#and thor STILL HEARD KRATOS OUT he STILL WANTED TO BE BETTER

[wiclowmakers]

been thinking a lot about how odin weaponizes his abuse and emotional violence to keep his family in line,  to the extent that thor is both a victim of it and a further perpetuator of it.  literally in the very first scene where we meet thor and,  despite his anger,  thor is polite,  respects the rule of hospitality,  and while being a prolific alcoholic who has given up drinking,  offers mead as a gift to his host.

and then odin barges in and proceeds to  a)  insult thor’s dead sons to his  face,  calling modi and magni  “useless,”  and outright remarking that their deaths don’t matter,  b)  proceed to push alcohol at thor over and over and even INSULTS thor for abstaining from alcohol,  and then  c)  insults thor in front of everyone,  remarking he’s only good for his strength,  before expecting thor to fight kratos

it’s actually horrifying the more you watch because it’s just so insidious???  like thor pouring two drinks,  one for kratos and one for atreus         kratos immediately pushes one of the cups to thor,  implying he won’t drink first because he doesn’t know if it’s poisoned.  HE doesn’t know that thor has quit drinking;  thor grumbles about the temptation,  but otherwise resists.  when odin comes in,  odin helps himself to BOTH drinks,  and after he’s taken a sip,  he  pushes the cups at thor.  it’s not just that he’s moving them out of the way,  he very deliberately pushes the cups towards thor  BOTH  times.  then he remarks that thor  “is no fun anymore,”  needling thor for his refusal to drink.

like wow wow wow no wonder thor is passively suicidal.  no wonder he’s stopped taking care of himself.  no wonder mimir left and freya tried to run and tyr has been locked away.  odin turns everyone around him into bombs that he lights the fuse on for his own amusement and lobs at his enemies,  and he doesn’t care if he kills his own family doing so.  

[ravenloop]

Hi, I'm kinda new to Tumblr and I really want a Thor and Kratos reacting to a powerful yet apathetic reader who doesn't really care if they get hurt or die in the end, because whenever they get in a fight they somehow always end up winning.

You don't really have to do this request if you don't want to :)

Headcanons: Thor and Kratos w/ a powerful, apathetic S/O

AN: Made this a lot more angsty than I intended lol Hope you enjoy and that it was what you wanted <33

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Thor:

Thor is a rowdy person.

He's someone who always tells himself not to think. That it's a waste of time.

So when you fight and don't care about strategy or how things might turn out, he doesn't think much of it. He actually likes it, some people think too much in a fight and that's just boring in his eyes.

There is no reason for him to tell you to stop, not when you're both stepping over and crushing your enemies like they're nothing but dirt.

Sometimes though, you take it a little too far in a fight. Too far to where you could have been killed. And that's when he realises that you need to be more careful.

"You know, those things can still kill you," Thor says, as he brings down Mjolnir on an enemy one last time - ending them. You turn to him, with a bored look on your face, and shrug, "I'm still alive."

He turns to you, "I'm just saying you should be more careful. Just because you're powerful doesn't mean you're unkillable." It was a strange thing to tell your partner that they could be killed, but Thor was just making sure you kept safe. He didn't want your head too high in the clouds.

You licked your teeth, sighing, "So far I haven't been killed." "That's not my point-" He walked closer, "You shouldn't be so reckless." Your brow raised, "Thor - I don't think you should be telling me this. You're no different."

If there was one thing he despised, it was arguing with you - arguing with the one person he loved. "I know, but you take it too far sometimes and just expect everything to be fine. I just don't want you to be injured... Or dead."

It was the way you stared at him that caused him to worry more, your gaze was blank.

Turning around and glancing over your shoulder at Thor, you said, "Thank you for worrying, Thor. But I'll just stick to what I'm doing and plus... I always win." Then you walked off.

Thor wanted to say something, but what? It was like you lacked any emotion and care for yourself, and he hated it. He didn't want to lose you, but you clearly didn't care if you lost yourself. With a sigh, he hooked Mjolnir on his belt and followed you.

Kratos:

Kratos is someone who tries to be a better person. His past haunts his every step, and because of that, he tries to change. To forget.

But your lack of empathy and care, he hated to say it, but it reminded him of who he was.

You fought like nothing mattered. Like life itself was nothing but an object that could easily be remade or replaced - it wasn't.

He watched how you would tear through your enemies, like they were Nothing. Like they couldn't kill you. Like you were untouchable.

Even if you were untouchable, he didn't see that as a reason for you to act like it. Strategy in a fight was always better than rash behaviour.

"You fight recklessly." Kratos approached you as you flicked a piece of your enemies' remains off your clothing. "And?" You looked up at him, "I still came out the victor."

"What if you didn't?" His gravely voice became louder when he stopped in front of you. Deepening your frown, you replied, "I always come out alive. No one is a match for me." "Do not act like you are invulnerable," He continued talking even as you turned to pick up your weapon, "Fighting and abandoning all care and worry is not how a real, powerful person would fight."

Turning on your heel, you asked, "Are you saying I'm not powerful? That I'm not a real fighter?" "I'm saying that you should learn to care about yourself!" Roughly his hands landed on your shoulders, "I do not want to lose you."

That was the first time you heard Kratos' voice so low - so quiet and gentle. It was a surprise indeed.

You were silent as you stared into your lover's eyes. You shrugged his hands off, "I will care... when I'm dead."

No. No, he couldn't let you think like that. Like how he used to think.

"You are choosing a dangerous way." You chuckled, it was cold and not heartfelt in the slightest, "Yeah, well... It's my way." Turning around, you started walking, "And it's kept me alive so far."

[the-broken-truth]

Hi hi hi! I was just thinking about what if Björn makes a blood connection with Magni and Modi before they died. Like, the three of them cut their hands and they hold each other’s hands, like that they believe that now Björn is their brother cause they are connected by blood.

Imagine if Baldur and Björn does the same thing. Basically it would mean that Björn (and also Revna) are connected with Baldur, Magni and Modi by blood, making them siblings.

Imagine Kratos and Atreus going feral when they discover about it.

[BLOOD CONTRACT WITH THE SONS OF THOR] [MIDGARD - ON THE EDGE OF THE FOREST]

The sun sat on the edge of the horizon as it began setting from the sky to give light to the other side of the world, but the golden eyes of the son of the Ghost of Sparta looked at the glowing orb of light with tiredness in his eyes - he was exhausted from his training with his bloodless brothers - Magni and Modi - the Sons of Thor. It was month 3 or 4 of Bjorn's Training in swordsmanship and channeling his lightning magic through his hand and through his sword but it was still draining for the young bear when he was training from sunrise to sunset, he was finally given a moment to breathe before he had the return home and deal with the overprotective nature of his father and older twin brother. Oh, how he wished that Magni and Modi were his real brothers, along with Baldur; if only fate had been kind to him and birthed him into the Family of Thorsdóttir.

"You seem distracted." A powerful voice called from behind Bjorn, causing him to look behind him and his golden eyes locked with the electric blue eyes of Magni, the older of Thor's Sons & the taller one. "What's going on through your mind, Little Bear?"

"It's nothing to concern yourself with, Magni; sorry if I was bothering you with my thoughts." Bjorn said as he looked back at the sun. Magni knew something was wrong with the younger warrior and sat beside him as he looked at the sun as well and the two of them sat in silence before Magni looked at Bjorn again and reached over to place his hand on his shoulder, making the boy look back into his blue eyes.

"You're becoming a splendid warrior, Little Bear, but a skilled warrior needs a clear mind and I can tell that your mind is clouded with something. Tell me, Little Brother, what is bothering you so much?" Magni asked again, the title 'brother' made Bjorn look to the ground before he looked into Magni's eyes again.

"That's the thing - I want us to be brothers - blood brothers - you, Modi, and Baldur have been like the brothers I never had but always wanted: you train me, you understand me, and you actually want me to get better unlike my father and Atreus. I wish that it was your blood I carried in my veins instead of theirs, I wish that Lord Thor was my father… I sometimes wish that I was an Aesir instead of a Spartan." Bjorn closed his eyes at the last sentence before he exhaled and looked back at the sun, "But the fates aren't kind like that…Are they, Magni?"

"No. No, they are not kind enough to put your in our family where you belong but that doesn't mean we can't make it happen, Little Brother." Magni said, causing Bjorn to look at him with confusion in his eyes.

"What do you mean?" The bear asked.

"Have you ever heard of a blood contract?" Magni asked but Bjorn shook his head and Magni smiled, "A Blood Contract is old magic - when two or more people want to be joined by the kinship of blood, they would cut their hands and join them together, the idea was that the magic would bind them together as blood family for the rest of their lives."

"Are you serious?" Bjorn asked with hope sparkling in his eyes.

"He's right, you know." Modi said as he appeared on the other side of the bear cub and took his seat their and smiled at the boy, "If you want to be our little brother, we can do a blood contract and we'll be bound by blood for the rest of eternity." Modi said as he held out his hand to Bjorn, who looked at him with a smile on his face.

"Yes. Yes, I want to be your blood brother. How do we do this?" Bjorn asked as he looked at Magni, who produced a knife from his pocket and cut the palm of his left hand before passing the knife to Modi who cut the palm of his right hand, they handed the knife to Bjorn, who looked at the blood-soaked blade for a while before the thought of them being blood-related crossed his mind again and he took the knife and cut both of his palms before setting the knife down. All 3 of them looked at the sun as Bjorn placed his smaller left hand in Modi's hand, the blood mixing, before doing the same with Magni; a warm feeling coursed through all of their bodies as they sat in silence and looked at the sun, letting their blood bond settle. Magni and Modi closed their hands around Bjorn's smaller hands, allowing their wounds to touch and their blood to get even closer.

[BLOOD CONTRACT WITH BALDUR - SON OF FREYA]

Bjorn dodged Baldur's attack before throwing his fist out, connecting with Baldur's face, making the taller man move back for a while as the bear panted but kept his guard up. Baldur wiped the blood from his lip and smiled at Bjorn, who smiled back at him but the match was stopped when Magni called out from the sidelines.

"Enough. My little brother needs to rest for a while, Baldur." Magni said as he unfolded his arms and walked over to Bjorn, "That's enough for now, Little Bear, you need to take a breather."

"But, Elder Brother, I feel fine. I feel like I can handle more that I usually do." Bjorn explained as he looked at his hands, mainly, the scars on the palms of his hands from the blood contract he partook in a week ago. Magni placed a hand on Bjorn's shoulder and smiled at him.

"I know, Little Brother, but you don't want to burn yourself out during a fight so you neeed to take a breather before you continue to your swordplay." Magni explained befor walking off to the side with Bjorn following behind him but Baldur walked over to them and asked.

"What is it with all this 'Little Brother' crap, Magni?" Baldur asked with a raised eyebrow.

"A week ago, we did a blood contract; Bjorn is my little brother now." Magni said as he placed at hand on Bjorn's head, ruffling his hair, causing the boy to smile.

"You both did a blood contract? Do you know if it worked?" Baldur asked as he looked at Bjorn.

"Well, I've been feeling much stronger than I used to be before I did the blood contract. I think it worked." Bjorn said as Baldur kneeled before the boy.

"What about me? Aren't your brother too?" Baldur asked, making Bjorn raise his eyebrow.

"Of course you are, Baldur. You're the one who introduced me to Big Brother Magni and Big Brother Modi. If I could, I would have done a blood contract with you too." Bjorn said with a smile.

"You can…" Magni said, "If you want to be bound to Baldur as well, preform the same blood contract we did together."

Baldur and Bjorn looked at each other before nodding - Bjorn pulled out Magni's Knife - Magni let him have it after the blood contract last time - and cut open the scar on his left hand before hand the knife to Baldur, who cut the palm of his left hand and the two of them held hands - this time, a cold feeling coursed through Bjorn's Body.

"From this day on, we are brothers." Baldur said with a smile.

"Big Brother Baldur. Now I have 3 brothers that care of my power and I shall make you all proud." Bjorn said with a smile. Time to get back to training.

[KRATOS AND ATREUS FINDING OUT ABOUT THE BLOOD CONTRACTS]

"Father! NO!" Bjorn cried out as Kratos broke Baldur's neck and threw his body to the ground; the little bear ran over to the body of his fallen brother and looked into his blue and red eyes and placed his smaller hands on Baldur's body, shaking him as if he was asleep.

"Baldur! Baldur! Please, don't leave me… Please, don't leave me like they did…" Bjorn's eyes began to water.

"Bjorn, don't touch him." Kratos tried to pull Bjorn away from Baldur's body but the young bear roared at him and pushed him away.

"YOU KILLED MY BROTHERS! ALL OF THEM! MAGNI, MODI, AND BALDUR! YOU KILLED MY FUCKING BROTHERS, FATHER! I BEGGED YOU NOT TO DO IT, HE WASN'T GOING TO KILL HIS MOTHER…He wasn't going to kill her…You killed him for nothing…" Bjorn cried as he looked at Baldur, who was now being cradled by Freya who was sheding her own tears.

"Why did you call them your brothers? Atreus is your only brother." Kratos said.

"No… No he wasn't, not anymore. I did a blood contract with Magni, Modi, and Baldur - they became my blood brothers - I was linked to them by blood and now you took that away from me." Bjorn said as he glared at Kratos, who glared back at him.

"YOU TAINTED THE BLOOD IN YOUR VEINS WITH THEIR BLOOD?! THE BLOOD OF MYSELF AND FAYE?! HOW DARE YOU, BOY?! WHAT EVER WERE YOU THINKING?!" Kratos demanded to know.

"HOW DARE I?! HOW DARE YOU?! YOU TOOK THEM AWAY FROM ME - THE BROTHERS THAT SAW MY POTENTIAL AND TRAINED ME TO BE THE WARRIOR I AM NOW! YOU TOOK THEM AWAY FROM ME, GHOST OF SPARTA, AND I SHALL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THIS!" Kratos suddenly grabbed Bjorn's arm tightly, "LET GO OF ME!"

"YOU HAVE GONE TOO FAR, BOY! YOU TAINT YOURSELF WITH THE BLOOD OF OUR ENEMIES AND NOW THEY ARE WITHIN YOU! YOU ARE NEVER LEAVING THE HOUSE AGAIN AND I SHALL BE KEEPING AN EYE ON YOU FROM NOW ON!" Kratos yelled as he pulled Bjorn away from Freya and Baldur with tears in the little bear's eyes as he cried for the last of his fallen brothers.

[grievedeeply]

the less time, the better.

NEXT

pairing: heimdall x gn!reader

summary: as the child of the greek god of war, kratos— you've fought your fair share of enemies. you've prepared yourself for anything, including an obnoxious aesir god who thinks he knows better.

notes: you are already an adult by the events of god of war (2018), and you are the child of kratos and faye. you were not as affected by not knowing your godhood to the extent atreus was. odin invites you to asgard, NOT atreus.

when you set out to spread your mother's ashes at the tallest peak, you made it your goal to protect your brother from anything that may come across. your father, kratos, insisted that there would be bigger threats out there during your youth. you never doubted him. when your mother died, you realized that his words rang truer than you ever expected them to.

years later, you swear you've seen everything.

the more you travelled, the more you saw and the more knowledgeable you became. you learned quickly, how to take on enemies of all different types and sizes. it became a second nature to you, something that took little to no thought to complete. your mind connected every step together with no effort, and it was wonderful to feel strong.

atreus grew into a strong, capable young man and you couldn't be prouder. he became taller, and it nearly brought you to tears. your baby brother was growing up quicker than you would've preferred him to.

with the death of baldur and the beginning of fimbulwinter, things were looking dire. freya was beginning to show herself more often, putting your family in a risky position. living on midgard in those conditions weren't ideal, but home was always going to be home.

thor and odin showing up at your doorstep made things worse. odin had proposed that you visit asgard— see all it has to offer and more.

of course, you denied without missing a beat. your father was out there somewhere, fighting his son. you wouldn't forget everything he did to mimir— to freya. you knew better. of course you did. why would odin invite you to asgard if he didn't need something from you? his goal would always be to manipulate, to deceive.

it was only when things started getting dire that you even considered visiting.

"i'm thinking about going to asgard," you spoke up after a bite of your food. you weren't too sure what it was. týr had made it, with the help of atreus. you were happy for your brother. he had clearly looked up to him, even though he wasn't as much of a help as you hoped he would be.

your father only looked up at you, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw atreus' worried face. "no." your father replied, his voice as cold as the lands of niflheim.

you knew he would say that. you fell silent. you didn't want to go, but you felt as if the situation called for it. "i'll be a pair of eyes on the inside." you reasoned with pursed lips. you knew it would be difficult to convince him to agree with you, but you didn't need his permission. you were an adult. a capable one, at that.

"i said no."

you bit at the inside of your cheek, glancing over at týr— who sat awkwardly at the other end of the table. your gaze shifted to brok, who clearly wasn't paying attention, happily munching on his food.

"that isn't a good idea." you heard freya's voice call out from her room, and you let out a sigh. "maybe not. but i feel like i should try." you muttered, your voice still heard through the silence of the home. what other option was there? you were at a dead end. everything you've found ended up being nothing. if you were going to find answers, they would be in asgard.

"all odin does is lie," she continued after a pause, "and manipulate. i know better than anyone."

"she is right, y'know." mimir said, and you felt your heart weigh heavy. "you learn a lot about a man after bein' tortured by em every day." he let out a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood with a joke.

"all we're finding now are dead ends. we need something real." you said, turning your eyes back to your father. his expression didn't change. it hardly ever did.

"we need you alive. we need you.. safe." he replied without a moment's hesitation. he cared about you. you knew that, and hearing the desperation in his voice made that even clearer.

you decided to end the conversation there. you wouldn't convince him to let you go, but you reassured yourself. you were an adult. you were allowed to make your own decisions, even if they were dangerous ones. you ate your meal in silence, coming up with a plan to leave that night.

you forced yourself out of bed, slipping on your coat— making sure to take your key of yggdrasil with you. your grabbed your weapons and crawled out of the window in your room, sneaking around the back of sindri's house towards the gateway.

"where are you going?"

you closed your eyes tightly, turning on your heel to be met with the fuzzy face of ratatoskr. "out." you replied, nonchalantly shrugging your shoulders. he shook his head, scampering towards you. "you look.. nervous, master y/n." he continued, not taking your answer seriously. "is there something the matter?"

his concern did put a smile on your face, but you shook your head. "it's nothing. just.. don't tell anyone i went out, okay? i don't want them freaking out over it."

he raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest, but he nodded. "if that is what you wish. do stay safe, yes?" he looked up at you with a stern expression for a squirrel, and you chuckled. "i will. i'll be back, okay?" you said, returning your attention to the gate. you lifted the key to it, setting your destination to midgard, you pushed open the door and stepped onto the branches of the world tree.

'i'll be back.'

your words rang through your mind like a torturous song. would you be back anytime soon? had you lied to him? all he had done was show you kindness..—

it was bigger than ratatoskr. would you be back to see your father? your brother? freya, freyr, brok and sindri? their faces flashed through your mind, and you shook your head. what did you have to worry about? you were a guest. they wouldn't try to kill you.

maybe you did lie to him. maybe you were making the biggest mistake of your life by thinking this was a good idea, but it felt like the only option. you were doing what you thought was best. you pushed away the guilt that was eating at your mind and continued down the path, waiting for the doorway to open.

being stuck with your own thoughts wasn't something you enjoyed very much, you learned. you pushed the door open with your hip, gripping at your sword. you knew hel-walkers would show up sometime soon and it was better to be prepared. you learned that from your father.

you shivered. this was a bad idea.

you didn't know where you were, and you didn't know how to get to asgard. odin never told you how— so you stood in the middle of the forest and called out for his ravens, huginn and muginn.

"i want to go to asgard!" you said, voice clearly showing your frustration. "no one knows i'm out here!" you continued, your shoulders slumping when there was no response.

that was, until there was.

a large swarm of ravens surrounded you, flying around you. their feathers were everywhere, and your vision was blocked by the sheer amount of them. it took a few moments, and then—

you were cold.

the water made you even colder with the added frost from midgard you carried with you, and you cringed at the feeling. you pulled yourself to shore, your arms getting tired from all of the work you'd had to do to get to that point already. so much walking— it felt as if your legs were going to fall off.

you coughed, laying down in the dirt for a few moments to catch your breath. "seriously.." you spoke breathlessly to yourself, pulling yourself to sit up. as soon as you opened your eyes, all of your efforts to catch your breath were put to waste.

it was beautiful. different shades of greens and blues, birds of all sorts flying above you. in the distance, you could see snow capped mountain ranges. you were surrounded by uninhabited highlands. the bridge above you stretched thousands of miles, and you swallowed. it was gorgeous, but the severity of your actions were only just starting to set in.

you walked for what felt like forever, a massive wall obstruction your vision to anything behind it. this was asgard. you knew that well enough.

"figured asgard would be safer than this," you grumbled to yourself as you killed yet another nightmare. the plains were filled with dangers, and your fathers words from your childhood echoed through your mind.

'there will be greater threats.'

the thought of him now was calming. you hung onto it for as long as you could as you walked, your eyes glued onto the massive wall in front of you. it was covered in large, rusted nails. hrimthur did build the wall. you thought of the flaw he had supposedly put in place, and you suddenly regretted not asking freya what he had told her earlier. you pushed it aside. regretting the past does nothing for the future.

you made it to the bottom of the wall, hands at your hips as you stared up at it. it looked easy enough to climb, so long as you don't look down. you felt weak already, but you figured you could make it.

with a deep breath, you forced yourself to begin the climb. as you expected, it wasn't too hard. your hands were sore from the rock, but you found spots that were easy enough to grab and hold onto. your legs ached, but the adrenaline kept you going.

the feeling of solid ground made you laugh in joy, and you decided to revel in it for a few seconds. you looked down and across the plains and at the mountains in the distance. you saw a village below you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. you noticed it when you passed through, but you saw no one. perhaps you were too focused on the task at hand.

your brother would've stopped. the thought made you chuckle. he was too kind. you wished he were with you. you sighed. you were doing this for him— for your father.

with a grunt, you pulled yourself up an awkward part of the wall, practically walking up the section adjacent to you. you extended your hand, finally feeling the top of the wall. you were so close. you inhaled and..—

the feeling of a hand wrapped around your wrist made you look up, and you were met with the face of a man. blonde, tall— eyes purple and strangely beautiful. "hello." he said, and you raised an eyebrow. what was he doing up here, anyway? there were people who monitored this thing?

"what part of the enormous wall made you think, 'oh. visitors must be welcome!'" he spoke sarcastically, looking down at you coldly. "well, there wasn't a gate. so." you replied, slight laughter escaping your lips as you looked up at him. he rolled his eyes.

"i was sent for," you continued after a moment of silence, "by odin." your voice was loud enough for him to hear you over the wind, and he raised an eyebrow. "the allfather sent for you?" he chuckled dryly, a cocky smile on his lips, "then why are you out there.. and not in here?"

"i wish i knew." you shot back, "let's ask him." you proposed, trying to put a friendly smile on your face. you could feel yourself slipping from his grasp, and you had nothing to hold onto. your shoulder was going to pop out of its socket if he didn't pull you up soon.

"what could odin.. king of the aesir, possibly want with the likes of you?" he spat out. his tone was gentle, but filled with venom. "that's between me and him." you told him.

silence, again.

"so.. think you can pull me up?"

"i don't think i will. i think, actually— i'll just drop you." he let you slip even further out of his grasp, and your feet searched for anything below you to hang onto. "wait, wait, wait— please," you pleaded but your words went unnoticed to him.

your other hand desperately grabbed onto his wrist, "think of what the allfather would say.. finding out you killed his guest. y/n of the jötnar.."

his jaw clenched, but his eyes looked down at your hands at his wrist. "the jötnar?" he chuckled just as sarcastically as he had before, "enemy of my people?"

"i am not your enemy."

his eyes met yours, and for a moment you thought he was going to drop you anyways. he groaned, standing up and pulling you with him. you laid on the ground for a few seconds and he stood above you with crossed arms. "i will be the judge of that." he said in response to your previous statement, and you let out a sigh of relief.

pushing yourself up to your feet, you noticed the horn that hung from his hip. this was heimdall. of course he would be the one patrolling up here. the less time you spent with him, the better it would be for you.

"we don't have all day." his voice cut you out of your thoughts, and you nodded. your feet kicked at the rocks underneath you, following a few steps behind him. you noticed the braids in his hair, and the patterns in his clothes. he was loved by these people. you could tell that much.

"now, feel free to drink in the splendor of asgard's beauty. it is a rare sight for outsiders.. especially giants." you rolled your eyes. all aesir really were the same— but he seemed cockier. more full of himself. you walked past a pouch laying on the ground, and you resisted the urge to pick it up. you knew he would lay into you for it.

"ask your questions, already." heimdall pulled the switch, making the platform the two of you stood on move down towards the town below you. "i don't have any questions." you shrugged with pursed lips, looking over at him. he fell silent for a moment, "everyone does. ask them."

you chuckled, "you're not used to people saying no to you, are you?" he said nothing in response, and you raised your eyebrows, amused. you decided to keep quiet. you didn't want to get too playful with him. you wanted to keep him away from you— to avoid being suspicious.

"we are here. off." he gestured for you to step off of the platform, and he moved ahead of you again. he led you down a flight of wooden stairs, that had clearly been made with care. you looked around. asgard was beautiful. you wouldn't deny it. his eyes lit up at the sight of a creature across the small area you'd stepped into, and if it were anyone else you would've thought it sweet.

you tuned him out as he spoke to the animal, and you looked up at the clouds. no signs of fimbulwinter, as far as the eye could see. "are you coming?" his impatient voice rang out from behind you. he had mounted the animal, and he moved his head as a way to tell you to get on behind him. you pulled yourself up, and a set of doors opened.

"it's beautiful." you decided to say, realizing that the silence was beginning to get more awkward. "obviously." he said back to you, glancing over his shoulder to look at you. "i'm being genuine." you told him, able to tell that he didn't believe you, given his body language. "right." heimdall replied, taking on a tone that almost sounded like he were trying to tease you. you shook your head, deciding the silence was better.

"the great lodge— which the allfather built with his bare hands." he informed you, and you nodded. "impressive." you complimented, assuming that your words would help him see you in a more positive light. you knew that he hated the jötnar, as every aesir would presumably. you thought about your mother. you sighed to yourself.

he stopped in his tracks, hopping off of the animal. he slapped it's rear end, bucking you off and making you land in the mud. "what was that for?" you groaned, wiping the mud out out of your eyes. "helmets! i have a practice dummy for you." he called out to the einherjar, who eagerly jumped out in front of you, ready for battle.

"i thought we were going to odin!"

"change of plans," heimdall chuckled, clearly enjoying the show. "you do have treacherous intent. i am not letting you anywhere near the allfather."

you let out a frustrated grunt as you swung your sword, dodging another one of their bifröst attacks. after a few minutes that felt like hours, all of them had been eliminated.

"my turn." he jumped down off of the animal and walked towards you, a cocky smile on his lips as his eyes met yours. you sighed, and he took a quick step at you, only for you to move out of the way.

you adjusted yourself— took a deep breath and..

you opened your eyes. he had lost his footing when you swung and fell back onto the ground. his breathing was shaky, his gaze glued to the fabric of his shirt— torn apart by your blade. he glanced up at you, his mouth agape as he did so. "what..?" he muttered to himself, his gaze desperately flicking between you and his tattered clothing, hoping as though he thought you would have the answers he searched for.

"sorry.. about the- about the shirt." you spoke quietly. you sheathed your sword. he was beaten. there was no need to continue. your weapon tore right through his clothes, and you could see the blood on his abdomen.

his head turned toward you at the speed of light, his face bright red, but he said nothing to you. he slowly forced himself onto his feet, not blinking the entire time. he averted his gaze from you. as soon as he was standing, he turned on his heel and left you alone in front of odin's home.

all you could do was watch him leave. it was for the best, anyways.. right?

why was his heart beating so fast?

heimdall rushed to his quarters, digging through his drawers to find a replacement shirt while his current one gets fixed by the seamstresses.

why was his heart beating so fast?

he could feel it— pounding against his ribcage like there was no tomorrow. your face popped into his mind. the smile you gave him while you were hanging off of the wall, the look in your eyes as he walked towards you. you weren't afraid, no.. no, you were confident in yourself.

what was it that let you hit him?

he was embarrassed. he knew that. he had never been touched by anyone else in a fight before, and the thought of a giant being the one to do it made him angry at himself.

what was it about you? were you special, somehow? immune to his powers?

no. you weren't. he knew that.

did he let you hit him?

no. he didn't. why would he?

why was his heart beating so fast?

he thought of you. he shook his head. no— not a giant. a giant couldn't make him feel this way. it was your father that had killed baldur, magni and modi. you were there. you had to have been there. you had to have seen it all. this wasn't right. why was he thinking of you this way?

he lifted his hands to his hair, tugging at it harshly, forcing his breads out with a clenched jaw. he could still feel the blood seeping through the bandage that covered his wound.

not a giant. right?

why was his heart beating so fast?

your smile, your eyes— no, no, no, no.

his arms fell to his sides, and he looked down at the torn fabric of his shirt, defeated.

not a giant.. right?

AHEM. i wrote this in one sitting. hope you enjoyed and let me know if you want a part two because i'm so down to write it if this does well enough <3 their story doesn't have to end here i'm telling yall right now!!

shoutout to the anon who gave me this idea!! i immediately fell in love with the thought of heimdall being head over heels for someone because they beat him somehow. i hope i did this justice!! please reblog and leave comments!! it really helps me out a lot!!

tags: @graciegizmo3184 @anzanishira @chocokaylarobin @uncoveredsun @caelestis-lyrae @prio-motu | join my taglist!

[screechthemighty]

( via @bittybonbon​​ )

PLOT TWIST, I’ll do it for free.

CWs: mentions of abuse/domestic abuse. Also, clarification to avoid false advertising: this is Kratos POV but it’s about Mimir.

“I could have killed him, you know.”

“Hmm?” Kratos was only half-listening to the head; most of his focus was on watching Atreus. They had found the ruins of what had once been a giant settlement, one long abandoned. From the lightning-shaped scarring that marked some of the stone, it was not a decision they made of their own free will. Atreus was more reverent and somber than usual, sometimes stopping to rest his hand on a doorway or half-crumbled wall. “Killed who?”

“Odin.”

That caught Kratos off-guard. "You?" he said skeptically. He had only seen Mimir intact once, but from what he remembered, he had been shorter than Kratos and hadn't seemed especially strong. Perhaps that was a side effect of his imprisonment, but even putting that aside, non-gods weren't typically in the business of killing gods. Unless there was something Mimir hadn't told them about his heritage…

"I know, I know, but these were unique circumstances. It was after that business with Thrym. Do you remember him?"

"The giant who wanted to marry Freya."

"Aye, that's the one. As I said, Odin was furious that she cast them out of Asgard rather than allow Thor to continue his carnage. I was in the room when they...discussed what happened." He said the word with the forced, neutral tone of someone trying to be diplomatic. A natural impulse, Kratos assumed, for someone who worked as an ambassador. Not something Kratos would have the patience for.

Perhaps Mimir had lost his patience for it as well, because his next words were thick with open disgust. "He was irrational. Ranting, wouldn't let her get a word in. He'd been experimenting again, doing who knows what with seiðr magic. He was always at his worst on those days. I tried to say something, but it was like I wasn't even in the room. He either didn't notice me or didn't care that I saw…"

Another pause. This one longer.

"He had a knife. I thought he was going to kill her." Kratos could hear the fear in Mimir’s voice, even at the very memory of it. "Ridiculous thing to think. She still had her fighting spirit then, better magic...if he'd truly tried to raise hand against her, he wouldn't have gotten far."

Kratos thought back to the day Baldur died, to Freya's eyes tearing through him like daggers, and felt he understood what Mimir meant. "Still, there would be consequences," Kratos pointed out. "Killing him wouldn't have ended well for her, even if it were in self-defense."

"That it wouldn't have. Not for her, and not for the Vanir, either. That's what I was really worried about, I think. The consequences. That she wouldn't fight back to preserve the peace or that she would to save herself...neither outcome good. I tried to step in, and, ah…Odin didn't like that."

He didn't have to elaborate. The dread in his voice the one time he'd spoken of Odin's hospitality, and the contempt in his voice whenever he spoke of the god afterwards, said enough.

"...Let's just say it's only by Freya's generosity that I kept my good looks," Mimir said quickly. "Still had a hard time breathing through my nose most of the day, but I suppose that's a small price to pay for preventing another Aesir-Vanir war, right? At any rate, Odin left the knife behind. I took it so he wouldn’t do anything rash later, but that night I couldn’t sleep, and…well, I know where he sleeps…”

The mental image of Mimir standing at Odin’s bedside, knife in hand, was ridiculous. Kratos might have laughed, had he not known the full context. “But you didn’t do anything?”

“Oh, I was close. I could’ve. He’s a deep sleeper. All I could think about was what he’d done to me, what he’d almost done to her, how if he was comfortable pulling out a knife when people were watching, who knows what he might try in private? But...the longer I thought, more I realized if they didn’t kill me, they’d blame Freya and kill her. And Thor would probably take over, and he’s not much better than his father, if I’m being honest…I actually started wondering if I could kill my way through Asgard before any of them woke up.” Mimir tried to laugh. It was a strained sound, lacking in humor, self-mocking and harsh. “And then he started waking up, so I ran. Put the knife back where I found it.” The conclusion of the story was as harsh and sarcastic as his laugh had been: “Freya ended up banished not long after, so clearly I made the right decision.”

Kratos grimaced. He could understand why Mimir felt that way, but… “It wouldn’t have been worth it,” Kratos said.

“I know.”

“You don’t.” No one really could, not unless they had lived through it. “Whatever you may have heard about Greece, I promise you it was far worse.”

That was all he had it in him to say.

Mimir, fortunately, didn’t ask. They simply watched Atreus as he continued searching the ruins of people he should have known. Of a place that reminded Kratos of other ruins, of another people long lost. The consequences of the gods and their meddling.

Himself included.

“Shame that power never seems to end up in the hands of those who use it well, isn’t it?” Mimir said finally.

“Hmm.”

It was too late for him, Kratos knew. He wanted to believe that it wasn’t too late for Atreus, despite his missteps. Maybe…

But that was if the corruption truly came from the person, and not the power.

Only time would tell which was true.

[everythinggodofwar]

The Treasure of Koninsgard (part 5)

Their first stop was the dwarves’ shop on the realm travel bridge.

“You’re gonna love Brok and Sindri!” Atreus declared to Sigyn as they stepped out of the realm between realms. “They’re the best crafters in all the nine realms!”

“Ah, stop. I’ll blush!” Sindri exclaimed from where he was sitting and eating an apple.

“Quiet!” Brok yelled. “Can’t you see I’m focusing?”

“But you’re..” Atreus began with the intention of pointing out that Brok was just watching water boil, but decided against it. “Brok and Sindri, this is Sigyn!”

“Hello, Sigyn!” Sindri greeted.

“Hello..” Sigyn kind of hung towards the back, allowing Kratos and Atreus to go ahead and, once again, subconsciously playing with her hair.

“The girl needs a weapon.” Kratos told Sindri as they both came up to the wooden table where they usually made their exchanges. “What do you have?”

“Well! We have a fine selection of bows!” He reached in his bag and pulled out a simple wooden bow and a quiver full of arrows. “And by ‘fine selection’ I mean.. one bow.. that I can upgrade for you.”

“I already have a weapon!” Sigyn interjected; she pulled her dagger out and held it to where Kratos could see it. “See?”

“A dagger requires you to get close enough to your enemies to hit them..” He set some hacksilver down on the counter and grabbed the bow and quiver. He turned to Sigyn. “Keep your distance. And only fire.. if I tell you to fire.”

“Okay..” With a frown, she took the bow and quiver. She told herself she should be grateful, but she had no idea how to shoot.

“I can show you.” Atreus offered, almost if he had read her mind.

She gazed at him in surprise. After a moment she nodded. “Okay.”

“Well look who’s up and around!” Brok finally acknowledged Sigyn.

She just smiled, both of her hands having been occupied with strapping the quiver on.

“This is Sigyn.” Atreus said.

“I heard ya the first time!”

“Oh..”

“So you’re that ‘treasure of Koninsgard’ Huh? Not what I expected.. but we’re - uh- glad to have ya!”

Sigyn gave him a questioning look. “What’s Koninsgard?”

Brok gave Kratos a surprised glance, then looked back at Sigyn. She didn’t know about Koninsgard? “King Motsognir?”

“Who?”

“Where’d you come from?”

She froze for a moment and turned her head away ever so slightly to avoid looking at Brok. “No- Nowhere important.”

“Huh.” He studied her for a moment- he, like everybody else, had no idea what to make of her- then grabbed a box from under a table. “Here. I got something for ya.”

Sigyn glanced nervously at Atreus, then Kratos, who nodded as to say go ahead. She cautiously approached the table where the dwarf dug around in an old crate.

“Gah- I know it’s here somewh- aha!” He pulled out a small set of simple armor and dropped it on the table. “Oughta help keep ya safe from any stray arrows and such.”

“Hm.” Sigyn studied the armor carefully. “My coat is warm; this looks cold.”

“Then put the coat on over it! Yeesh.”

“Okay.” With a shrug, she took her coat that she’d technically been wearing for at least few centuries off, uncovering her tattered, long sleeved shirt underneath and revealing a few blue colored tattoos peeking out from beneath her sleeve. Atreus could see a few runes but he didn’t have enough time to make anything out of it. Sigyn put the flexible, lightly metal plated vest on and tied the red rope around her waist to keep it in place. It was a little long on her -actually it was very long- as it nearly reached the middle of her thighs, but at least it would help protect her more. Not that it mattered, she didn’t plan on needing it for much longer.

“So?”

She threw her coat back on over it and shrugged. “Adequate for now.”

Mimir laughed louder than he meant to. Kratos almost smiled.

“‘Adequate?!’” Brok exclaimed and turned to glare at Kratos. “You sure she ain’t yours?”

Atreus laughed. “I think I’d know if I had a sister!”

Kratos gave the boy a questioning glance, then turned to leave, now done with the conversation. “Come. We are leaving.”

“In any case she’ll fit right in!” With that, Brok marched back to finish whatever he was cooking.

Atreus and Sigyn followed after Kratos. Atreus was a excited that he got to hunt with a new friend; Kratos, however, found it rather inconvenient that he now had to make sure the girl didn’t get herself killed. He could guarantee that they would be attacked by one thing or another on their trip; though he knew Atreus could handle himself to some extent, it it didn’t look like the girl had had much experience in combat if any at all.

Kratos forced the large stone door open and held it for the children to go through, then allowed it to slam shut behind them once they were all outside on the bridge.

Sigyn’s eyes grew wide as she took everything in. “Wow,” was all she could say as she looked around at the bridge and the lake surrounding them. When she turned around to face the building they were just in her attention was grabbed by the massive statue and the overall grandeur of the temple. “What is this place?”

“It’s the realm travel bridge; this is the lake of nine that we’re in the middle of.” Atreus explained as he gestured to the lake and then to the temple. “In the middle of that temple there’s a room that lets people travel to different realms!”

“Different realms?” She grew thoughtful. “Like Asgard?”

He gave her a slightly confused look. “Well, Yeah.. but why would you want to go to Asgard?”

“I don’t. I’m just curious.”

“I’m afraid travel to any realm without the proper travel rune is impossible, and Odin made sure that no one could go to and from Asgard unless he wants them too; so, Asgard is off limits to us.” Mimir pointed out. “.. Not that I would suggest it either way.”

“I don’t want to go to Asgard.”

“Good. Let us go then.” Kratos rushed, growing weary of standing around. He made his way down the stair case as Atreus and Sigyn followed.

Once they reached the boat dock, Kratos handed the head to Atreus, and the two climbed in just like they always did. Atreus frowned when he saw Sigyn still standing on the boat dock awkwardly waiting and realized there was no seat for her on the boat.

“Here.” He swiflty moved to sit on the floor of the boat and sat Mimir on the side opposite to him. “You can sit there!”

“Oh that’s-”

“Its okay! Trust me!”

Sigyn hesitated at first, but she agreed and carefully climbed into the boat and sat in the spot Atreus usually was.

Once everyone was situated, Atreus sitting in what small space their was on the floor with Mimir and Sigyn sitting across from Kratos, Kratos pushed off from the pier and began to row towards a dock he knew led a to a decent hunting area near the foot of the mountain.

Atreus noticed Sigyn playing with her hair again. She seemed to do that whenever she was nervous. Maybe he could do something to make her feel better? “Mimir!”

“Aye lad?”

“Do you have a story? Maybe Sigyn would like to hear one?”

“I just might! How about it, lass?”

Sigyn let go of her hair, but her hands still fidgeted in her lap. “Sure.”

“Very well! How about a familiar one? It begins with a father and son on a journey to scatter the ashes of the woman they both loved.”

Kratos groaned, but he did not object to Mimir telling her their story.

“Before she died, the boy’s mother and his father’s beloved wife had made the very specific request that her ashes be taken to the highest peak in all the realms and scattered there.”

“This sounds familiar.” Atreus pointed out with a hint of sarcasm.

“Their journey was long and grueling, but alas they made it to the highest peak! ... in Midgard.. Once they fought their way to the very top of the mountain they met a clever, rather dashing, gentleman who informed them that they, though they had worked so hard to get there, were sadly not at the highest peak in all the realms. For the highest peak in all the realms was not here in Midgard, but Jotunheim.”

“Jotunheim?”

“Aye. Jotunheim.. Though they were disappointed, they were in luck! For that gentleman they met was none other than the smartest man alive! And he knew just how to get them to where they needed to go. All they had to do was free him from his binds to a tree where his former Master had trapped him.. by cutting off his head and bringing it to a witch that could reanimate him, who turned out to be none other than the goddess Freya herself.”

“Mmhmm.” Sigyn has caught on that the story was about them at that point, and she was interested.

“The journey was even longer and more grueling after that. First, to carve the rune they needed to open the gate to Jotunheim, convieniently placed on top of the very mountain they had originally gone to, they needed a piece of a magic chisel wielded by Thamur the stonemason giant.”

As Kratos neared the boat dock, Mimir realized he would not finish his story this time, so he decided to start wrapping this bit up.

“After ever-so-subtly breaking through a thick layer of ice to get to the chisel by knocking Thamur’s old hammer over, the pair had to fight off the sons of Thor themselves! Magni and Modi.. The battle was difficult, but the father managed to overcome Magni and kill him, overcoming his coward brother Modi with fear and causing him to flee - which would later on cause trouble.”

Just as he finished his sentence, Kratos pulled up on the dock and stopped the boat next to it.

“And we’ll finish this later!”

Atreus handed his father the head and followed him in jumping out of the boat. Once, the others were off, Sigyn stood up and jumped off too. “Are stories only for the boat?”

“Strictly.”

“Okay.”

“Draugr!” Atreus yelled as a couple draugr jumped out from behind the rocks.

“Ready yourself!”

Sigyn pulled out her bow, but took a few steps back and let the other two do the fighting. She pulled an arrow out and placed it on the string like she ready to shoot, even though she knew she wouldn’t. She remembered Kratos’ command to not fire unless he told her to.. and she knew he wouldn’t tell her too.. so she obeyed. She just watched as Kratos mercilessly struck the enemies down one by one with his axe and Atreus shot his arrows from a small distance, yelling to warn Kratos about incoming fire and occasionally running to whack or choke one of the enemies.

Finally, they finished off the last draugr. Sigyn relaxed and put the bow away and stuck the arrow back in the quiver. Kratos just hung his axe back on its hook on his back, grabbed whatever the enemies had dropped, and continued on like it was nothing. Atreus followed, looking back to make sure Sigyn was coming; she hurried along after them when Atreus waved her on.

“What are we hunting?” Atreus asked his father.

“That is for you to decide.”

“Oh.. deer?”

“Is that a question?”

“Deer.” He looked back at Sigyn, who was following a little ways behind. “Do you hunt, Sigyn?”

She shook her head.

“Oh.. well.. maybe I can show you a little!” His attention was grabbed by a set of tracks in a mud puddle he was about to step in. “Look!” He waved Sigyn over; hesitantly, she came over and examined the tracks with him. “They’re from a deer. See how the tips come to a point? If the tips were a little wider that would mean they might have come from a mountain goat.”

“You can really tell that by their feet?”

“Yeah! And look; see how the mud hasn’t had time to move around them yet? That means their fresh, so it must be close!” He stood up and started off in the direction of the deer.

Sigyn followed close behind; Kratos kept a bit of a distance, but stayed close enough to keep an eye on them.

Atreus stopped to examine some more tracks. “They’re fresh too, but.. they’re not deer. Looks like a boar.”

“Good.” Kratos said as he bent down to look at the tracks with him. Sigyn stood to the side and watched.

“Should I keep looking for the deer? Or go after the boar?”

“I trust you to decide that.”

“Oh! Well.. the deer is bigger. And easier to-”

“Easier?”

“Well.. Yeah. I think they’re easier to kill than boars.”

“Hmph.” Kratos stood up. “Then you will hunt the boar.”

“But you said-”

“I know what I said. Hunt the boar.”

“Rrrnnn.” Atreus groaned. He stood up and started to head in the direction of the boar’s tracks. He was disappointed to have to start over, but at least he knew the animal was close.

As she followed along quietly, Sigyn noticed a certain bush with a purple petal flower her mother had showed her how to crush into a fine powder that could be used for a multitude of different things. Quickly, she plucked all the flowers off the plant and gently placed them in an empty pouch she had tied to her belt. When she was done, she glanced up to see Kratos glaring down at her -not necessarily angrily but grimly enough that Sigyn worried she had done something wrong.

After a moment of awkwardly staring at him, Sigyn held out one of the flowers for him and smiled.

He looked down at the delicate little flower in her hand with narrowed eyes. He would never say it, but she reminded him so much of Calliope. That sweet, soft tempered spirit paired with a strong will and a big heart.. He imagined that if Calliope had been a little older she would have been just like this girl. Perhaps that’s why he had pretty much already decided she could not stay.

“Rrn.” He broke his gaze at the girl’s offering and turned to continue on with Atreus, who was now studying a new set of tracks, completely oblivious to the exchange between Sigyn and his father.

“I think the boar went this way.”

“Good.”

Atreus pulled his bow out and placed an arrow on the string when he heard the sound of a boar’s snorting nearby. “I hear it!”

“Careful, boy.”

“I know.”

Atreus crept up a flight of ruined stone steps and peaked over the top to see the animal grazing obliviously. He drew the bow back and steadied his breaths.

Feet firm.

Hand steady.

Exhale.

Release.

He loosed the arrow, hitting it directly between its ribs and striking it in the heart. The boar jumped a little, fell over on its side, took a few strained breaths, and died. Atreus sighed, relieved that it had died almost instantly and that he wouldn’t have to finish it off with his dagger.

“I did good. Yeah?”

“Be more silent next time. It is easy to frighten an animal. You must not let it get it’s guard up.”

“Yes sir... I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Mm.” Fully aware that the boy wasn’t strong enough to lift it, Kratos made his way over to pick the animal up and carry it home.

Sigyn watched with intrigue as Kratos casually picked up the rather large animal and just threw it over his shoulder. She was impressed -though not surprised- but she didn’t know the half of it.

They began to make their way back to the boat. Unfortunately there were no world tree gates nearby to use to get back home faster, but Kratos at least was perfectly content with walking.

As they made their way down the convenient path that led by an ancient looking circle of pillars, Sigyn’s attention was once again pulled away by a familiar plant growing next to one of the pillars. Hurrying to keep Kratos from noticing, she quickly ran over and plucked some of the leaves off and stuck them in her satchel. As she studied the contents of the bag she considered what kinds of things she could do with these ingredients; the two that she had already collected would be enough to make a few strength enhancing potions. Certainly the others would appreciate that.

She found herself losing herself in thought as she considered what other ingredients she would have to find to do a tracking spell on her mother.

“Girl..” Kratos pulled Sigyn out of her daze.

She looked up to see that Kratos and Atreus were waiting for her a little ways ahead. “Sorry..” A little embarrassed, she held her head down and carefully closed the satchel. She internally kicked herself for getting distracted again.

“It’s-” Atreus’ eyes went wide and he pointed at something behind Sigyn. “Watch out!!”

Before she could react, a massive hand grabbed Sigyn from behind and tossed her tiny, limp body to the side like nothing.

Sigyn scrambled to get back up, but the furious troll pounded the ground with the huge totem in his hand, sending a surge of energy that knocked her back to the ground.

Atreus rushed at the troll in a yelling rage while Kratos yelled for him to calm himself. Kratos’ warning seemed to fall on deaf ears as Atreus furiously charged in and fired electrified arrows at the monster.

“Calm down, boy!”

“Die damn it!” Atreus screamed at the monster, not hearing -or just ignoring- his father’s commands.

“Atreus!”

The arrows mostly seemed to aggravate the unusually large troll. With each arrow that struck him, it grew more and more angry until it let out a roar and swung its totem furiously at the boy.

Since Atreus was letting himself become so overcome by emotion and therefore wasn’t being attentive enough, the swing hit him head on and knocked him on his back.

Kratos charged at the monster as it raised its weapon high up in the air with the intention of bringing it down on Atreus -who was on the ground and trying to scoot out of the way but was a bit too dazed from being hit so hard. Kratos jumped in front of Atreus and braced himself to stop that totem from hitting his son.

With all its might, the monster swung its weapon.

Before it could even touch Kratos or Atreus a huge ball of fire flew through the air and struck the troll, causing him to stumble to the side and have to regain his composure.

Kratos’ first instinct was to check on Atreus. He turned and knelt down to make make sure he was not injured; he was not, but his eyes were wide with both amazement and terror as he stared past Kratos. “Father..”

Kratos stood up and spun around, ready to destroy whatever it was Atreus was staring at.

Much to his surprise, instead of another enemy, he saw Sigyn, now standing in the middle of a circle of white fire swirling around the ground, the same surreal flames engulfing her clenched fists and her eyes now bright yellow rather than the usual green. Almost as if she were in a trance, she turned her head to Kratos and Atreus and just stared for a moment.

Kratos held his arm out in front of Atreus in an instinct to protect him.. but Sigyn did not come towards them. She didn’t even move. After a moment of her just looking at them, her attention was pulled away by the troll getting back up and charging at her.

“Father!” Atreus jumped up and tried to push past his father to go help Sigyn, but Kratos grabbed his arm and held him back.

“No, boy!”

“We have to help!”

Suddenly Sigyn seemed to break out of her motionless trance and summoned another massive ball of fire around her fist and threw it at the troll. It seemed to work; the attack seemed to stun the monster as it knelt down on the ground and breathed heavily... Kratos saw the opportunity and took it; he jumped up and charged the beast. He jumped on its head and pulled it back by its horns, and, as it tried to take a swing at him, he grabbed the extremely heavy weapon and used it to smash the trolls head once he had knocked it on the ground.

After the troll was good and dead, he turned around to see Sigyn lying unconscious on the ground, blood dripping from her nose and her skin even paler than usual. Atreus sat next to her with his hand on her shoulder gently but urgently shaking her to wake her up.

“Father!” He called out desperately. “Father, she’s sick. She’s-” Kratos came over and knelt down next to her and placed his hand on her forehead.

“She has a fever.”

“Is it what I had?”

“No..” Kratos observed her bleeding nose; Atreus had never had that. “This is something else.”

“Did.. did you know?”

“.. no. I did not know.”

“Mimir?”

“Sorry, little brother.. I’m afraid not.”

“She’s..” Atreus shook his head, still trying to fully comprehend what he had just seen. “She’s a god?”

[howler518]

Kratos x Faye

Several days past since the stranger had been in her care. 

On the first day, Faye had taken pure water and clothe to his bedside. In the rush to stabilize the god, she had not washed away the grime and filth that covered him from head to toe. She hated the idea of touching him. It seemed wrong to offer a god such intimate care while her kind had been slaughtered by the likes of him. More than that, Faye felt uneasy being so close to a god, especially one that she knew was capable of great violence.

Faye reached out and slowly molded her palm over his shoulder. The stranger flinched as their skin touched. He was still feverish. She hoped the fever would not take him to Hel too soon.  

“I have questions,” Faye muttered, soaking the clothe in the water basin and squeezing it out. A knot balled up in her chest and she steeled herself with grit teeth. She brought the clothe to his arm and pressed it to his pale skin. He stiffened underneath her touch and his brow knit together. Faye could feel the muscles in his shoulder tense but thankfully, he remained unconscious.

Faye continued to work, all the while cursing herself for placing herself in the wolf’s jaws. This was all new territory for her. For the later part of her life, all she had known how to do was run from gods. Or at the very least, elude them.

For a time, she became slid into the shadows and like a ghost she haunted Asgard. Faye made a name for herself in those days as she tended to the sick and weak prisoners of the Aesir, and passed them all the food she could smuggle.  

They called her Laufey the Just.  

It maddened and enraged Odin that she had undermined his cruelty. He had sent his son, Thor, after her. Faye managed to elude the witless oaf, but it did get her in the habit of running away from gods. Not tending to them as they lay dying.

Faye squeezed the clothe hard, and roughly scrubbed the man’s chest. Perhaps this stranger was an agent sent from Odin to do what Thor could not. The thought made her stomach twist. And here he was, in her bed, receiving her care, all for him to wake up and wrap his hands around her throat.

It would befit the Allfather to send such an agent to appeal to her good-hearted nature. Faye whispered prayers for Tyr’s guidance as she washed the dirt and blood away.

As the days bled into each other, Faye had nearly gotten used to the god taking up space in her home.  

Every day she would check his bandages and change the wrappings. While his other wounds were on the mend, the ones around his wrists and forearms were steady to heal. In fact, they didn’t seem to heal at all. Faye did her best to keep them wrapped with healing salves but deep down she had a feeling that those markings weren’t entirely of this world. They looked like the links of chains had burned themselves into his skin.  

She stiffened, her blood running cold.  

Faye looked back at her rug for a moment, where underneath the blades lay hidden.  

“What kind of man would do that to himself?”  

He’s  not a man , Faye reminded herself. Gods are capable of all manner of cruelty. That at least, she knew for certain.  

In the night, the stranger would talk as he slumbered. Faye knew all the languages in the nine realms, and yet this one escaped her. Faye knew that she would have to work around the language barrier if she had any hope of getting answers from the stranger. So Faye listened, attuning herself to the strange foreign tongue.  

“ Calliope ,” he would call. Faye was certain it was a name. He said something about being sorry. But it was all still muddy for Faye. Did he say he was sorry or was he asking about a goat? She found that she could learn just about any language, even the ones she didn’t know. However, this one would certainly take more time.  

Sometimes when he grew restless, Faye would listen patiently at his bedside.

“Who do you dream about?” She whispered, “Who is Lysandra?”  

There were especially hard nights where he would jerk violently and cry out. It was maddening for Faye. Though she did not want to wake him and put herself in his rage-fueled path, she also did not want him to open his wounds again.  

He’s no use dead , she told herself.  

“Sh sh sh,” Faye tried to soothe, but he continued to thrash. By the dim light of her hearth which had died down to glowing embers, she could see his face contorted in pain.  

Faye's jaw tighten and placed a palm to his forehead, trying to steady him.  

“Be still, god's-blood.”  But her words had no effect. Whatever his agitation was, he wasn’t going to calm easily.

She wasn’t sure from what pit of memories it sprang, but a song found its way to Faye’s lips. At first, it was awkward footing as she remembered the tune.

“The sky is dark, and the hills are white.”  

Still, the god was restless. Already blood blossomed through the bandages on his side. Dammit.  Faye continued to sing. It was all she had left to do, other than tying him down.  

“As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night, ”  

It was a low, whispered song. She was sure that it was a lullaby that she’d heard as a child, one that managed to soothe her when she had nightmares.

“What shall you fear when I am here?  

Sleep, little one, sleep.”  

Admittedly, Faye felt a bit foolish for singing a child’s lullaby to a god. But it didn’t matter, she wasn’t even sure if he could hear her.  

Whether or not he could hear her, as she sang, the man softened under her palm. His contorted face relaxed some. She could feel the muscles in his body loosen as he fell still once again. Faye had begun to rub her thumb along his forehead absentmindedly.  

“Weary thou art,  anext my heart  

    Sleep, little one, sleep.”  

At last, he calmed. Faye backed away and brought her hand back to her side. She gripped her hand in a tight fist, trying to squeeze away the memory of his skin. Faye thought about how she touched him. There was tenderness there. She hadn’t meant to do that.  

She was about to go back to sleep on her rug when a hoarse voice cracked the darkness.  

“What have I become? ”  the stranger murmured. Faye spun around. He had sounded so lucid, and she had understood him perfectly. Yet, his eyes remained closed. But his expression was pained.

“What have I become?” he repeated.  

#

Her feelings about the god became more and more muddied. It was hard to be angry at someone whom she had grown so familiar with, even if it was wholly one sided. He could still spring awake at any moment and turn on her, without any knowledge that she had been the one to bring him back from death’s grip.  

She was still unsure how this god would be connected to her future. No more visions had come to her and his restless murmurings offered no insight. Her lack of clarity coupled with long hours had her growing evermore impatient for answers.  

The days seems to be growing longer, though dusk approached sooner with the coming winter. Faye grew restless with boredom and impatience as the days dragged on. So, she filled the empty hours with menial tasks as she watched over him. She got in the bad habit of humoring one-sided conversations with him.

One day after she had returned from hunting, she came through her door and announced, “I’ve caught us venison, Fárbauti.”  

She had come up with the name which meant ‘he who strikes dangerous blows.’ It was fitting. And she was tired of calling him a stranger. It had been little more than a week and he had slept in her bed, shared her hearth, and even eaten her food (or whatever broth she could slip past his lips). By any normal standards, he was not a stranger anymore.  

She slung the carcass from her shoulder and let it land heavy on her table. Faye brushed a strand of auburn hair from her face with a heavy sigh.  

“No grumbles for me today, eh?”  

He did not stir.  

“Fárbauti?”  

A brief panic came over her as she noticed his chest did not move.  

“No no no no. Shit!” Faye threw down her bow and quiver and rushed to his bedside. She waited for a moment, holding her breath. His entire body was unnaturally still. She reached out, putting both hands on his shoulders and shook him gently.  

She had spent too long hunting. Had the fever taken him in that time? Faye thought he was getting better, already his wounds were fixing to heal well. She was sure he would wake soon, not succumb to his injuries.  

“ F á rbauti !” Faye shook him again, harder, but was like a stone. She put her fingers to his neck and found a slow, lazy pulse.  

There was one tried and true method that she hadn’t tried. Faye winced, and she drew her hand back.  

“Please don’t be angry,” she prayed.  

She struck him hard across the face.

Eyes like molten gold snapped open.

Faye’s heart leapt up in her throat.  

Fuck.  

#

Farbauti gripped her wrist hard, his eyes burning into her own. Her mind spun. Words tumbled out of her mouth.  

“ Friend, ” she said in his language. The man growled and said something back, but she couldn’t understand.  

“I am not your enemy-” she barely got the last word out when his other hand game to grip her throat. She tried to say the word for friend again but Fárbauti gripped tighter and choked the words from her. Faye clawed at his hand and her lungs burned for air.  

There would be a time for reasoning later.  

Faye brought her free hand down to his jaw in a quick jab. He grunted and released her. Faye stumbled back, coughing. Fárbauti rose from the bed and winced in pain. He gripped his side and found the bandages there.  

“Friend!” Faye croaked and pointed at her chest. “Friend! You stupid oaf!”  

What if he wouldn’t back down? What if he gave her no choice?  

The axe was at still his bedside where she had left it.

Stupid!  She scolded herself.  

His gaze followed hers to the axe. With a low-burning snarl, he hefted the axe in his grip.  

“Not friend.” He said. Fárbauti advanced her.  

Message received.  

Faye recalled the axe to her hand. An unseen force stole the axe from the god’s hand, and it flew through the air in an arc toward Faye. She caught it midair. She ground her teeth, her warrior spirit burning hard in her gut. The god looked from his hand to the axe that was now clear across the room in Faye’s grip. His golden eyes narrowed.  

“Come and get it, beast,” she growled.  

Fárbauti roared and barreled across the room toward her. Before Faye could raise the axe, Fárbauti rammed into her, his shoulder connecting with her ribcage. Air escaped her lungs and Faye gasped.  

He threw her against the wall, knocking the axe from her hand. Faye’s skull slammed back against the wall. She could taste blood in her mouth.  

He pounded his fists into her ribs. She managed to blow a few blows, but some met their mark. Pain exploded inside her with every punch.  

Fárbauti reeled back, and with another wild roar he brought his fist down. Faye dodged the punch and drove her knee into his abdomen. Right into his wounds. He grunted in pain and drew back, gripping his side and panting. Faye recalled the axe back to her hand.  

“Don’t make me kill you,” she warned.  

The god panted for a moment and spit blood. There was a small breath between them.

As if he realized that she would not be so easily smashed as the stag had been.  

“Come on!” Faye roared.  

He faked a step to his left and Faye, in her haste, threw the Leviathan. The axe went spiraling to the left and Fárbauti attacked from the right, bringing down blow after blow with renewed fury. Faye blocked his arm and landed three hard punches to his abdomen. She knew if she kept aiming there, he would eventually weaken.  

The god faltered with a cry of pain and Faye landed one more hard punch to his throat. The god stumbled back, gasping for breath like a fish.  

Faye inhaled slowly and approached him, calling the Leviathan. She drove a devastating kick to his knee, bringing him down to the floor as he coughed and sputtered. She slid to the floor and wrapped her arms around his neck, bear-hugging the air from his lungs. He drove himself back and buried her beneath him but Faye held tight. She wrapped her legs around his waist and hooked her ankles at his chest to keep him from kicking her off.

“ Friend ,” Faye snarled through grit teeth. Fárbauti elbowed her hard in the ribs and she heard a sickening crack. Still, she held on through the pain.

Struggling harder, and more desperately, Fárbauti reached back and grabbed a fistful of her auburn hair. Faye yelped as he tore a good chunk of her hair out, and dug her teeth into his arm until she tasted blood.  

She only had to hold on a bit longer. His breaths were growing more labored. Faye could feel the strength draining from him with every struggle, each becoming less ferocious than the last.  

Finally, Fárbauti fell limp on top of her. Faye was still panting and holding tight.  

Let go.  

She had to tear herself away to keep from killing him. Faye heaved his massive body off her and regained her breath.  

Faye planted one last kick into his back.  

“Stupid god,” she hissed.  

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #99: Hercules! -- Whom the Gods Would Destroy!

May 1972

Alternate title: “It Has Been Written: Whom the Gods Would Destroy -- THEY FIRST MAKE MAD!”

Way to spoil the ending of the book, cover. Way to spoil the ending by saying the cover spoils the ending, me.

Gotta love Iron Man being dragged as he holds onto Hercules’ leg.

So last time: Ares used adorable, insidious satyrs disguised as hippies to whip a crowd into a pro-war frenzy. The Avengers thwarted him with the help of the newly returned Hawkeye (newly returned to the team and newly returned to being Hawkeye) who brought with him an amnesiac Hercules who might know whats going on. EXCEPT HE HAS AMNESIA

So remember how back in issue 26, the Avengers had a Subliminal-Recall Inducer that helped Hawkeye remember a thing he was barely paying attention to?

Instead of using that, they use a different thing amped up with Mjolnir’s power that fills Hercules with terrible agony to try to get him to remember.

THE MIGHTY AVENGERS!

Check out Cap though. That’s the face of a man who wishes Hawkeye weren’t sitting up there like that.

And yet, can’t look away either.

Anyway, torturing their friend is getting nowhere. But they have to know more about that vague prophecy from last time.

“When opes the gate which once was lofty peak... when slays the sword which wizard formed to save... then worlds shall quake to hear the war-god speak... and Earth and Asgard evermore be slave!”

Hawkeye is getting annoyed with the Avengers and also feeling very protective of his amnesiac god friend. So he decides to explain what happened to him after the Kree/Skrull War if it will get the Avengers to stop torturing Hercules for a bit.

So you may recall that Skrull craft Beta-31 was sent to nuke Earth during the Kree/Skrull War and Not-Very-Goliath was sent to intercept. He busted into the ship and bluffed that he had so many powers, you don’t even know, but the Skrulls called his bluff and started FZAK!ing lasers at him.

And when aliens FZAK! at you and you don’t even have a shirt, you run away and hide. It’s what you do.

Clint finds a place to hide and hopes that there’s just enough of the growth serum in his system that he can will himself to grow one last time!

But all he accomplishes is making weird, loud grunts that alert the Skrulls to where he’s hiding.

The Skrulls SZTAP! and SZAT at him, demonstrating some Stormtrooper level accuracy and blast a drain and some wiring off the wall.

And Clint Barton may not be a giant strongman anymore. But there’s one thing that he is and will always be. He’s the MacGyver of archery. Remember when he turned Hyperion into an arrow? Same principle.

Using his impromptu bow he fires a metal pipe at a wall so hard that it explodes. Clint figures he must have hit the ‘main frammistat’ (Clint Barton, guy who knows how to technobabble) because before long the whole ship explodes.

Clint in the meantime has run from the distracted Skrulls, gotten back in his ship, and absconded like a pro.

He figures that the ship must have blew at the moment that the Supreme Intelligence was assembling all of the Avengers and that’s why he didn’t get picked up.

And then he crash-landed made a perfect three-point landing on Earth.

In one of those contrived comic coincidences Clint happened to crash near a traveling carnival. Clint introduces himself as the world’s smallest giant as a goof but then clarifies that he’s an archer and an Avenger.

The carnival workers don’t know what an Avenger is but they know archery. And they know their last trick archer ran off after stealing some money. But he left behind some stuff like a bow and some arrows.

So Clint shows off some of his Hawkeyeishness to prove his bona fides. He throws an arrow into the air and then shoots it with another arrow. He shoots arrows through every spoke of a wagon wheel. Y’know, cool archery stuff.

The leader Rudolfo applauds. If their former archer was that good, they would have given him the money that he stole. If Clint wants a ride to the next big-town he can pay his way by giving archery exhibitions (and helping fix that wagon wheel he damaged).

There aren’t really any pockets on his Goliath suit so he doesn’t have money so its a good deal.

And it is a bit of a back to square one for Clint.

But maybe in a beneficial way. Reminding him that he has skills, skills that pay the bills.

But on the road that night there was a storm that washed out the road and the wagon Clint was riding in almost goes into a ravine. With the wagon so precariously balanced, none but the carnival strongman Hercules can save him now.

Wait, what?

I mean, it doesn’t look like Hercules but he’s strong like him, lifting the wagon right back on the road with little effort. And this is a story about how Clint met up with Hercules so it is probably Hercules.

Yeah. Its Hercules. The blond hair was just a wig. And the outfit was for the showbiz.

Rudolfo explains (giving us a flashback inside of a flashback). While traveling, they encountered him in Greece. Just sitting on one of those Greek ruins, brandishing a marble pillar threateningly. Rudolfo succeeded at his Charisma check and convinced the amnesiac Hercules to come with him and decided to dub him... Hercules.

Because they found him in Greece and he brandished a marble pillar.

Anyway, Clint and Hercules traveled with the carnival for a while until they hit Belgrade. No one answered at Avengers Mansion so Clint made a collect call to Tony Stark and reached Kevin O’Brien

O’Brien had to go die in Iron Man #46 but he put someone else on who made arrangements for Clint and Hercules to be flown back to the USA.

Anyway, that’s the story.

The other Avengers continue questioning Hercules while Vision contacts both T’Challa and Hank Pym looking for ideas on how to cure Hercules’ amnesia but neither can help out.

Meanwhile, Hawkeye hits on Scarlet Witch, telling her the amazing story of his new outfit. The story is that Rudolfo gave it to him along with the bow. He also does the kabedon and tells her that “it’s come to my attention over the past few weeks that I might just be in love with you... in which case, witchie, there’s weddin’ bells in your future!”

Clint Barton, always a charmer.

Vision who just so happened to walk in on this just so happens to storm out icily, saying he didn’t mean to intrude.

Scarlet Witch also storms out when Clint wonders what’s gotten into Vision, saying Clint is the same old Hawkeye, as perceptive as ever.

She heads off to bed but Quicksilver intercepts her. He has to talk. See, they’ve always been close. For a long while they only had each other in a world that hated and feared them for being different and then for joining a terrorist group. Although things are better with the Avengers, he remembers that he vowed to their parents to always protect her from danger and from unhappiness.

But he fears that she’s headed toward more sorrow than she can bear if she falls in love with AN ANDROID. A THING. Well, are you, Wanda? Are you in love with the Vision?

She hangs her head and admits that she is but there’s no further time for feelings right now.

Captain America just shouted in surprise.

Because Kratos (not that one) and Bia, the heralds of Ares, have just poofed into Avengers Mansion to take Hercules.

Amnesia Hercules recognizes the names and knows that they fill his heart with LOATHING. But for some reason he cannot lift a hand to defend himself.

Iron Man, Cap, and Thor leap to his defense but. Well. Geez, Kratos and Bia are strong.

Their names even mean Force and Might.

Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch join in but Quicksilver gets taken out by running into a punch, as he is wont to do.

And by this point, Bia has taken out Iron Man, Cap, and Quicksilver which allows him to double team Thor with Kratos. Thor gets thrown out of the room, alerting Hawkeye to the fight.

Meanwhile, Vision sulks in the pantry with Jarvis. A Jarvis who doesn’t look like Jarvis. But I’ll get to that.

Jarvis has noticed that Vision and Wanda like each other. BECAUSE JARVIS HAS EYES. But Vision feels he has no right to her affection. He’s not even human.

Jarvis protests that Vision is more human than most. Besides, he has a brain patterned after a dead man and he uses that brain to think. And, y’know, ‘cogito ergo sum’ right?

But Vision still broods. He could never give her a normal home or a family (welllllllll...) but Jarvis says he should let Wanda make up her own mind about that sort of thing.

But there’s no further time for feelings right now. Vision just heard the ruckus from upstairs and floats through the pantry ceiling.

Meanwhile, Kratos and Bia are advancing on Hercules. There’s no one left to stop them besides Hawkeye, Scarlet Witch and Rick Jones. Suffice to say, its a group lacking any serious muscle.

Still, despite his many faults, Clint Barton is no quitter and neither is Scarlet Witch. Hawkeye bounces arrows off Kratos’ helmet and Scarlet Witch confounds Bia with her hex power, which in this circumstance seems to have taken the form of shiny, distracting orbs.

Kratos and Bia kind of admire their courage. But they’re on the clock, so...

They punch the floor, scattering the group and knocking Wanda Witch out.

Vision arrives just about then but notices Wanda has been badly stunned. Hawkeye yells at him to leave her be and help Herc but Vision refuses.

Hawkeye does not take it well. And kind of moistly. He promises that one day Vision is going to get busted and when he looks around to see whodunnit its going to be Hawkeye.

But he is also on the clock, so...

Okay, that didn’t go so hot. Kratos just grabs him and flings him out of the room like a rag doll to be caught by Thor. This time, Clint is a bit more grateful for the save.

But Thor has recovered too late. Even as he leaps at them, Kratos, Bia and Hercules vanish into billowing clouds and disappear.

The others are recovering now as well and Hawkeye accuses Vision of betraying the team. If he had come through they might have saved Hercules but he just played nursemaid to someone who was only a little unconscious.

Rick Jones corroborates Hawkeye’s story.

And... well the other Avengers aren’t really pleased. They’ll have to talk later about whether Vision deserves to be censured for his unseemly conduct.

Wanda is sure that Vision thought she was seriously injured, perhaps even dying. But nope. He knew she was only stunned but he could not bring himself to leave her side.

And... she walks away from him. And the other Avengers aren’t really pleased either. They’ll have to talk later about whether Vision deserves to be censured for his unseemly conduct.

But there’s no time for further feelings right now. The Avengers need to take action before the vague prophecy is fulfilled.

THE AVENGERS HAVE TO INVADE OLYMPUS!!

So, that’s going to be issue 100.

But for right now, let’s talk art.

I don’t really have an eye for it usually but something changed. This issue looks sort of ugly.

Looking it up, things kind of shifted at Marvel after the conclusion of the Kree/Skrull War arc. Stan Lee was Editor-in-Chief up until that point. But starting with issue 98, Roy Thomas has taken the position. He’s still on as writer though.

The artist at the start of the Kree/Skrull War was Sal Buscema. Although partway through, he and Neal Adams started to interchange.

But with issue 98, Barry Windsor-Smith took over as the penciler. It was noticeably different but wasn’t bad. It probably helped having Sal Buscema as the inker.

But in this issue Tom Sutton steps in as the inker. I don’t know much about his other work. Maybe it was him, maybe he and Barry Windsor-Smith’s art don’t play well together but there’s just something ugly about the result.

The inking feels like its from an older, less polished time. Golden Age maybe.

Oh and Jarvis has lost twenty years. Have a little comparison from the last time we saw him in issue 90.

He’s not the inker for the next bunch of comics so I guess he was a fill-in. Rushing to get things done in time for the big number 100.

Anyway. I’ll probably go back to not commenting much about the art now.