among the crowds in Athens, her gold armor and swords clasped over her simple white tunic as she headed to the library. She was a frequent guest, and now, the people hardly flinched when they saw her, as if they expected her to appear at all times. Her thick brown hair was kept in place by two gold bands, but today it was fighting to break free- the wind was strong.
Athena walked into a restaurant, annoyed by capricious weather, and desiring drink. And yet before she could utter a word to the innkeeper, a description reached her ears.
“A new god of war, with blades made of fire,” a voice said just behind her.
She spun around, eager to find the traveler that had uttered these words. The man was not Greek, and almost certainly a complete foreigner to the lands. He was engrossed in a conversation with a fellow traveler, one who seemed to be skeptical of his claims.
“What do we care of the gods?” The other man said, drinking his wine. “They do not care for us, and we should not care for them.”
“This is important, you see,” The traveler continued, not noticing the goddess shuffle closer. “He has changed everything up there, and rules with restraint and peace.”
Athena sighed. That could not be Kratos. Even though she did not know of a Northern god that had blades of fire, it was not impossible for such a weapon to be crafted independently. Moreover, rumors were never reliable.
Kratos had to be still in self-exile, if he had not perished somehow at the hands of a Northern god. The thought was not ludicrous. The Northern gods walked among people even more than the Greek gods, and Kratos could have easily happened upon a being that was a greater match than him. She had heard of Odin, and had records of his destructive power.
She turned to move away, just as the traveler pressed on, ignoring his companion's bored sighs. “He does not hail from the North, he arrived there decades ago, and has laid claim to the title.”
Athena gasped.
It had been a month since news had reached Athena about a new god being instituted in the North. Information was scarce and difficult to obtain, but what she could find out left no room for doubt- it was Kratos.
“You should not leave,” Angelia said. She had come to Athena's quarters.
“And why do you say so? Kratos could help.”
“Help with what?” Angelia spat. “He has taken up a new station, clearly, and does not care what becomes of his homeland. I will not suffer him here.”
Athena looked at the goddess. She was sitting at one of her desks, absentmindedly flipping through a book. “Are these maps?” Angelia asked.
“They are. The same ones I gave to Kratos.”
“So you intend to follow them, and hope you stumble upon the oaf?”
Athena scowled. Angelia was not keen on Kratos, and no wonder; he had murdered her father, Hermes, brutally. Now she had taken up the role as the messenger of Olympus, although she did not have the strength and speed of her father. Greece was nowhere near healed enough for the gods to regain their full power.
How ironic. The gods were weak, but the people were strong, thriving. Hope had empowered them while robbing the deities of the land.
Athena knew Angelia thought it was fondness and longing that were about to guide her on her journey to find Kratos. It was not. It was a raw bitterness that guided her. Kratos had decimated Olympus, only to go off to a foreign land and lead a happy life, ignoring the destruction he had left.
She would drag him back.
Many weeks had passed, and so far, the road had not been as perilous as Athena had thought it would be. The lands North of Greece had been fairly calm, although it was to her advantage she knew how to navigate thick woods. Her encounters were limited to odd forest creatures that would ignore her once she moved away, and an odd village here and there. The sea crossing was calm as well, with a local merchant inviting her onto his boat- for that sum of money, few would not be glad to allow someone on board.
Yet once she stepped onto the Northern lands, something shifted. There was an underlying tension in the air, as if a great battle had just finished. Athena squared her shoulders and laid her hand on the hilt of one of her swords. Oh, Kratos had been here.
Gods had died in these lands, and there had been intense battles. Worse, there had been a desolation. She wasn't far inland, and yet she could see remnants of buildings, villages, and the odd skeleton here and there.
A longer walk, however, dissuaded her from her negative conclusions. These lands had not known peace for a good few centuries, maybe more. The ruins were old, and the abandoned sites were in a catastrophic state.
“By Olympus,” Athena breathed, staring at an armed creature that was on fire. She had studied possible enemies before coming, and knew that it must be a type of draugr, but why it wielded two hatchets, and why it was so fast, she did not know. It had surprised her, but not taken her off guard, and she rid the creature of its head with only one sword.
So, the lands weren't entirely safe. In fact, she could not see how humans could prosper in such an unwelcoming place. It was cold and the sky was gray, and while she had a warm fur cape thrown over her torso, her sandaled feet were not pleased to be walking through snow. Her tunic was also far too short, the armored belt doing little to help matters- both went only to her knees.
Surely there must be a village which would sell her clothes. Of course she could sew some on her own, but that would require hunting game, game that she had not seen yet.
No matter- she was not freezing yet. Her breastplate protected her vitals, and if she put the hood of her cape on, she would be warm.
She trudged a few more hours, thinking of Kratos throughout her journey through the silent, white forest. What was he doing here, and why was he not hiding? She entertained the possibility that she could be mistaken, and the god of war of these lands was not Kratos, but the more she thought about it, the more probable it seemed. What was here for him that Greece could not give him? Why had he seized power here, and not on Olympus, with her? They would have been unstoppable, and could have ruled fairly, but with an iron hand.
The smell of a burning fire reached her nostrils. Either it was one of these creatures, or the people of these lands.
It was a house.
Before she stepped out of the trees, she made sure to hide her sword and pull her cape tightly around her. No reason to scare any locals. She was glad she had not decided to wear her golden headband, instead tying down her curls in a somewhat messy bun around her head.
“Greetings,” she quietly said to a family sat around a fire. She made sure her arms were up.
The family was, understandably, startled, but relaxed upon seeing that she posed no threat.
“Greetings, traveler,” the head of the family said, standing up. he was a tall, blond, bearded man, and to any human, would look intimidating. “What brings you here?”
“I am on a pilgrimage to the gods of this realm, I hail from beyond the seas.” A lie of sorts. “I am also a scholar.” Not a lie- she had the notes and books to prove it. Indeed, might as well make the most of this trip and document whatever she saw wherever she went. She was genuinely interested in acquiring knowledge, especially if it could help her in the future.
Thankfully, the family believed her, and not only welcomed her into their small home and invited her to the table, but gave her fur bracers and boots to shield her from the elements. They refused payment.
“It is getting better every day, but there is still much danger,” the woman said. She was holding a sleeping infant against her chest.
“Indeed,” her husband agreed. “In fact, we never dreamt that we could come back to our family home. We stayed hidden for five years, in shelters and caves, hoping to survive, then to somehow live.” The man glanced at his other children- a teenage boy and young girl playing in the corner of the home- and sighed. “At least they are happier now.”
Athena weighed her words carefully, then said. “I am sorry to hear of your hardships. Could I ask you what happened?”
The couple then talked of the desolation, then Ragnarok, and finally, how the presence of a foreign god had changed everything for better.
“The God of War, he slayed Odin, and brought balance to the realm. This winter that you see here is incredibly mild, when in the past it had been brutal,” the man said.
“We grew crops last year!” The woman chimed in. “It is why we have so much food to share.”
Athena did notice they were not wanting, with meats and grains neatly piled on shelves. No doubt they also had a seperate shed for their supplies.
“But it is still dangerous, and draugr may roam free, so I keep my children at home, and don't let them out yet, however……Iver?”
The teenager turned around and walked up to them. “Yes father?”
“Will the son of the God of the War be coming here to slay whatever draugr are left?”
The teenager's face immediately lit up. “Yes! He will! And I shall go with him!”
“I apologize-son?” Athena was sure she had misheard.
“Yes, son. Is it not common for gods to have offspring from your lands?” the woman asked.
“Indeed,” Athena lied. The name was Greek. It was Kratos’ son.
“Atreus is very kind, and cool, and helpful.” The young man clearly adored Kratos’ son. “He taught me some bow tricks when I was at his party this Spring. He said he'd come here in a few weeks to help purge the lands a little bit more, and build a magic stave.”
His father smiled. “An amazing young man. He is a god, but he enjoys everyone's company, and does not flaunt his power, using it only for good.”
Athena could scarcely believe what she was hearing. She pressed on, asking about the God of War and his son, and heard nothing but praises. Furthermore, she obtained confirmation that it really was Kratos- the red tattoo and the blades were unique items. And yet, she could not believe that Kratos suddenly had temperance, and was careful in how he acted, and who he chose to interact with. His power had not faltered either, although it was strange that no one was mentioning the use of lightning. It could be perhaps that with the death of Olympus and the foreign lands, Kratos could not call upon nature as he did. She certainly felt weaker, and wondered if her astral projection would work within these lands.
There was nothing left to ask but where she could find this God of War. “I would start my pilgrimage with him then.”
“He travels between realms, but Midgard is his home,” the woman said. She had begun to rock the infant.
“The realms…yes.” Athena was familiar with them, but figured that travel would be challenging. “Is there a place in Midgard I could go to?”
Iver nodded. “At the foot of the once cursed mountain he has a war room. He frequently meets there with the other gods and generals to discuss what can be done to keep the realms safe. Also, he wanders the Wildwoods, as does Atreus.”
After asking for directions, Athena figured she would start from the Wildwoods, and then head to the base of the mountain if she could not track him. “You seem desperate to find him,” the woman said. She had passed the infant to her husband, and was wrapping food for Athena's journey.
“I…my land has had some trouble. And the gods have not been favorable. So I hope that I will find help here,” she said.
“You will get help then.” The woman smiled, and gave Athena the package. She refused payment yet again. “We must pay it forward,” she said.
Athena was glad she had a good, long march ahead of her. She needed to process and think about what she had heard. Kratos, amicable? His son, even kinder? She would have thought it was the boy's mother that had raised him so, but Iver had mentioned she died when Atreus was young.
This was incomprehensible to her. Had Kratos truly found peace and settled down? It wasn't surprising that he had slain a god here, but what was unfathomable was that he had taken up a title once stolen from Ares. Were these lands so different? Granted, she was surprised at how friendly the people were, but she had met only one family so far. And they did look like they were lying.
What was more concerning is that she tried to astral project, but she couldn't. These were not her lands, and while her strength and immortality was in tact, she knew her power was not.
No matter. She could still fight excellently.
After a few days of walking, she came upon tracks. It looked like a wagon of sorts, and she followed them, stumbling upon a local hunter. Like the family, the hunter was not startled or frightened, instead welcoming her to sit at the fire and asking her where she was headed.
“God of War!” he exclaimed. “General Kratos, yes. The hero of Ragnarok. I am afraid I have seen him only once, and that was some time ago, but I met his son not two days ago. He was accompanied by his two pet wolves.”
Finally! After asking for directions, she rushed off, hoping she would catch up with the boy. Tiredness plagued her, but she knew she was close.
She was soon rewarded with wolf tracks, accompanied by a human's footprint- it was her luck that it had not snowed for two days, and she could easily follow the steps, which led her right to a humble cabin, surrounded by a simple wooden fence.
Was this where an esteemed God of War lived? Granted, Kratos was never one for personal possessions, or for decadency or fancifulness, but surely he would live in a small mansion, at least?
However, upon looking closer, she noticed the simple, meticulous handiwork that surrounded her. Everything had been made simply and elegantly, with appropriate decorations. Above all, it all looked neat, and tidy, with the firewood carefully laid out, the small porch carefully swept free of snow, to the almost perfectly sanded down logs that made up the roof.
Athena pushed at the front gate, surprised that it gave way. Hesitant, she took one step, then another, until she saw the front door of the cabin open.
A boy- no, a young man, with long, fiery orange hair that was tied into a number of braids which draped across his shoulders. The sides of his head were shaven, no doubt to keep his hair from interfering when he fought. He had the stance of a warrior, and carried a bow, a quiver full of arrows and a big knife. But what drew Athena's attention especially were his deep blue eyes, which at first caused her to doubt his heritage as Kratos’ son. And then, she noticed Kratos’ old loincloth. The red and the gold meander pattern were unmistakable, and the young man was using it as a sort of loose belt.
“Hello,” the young man said. “Do you need help? Why are you here?” His voice was warm and kind, but firm. Athena had no doubt that if she made one false move, he would move to attack. Kratos certainly taught him as much.
“I am looking for the God of War. I need his help.” She could not talk about her true goal, but she also needed to be pointed the right way, perhaps even taken to Kratos. This young man was her best bet.
Also, she was profoundly curious.
“So you know I am Atreus, then,” he said. His stance was still cautious, but she could tell he did not see her as an enemy. “What's your name?”
“Minerva,” she lied. Kratos could have mentioned something to his son about her. “I come from beyond Midgard, and I have heard about the good you, and your father have done. I come to ask for help.” She spoke with conviction, her eyes leveled right at the boy. She was taller than him, but not by much.
Her small speech had disarmed the young man completely. He walked up to her, and from inside the cabin, two wolves emerged, each guarding their master- and watching her.
“Minerva, hello again then,” he said, outstretching his hand. He smiled brightly, welcoming her with a warmth that she had already experienced a good few times.
“Greetings, Atreus,” she clasped his arm and shook it firmly. “I am sorry to come upon you in this way, but I have traveled far, and did not want to look for an official audience. I fear time is of the essence.”
The young man scoffed and laughed. “Audience? Pft, father's not much for any of that, and I am certainly not either. If you want to meet him, I will take you to him, he's at the base of the mountain. And it's fast with the sled!”
He pointed at the wolves, who had gathered at the gate, seemingly eager to go for a run.
“But wait, you said you traveled far, do you want to rest?” Atreus asked.
Athena balked, completely taken aback by the welcoming and polite nature of the young man. She would have thought Kratos’ son to be more…abrasive, harsh. But no, this young man was the kind to sit and talk with someone, and offer them help no matter what.
“I thank thee,” she responded, slightly bowing her head. “but I have already been hosted and taken care of by your fellow Midgardians. These lands are very friendly.”
Atreus laughed again. “Trust me, they weren't like this a couple years ago. But things got better, a lot better, and it's hard not to be happy when you remember how bad things were.”
“So I see,” Athena said. “I have heard, and been told, about Rangarok, adn the desolation.”
“Yeah, it was bad,” Atreus sighed. And beckoned her to follow him. They walked through the gate, and down a slope, where it seemed the wolves had their home.
“I heard your father had slayed Odin, and it is why peace has visited these lands.”
Atreus visibly cringed. “He, he did not. He spared him. It was….someone else that killed Odin. He had a lot of enemies.”
Spared? Athena didn't want to believe that.
“Father always told me to think, and to not go too fast. And to be merciful whenever you can, so y'know, I try to do that.”
Athena stared as the young man hitched up the wolves to a sled. This could not be, this was not the Kratos she knew. Had he changed so much so quickly?
“I then thank you for taking me to him. I hope he will give me some advice, at least.”
Atreus laughed. “He doesn't talk much, but don't worry, I will tell him, you need help. And if not him, there are many gods here that will help you, like Freya! Do you know her?”
Athena shook her head. “I do not, but I would be honored to meet her.”
“Then I can introduce you. Oh, right, what lands are you from.”
She would have to lie again. “From the forest lands beyond the sea, South.”
“Oh, that would be close to father's homeland. He may actually know something, then.”
The young man then invited her to sit on the sled, and she accepted, sitting down. That required her to unfasted her blades, and Atreus gasped audibly upon seeing them. “These are gorgeous!” Are you a warrior?”
“Indeed I am, but I alone cannot do much.”
“Yeah, we need friends. And family,” Atreus said.
“Well, the trip will be a good few hours, we will get to talk some more. Hiya!”
And with that, the wolves lept into a run, pulling the sled at a shocking speed. Athena's hair billowed about her, and she even cracked a smile.