#in the words of Atreus 'no one asked you to'

[neechees]

Am I the only one who thinks that like, the Sindri "giving tree" storyline kind of wasn't done as well as the other storylines? Like it almost kind of disregards Kratos & Atreus's friendship to Sindri in GOW 4 in order for this idea of that to work.

It's not like Kratos & Atreus were constantly imposing on Sindri & demanding he help them with anything & everything with no regard for him at all. Sindri approached THEM and offered to work on the axe FIRST, Kratos didn't even want to talk to Sindri at first. And then they do side missions for Sindri, not to mention save his life.

It kind of feels like, to me, the storyline of the giving tree wants to be "Sindri gave everything and now he has nothing" be either Kratos & Atreus's fault for being ungrateful friends, or that this is just how Sindri FEELS because hes in pain amd grieving, even if it's not true & Kratos & Atreus weren't necessarily ungrateful, but just that a number of unfortunate circumstances led to what happened.

[mx-pastelwriting]

GOW HC - Having a baby with them

GOD OF WAR X GN! READER

SUMMARY: Having a baby with them. WARNINGS/TAGS: Fluff, Established Relationship, Pregnancy, Tears. Lost of them. CHARACTERS: Kratos, Thor, Freyr, Heimdall

A/N: All canon kids exist.

KRATOS

- Being some years after Atreus leaves, finding love again with you. It didn’t take long until you fell pregnant, as his pull-out game is a little weak, especially after such a long time since he’s participated in the ritual.

- A bit shocked to learn the news after days of taking care of you while feeling helpless waiting for Freya to come back to Midgard. Though after the news and Freya's leaving, he’s all smiles and laughs—none that you've ever seen or heard before—filled with happiness at the chance to start a family once again and for Atreus to have a sibling. Sending him a message a day after the news while you took a nap.

- Very lovey-dovey during the pregnancy, coming more out of his hard spartan shell as you started to show more. Always placing a hand on your stomach, not caring if there wasn't anything to show yet. Insists on doing everything, not with words, of course—doing the cooking, cleaning, even making the bed—he does it all. Resting one evening with a hand on your belly, feeling them kick, jumping at the feeling at first, only realizing the little one was fighting against his heavy hand.

- Rubbing your belly every minute of every day while speaking to them in his Greek tongue, wanting them to hear his voice clearly, not knowing Norse very well. Sometimes his talking catches your attention, thinking it was for you, but as soon as he kneels, you know who they were for.

- Keeping Freya on standby as the time got closer, going hunting less, but bringing back more food every time, knowing he’d have to stay with you after the birth. When going into labor, he stays calm, holding you, kissing your skin softly as encouragement and comfort through the pain. Taking every painful squeeze of the hand, wiping away every drop of sweat that came from your forehead.

- Finally hearing the screams of your new baby coming into the world, he cries silently, holding the little bundle in his arms. With you calming down from the pain, he dared not take his amber eyes off of them. Days passed, waking from naps to hear him softly talking to the baby, watching as he around the clock cared for them, not caring about the toll it had on him. 

Waking only minutes ago, seeing Kartos’s tired state after having fed and rocked the baby for their nap, finally putting down the bundle of joy. Calling for your husband to get his slow attention, reaching out a hand, he takes it, letting you pull him into the bed. 

Taking the hulking god into your arms, letting him rest on your pillow, watching as sleep swiftly takes him. Only seconds after the uncomfortable whines of the baby started making him shoot out of sleep, quickly pushing him down promising to take care of them, did he rest after three days of no sleep.

-

THOR

- It wouldn’t have taken long at all, as the man's drive is high, but if you were careful, it would take a year or two. The pull-out game isn’t that strong, but if you don’t say anything during the act or before, he won’t pull out.

- All laughs when finding out it was only a matter of time; also thankful that you weren’t sick, just pregnant. Tells everyone when you’re okay with it, shows you off proudly as he’s going to become a father again.

- Clingy, so clingy since finding out. Staying in bed longer to cuddle, rubbing your belly, not caring if nothing was showing yet. Would stop drinking during the pregnancy; though hard, he would do it for you, keeping away from Odin as much as he could. Even asking Baldur to take some of his jobs. Feeling them kick for the first time, he would only smile, commenting on their strength or their trying to reach for Mjölnir, causing you both to laugh.

- Laying next to your stomach at night, talking to them endlessly, only stopping as he fell asleep from you playing with his long hair. Would allow you to use him like a body pillow, any position needed at night, he makes it happen. 

- When going off to a job, he has one of his oldest to watch you, mostly Magni, but Modi tags along if you want to go out to walk around the lands of Asgard. Though Heimdall is rarely asked, when Thor knows the job will be a long one, he asks. Surprisingly, Heimdall is more talkative about the new child of Thor than their siblings. 

- As you got bigger, his fights with Odin would ramp up, wanting to stay closer in case you go into labor, not even bothering to leave your shared chamber, keeping close with you as you'd been put on bed rest as growing a half-god, half-giant wasn't easy. Finally, as the time came, it went by quickly as a flash, with every medic in Asgard being there to help while Thor held your hand with tears streaming down his face.

- The first few days would be filled with tears and naps—you having the naps, of course. Thor, knowing what to do already, growing a routine with the little one as you healed from the birth. When healed, he insists on showing the little one around Asgard, knowing it was an excuse to show them off to everyone, but you agree. Seeing how he dressed them up cutely before showing them off to the family. 

Watching as the sleeping baby's feet bounced fitted with the cutest booties, Thor walked with the little one cradled against his chest with a soft cloth. Entering the front room, everyone's eyes watching as they started to gush over the little bundle.

Some were too afraid to get too close to Thor, and the other gods that cooed watched from behind the small crowd, looking around the room meeting a familiar pair of purple eyes. Quickly, they looked away, acting as if he was never interested in the new addition, knowing he'd be around later when Thor was away to meet the little one.

-

FREYR

- Three words. God of Fertility. This man has no pull-out game. Though if you were cautious enough, you would be spared for some time, but the man has a high drive, so good luck if you were planning on not having one right away.

- Thinks it's a joke at first since you both always poke funny at each other lightly, once in passing about him being the god of fertility. When it hits him, tears start. After many years of chasing people that he had feelings for over and over, the dream of having a family of his own finally came true, thanks to you.

- Though he loved the realms, the love he has for you is greater, meaning traveling to them would stop wanting to take care of you. However, you both go one last time to Alfheim, taking it slow in your early stages of pregnancy, going to the temple, bringing together both dark and light elves asking for their blessing on your growing child.

- As you get bigger, so does Freyr get even softer, lying next to you at the end of the day, at first noticing how antsy he is since going cold turkey on traveling. Until you give him the idea of reliving the travels through stories, happily doing so to the audience of you and the little one. Cuddling atop your belly as the little one kicked against his cheek, causing Freyr to shoot up, slow to figure out what the feeling was. Then, realizing with big eyes, it all ending in him playfully scolding the child, only getting a rebellious kick in return.

- Would start to get a hair-pulling amount of stress as you struggled in the late stages of pregnancy, Freyr having to do most things around the house just to keep you from getting up out of bed. Having Freya, of course, to help in the birth, though months before he had asked where you wished for it to happen in any river or realm, he would be happy to fulfill the dream as you did with his.

- Surprised at how tiring parenting is, barely getting to see his nephew grow up, the man is clueless about all of it. Fortunately, thanks to Freya, you both wouldn't be totally in the dark. Still, Freyr made the experience of parenthood even more memorable. From putting the baby's diaper on wrong to overfeeding for the reason of them being so cute,.

Waking to the noise of a familiar voice cooing, looking over to Freyr's side, not seeing his head on the pillow but glancing down, seeing him cuddled against your stomach. Kissing away at your stretched skin, loving as the baby kicks back at his papa's kind words and kisses. 

Noticing your awoken eyes on him, looking up meeting his pretty brown eyes, hoping they'd share them—if not this one, then next—knowing he'd say yes to that request.

-

HEIMDALL

- Heimdall has a good amount of self-control, so his pull-out game is nothing to laugh at. Meaning you would have to beg for a baby, but even then, he wouldn't want one not understanding them or the want for them.

- Quiet at first with the realization that it was all becoming real; the thought of a child and caring for one being only nine months away scared him. A change in him happens when hearing the news, growing a new sense of protection for the both of you, no longer seeking out fights to fill his ego. Slowly leaving Odin's side trading it for yours. For once, doubt crept up about his abilities—not in combat, but in him being a father.

- Every day watching you grow panic built within him bad enough to where it was visible, having to question his wellness a few times before finally breaking down letting all of his doubts spill, leaving you to put everything back together. Reassuring you'd get through it together, mistakes were inevitable, but learning to fix them is what matters.

- Isn't going to be very cuddling or a show-off in public, choosing to keep close instead, whether around the corner or from afar on the wall. When he's at home, it's all cuddles, cradling your bump, reading aloud to the both of you. Doesn't talk much to them, only states things as if teaching them through your stomach wall. Relaxing on nights, a hand to your stomach, getting the urge to move his hand away, only realizing why as the feeling of a kick caused him to gasp aloud.

- Grows eager to leave his watches early as you progress into the late stages, wanting to be there if anything were to happen. Finding his heart always racing when looking at your belly in silence, it bothered him still, being the only thing he couldn't predict. If your mobility was stunted from the pregnancy, he would go so far as to ask Baldur to take day watches, with Heimdall taking nights.

- Going into labor, Heimdall would be soft yet snappy, making sure no one was to make any mistakes. Taking every one of your screams and painful hand squeezes, soothing you with words of encouragement and promises for the future. Finally, hearing a different cry fill the room, tears run down his face, trying but failing to hide them. 

- Becomes such a cautious dad, not allowing his other family to see them until a month goes by, not wanting them to get sick. Wears a baby sling around the house while cooking, cleaning, reading to them as you heal from the birth. Showing Odin what a good father is, but when having to go back to patrols, his heart breaks, crying as he gives you the little one in the mornings before going off.

Tears threaten to spill from Heimdall's eyes while handing over your child, no longer allowed to spend days and nights with the baby. Now having to go back to his work for Asgard even with your reassurance, his pride was no longer with Asgard but with you and the new addition to your family.

Giving them a final shower of kisses before giving one to you, stepping back, taking in the sight before going off to his first day back. Sighing as the door finally closes, taking the baby only a few steps away before the door bursts open with a crying Heimdall wanting his baby back. (The man would definitely have the baby in the sling while patrolling the wall.)

-

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their fanfiction being copied, copied & credited, translated, used in videos and/or audios, screenshotted, used in AI.

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩: @fullmoonwolfer1 @loki-love

[cantstoptheimagines]

Their Reaction to You Losing an Eye

Summary — Preferences for Atreus, Kratos, and Thor from God of War!

Requested by @nickeverdeen — Hey there! Can I please ask for hcs with either God Of War or Horizon Zero Dawn characters with a reader who lost their eye and is insecure about it? If for God Of War then pls hcs with: Kratos, Atreus (older or young is up to you) If Horizon Zero Dawn then pls hcs with: Aloy, Talanah (you don’t have to do Talanah if you don’t wanna) Also pls let me know if you’re uncomfortable with the request Take time and care about yourself ❤️

Warnings & Other Tags ➳ Depictions, discussions, and mentions of severe injuries (losing an eye, fainting as a result of pain); canon-typical violence; envisioned Ragnarök!Atreus for this work; I tossed Thor into this request because he’s my husband.

Notes ➳ Word Count is 433. ➳ Reader is gender neutral (they/them). ➳ I recently met T.C. Carson, who was the original voice for Kratos in the God of War series, after which I ran to write this request (even though it’s intended for Christopher Judge’s version)!

FAQ | Masterlist | Fandoms | Requests | Coming Soon | Schedule 

atreus

in all honesty, he wouldn’t quite know how to act. his emotions would be all over the place, tears streaming down his face as his father and freya tried to help you. the coverings on your face are soaked in your own blood. “don’t leave,” muttered atreus. he finds himself kneeling by your side as he pleads with you, one of your weak hands held tightly in both of his, “please don’t go.” but his newly discovered godly abilities are still out of sorts. his sadness quickly shifts to anger at those who caused you harm. his wrath is unlike anything the world has ever seen. he won’t stop until you, his dearest companion, is properly avenged, so don’t be surprised if he returns with your attacker’s head.

kratos

this man does not hesitate. in mere seconds, kratos is lifting you into his arms and calling out for someone, anyone, who can help. he avoids looking at the blood that decorates the place where your eye should be. “i lost faye,” he mutters. “i won’t let you go as well. stay awake!” everything is a blur. whatever vision you have left is slowly turning to gray as a sudden wave of tiredness overtakes your body. the pain of it all is settling deep into your bones. as kratos’s muffled voice calls out for you in a panicked tone, you allow unconsciousness to take over, and the world finally fades into darkness.

thor

he breathes heavily, staring down at heimdall with such rage that the golden-eyed god realized he was experiencing fear for possibly the first time in his life. a gentle touch on his arm, however, tears thor’s focus away from his father’s devotee. his eyes drop to the deep scar on your face — a new habit he’d developed recently — before they drifted to meet your lone eye. heimdall scurries away at the same time thor’s fingertips graze your cheek.  “why do you keep me from tearing him apart?” whispered thor. “he needs to be punished for what he’s done to you.” a sharp inhale came from him when your touch caressed his strong chest, exactly where his heart lay beneath his skin. he was quick to let his rough palm overlap your gentle hand. “heimdall is a fool,” you replied in the same quiet tone he had been using. “why waste your days threatening him when you could be with me instead? his punishment will come when the time is right.” he was only convinced when you pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. perhaps, for now, he could set revenge aside.

[queer-irritator]

could i request a kratos x shy reader Waking Up together and cuddling and Kissing, so basically fluffy?

Of course!! You asked at a perfect time bc I just got finished with finals! One thing about me, is I love a background story. I hope you like this one ❤️

New Routines

Who’s got time to proofread anyway? 

CW: Mention of animal death/hunting

Word Count: 1,196

|

It had been less than 24 hours since you spilled your feelings to Kratos. 

You weren’t expecting to, you had long accepted that your fondness of the Greek God would have to remain locked tightly in the confines of your heart, never to be shared. He had gotten into (another) argument with Atreus.

“One day you won’t be able to tell me what to do anymore!” Atreus’ voice filled the space of the small log cabin he called home as he half-hazardly stuffed items into a satchel.

“That day is not today.” Kratos argued back in his usual stern voice. 

“Guess we’ll see about that…” Atreus mumbled to himself.

“Do you have something to say, boy?”

Atreus silently closed the bag he had been filling, slung it over his shoulder and pushed pass his father to head out the door. Kratos stopped him before he could push open the squeaky wooden door by grabbing his shoulder, spinning Atreus to meet his eyes.

“You cannot go.” Kratos stated to his son. Atreus was set on assisting Sindri with a dangerous sounding mission to gather rare artifacts. 

Atreus shrugged his hand off of him, “Why can’t you just believe in me? You never let me do things by myself. I’m not a little kid anymore!” He continued out the door. “Atreus!” Kratos called after him, moving to stand in the doorway. “Don’t worry,” Atreus said, dejected, “I’m just going to sleep with Speki and Svanna tonight.” He walked past where you had been sitting to head down to his wolves. 

Kratos let out a long exhale through his nose. After standing for a moment he finally noticed you sitting on a log stump right next to the house, skinning a rabbit.

“What are you doing here?” His words came out harsher than he meant to. 

Your stomach dropped at his tone, but you didn’t let it show. “I was going to cook supper for you and Atreus tonight.” you replied to him without looking up from your task. 

“...Yes, I remember now.” He wasn’t usually the type to forget things. 

You stripped the hide off of the last rabbit you had and stood up, “Would you clean these for me?” 

“Mh.” You got a famous Kratos grunt followed by a nod. 

You started to clean the blood off your hands in a wash basin. Kratos watched you from the corner of his eye as he began dressing the meat.

“Why do you care for us?” His sudden question caused you to turn your head towards him.

“What?” Confusion was evidently spread across your face. What type of question was that? Not the type to be casually brought up in conversation, that’s for sure. 

“You cook for us… You clean for us, make sure we are well. Why?” Kratos re-explained carefully, his was soft. A stark contrast to his usual short and serious tone. 

Your feet felt glued to the earth beneath you. A light, warm summer breeze ran through your hair as you stood searching for an answer besides ‘Because I love you’. 

But it did not come. 

Kratos turned his head to you, he knew you weren’t too talkative but this much silence from you was unusual. 

“Uhm…” You swallowed thickly, starting to feel nerves shoot through your body and the pit in your stomach return, “Just because.” You knew the moment the words left your mouth, it wouldn’t be a suitable answer for Kratos. 

“Most people want something in return.” Kratos resumed rending to the rabbits.

Was he insinuating you wanted something from him? Your nerves turned into confusion, even anger. A wave of confidence washed over you. 

“Can you just accept I come around because I like you? That I like spending time with you, talking to you, just being in your presence? Why do I have to want something from you?” 

“Mmh… So you have feelings for me?” The pieces were starting to fit together in Kratos’ mind. 

“What? I never said that!” You were a little too quick to defend yourself, you could feel your heart beating in your chest. You didn’t think you’d ever been through such a rollercoaster of emotions in such a short time in your entire life. 

This only left more questions for Kratos. Why would someone like you have feelings for someone like him? What did you see in him? You knew of the awful things he’s done to the people that are closest to him.

“Why do you have feelings for me?” He asked. He finished dressing the animals and turned around to face you and await your answer.

“Oh my gods, sometimes people just fall in love, Kratos!” This might have been the first time you ever yelled at him. But the way he thinks so lowly of himself gets you so heated. Kratos walked closer to you, so he was only a foot away. He was looking over your eyes and face in confusion. 

“Love?” He spoke softly.

You felt your cheeks burning and you looked away from him and finally you could move your feet. You quickly gathered up some vegetables you foraged for dinner and made yourself busy preparing the meal.

You felt Kratos’ eyes trailing you for the rest of the night. While you chopped vegetables, stirred the stew, washed the dishes, every move, he was watching you. 

You, on the other hand, had been avoiding his gaze the entire time. It was only when Kratos announced he was going to give Atreus his dinner and talk to him that you had a chance to relax. The second he closed the door you sat down on his bed and put your head in your hands with a loud sigh.

“Why would I say something so stupid?” You questioned yourself. All you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and fade away from the world. You were so exhausted after the events of the day you didn’t notice yourself leaning down on the bed. 

You blinked your eyes open, squinting at the sunlight that poured in through the gaps of the wooden roof. Rubbing away the sleep from your eyes, you just noticed the soft blanket around you and warmth against your back. Your attempt to sit up was stifled by a strong arm tightening around your waist. You looked down to be greeted by the unforgettable scarred arms of Kratos. 

Butterflies erupted from your stomach and seemed to flutter into your throat as your cheeks warmed up. When had you fallen asleep? Why were you in Kratos’ bed with his body entangled with yours? Questions raced through your mind as your heart began to pound harder. 

Rough, calloused knuckles gently stroked your cheek. You turned your head to meet Kratos’ amber gaze. The both of you stayed, gazing at each other while Kratos’ knuckles grazed your skin for a few minutes. 

Kratos had stopped his soothing motions, drawing you back to reality. “Hi.” Your voice was hoarse from sleep, but soft. 

“Mmh… Good morning.” Kratos greeted you. He placed a kiss to your head and his beard tickled your face. 

You could definitely get used to waking up like this.

[stalkingthenet333]

Please I'm begging you write something anything for Kratos please we're starving 😞

FERGQEHQRBSDC not me already having something for Kratos saved!

Kratos x F!Reader

Kratos has a small, itty bitty crush on reader :)

Fluff mainly

Enjoy :))

“The Weight He Doesn’t Speak”

Kratos was not a man of many words, nor did he allow himself the luxury of wanting. Desires led to weakness. Weakness led to loss. He had learned that too many times.

But you tested that boundary.

You arrived after the fall of Asgard, a lone wanderer searching for something—answers, maybe, or just a place where the sky didn’t feel so heavy. You’d heard whispers of a god who now lived as a man, buried in the woods, carving out a life in silence. Naturally, you were curious. When you knocked on his door, Kratos expected you to leave by nightfall. You didn’t.

You’d ask him questions sometimes. About Faye. About Atreus. About the past he never spoke of. He never answered directly, but you never pushed.

One day, while the two of you skinned a deer beneath a slate-gray sky, you glanced at him, eyes narrowing slightly. “You always this grumpy, or am I just lucky?”

A grunt. “You talk too much.” You smiled anyway, like you could hear the smirk he never let surface.

Later that night, you sat across the fire from him, staring into the embers. “You know,” you said, voice softer than usual, “you don’t have to be alone just because you’re used to it.” Kratos didn’t look at you. Didn’t trust himself to. His fingers curled around the edge of his cup.

“I am not… used to company.”

You shrugged. “Then get used to me.”

It wasn’t a declaration, not really. Just words. But they settled into him like roots. He didn’t say anything that night. But when he handed you a freshly carved wooden charm the next morning—rough around the edges, shaped like a small wolf—you understood.

Kratos didn’t confess with words.

He confessed in action, in glances, in the way his silence bent toward you more gently than it did for anyone else.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yay! lol thanks for the ask friend :)) short and sweet more to come? maybe.

[call-me-kermit]

Can I ask a request? How would the god of war characters confess their feeling the reader, please🥺

Confessing Their Love

Genre: Headcanons

Warnings: 🤷

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

Kratos

Kratos is a man of few words.

Emotions are hard.

When the day came he fully realized and accepted his growing love for you he struggled to come up with the right words to tell you.

You never knew it, but there were so many moments where he nearly said it but chickened out.

Moments while hunting, fishing, and tending to the wolves and land.

Moments when you two were alone, just talking, or saying nothing at all.

Moments spent watching you laugh and smile.

He wanted you to know but wasn't sure how to say it.

When he finally told you he loved you he didn't actually say it.

But you knew.

You knew by how he looked at you.

By how he held you.

And he knew you loved him just the same.

Atreus

Awkward and cute.

The king of stuttering and stumbling.

He'd asked his father how he and his mother took that step, hoping to glean some inspiration and courage from it.

Kratos wasn't much help.

Mimir didn't have advice suitable for a kid his age.

He planned to get you alone and basically serenade you.

But when you were face to face the adrenalin hit and he forgot everything he planned to say and do.

So he awkwardly handed you a flower and told you how nice you looked.

He was so nervous about messing it up that he was messing it up.

After a while, he realized you seemed just as nervous and you two had been dancing around it.

So he told you then that he loved you.

And when you reciprocated it he felt like he would throw up from the butterflies in his stomach.

He pitched himself.

Mimir

Before losing his body, he would've been shameless in chasing you down and swooning over you.

He'd court you and serenade you, showing you with gifts of flowers, wine, and treats so sweet.

He'd brag to anyone you had an ear about how he adored you so, even if you hadn't accepted him yet.

Afterwards. . .

The man is insecure.

How could he be your lover if he had nothing to give.

He'd wait his time until there was a moment when you two were alone.

A moment where he would confess his heart, despite not actually having one anymore.

His confession would almost feel like an apology.

Like he was becoming a burden to you like you would now have a weight on your shoulders.

But it was a weight he needed off his chest. . . metaphorically.

But then you smiled so sweetly and returned the gesture.

He thought you were making a fool of him for a moment, but only a moment.

The way you held him and pressed a kiss to his cheek told him you were honest.

He'd never been happier.

Heimdal

He wouldn't.

Not directly at least.

Not at first.

He's got an ego that won't sway even for the majesty that is you.

Instead of saying that he loves you, he'd confront that you love him first.

Teasing you for it and poking the subject until you catch on.

The first time he'd ever actually say it is after you'd begin to doubt it.

I mean, he never says it, so. . . maybe it's just pity?

How could you think that? Even if it is just a passing thought!

How could you ever think he wouldn't absolutely adore you?

Are you stupid?

So he said it.

And then again.

And again.

And every time you're alone because PDA is for losers.

If you're good enough for his picky tastes then you are worth more than anything.

You need to understand that or else.

Baldur

The man doesn't feel.

Driven mad but the numbness.

He just wants to feel the breeze in his hair, the sun on his skin.

He wants to feel the cold of the snow, and the pain of a cut.

But nothing.

His body is numb and he lives forever in agony.

Yet when he met you and knew you. . .

He can not feel his heart, even if you took a knife carved it out, and put it in his hands.

But something about you eased the madness and made him feel something again.

He wasted no time holding onto you and keeping you by him at all times.

It may not be to its fullest potential, not until the curse is broken, but he feels for you so deeply that it's borderline obsessive.

You are his and he adors you, worships you.

He will tell you he loves you just to see that smile, to feel that almost real warmth.

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

I might come back and add more characters later. I got bored. NOT PROOF-READ

•Kermitts Masterlist•

[babyrdie]

Okay, I'll talk more about Achilles, Patroclus and Antilochus. Why not? What I want to talk about here is how Philostrathus describes a supposed painting of the death of Antilochus (I say "supposed" because there is debate as to whether all the paintings described in Imagines actually existed or were literary devices). In such a short amount of time, he compartmentalizes a lot of what is special about these three and a few others (the other Achaeans, especially Menelaus).

Philostratus begins not with a description, but with a brief introduction, recapping who Antilochus is by using Homer. He reminds you, the reader, of how special Antilochus is to Achilles. He talks about how Menelaus asked Antilochus to give the news of Patroclus' death to Achilles, saying that it was intentional on Menelaus' part that Antilochus was chosen. Not only because of his speed, but for Philostratus it's also because Menelaus knew that Achilles would need him. And he did. Antilochus not only stopped him from killing himself by holding his hands, he also provided comfort. A comfort, as Philostratus says, "Achilles no doubts rejoices."

That Achilles loved Antilochus you must have discovered in Homer, seeing Antilochus to be the youngest man in the Greek host and considering the half talent of gold that was given him after the contest. And it is he who brings word to Achilles that Patroclus has fallen, for Menelaus cleverly devised this as a consolation to accompany the announcement, since Achilles’ eyes were thus diverted to his loved one; and Antilochus laments in grief for his friend and restrains his hands lest he takes his own life, while Achilles no doubt rejoices at the touch of the youth’s hand and at the tears he sheds.

Translation by Arthur Fairbanks.

You see, much is said of how inconsolable Achilles was in The Iliad. Much is said of his seemingly endless sadness and rage. But little is said of this moment of comfort. Short, but special. And we know it's special, given how commonly Antilochus has been referred to as a person dear to Achilles in the sources, second only to Patroclus. This is attested to as early as The Odyssey, when the ghost Agamemnon speaks of Achilles' funeral. And this comfort isn't just about Achilles, but about both of them. For, as Homer describes it, Antilochus was crying as he ran. Patroclus wasn't just important to Achilles, he was important to other people as well. Menelaus didn't defend his body "as a mother cow lows over her firstborn, knowing nothing before this of bearing young" (Caroline Alexander) just because it was cultural practice to recover bodies, just because Achilles needed Patroclus. It's because he is sad too, he cares too. When Automedon talks about how Patroclus could control the divine horses Xanthus and Balius, he isn't just talking about the loss of Patroclus' usefulness. He is mourning the loss of a companion, someone who had shared activities with him. And even the horses were in mourning, blaming themselves for the death of their Patroclus. It's the same with Antilochus. Antilochus, in comforting Achilles, is comforting himself. Because this loss is great for Achilles, but it isn't a grief that belongs only to him. Antilochus is saying "I understand you, I'm here." And just as Antilochus was there for his companion, Achilles was there for him.

And then Philostratus describes the death scene. And there are so many elements:

Now such is the scene in Homer, but the events depicted by the painter are as follows: Memnon coming from Ethiopia slays Antilochus who had thrown himself in front of this father, and he seems to strike terror among the Achaeans – for before Memnon’s time black men were but a subject for story – and the Achaeans, gaining possession of the body, lament Antilochus, both the sons of Atreus and the Ithacan and the son of Tydeus and the two heroes of the same name. The Ithacan is made known by his austere and vigilant look, Menelaus by his gentleness, Agamemnon by his god-like mien, while the son of Tydeus is marked by his nobility, and you would recognize the Telamonian Ajax by his grimness and the Locrian by his alertness. And the army mourns the youth, standing about him in lamentation; and, their spears fixed in the ground and their legs crossed, they stand, most of them in their grief bowing their sorrowing heads on their spears. You are not to recognize Achilles by his long hair, for that is gone since the death of Patroclus, but let his beauty make him known to you, and his stature, aye, and the very fact that he does not wear long hair. He laments, throwing himself on the breast of Antilochus, and he seems to be promising him a funeral pyre and the offerings to be placed upon it and perchance the arms and head of Memnon; for he proposes that Memnon shall pay all the penalties Hector paid, that in this respect also Antilochus may have no less honour than Patroclus had. Memnon, stands, terrible to look upon, in the army of the Ethiopians, holding a spear and wearing a lion’s skin and sneering at Achilles. Let us next look at Antilochus. He is in the prime of youth, just beyond the period of downy beard, and his bright hair is his pride. His leg is slender and his body proportioned for running with ease, and his blood shines red, like colour on ivory, where the spear-point penetrated his breast. The youth lies there, not sad of aspect nor yet like a corpse, but still joyous and smiling; for it was with a look of joy on his face (because, I fancy, he had saved his father’s life) that Antilochus died from the spear-thrust, and the soul left his countenance, not when he was in pain, but when gladness prevailed.

Translation by Arthur Fairbanks.

The characters are described by their reactions. You know who Menelaus is by the gentleness of his face, you know who Odysseus is by his watchful gaze. But when he describes Achilles, he says: "You are not to recognize Achilles by his long hair, for that is gone since the death of Patroclus, but let his beauty make him known to you, and his stature, aye, and the very fact that he does not wear long hair." You recognize Achilles by the loss of what he once was, represented by his hair. You know that the man with the clearly freshly cut hair is Achilles because that is the symbol of someone who has been in mourning. Someone who is in mourning right now, for the second time in a short time. And it's interesting to think about it. To think that Achilles' hair didn't even have time to grow back before Antilochus was gone too. Achilles couldn't even dream of dedicating his hair to Antilochus as he did to Patroclus because, with such a recent mourning, there wasn't even enough hair to do it. When Patroclus died, Achilles' balance died too. He was already violent and intense before, but anger and sadness like that had never been seen in him before. But when Antilochus died, the perception of comfort he had is what died. And Philostratus predicts that you're still imagining Achilles with his long hair. Yes, the epic Achilles of the battlefield. But this isn't the epic Achilles of the battlefield, he reminds you, this is a broken Achilles. This is someone who has lost two loved ones, someone who has lost Patroclus and Antilochus.

And as with Patroclus, Achilles won't bring him back. He killed Hector, but Patroclus was still a ghost. Achilles still couldn't embrace him, no matter how much he wanted to. According to the myth, Achilles killed Memnon because of Antilochus. And yet, Antilochus won't return. Like Patroclus, he is gone, never to return. But they will be reunited. Achilles isn't immortal, he is very mortal, he is destined for death. This is a con of his prophecy, where the pro is his undying glory. And yet, it's this negative point that will allow him to be with those he loves. Those who, like him, are mortal. Killing Hector and Memnon will feel empty, but will dying feel empty? When he sees Patroclus and Antilochus in the afterlife, will dying still feel empty?

But if, on the one hand, Patroclus in The Iliad died arrogantly when declaring to Hector that he could defeat him and when decreeing that he would soon die, Antilochus died… simply happy: "The youth lies there, not sad of aspect nor yet like a corpse, but still joyous and smiling; for it was with a look of joy on his face (because, I fancy, he had saved his father’s life) that Antilochus died from the spear-thrust, and the soul left his countenance, not when he was in pain, but when gladness prevailed". The idea of ​​dying doesn't sadden him, not if it means that Nestor is alive. He is a son who values ​​his father more than himself. This stark contrast in the way Achilles laments over his body, even momentarily abandoning the glory of the battlefield for it (note how Memnon is there and yet Achilles pays him no attention), while Antilochus himself is smiling…Philostratus knew what he was doing in this description.

And finally: "His leg is slender and his body proportioned for running with ease". It's said when describing Antilochus. Just a reminder that, like Achilles, he was a runner. Just as this whole scene is a reminder that, like Patroclus, he was a companion and someone to be mourned. Patroclus is often thought of as a kind of complement to Achilles, especially in the shared armor episode. But I think Antilochus is too, he reflects both Patroclus and Achilles.

[wingedhallows]

I'll be fine; sirius black

pairing: marauders (sirius idk ) x reader | 1.6k words plot: betrayel has consequences, in most cases, revenge prompt: "I'll be fine" authors note: this is the happier version of ( i won't make it, love ) requested by the lovely @arwensloanebarnes , i hope you somewhat like it :)

navigation | sad ending

The alleway was dimly lit, the ground wet from prior rainfall. Your hands were shoved into the pockets of your jacket, your right hand rested on your wand. Atreus held the map out for you, finger resting on top of an apartment complex around the corner.

“They might hide right here.” He mumbled, you nodded and looked ahead.

Atreus was one weird individual but he was nice, he didn’t ask too many questions and he made efforts to hold a conversation. Sirius was against the mission, he had begged Albus to swap Atreus with him, wanting to stay by your side. You had assured him to check in once in a while, the paper bird rested in your pocket, ready to be sent.

“We’ll go soon, Firewhiskey’s on me tonight-” Atreus didn’t have a chance to finish what he had said as he suddenly dropped to the ground, eyes wide, dead.

With a gasp you whipped around, wand tightly grasped in your hand. “Atreus!” You whispered. Before you stood a Death Eater, his face masked and..and.. you had to squint. To convince yourself that your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you, but in front of you stood one of your friends, a member of the order,

Peter Pettigrew.

“Peter?” A sick cold feeling spread in your chest, betrayal cursing through your veins as you realized. He had been the rat, the spy who cost so many of your friends lifes.

All those years you spent being friends, laughing together, drinking your sorrows away together, all those years of friendship were a hoax, a lie. “What the fuck?” You whispered as you unbeknownst  to you, lowered your wand.

“Peter, w-what-”You have to understand, Y/N, there was no other way.” Tears formed in your eyes.

You’d die here in this alleway, you won’t ever see Sirius again. Would Harry remember you? Probably not, he’s just a baby. You raised your wand and sent a wordless spell towards Peter, sending him off his feet. His little friend jumped to the front and whipped his wand in the air.

“Confringo!” He yelled and you deflected the spell with a hast movement of your arm. “Crucio!” Peter yelled after he had gotten to his feet again, catching you off guard. Your body slammed to the ground, your elbow shattered with the sudden contact.

The pain cursed through your body like a wildfire, from the top of your head all the way to your toes. A horrific scream left your lips as you desperately tried to shake the effects of the curse.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You were always a great friend.” Peter spoke before he grasped your head between his hands and slammed it down with as much strength as he could muster. Your eyesight wavered, the impact of your skull on the cement had surely cracked something.

A groan left you as you tried to stay awake. “Sectumsempra.” He breathed as you could feel the effect of the spell, something hot and wet bloomed in your chest. You had to get away, get to Sirius, to James and Remus to Lily and Harry. You had to live, to not die here by the hands of this traitorous rat.

With the last bit of strength left in your broken body, you grasped your wand and apparated away, away to a place Peter wouldn’t find.

You crashed onto the patio of the Potter house, the door you had hit upon impact sounded with a loud thud. You could feel the blood creeping up your throat, you choked on the liquid. You had to squint as your blood splattered everywhere.

The door swung open and all you could really hear outside of your desperate choking and heaving were a mass of voices and bodies. “Oh my god-Remus, get out the way-Lily, get a towel-No, what happened?”

Sirius and James dragged you inside, your hand swung around, desperate to get someone’s attention. Lily fell to her knees beside you, hand on your face as she tried to get some words out. Sirius had his hand on your upper body, face in a crying mess.

“What was it?” Lily tried. You choked some more blood out before you mustered a whisper. “Sectum-sectumsempra.” “There’s so much blood!” James spoke, not caring for the carpet Sirius and you had gifted them when they first moved in.

“Love, look at me-this-this…w-what happened?” He stammered, hands on your face, trying to wipe the blood from your beautiful face.

“I’ll be fine.” You whispered, Lily would know what to do. She had nodded her head as she now stood above you, wand stretched in your direction.

“Vulnera Sanetur.” She whispered in a sing song voice and suddenly all the blood that had leaked from your beaten body seemed to wander right back to where it belonged.

The blood which had crawled up your throat simmered down again, oxygen filled your lungs and for the first time in what felt like forever you went limb, the adrenaline of almost dying wearing off.

“Fuck.” You whispered. “Love.” Sirius spoke, his hands around you in a second.

“What the fuck happened?” James said after a moment of silence. “Water.” Remus was quick to leave the room and fetch you a glass. You lifted yourself off the floor, Sirius’ hand tucked under you to keep you from falling. You sat yourself down onto the couch, a sigh left your lips, you were sore.

You pushed your hand into Sirius’ pants and took out the pack of cigarettes which you just knew was always there. He didn’t protest and lit the stick for you. You had to close your eyes for a moment to enjoy the burning sensation in your lungs.

“I’ll tell you what the fuck happened.” You opened your eyes and took another drag of your cigarette. “Thank you, Moony.” Remus placed his hand on your shoulder and gave you a small smile. You chugged the contents of the glass down in one go and took another drag.

“Peter fucking Pettigrew happened.” Your friends were confused, you could see it. Their faces contorted into confusion. “That’s what i looked like as well, friends.” You took another drag from your cigarette.

“Peter is a Death Eater and he killed Atreus, tried to murder me as well.” Sirius jumped to his feet, face bewildered. “Are you sure?” He spoke, your eyebrows furrowed. “Yes, love, I’m fucking sure.” You pushed your right foot over the other and rubbed your eyebrow with your thumb in irritation.

“Peter’s the rat who has been spying on the order, that’s why so many of our missions failed, why so many of us had to die.” Lily placed a hand on your leg before she spoke.

“We have to talk to Dumbledore, this is serious.” Sirius sat himself down again, taking a drag from your cigarette before he snaked an arm around your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to yell at you.” You nodded and placed a kiss on his cheek. “I know, it’s hard to believe that one of us is a traitor.”

-

The tension in the room could be cut by a knife, you had agreed to stay in the back, to not reveal yourself yet. “He’ll be here any minute.” You could hear Lily say, Sirius was pacing, you stood hidden behind a cabinet. Albus sat himself down.

“Calm yourselves.” He had said and the others sat down as well. Suddenly the front door opened and a disheveled Peter made his way into the kitchen, his face in a small smile.

“Hello there, friends.” He said awkwardly. You had to fight with every fiber in your body to not jump from your hiding spot and slash his throat right then and there. “What’s the matter?” He spoke before he took his coat off, a small innocent smile still decorated his face.

“Y/N didn’t return from her mission.” James said, dropping the bait. Just for a second you could catch the flash of guilt in his features before he furrowed his brows and pretended to care.

“Really? Oh my god, what if something happened?” You couldn’t take it, you weren’t as good at pretending as Peter was, without another thought you apparated right behind Peter, the gust of wind startled him. His eyes were wide as you moved to whisper into his ear.

“Liar.”

He stirred around with a gasp. You looked down on him with a sour snarl.

“Surprised, Peter?” He fell on his bottom and scrambled away from you.

“Surprised you couldn’t manage to actually kill me?” He scrambled to his feet and shook his head.

“But, but-”But, but, you tried to kill me, Peter!” You yelled before you took a step towards him. Your wand rested on his chin, his eyes squinted.

“You Death Eater rat.” 

Albus rose from his seat and spoke. “We indeed have a rat in our circles.” He paused to push your wand from his throat. Sirius was by your side, his face contorted in anger.

“Show us your forearm, Peter.” Peter tried to protest before James and Remus moved to hold him still, Lily pushed up his sleeve and with close to no surprise it was decorated with the dark mark.

“Why, Peter?” Sirius spoke, face in a painful expression.

“So many of us had to die pointless deaths, for what? Your friends had to die, to endure torture and for what?” He yelled, you held his arm to not have him attack the rat. Peter shook his head and his lips contorted in a pained snarl.

“You’re all fools, the Dark Lord's ways are the only ways.”

Albus didn’t falter for long before he had Peter taken away to Azkaban, to not harm any more of the members, his friends.

[hereforreadandwrite]

Abandoned Part 2

Masterlist

Your mother always knew what was best for you.

She always saw through the intentions of others, warning you against people who were malicious or who simply wanted to take advantage of you, and she encouraged you to go towards those she liked. When you told him about Kratos and he came to give you your wedding ring. Your mother disapproved of him as soon as he walked through the door, but you were too in love to actually listen.

Your mother knew better, you wish you would have listened to her and stayed away, but no. You listened to your heart and went with Kratos, becoming his "wife."

Why did you think he loved you?

“One way or another, something is going to go wrong,” she said. "He's only here because you're young and he's lonely. As soon as he finds a woman he's interested in, he won't stay. All he does is lie and fool you 'illusion. A man like him has an ego. You deserve much more (Y/N)."

Your mother tried to protect you from this pain, but you didn't listen to her. You were so happy that a man like Kratos was interested in you.

You left your mother.

You left your loving home for a man who didn't care about you.

Now you stood in front of your childhood home. You were terrified of facing your mother. You were sure and certain that she wouldn't want you anymore, especially when you told her that you were pregnant. Speki and Svanna moaned beside you, licking your hands. You smile at the wolves, finally gathering your courage to go and knock on the door. When the door opened, your courage melted like snow in the sun. Your mother looked at you in surprise. You jabbered incomprehensible words. To your surprise, your mother hugged you.

“I missed you so much,” she said, hugging you.

You cried with all the tears in your body, of relief, of anger, of sorrow. It was probably the hormones that were causing you to have this whirlwind of emotions, but you were happy to be back home.

Your mother allowed you and the two she-wolves to go inside. You explained to her what had happened and why you were back home. Your mother had listened to you patiently without interrupting you or judging you. When you told her about your pregnancy, she hugged you, reassuring you, saying that she would do everything to help you with your child.

A weight lifted from your shoulders.

You finally felt welcome and loved.

Your mother also loved Speki and Svanna.

She has always loved animals.

Your pregnancy was going wonderfully. Your belly grew bigger day after day. Six moons had just passed and in all that time, Kratos never came. You would have thought he would have come, at least to pick up Speki and Svanna, but no. He probably never bothered to look for you. Had he even returned? It wouldn't surprise you if that wasn't the case.

Even during Ragnarok, Kratos was always out of the house.

At first, you understood that he had to train Atreus and hunt. There were times when you were alone for days at a time, taking care of Fenri when he was sick. When Kratos came home, he barely spoke to you. He preferred to take care of his weapons and other tasks. Whenever you tried to approach him, he pushed you away.

The only reasons that kept you going were Mimir and Atreus. The two had welcomed you into the home with open arms. Then Atreus left. Mimir was still with Kratos.

You have always been alone.

“I’m sorry mother,” you say, stroking your belly.

“Why are you apologizing?” your mother asked, looking at you perplexed.

"Because... I didn't listen to you... and I left with this man who never cared about me. I was stupid."

"Child. You're not stupid," she said, leaving her work to come and sit next to you. "You were in love. How could I blame you for that? I also had this bad judgment when I fell in love with the man I dreamed of spending the rest of my life with."

“Were you in love before you met father?”

"Yes, I found this man kind and caring. But... he loved me just for my beauty. He didn't hesitate to dump me when he found a more beautiful woman. Then I met your father. He helped me. He consoled me and I agreed to marry him. And before he died, he gave me the greatest gift. You."

You would never have believed your mother had the same experience. That was why he was so harsh towards Kratos. You hugged your mother, crying your eyes out. Your mother always knew what was best for you.

Why did you think Kratos loved you?

He who said he hated the Gods. He was worse than Odin.

Three new moons passed, the baby was ready to come into the world. The day he was born had become the longest day you had to live. The pain that tore through your stomach was horrible. You screamed, cried, begged your mother for this pain to finally stop. Your mother helped you as best she could, telling you to take deep breaths and push. The pain will stop when the baby is out. Speki and Svanna squealed as they heard you scream in pure pain.

Your mother couldn't help but be worried. The birth was long. Too long even. The baby should already be out. But it wasn't just that. You were bleeding profusely. She tried to stop the bleeding, without success. It didn't bode well. After one last painful push, your child finally came out of your body, finally coming into the world. Her tears invaded the little cabin. Strangely, your mother was silent, staring at the horrified child.

"How...what is that?"

"Mother... my baby..."

Your mother showed you your child. You understood why she was so horrified when she saw the baby, her left side was perfectly formed, but her right side was devoid of skin, revealing her muscles and bones as black as darkness.

“It’s a girl,” you said under your breath.

“(Y/N)…”

“She’s perfect,” you said, sobbing and hugging your daughter to your chest. “My daugther... you are the best thing that ever happened to me!!”

Your mother looked at you without knowing what to think about this situation. This child should be dead. It was impossible for her to survive with such a deformation. She was brought out of her thoughts by feeling a warm liquid spilling onto her knees. Her gaze rested on the bed. The furs were soaked with your blood. The bleeding had become more severe. Your mother tried to stop the bleeding as best she could, but her attempts were in vain.

“(Y/N)!”

Your mother's throat tightened as she noticed that you had just taken your last breath, holding your daughter to your chest.

“No…,” she whispered, shaking you. "(Y/N)! No! Daugther! Open your eyes!"

From outside the cabin, anyone could hear Speki, Svanna, the baby and your mother crying over your death.

It was only at sunrise that your mother had the courage to prepare your pyre. She wrapped the baby in thick furs, placing her granddaughter in a basket. She placed the basket on the table as she went outside to take from her supply of logs. You were never going to be able to see your child grow up, become a woman. You were never going to be able to know all his joys and sorrows. You should never have left first. You should never have died this way. You didn't have time to give your daughter a name. She was going to have to decide for you. It wasn't her role to name your daughter and raise her.

The sun was now high in the sky when your mother placed your body on your pyre and set it on fire. She will be your daughter in her arms, watching your body turn to ash.

How could things have gotten so bad for you?

Why were the Gods so cruel to you?

But now you could finally be at peace. Your mother looked intently at your daughter, her granddaughter.

Neither alive nor dead.

Your mother didn't know how that was possible, but the facts were before her. The night had passed and the child was perfectly well. She slept peacefully in her arms.

"We need to find a name for you, little one. What do you think of Hel? This name suits you perfectly."

Your mother went back inside her house. The Gods have truly been cruel to you. Your mother knew she couldn't allow your daughter to see the outside world. Your mother placed Hel in her basket to close the windows and the front door. Your mother knew she had to hide her granddaughter from the outside world. Other mortals were not going to welcome a different child with open arms.

Your mother didn't know how to protect you as she wanted to do.

She was going to protect Hel as best she could.

tag: @pookiesnatcher

[darlingpoppet]

Where The Dead Forget — Chapter 8: Glory

Hades Gameverse Memory Loss AU | Achilles/Patroclus | E | Chapters: 8/22 | Words: 87,923 (Ch 8: 16,680) words)

Chapter 8 Summary: A treatment of the Scyros episode from the Achilles myths. Patroclus is called upon to honor his allegiance to war, and Achilles is keen to join him, for the sake of love and glory. His mother Thetis, however, has different plans.

Excerpt:

“Father,” Achilles began, “We have been told there are tidings you wish to share with us.”

“Indeed,” Peleus said. “I have called you both here—however, these are matters that primarily concern Patroclus.”

Next to Achilles, Patroclus’ bowed head lifted.

“Me?”

“Yes,” Peleus answered him. “I have just gotten word of a disturbing incident out of Sparta—a grievous crime in violation of the sacred customs of hospitality. Prince Paris, son of Priam of Troy, has abducted Queen Helen, the wife of Menelaus, son of Atreus. And since Helen’s former suitors from all over our kingdoms had sworn by oath to honor and protect their union, King Menelaus, along with his older brother, King Agamemnon of Mycenae, have called upon all those men bound by that oath to assist in ensuring Helen’s safe return to her rightful place.”

Achilles turned to Patroclus, astonished by this news. Patroclus, however, did not seem to notice him. He lowered his head once more, closing his eyes as a small, knowing smile appeared on his face.

“Ah,” he said simply.

“They intend to wage war against Troy?” Achilles asked, turning back to address his father. “And you mean to tell us that they wish for Patroclus to join them? Because—“ he blinked, quickly putting the pieces together, “—because he is among those who made the oath?”

“That is correct,” Peleus answered.

Achilles turned again to Patroclus. “I did not know of this.” He hoped his tone did not come off as aggrieved, even if he did feel a considerable degree of shock.

Patroclus looked back at him, his expression solemn, but strained.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to keep any more secrets from you. The truth is, it is something I simply did not think would ever come to pass, so I had put it out of my mind completely. I was so young then—not even ten—I had petitioned for Helen’s hand at my father’s behest.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I did not have a choice back then… and it appears I do not have a choice in the matter now, either. So I shall go, and honor my duty. I suppose since I am no longer a prince, it is simpler this way. I have no army of men at my command, so I will be able to leave at once for Mycenae on my own.”

Achilles shook his head.

“What are you saying, Pat?” he exclaimed. “What in all of the heavens and earth makes you presume that I wouldn’t come with you?”

Patroclus’ eyebrows lifted, eyeing him seriously. “I presume nothing. You are not bound to this war,” he said.

“But I am bound to you, aren’t I? You are my dear companion, and my duty to you is just as important as your duty to myself. If this is something you must do, then of course I will be by your side to protect you, and keep you company. And it does not matter that you are not a prince, without an army to call your own. You are a Myrmidon now—one of us. If you have no contingent, then you may share mine, and together we will muster the most splendid army in all of our kingdoms!”

Peleus, who had been listening to their conversation all the while, appeared delighted. He grinned handsomely.

“A magnificent plan, my son,” he said. “Of course, the kingdom of Phthia would be honored to do right by Patroclus, and extend its means to assist the Atreides brothers in their righteous cause. The both of you shall secure glory and victory for yourselves, and for us all. How particularly fortunate you are as well, Achilles. A man could not ask for a finer gift for his coming of age. You should be very pleased.”

Achilles nodded, flushed with pleasure and excitement. “There, Pat, you see? We all love you. And I don’t just mean those of us here in this chamber. Every one of us in Phthia.”

Patroclus eyes darted between father and son, both of them smiling widely at him with warm enthusiasm. At first, he appeared almost stunned by this, but then he bowed his head once again, his eyes glistening.

“Thank you,” he murmured softly, his voice tight with barely suppressed emotion. “I am grateful.”

Read the rest here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43292178/chapters/150227206

Previous Chapters: 1. Drown | 2. Grief | 3. Grace | 4. Weakness | 5. Together | 6. Guilt | 7. Known

[khonsus-heart]

In this life and the next

Kratos x reader 3.4k words

AN: this is the first time posting something this long to tumblr so bare with me. This was originally a 6k draft that i have split into two for your reading pleasure. Side note, there are multiple povs in this part. side side note, i hear the Kratos content is lacking? im here for you.

Summary: After Atreus left, the marauders started taking over the Lake of nine once more, Kratos suggested he should take care of them alone, until being at home wasn't safe any longer...

Warnings: ANGST BABYYYY. also murder ofc.

Part two here!

Since Atreus has been gone you’ve accompanied Kratos and Freya to the Lake of Nine, clearing out new groups of marauders.

You were the first to notice them begin to weasel their way back into the area, witnessing a group of three maul a smaller wolf just outside the wild wood border. You originally had attempted to intervene with the group until four more inched their way out from the tree line. 

Kratos was disgruntled when you told him, grumbling low and leaving abruptly, telling you to “Stay put.”  in his hardy spartan tone. You knew better than to pry, but that didn’t mean you wouldn't cross your arms and cock a hip to the side as he stormed out into the now melting snow. 

After that day they started to group again out by the lake, making camp on the few shores that started to unthaw along the water. Kratos, of course, sternly suggested you keep within the woods borders at first, then began telling, not asking, you to once again stay and let him handle things. Until they passed the wild woods sacred tree line one day- 

He’d only been gone a few hours, taking the wolves out on a simple patrol with the sled, so when you heard the front gates open you didn’t think twice. Crushing a handful of wild red berries into a motor to create a deep red colored paint for a recent hobby you’d taken up. The sound of the pestle grinding against the inside of the bowl muffled the multiple footfalls outside the cabin door. 

Wiping your hands along the front of your deerskin apron wrapped around your waist, you left red hand prints in their wake and made your way to let him in. 

“Kratos, you should see how vibrant this color is, it will do nic-”

The sound of multiple voices froze you, along with the now audible footfalls, four maybe five, crunching outside against the hardened snow spots that scattered the yard. You backed away from the door slowly, careful to silence your footsteps atop the wooden floor, inching towards your blade that lay a few feet from reach on the table. You knew how to defend yourself of course, but these marauders were ruthless, and deadlier in a group, faster and more savage than the other smaller beasts that litter the Nine. 

“Search the cabin.”

No-

Adbonding your approach for stealth you lunged for the blade, attempting to run for your bow and arrow next, leaned against the bed, before the door flung open. You had almost made it before heavy boots charged straight for you. 

“Here!” he howled.

As you grabbed the bow, arms encircled you around the waist, hoisting you into the air, causing the wooden curve to slip for your grasp. Kicking and screaming you attempted to wiggling from his arms as he turned around, staggering towards the door. Right before he was able to walk through the archway you stabbed the blade from your other hand into his side, causing his arms to go slack, dropping you from the air. So you sprinted, pulling the blade free and leaving him to rithe on the floor while you jumped through the door frame and into the cold morning, rushing for the gates. There were more than you anticipated, seven marauders you guessed by a quick glance, all scattered across the expanse of the yard. 

The gates were the only thing in your vision, sprinting with the little energy you had to just make it to the threshold. Overlapping yells and alerts were loud following your dash through the yard, you had almost made it, pushing the cold air through your lungs, until a larger man lunged in front of the wooden exit.

 Ramming into you from the side, he sent you crashing into a nearby snow pile, softening your blow. Pain erupted into your back as you attempted to scramble away from him, holding your blade up. 

“Stay back!” you cried.

Clutching at your now throbbing side, you used the momentum of your elbow to help crawl further away from him. The sadistic smile that crossed his face was sickening, tilting his head like he was possessed by a hungry animal. He was hunched over slightly, creeping towards you as if the blade you carried were just a stick in his eyes. 

“Oh no lads- she’s rowdy, this one!” He bellowed a laugh that was echoed between the remaining six of them. Three of them made their way towards where you lay while the others riffled through your things, one in the cabin and two outside where you keep the wolves. 

“Hey!” you yelled at the one throwing things from the cabin, including your deer skin canvases Kratos had just freshly stretched across wood to dry. Homemade paints and supplies were  thrown across the white turning it crimson, the fresh red powder staining the snow. 

Your attention was caught too long as the larger man lunged for you, grabbing the hand that held the blade out to him, yanking you from the ground, twisting your wrist at a wrong angle and freeing the knife. The sting caused you to cry out, mixed with the pain at your front that exploded through your ribs as he shoved you against the wooden gate. The man's hand enveloped the side of your face, shoving your cheek against the wood next, followed by a pulsing burn in your brow. 

“Please-” your muffled cry was cut off by an intense pressure as he pushed harder against your skull.

“Where is Kratos?”

His breath was hot against the side of your face as a rancid smell lingered from his mouth. 

“Talk!” he pulled your head from the wood only to slam it back again, followed by a hot trickle down the side of your face, staining your skin with blood. 

“I- I don’t know! He left hours ago!” you weren't lying, you had no idea where he was, he should have been back by now yet the rest of the woods were silent, not even the distant sound of the sled slushing through the remaining snow. 

“You think I won’t ruin his little mortal?” he bared his teeth and seethed on the word, gripping a handful of your hair. A single tear flowed down your face, “please”

 You were taught to be strong in the face of death but this was real. Too real. After years of safety under Kratos and these woods, this kind of risk hadn't been an issue. The struggle you gave him was weak but still viable, worming in his grasp as you attempted to jerk your arms free. 

“Pathetic,” he spat. “Let's go! He’s not here… Take her- he will come.” he bellowed across the yard before turning you forward, face to face with a smaller marauder swinging a club right towards your head. 

It was freezing when you woke, sore arms bound behind your back. The camp was right in the middle of a giant thawed mound of snow, it had to be somewhere out on the lake. The throb in your head overwhelmed all the other aches in your body. The blood had dried and crusted to your hair and down the side of your face, mixed with the remnant of dried tears. All the men sat huddled around the fire in the middle, besides one, who patrolled in a circle around the outside perimeter on lookout. You sat roughly 10-15 feet off from the central campfire, noticing the stack of crates to your rear. Most likely what they leaned you against when they dropped you off, judging by the ache on the back of your head. 

Resting your throbbing skull gently against the wood you tried to focus on breathing, taking in the cold and blowing out the hot air to create clouds of condensation in their wake. 

“She’s up.” The man on patrol said, spotting you on his way around. It alerted the four that sat huddled by the flame, allowing you to count them all fully now, five, one was missing. 

The big one.

Looking at them all you noticed they’re dressed down in comparison to the bigger brute, their commander you assumed. From what you remember, the polished silver beads in his hair and beard suggest his higher rank. These men all seemed deranged and deprived of all basic necessities compared to him, gangly and unbathed, it turned your stomach over itself. 

Only the man patrolling made his way around to you as the others went back to roasting their tiny squirrels on sticks over the flame. The spear in his hand was taller than his own height, sharp at the point with a torn piece of cloth tied to the end, waving in the cold breeze, chilling you to the bone. You could feel the tip of your nose and ears begin to grow icy numb before losing the feeling altogether. 

He crouched down in front of you, using the spear as leverage. “Feel like talking yet?”

You eyed him for a moment, staring into the black tar that was painted across his eyes before spitting directly into his face. 

“Fuck you.” you barred your teeth. 

He jerked back, wiping a hand down his mouth and returning your glare with a fiery scowl. If you didn't know any better you'd say he was poised to hit you, the way he curled his hand back for a swipe, but the other mens gasps caught his attention, his eyes wrenched towards the fire, hand hovering mid air.

When you followed the line sight to where the men gape, weapons drawn, your heart quickened. A human head was thrown over the border of the camp, rolling slowly to the feet of one of the men, leaving stains of blood each time it toppled over the clean cut. As it slowed you recognized that face, those silver beads braided into the knots of his hair. 

Their Commander.

When the men registered who it was, they began to shout curses, circling each other with their weapons while the one crouched before you grabbed your arms and lifted, pulling you to your feet. The entrance to the camp wasn’t far ahead, the snow walls stood tall around them and all led down into the opening. The only opening you noticed, as he positioned himself behind you, grabbing your bound hands. He kept you in front of him, faced towards the exit as he looked over your shoulder, his breath hot on your neck. 

When the heavy sound of boots crunching against snow echoed through the air, all of them froze, anchoring their heads towards the entrance, blades at the ready. 

The grip around your wrists tightened as Kratos stepped around the corner, the white snow contrasting against the red lines that curved his chest and arm, his black bear cloak thrown over his shoulder blew in the wind as he tightened a hold on his axe, a deep red coating the tip. A blood splattered scowl steamed in the cold air when he stopped dead center of the opening, seeing the red that was spread across the front of your apron and the dried stream of blood that was stuck to your cheek. 

The sight of his anger made your stomach turn, covered in that man's gore, blood that was shed because you couldn’t think fast enough.

 No. His blood would have been shed regardless of your actions, and Kratos would be the one to shed it regardless of the outcome. 

All that mattered was that he was here, and it gave you hope.

The man had his spear pointed towards the spartan, causing the pure rage in his eyes to solely focus on the monster at your back, only softening the slightest when he locked with your own for a moment. 

“Give back that which you stole.” Kratos raised his bloodied axe to challenge him, the crimson dripping off the end into the snow in small drops. A hawk sailed along the breeze above, gliding across the cool air as it circled the camp. 

Kratos was the image of pure bloodshed in this moment, the anger that filled his veins radiated off of him, causing a silence across the camp.

“I will not repeat myself.” he scowled. 

The man at your back pulled you tighter to his chest, his nose buried into the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair before tossing his spear to the side and pulling a blade from a sheath, raising it to your throat. Kratos froze, his chest no longer rising as he held in a breath, but his anger still burned hot. 

“You know the only way she leaves this camp alive, God of war.” The man said over your shoulder. 

Kratos’s demeanor changed as your head raised to recoil from the blade, its sharp point piercing your jugular. The scowl that plastered his face fell, and you caught a glimpse of apprehension before he willed that rage back. 

“Don’t do it-” you tried to speak but the point of the blade dug deeper into your skin, drawing blood as you seethed at the sting. Kratos jerked, impulsively taking a step towards you before stopping abruptly as the group of men, moving in key with him, raised their weapons. Kratos eyed them, baring his teeth as he looked back to your captor. Then he looked to the sky for a moment, up to the bird that soared along the wind, schooling his features as it screeched low and dove out of view. 

A low growl resented deep from his throat as his brows knitted together, looking back to you. Kratos cracked his neck to the side, left and then right before slowly straightening and dropping his axe into the snow, letting it fall from his hand as the bloodied tip embedded into the dirt below. 

You could feel the smile inch across the face behind you as your stomach rose into your throat. “No!-” you tugged on your bindings as he laughed into your ear. 

“Now kneel.” The venom in his words bit worse than the sting of the blade, watching as Kratos passed a glance between him and the group of men once more. Then to you… he didn’t tear his eye’s from yours as he fell to his knees in the snow, the bags and hoops on his belt ringing together as they collided. 

“Kratos no-” You couldn’t keep the swell in your throat from muffling your words into a plea, fighting back the tears that brimmed your lashes. 

“This is your god?” he pointed the blade towards Kratos “Kneeling before a human pet?” then he scoffed. 

Kratos held his head high, his face a blank image contrasting the previous rage that doused his body in a boiling heat.

 “Kill him.” 

“No!”

Just as the men lunged for Kratos everything happened within seconds, he yelled- “Now!”- as the hawk overhead screeched, causing vines and thorns with pink and purple shimmers of magic to grow from the ground, wrapping and weaving themselves around the legs of the men in intricate patterns cutting into their thighs and winding up their bodies. Freya, of course she had come. 

Then, time seemed to slow as Kratos picked a knee from the ground, placing the foot into the snow and summoning Draupnir. In the same breath your captor raised his blade, sinking it into the right side of your chest as Kratos hurled the spear into his skull.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Even though this was all a guise, his anger was real, the blood that pumped hot through his veins when he arrived back to the cabin to see what had happened, to see her gone. It was all real, and it burned through him. Melted a hole through his middle that decayed every second it took to track her down and find her. 

Falling a tree in the process of his rage was the least he could have done as he summoned his axe and burst through the portal to Freya's hut. It took her all but a second to agree in aiding Kratos in the investigation of what happened. She attempted to settle him to the best of her abilities, noticing  his eyes and how they would just glaze darker with rage the more they continued to find. The scattered crimson in the yard, the humans knife thrown across the wet grass and into the snow, then the entrance gate- When Kratos spotted the dried blood that was splattered into the wooden gate, his fury consumed him in the form of despair, placing his hand up to the post as the hole decaying inside of him finally ate entirely away.

Freya noticed the red in his blades begin to glow with his frenzy as his blood boiled hotter under his skin. 

“Kratos-”

“Get the wolves. This ends now.”

It took the rest of his will to pull that hand from the post and turn, passing Freya without a glance, the heat from his rage melting the snow in his wake. 

➤

As he stood before the entrance to the marauder camp, he felt the cool air steaming as it connected to his boiling skin. The sight of her, hands bound and that brute with his blade to her neck, only ignited the already roaring fire. The plan was surrender, he knew that, but to school his animal instinct from ripping each and every one of them apart clawed from inside, trying to escape. 

➤

“This is your god?” The brute pointed his blade to Kratos, but he wasn’t looking at the knife, if he did, he feared he may cut off the hand holding it without another thought. No, he was looking at her, watching her eyes brim with tears. “Kneeling before a human pet?” The word was insulting, spat at him as if he was still the god from hundreds of years prior. Pet. God. He wasn’t her god, he was no one's god, he was simply hers… she was his, and he would be the god to kneel before her again in this life and the next. 

➤

“No-” 

It was too late, the blade had already pierced her chest when he began to run, catching her as the brute fell behind and her knees gave out. He slipped an arm under her legs while the other cradled her back, lifting her as she cried out in pain.

“Freya!” His tone was uneven.

When he looked down, he saw it, the moment she realized she had been struck and the adrenaline was pumping slower. She dug her face into his shoulder and he watched her jaw clench as she bit down, tears flowing while she muffled her cries. 

“Stay. Awake.” he commanded, pulling her closer to his chest.

—

Freya was finishing off the last two brutes that she had entangled, slicing into the first as she spread her wings for momentum when lunging to the second, creating a clean cut as his head rolled into the snow. 

“Freya!”

“Can you give me a moment I am--” When she turned to see the human cradled in his arms her face fell gravely.

“My gods-”

“Freya-.” his words became pained as he fell to his knees in the snow before her.

Freya sheathed her swords and ran, crouching in front of him, watching the humans hand clutch tightly to the fur of his cloak. As she inspected the wound she could see the girl begin to slip in and out of consciousness. The wound was too deep, she wouldn't be able to assess the damage while she layed in his arms, but Kratos seemed as if he would never let her go. 

“We have to get her back to the grove, I can look at the wound closer there, but here…” She trailed off, watching as he stared down at the girl, the dread sank deeper into his demeanor as she placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Kratos.” it took him a moment to tear his eyes from the human, she'd only seen him this way once in their time together, when Atreus fell ill. “We have to go.”

All he did was give Freya a firm nod, lifting himself from the snow as she ran for the sled. She could hear him speaking to the girl while she rounded the corner, the wolves just in sight down the path. 

[peiskos-and-apricity]

Fated to Fall ~ Sindri x GN Reader [Pt 10]

An: Totally meant to post this a while ago and just forgot whoops ^-^;

Tw: none

Chapter Selection

Previous Chapter

Thankfully the walk was short and enemies were sparse and easy, though you do take note of the tense air. The looks on their faces aren't ones you can read well so you didn't try to speculate too much over what the two might be talking about. It very clearly wasn't your business and they made that even clearer with the distance they kept. Eventually, the three of you do finally make it back to the gateway, a sight you were surprised to be relieved by.

“Alright. Shall we?” Sindri invites the two of you and you can tell he's as ready to return as you are. You can imagine he is quite tired after the night the three of you have had and for that you could not blame him. With a shine the gateway opened, the three of you stepping through.

“I hate coming home empty-handed” Atreus complained aloud and you were maybe a bit thankful to be involved in the conversation again.

“After Tyr was such a failure, I just wanted to-”

“Now hang on, little Jötunn. Tyr might not be everything you expected, but a failure? You saved him from a terrible fate. That's not nothing” Sindri tried to comfort the downtrodden boy, something you would say he was actually doing quite well with at the moment.

“And hey, maybe he'll still be some help to us yet” you admire the optimism, but even you knew that the likelihood of that was very rare. Tyr seemed less than half the god he had been.

“Maybe…” Atreus’ voice waivers.

“But father's not gonna go along with this forever. He's probably got our next hiding place all picked out” he is fully convinced of the words he speaks after having clearly already accepted this as an option. Knowing Kratos you couldn't find a reason to doubt it yourself. He'd seemed adamant about secluding the four of you in that forest for as long as he possibly could. You wouldn't be surprised if he was looking to keep up such a streak.

“Well, let's not make it worse by getting caught” Sindri, seeming to know better than to deny such a possible reality, instead chooses to change the subject.

“When we get there, I'll cover our tracks at the gateway and slip around back. And you two just act natural. But…quickly” Sindri's plan is straightforward, though you can't help but see the gaping hole that requires the both of them to lie straight to Kratos’ face.

“Foolproof” you mutter, Sindri's head whipping around to look at you, face tightened at your tone.

“Well if you have a better idea then please, I'm all ears” he implors you but you simply sigh, head slightly shaking.

“I’m only suggesting that the next time you two run off to some other highly dangerous and reckless mission, maybe you should have some plan for how you are going to get away with it” he lets out a barking laugh at your words.

“Well you can talk to him about that. Mister ‘runs better on chaos’ over here seems to think planning is a waste of his precious time” he retorts, both of you turning an eye to Atreus. The boy simply waves the both of you off with a slight crinkle of his nose before stepping foot into the portal. Despite Sindri’s ask of hastiness, the boy takes his time on a leisurely stroll towards the front door. You can only imagine his nerves at the thought of lying to his father again, so you decide it best to leave him to it. Instead you take a seat at the edge of the roots right next to the portal as you feel it much more natural than following Atreus inside.

“And uh…what are you doing?” Sindri asks as he busies himself with quickly covering his tracks. You give a glance before turning back to start shaving away at wood once more.

“Acting natural” you answer as you easily spin the sharpened blade in your hands, soon angling it to where you need it most.

“Right, right…” he answers almost absentmindedly as he focuses on his work. Though you do catch him continuing to glance over at you.

“Is there something you wished to say?” You ask, not turning from the work in your hands. The question causes him to jump a little, perhaps surprised that you had even noticed.

“No! No, nothing at all!” He tries to assure you, though it is a rather poor attempt; and one he gives up quickly at that.

“You just seem…” he starts, though he's reluctant to finish. You stop your carving and fully turn back to him, held slightly tilted at his curious behavior.

“Seem what?” You push him a bit. You regret doing so immediately when his eyes swiftly turn away from yours again.

“Nothing, nothing- I should get going! Wouldn't want anyone getting suspicious!” he finishes the gateway, walking off quicker than you could question him again. The interaction sits heavily on you, a strange twisting in your stomach sending waves of confusion through your system. What could he have been talking about? You had a suspicion of many things. Maybe your cloak was old and worn enough that the flecks of your power shined through, or perhaps your little stagger had still not fallen from his mind. It shouldn't really matter to you. It was the opinion of a near stranger after all, what could it possibly mean to you? Still, no amount of convincing got rid of the strange feeling that began to bubble. So in some attempt to distract yourself you return to looking natural, even if his words threw you off quite a bit. It isn't a moment later before the front door opens again and a voice calls out.

“Y/n!” Atreus’ voice is easily recognizable. You turn your head, catching both him and Kratos at the door.

“Food's ready!” He calls before turning back to Kratos. You nod and easily pack your things once again and head your way back inside. The smell of fresh food flows even to the other side of the door and you imagine if it's anything like your last here, that you would be happy to eat. Anything to break the three winter's long deficit of flavor.

“Is this sausage?” Tyr speaks at the table as you make your way forward.

“Uh…sure, why not” Brok answers him not so convincingly. It seems everyone's already found their place so you pull up a chair and take your spot where you can. Perhaps a little unfortunate for you, it's beside Kratos. You do your best to hide the way your body wishes to fall into the seat, your weight held in your white-knuckled grip as you take your seat without too much of a grimace. It's one of the very few times you don't mind that he outright ignores your entrance. You begin to eat.

“I remember food tasting better” You nearly spit out your first bite at Tyr’s words, eyes blown wide at the side-ways comment. Brok doesn't seem to have nearly as much restraint when he spits out his bite directly into Sindri's face. You cringe a little at that, knowing that couldn't have been at all pleasant, let alone for someone with Sindri's…quirks.

“I suppose you'd like to try cookin’ for this lot” Brok nearly growls the words at him, taking high offense to the old god’s complaint.

“I accept!” Tyr almost enthusiastically agrees, dropping his spoon in his bowl with a splash that manages to come back on both you and Sindri.

“...what?” Brok seems almost confused at the answer, though you hardly pay any attention to that as you're wiping away the steaming liquid from your face. You finish doing so just in time to see Atreus reach behind Sindri to grab something from next to him. The action was something you'd find rather innocuous if it weren't for the way Sindris eyebrows creased and his lips tightened to a line. It's then that he locks eyes with you, his posture straightening quickly as he fails to hide his discomfort. You offer him an unused cloth from close by, considering his was covered in Brok's spit and spilled food. His eyes widen at this, but he takes the cloth willingly, using it to wipe his face down. It is rather unfortunate, then, that in his haste to remove the grime he manages to drop the cloth in the food. You can practically feel the irritation building under his skin as he glared down at his now soiled food.

“Atreus, Y/n, we were planning our next move” Kratos, either oblivious to any of the situations transpiring in front of him or just simply not caring, address the both of you.

“Oh. So…where we going?” The boy questions with about as much enthusiasm as you'd expect after having his little late-night adventure. He is tired, almost obviously so, and is definitely not excited to be heading back into hiding.

“Alfheim, home of the elves” You raise an eyebrow at those words. Surely he couldn't be planning on moving to Alfheim of all places?

“Alfheim? You hate Alfheim! Why would we move there?” The boy is about as confused as you are. Worse yet is that even Kratos seems thrown for a loop.

“Move there? No. We are seeking information” Kratos clarifies, though that only startles you more. What could have convinced him to possibly go further along with Atreus’ plan? You were almost positive with how irritable he's been recently that he was more than ready to tell the boy that you've all done enough and it was time to find a new place to stay.

“The shrine of Gróa, young one. Your father tells me you found it there” Tyr leans in, maybe a little too close for your comfort. But then again you can't imagine sitting at the small table was easy on him.

“Gróa? The knowledge keeper?” Atreus questions, not entirely following along for a moment.

“Ohh, maybe there's a secret there I can unlock!” the idea clicks and you have to admit, it's not the worst possible move for you all to make.

“Aye. Who better than the seer who saw everything?” Mimir pipes in and once again you're inclined to agree. You are sure there must be many more to discover with their own secret messages. But if any of them could reveal the truth about what was to come, it would be hers.

“I wasn't sure you um…” Atreus tries to stretch his luck. You lock eyes with the boy just in time to shut him up. You swear that he just had a knack for ruining any of the small wins he ever got with Mr. Grumbles.

“Nevermind. That's great, Alfheim!” Of course this would be one of the few times he ever listened to you.

“Hey, don't go forgettin’ this what'll get you there” Brok tosses a stone high and right towards Kratos. He catches it, though you're more drawn to the sudden sound of the table being slammed, your attention drawn to a not so happy Sindri.

“You know what?” He saids as all eyes fell on him, an airy and forced laugh poorly covering his clear frustration.

“I'm gonna build a bigger table” he announces, looking at all of you before presumably leaving to do just that. You think of quietly following him for a moment, but decide that you would much rather finish your food first. You needed the energy after all.

The table speaks of how this plan came to be, along with a few other tangents that you aren't too interested in listening to. It isn't long before Kratos finishes his food and leaves his chair to prepare for the mission. Tyr follows soon after, obviously not quite liking the food, and Atreus shovels the food in his mouth as quick as he can to catch up with his father, leaving just you and Brok at the table as he scarfed down Sindri's share.

“So, you fixin’ to leave with ‘em?” He asks, his eyes fixated to his food bowl. You give no response for a moment as you consider the idea. It would be nice to see Alfheim after so long, though you do imagine Fimbulwinter might have destroyed some of its beauty.

“Why do you ask? Do you need help with something?” You decide to question him. Perhaps if he had something for you to do you wouldn't mind staying here too much.

“Well I was guessin’ you wasn’t, considerin’ y’ain't got no good rest last night” The implications of his words take a moment for you to notice, though once you do you finally manage to look him in the eye.

“You know about last night?” You ask in a hushed tone and he looks entirely unamused.

“Course I do. Them’s two ain't exactly subtle” you manage to crack a smile at that, nodding along in agreement. A short silence casts over the two of you but he doesn't allow it to last long.

“So, you stayin’?” He asks again. His persistence on the question leaves you wondering if there might be more behind it. Your eyes must show it with how quickly he turns back down to his food.

“I…” you start, still not entirely sure if you really want to let Kratos win and stay where he wants you. Before you can come to a clear answer a loud clank in the distance catches your attention. Your eyes are drawn immediately to the workshop where Sindri was now throwing around all the items he was using without much care, his lips moving in mumbled inaudible words. When he begins to turn your direction you very swiftly look back down to your food. In the end, the dull achiness of your body is the last push you need to make your decision.

“I think I'll stay” you finally answer and though he doesn't ever like to show it, you can tell the answer relieved him somehow.

“Good” is all he says as he finishes his food and leaves the table. It isn't long before they all begin to head out. Kratos and Atreus go first, a quick wave in their direction tells them that you weren't going. Though Tyr, the last to follow behind the group, is the one who asks why.

“You aren't joining us?” He questions beside you. You turn to meet his gaze before shaking your head.

“No, I've had enough adventure for the time being” you answer him, though for some reason that doesn't usher him out of your business.

“Are you sure? There aren't very many chances to head to Alfheim these days. From what I've heard, at least” he pushes and that does seem to sway you a little. You had quite a fondness for Alfheim-

“Alright, alright! Ain't got time for hangin’ around now, they're waitin’!” Brok yells from across the room and it seems like that's enough to get Tyr moving again, perhaps even a little startled by the intrusion on your conversation.

“It seems I've overstayed my welcome. I will see you all soon…hopefully” he mutters the last word to himself and once his back is turned you can't help but send a questioning look Brok’s way. One that he pointedly ignores by the look of it. Soon enough their voices fade out and you finally finish your meal. You clean your bowl before deciding to finally find out what Brok is up to. However, upon turning around you see no trace of the blue bastard that had put it in your mind to stay. Figures. Instead, all you hear is Sindri’s frustrated mumblings just under the sound of clanking and cutting. By the looks of it, he really did hop right to making a new table.

You decide it better not to just work through that frustration himself. In the meantime, you set to cleaning up the mess that the group had brought around in just one meal. You soon get to Sindri's bowl of food, having been eaten by Brok and left at the table. You frown a little at that, sending yet another glance in the grumbling golden-plated dwarf's direction. You take the bowl and clean it before putting it away. Eventually, you decide it's good enough, and instead find a spot to sit and pass the time with a bit of carving. It's only a few moments into this that you realize how truly and utterly exhausted your body has become. Your eyes, almost painful in their dryness, beg for you to close them. And your hands, as much as you will them to cut, seem almost reluctant to listen to you. Despite your resistance and unwillingness to simply allow it, sleep manages to take hold of you and you fall into the dark abyss of dreams.

-

Sindri allows his mind to become fully consumed by his work. His hands moved clumsily at first, irritation guiding them more than any practiced ease, but eventually it all melts into pure concentration and focus. His problems pour away as time ticks ever farther out of memory. This was his home, his sanctuary, a place where he could forget his every ailment and allow his spirit to bleed and infuse with every piece of wood and metal that met his hands. A master at his craft, a genius at his given field, there was practically nothing that could break this perfect, quiet, ethereal-

“When’re ya gonna learn not to waste good food?” Brok’s far-too-close-for-comfort voice shatters his focus immediately. He just about jumps away, his hammer dropping from his hands only to be quickly saved from the inevitable loud clank by none other than the irritant himself. Sindri quickly regains his composure and oh boy does broken focus set him ablaze.

“What are you-!”

“Hey- hey! Shut your damn yap! Finally got that fucker sleepin’” Brok uncharacteristically shushes him, which has Sindri blinking at him as if he'd grown a second head.

“What in all the nine realms are you talking about?!” Sindri near demands, voice lowered to a normal volume this time. Brok points a thumb to his side and when Sindri leans over the counter he sees you passed out on the chair they still have sitting out there. Sindri doesn't really get a good look before Brok quickly catches his attention again.

“Now’re you gonna eat this? ‘Cause I'm gonna if y’ain't, I am” Sindri looked at what Brok could possibly be talking about, only to see that a maybe not so fresh bowl had been sat down on the workbench. His bowl, as seen by the name etched on the side.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to touch my bowl- This joke isn't even funny-!”

“Hush yer damn mouth ya fuckin’ yapper!” Brok hushed him again, his eyes glancing to your sleeping form for a moment before turning back with a relieved sigh.

“All’s I did was pour another bowl for you. But if y'ain't gonna eat the fuckin' food, I will” Brok’s clarification quickly turned his indignation back into confusion, eyebrows knitting and arms unfolding.

“Oh…” Sindri speaks softly, regretting his harsh tone even if only a little.

“Did you clean the bowl?” He asks and Brok seems to consider something before he lets out a huff.

“Sure did. Cleaned it extra for the prince in need. Made sure to leave it far away from his royal highnesses work too. All perfect for you, your majesty-”

“Alright alright, you can stop now” Sindri waves his hands to stop Brok's sarcastic whining. With very clear hesitancy he goes to finally eat from the bowl. The taste of the food nearly doubles his already deep hunger, so the next few bites are without any pause whatsoever. Brok seems a little agitated, likely because he didn't get a third portion of food this morning, but he doesn't seem too bothered when he enters the shop. It's silent for a long moment as, to Sindri's complete and utter bewilderment, Brok sets up his work as quiet as a mouse.

“What’re you gawkin’ at. Look ‘bout ready to lose your damn jaw” Brok breaks the silence as he continues his quiet collecting of tools and resources.

“Since when did you start caring about anyone's beauty sleep” Sindri prods, a bit of contempt shown in the uncommon treatment. Brok simply waves a dismissive hand in his direction, never once even glancing at him.

“S’none’a yer business” is the only answer he gives, only further irritating Sindri.

“Okay, no, this is getting a little far past being able to ignore” Sindri sets down his food, arms crossed again and eyes staring directly at his brother. Brok, a little taken aback by his sudden hostility, finally looks up from the task at hand.

“How do you two know each other?” The question comes with an accusation this time, something Brok simply rolls his eyes at, though there is a sudden tightness in his features.

“I'd done already told you, I met ‘em half dead fightin’ Draugr, the fuck else you want from me” his tone is rougher, or at least much less flippant than it was just a few moments ago. Sindri can sniff the bullshit of that answer about a million miles away now.

“And?” Sindri continues to prod, Brok huffing at the microscope Sindri had just placed on him.

“And the fuck what” Brok snaps at him a little, eyebrows drawing downward in a way that dared him to keep going down this path. Sindri obliged.

“And what else! We both know this behavior isn't exactly all that common with you. What, were the two of you like, a thing-?”

“Of course the fuck not!” Brok swiftly shuts down that line of thinking, his nose upturned at the very idea of it.

“Then what is it!” Sindri once again pushes at him, digging for an answer. For a moment he's almost sure Brok is about to lay into him, quietness be damned, but he deflated just as suddenly, a loud sigh removing all the tension in his face in favor of a slightly defeated look. Brok turns his back to him, hands absentmindedly placing things where they need to be; or maybe just placing them wherever he feels like. There's a long silence that more than doubles the sudden dread building in Sindri's chest. He wonders if perhaps he did finally push too far this time, that this really was something personal he shouldn't go digging around in. It almost startles him when Brok begins to speak again.

“They’re lost” he finally admits, his tone suddenly entirely unreadable. Sindri's tense posture loosened at his words, curiosity biting at his very being as he leaned ever closer. Brok's words could mean a million things, though not very many seemed all that great to hear.

“What do you mean?” Sindri's voice is much softer now, no longer needing to poke and prod to get an answer, though he is still clearly irritated. Another short bout of silence passes before Brok answers again.

“They're driftin’ through without a damn clue’a what's up’er down, can't get a grip without tearing something apart. Don't got nothin’ left to guide ‘em. Lost in every meanin’ of the word” Brok's words are quiet, almost like he's mumbling them to himself. Sindri is left a little stunned by his openness, the description more disheartening than he could have predicted. Still though, it does little to explain his behavior. The two of them have met hundreds, if not thousands of lost souls over the years. All on their own paths of pain and destruction, all with their own problems and issues that they needed help with. What was so special about you?

The question lingered with him for a long moment, echoing through his mind. Even though the sentiment of the question rang true, it still struck him negatively. He couldn't quite understand why you seemed so different. You stuck out, catching his attention practically since the beginning. Your connections dug into the roots of everyone he held close, wedging your way into every aspect of his life before he even knew who you were. And what was stranger yet was that you just felt so damn familiar. As if he should already know you; as if he did. It felt almost as if his mind had been wiped of your existence, but the presence of you still lingered. A reminder in your eyes; the ghost of deja vu written in your face. He wondered if Brok felt the same. If that was why he ever cared enough to get to know so much about you.

“So you've taken it upon yourself to ‘guide’ them then” his words come out perhaps a bit more harsh than he meant them. The mix of this strange feeling along with his brother's even weirder behavior has thrown him for a bit of a loop, if he were being honest.

“Hel no. I ain't what they need and we both knows it. I'm only doin’ for them what I've done for you your whole fuckin’ life” his voice is strained, a slight bit of animosity hidden in his breath as he finishes up and heads out of the shop. Sindri blubbers for a moment, the implication seeming not so kind.

“And what's that” he sneers at him, not even attempting to hide the annoyance Broks words brought him.

“Make sure you sons’a bitches don't work yourselves damn near to death” he speaks over his shoulder before heading out the front door, leaving no room for Sindri to speak back, though it isn't like Sindri even makes the attempt. After all, this isn't the first time Brok has ever made such a comment. Still though, it does manage to squirm its way under his skin. With all motivation zapped right out of him after such a tense conversation Sindri only finds the energy to finish his food. But it's hard to still himself for long as a heavy feeling lays itself in his chest. So he tries to distract himself with something else; a task he finds quite difficult when he realizes the house is almost entirely clean already. A miracle, considering the way they all had been eating. It isn't long before he realizes that it simply can't be that clean after such a meal, his eyes not too long after drawing towards the likely culprit that lay sleeping only a few steps away.

He finds that he almost can't help but study you for a moment, Brok's words ringing in his mind over and over again. He can't manage to hide the slight frown that falls on his face at the thoughts, though he soon manages to tear his eyes away long enough to clear his mind just a bit. He tried to put thoughts of you aside for now and found it a bit concerning when that took a little more effort than it should. He knows then that he should probably go get some air. So he packs a few things away before putting on his warmest hat and heading out to get some more wood for the table.

-

Tag List

@emmbny

[cantstoptheimagines]

Their Reaction to You Losing an Eye

Summary — Preferences for Aloy, Kotallo, and Talanah from Horizon!

Requested by @nickeverdeen — Hey there! Can I please ask for hcs with either God Of War or Horizon Zero Dawn characters with a reader who lost their eye and is insecure about it? If for God Of War then pls hcs with: Kratos, Atreus (older or young is up to you) If Horizon Zero Dawn then pls hcs with: Aloy, Talanah (you don’t have to do Talanah if you don’t wanna) Also pls let me know if you’re uncomfortable with the request Take time and care about yourself ❤️

Warnings & Other Tags ➳ Depictions, discussions, and mentions of severe injuries (losing an eye, losing an arm); canon-typical violence.

Notes ➳ Word Count is 528. ➳ Reader is gender neutral (they/them).

FAQ | Masterlist | Fandoms | Requests | Coming Soon | Schedule 

aloy

she would be in a frantic state of mind. she couldn’t lose anyone else after all she’s fought for, especially not you. the ringing in your ears is almost too much to handle. your vision is blurred and heavy tears are drenching your cheeks. no, not tears — blood. another wave of red appears, and it takes you a second to recognize aloy, who’s looking down at you with a panicked expression. her red hair frames her face perfectly, almost distracting you from the pain that sends shockwaves rampaging beneath your skin. it’s unbearable now that you’ve realized the extent of your injury, like your body is slowly coming to terms with what’s happened.  “aloy,” is all you can muster before everything goes dark in a failed battle against lightheadedness as aloy’s tears fall onto your skin.

kotallo

he’s the most sympathetic for obvious reasons, but his primary goal would be cheering you up at least a little bit. the crunch of snow under heavy footsteps catches your attention, nearly pulling you away from the golden sunset that falls over the surrounding mountain peaks, shielding aloy’s base from view. despite your pounding headache, you had ignored zo’s suggestion of taking a nap, disappearing for some alone time instead. but, as kotallo sat next to you on the cliffside, it was clear you had been found out. the usually stoic man offered you a small smile, which you returned. while you didn’t speak to him very often, kotallo seemed kind enough. “thought you were practicing your new aim?” he muttered. feet dangling over the cliff, you sighed, “i was. it’s harder than i thought it’d be.” he nodded with a quiet hum, sparing a glance at your discarded bow, “maybe i could help? i’ve got experience in losing necessary body parts too, after all.” a snort escaped before you could stop it. kotallo smirked as your hands flew to cover your mouth, “i’m sorry—!” “it was meant to be humorous. need to make the best of losing an arm, don’t i?” he waved you off. then, he stood, holding out his only hand for you to take. “come. we’ll correct your aim in no time.”

talanah

she wouldn’t leave your side, come hell or high water.  a hand grips yours loosely as your surroundings come into focus. you’re somewhere inside the mountain base you and the others have come to call home. everything looks too far away and too close at the same time, your depth perception completely warped by a heavy, soaked bandage on one side of your face.  just as you touch the fabric, discovering a red tinge on your fingertips, a quiet groan echoes in the room, “don’t mess with that.” talanah gazes back at you, tired and melancholy from the fight against the zeniths. despite her exhaustion, she rises and begins checking over your injuries, quietly admonishing you whenever she comes across a particularly nasty wound. but if the way she continuously glances at the bandage on your face was anything, you suspected whatever was hidden beneath it was much worse than you thought. once she was finished, she sighed, “don’t ever scare me like that again, understand?”

[restinslices]

LKBS AS FIRST TIME DADS

tried to make these as differently as possible

Bi-Han

His baby is planned so he's not as nervous as other people 

Bi-Han is ridiculously confident. He's helped with his younger brothers and he knows the basics of what a baby needs so honestly, he's pretty sure he's got this in the bag

He did not have it in the bag

Here's the thing; his younger brothers didn't depend on Bi-Han to survive. They had their parents. Plus, Bi-Han spends too much time thinking about his child as an adult warrior and completely skips over them being a child

This baby is depending on him and his partner at all times and they're a baby 

I'm gonna make them all girl dads because listen-

I think patience would be something he'd both struggle and be good at

He's patient when it comes to small mistakes, like knocking something over but he can be a bit impatient when it comes to developing certain skills and when they make bigger mistakes 

Y'all know how Kratos is hard on Atreus but it's because he cares and want him to be prepared for when he's gone? That's Bi-Han

He'd also struggle with saying things in a child friendly manner. I don't mean swearing, I mean he has to pause and think “how do I say this without hurting their feelings?”

He naturally has a harsh sounding tone so he has to try his best to not sound mean. He can't double down 

Since I mentioned speaking, he is not using a baby voice 

People get excited with their first kid and are like “oh my gosh look at my little baby!” and speak all high pitch but he's not doing that at all. He's using his normal voice and adult words with a newborn

Some people have nicknames for things. For example, when my nephew was younger we'd ask if he wanted “nom noms”. Bi-Han doesn't see the point in doing that. He's asking his toddler “do you want food?”

I can understand if people would think he'd be this super grump dad that hates all types of noise but in my head Bi-Han understands that kids make noise and cry. Does it annoy him? Yes. Is he screaming for them to quiet down? No. His world was never gonna stay quiet once he decided to start a family 

Speaking of yelling, I don't think he does it often. Bi-Han is the type to pull his kid to the side and quietly threaten them. Like when your mom would pull you to the side and say if you kept acting up in the store she was gonna whoop you in the bathroom 

He also has “the stare”

Shit gets shut down quickly 

The definition of “wait until I tell your dad”

He'd train his daughter like he'd train anyone else. He's not going easy on her. If anything, he'd be harder on her because she has more to prove 

There's so much he doesn't know how to deal with since this is his first child and honestly, that emo phase probably kicked his ass more than he'd like to admit

The bang, the extensions, the checkered wristbands, the studded belts-

It's embarrassing for him to mention how genuinely concerned he was. He had no idea what was going on and telling her to train harder didn't take the hair dye out her head 

Speaking of which, I think Bi-Han’s biggest mistake as a parent would be trying to mold his child into becoming a mini him. It's not because he thinks he's 10/10. It’s because he's a solid Grandmaster. 

“Back in my day we learned obedience” type shit 

The type to say “I hate when my dad did this” then proceeds to do it to his child 

He'd need help when it comes to emotional awareness and seeing his child as their own individual 

He may accidentally snub them of childhood moments they deserve. It's not with malicious intent, it's more of a “our enemies don't sleep so we won't either”

Imagine if him and his kid ended up having the same distant relationship him and his dad had-

Tragic but definitely possible 

Kuai Liang 

Probably also had a planned baby 

He may only want one child because he's worried he'll end up having another him and Bi-Han

Which is why I think it'd be funny if he had twins-

Follow me camera 

He's expecting one baby. That's it. That's all. 

So when it's revealed he's having twins, he's shocked and afraid 

Bi-Han’s betrayal did a number on him. He doesn't really know why Bi-Han was so angry. He knew about his frustration but he didn't know it'd go this deep and he'd let their father die. He's worried he'll upset one of them and history will repeat itself 

Him dying isn't the problem. The family breaking up is what he's worried about 

Because of this I think he'd accidentally become a helicopter parent

He's overly affectionate to his children. Affection is fine but he smothers them and watches everything they do 

He tries so hard to keep the family together, but it does the opposite. Now his kids are desperate for space. Both from him and each other 

Before we get to that sadness though, Kuai Liang is a great dad 

He trains them and if one has his powers and the other doesn't, he makes sure to not show favoritism 

Idk if he'd be corny enough to buy his twins matching shit. If he doesn't, Tomas will and he won't stop him 

Anything they give him, he's 100% keeping 

He uses a hair tie they painted pink instead of his usual one 

He frames all of the pictures they draw for him 

He attends all their little tea parties and let's them harass him about how much sugar is in his tea 

He doesn't spoil them but he doesn't not spoil them 

He doesn't give them everything they want but he'll get them stuff if it makes him think of them 

Like a doctor's toy he randomly saw 

He tries to be very active in their life when he's not busy 

He has safety plans in case his clan is attacked. They're at war and he doubts the Lin Kuei will spare his children 

I think all the brothers would let their kids know about their job and their responsibilities. No point on keeping it secret. They'll have to do it one day too 

Some parents get really sad when their kids grow up but I don't think he'd get sad. Idk, I just think he'd see it more as an accomplishment. Not everyone makes it far and he's always worried about their safety 

Remember when I said his kids would want space? 

This would probably happen in their teen years and he'd be so confused because wdym he still managed to fuck up?

I think how he'd feel would be a mix of “well they're kids” and “damn, I blew it” 

Overall I think he'd put way too much pressure on himself when it came to becoming a parent and this stresses him out more. At some point though he'd have to learn to let them be them and learn that honestly there's not much he can do

He does his part by being a loving father. He can't make them stay together or make them stay loyal. That's just the goal 

Besides that I think Kuai Liang would honestly be a pretty solid dad. He genuinely loves and cares for the people around him and it'd show with his children. He'd do all the dumb shit some dads are too embarrassed to do with their children. 

He's just a bit smothering 

A lot a bit-

Tomas Vrbada

He actually wants multiple kids 

He doesn't want a whole football team but wants his own little family 

His kid is probably planned too and I think he's possibly the most excited 

I can really see Tomas being a good dad and I think starting his own family that's just his would mean a lot to him 

Yeah he has Kuai Liang and their new clan and for a while he had the Lin Kuei but it's not the same. He wants his family that's only his and is related to him by blood 

So with that being said he's already reading books and watching videos before the baby is even here 

He still feels unprepared when she actually gets here 

First of all girl dad Tomas has no shame. Put the makeup on him. Dress him up in the dumbest shit imaginable. Have him do a duet with you. He's doing it all 

Overall he wants to give this child a way better life than he had 

His family was killed so the bar is in hell but moving on-

I think Tomas could accidentally spoil his child. Can y'all see it? I can see it 

My sources or reasoning? I just think he's the most likely out of the 3. He goes from “I'll give them a better life” to “and I'll buy this and this and this-”

Don't get it misconstrued though, he's still training them to be a warrior. War is everywhere and he got some shitty ass luck 

Imma be real… Tomas might be a leash parent-

I can see him getting tired of this kid running off and he gives up and buys it 

I can see him teaching his kid to do all that smoke shit and they accidentally fly up in the air 

This is another reason for the leash 

I can see Tomas feeling like an outsider with the Lin Kuei so he tries his best to make his child feel confident 

And that confidence can easily turn to arrogance 

He's complimenting their abilities at every turn and I think balance can be something that slips his mind. He's thinking “man I wish I got more compliments and felt more seen growing up” and takes it to an extreme 

So his child is now kinda a cocky asshole, which is something you may expect from Bi-Han’s kid but his would grow up being a bit insecure in a “I can never please him” way. Tomas’ kid is arrogant because “my dad is always pleaded with me”

It's hard to get right 

He's present in everything. Not in a smothering way though, he's just there 

If he has to miss any important milestones or events, he definitely tries to make up for it 

Like if he missed a dance performance, when he comes back he'll ask them to redo it in front of him 

He wants to be present for everything, even if it's small. Idk. I think he'd just really value these moments he'll never get back. He'll have more kids but he'll never see this particular kid dance ballet again 

He adjusts nicely to parenthood I think. It's a challenge but he's confident enough to take any failure he does on the chin and move on 

And if I said he takes the emo or scene phase really well, what are y'all gonna do?

Some kids do coke. Listening to BVB seems like the better choice 

Definition of a spine made of jelly 

Puppy dog eyes work with him. I don't make the rules 

I do, but moving on-

The spoiling part would kick his ass so bad. He'd have to get that shit under control at some point because it's like, no shit your child becomes defiant and spoiled. You give them everything 

They'd have a positive relationship overall. I think spoiling would be the main problem 

My thoughts are unorganized as fuck and I'd like to apologize because now I'm going back in time to say he'd take his child hunting as soon as he could 

His family hunted together and it was usually a nice fun bonding activity so he does it with his child 

I mention this for the first child because his judgment of what's appropriate at a certain age is so off

She's 4 and he's “saddle up. Let's go hunt this large unnamed animal!”

Nothing bad ever happens to the Kennedy's-!

His child is kicked by whatever they were hunting 

Has to be reminded several times that his baby is not a buff grown man like he is that can take some damage. They cannot just thug it out Tomas 

Besides the multiple injuries and spoiling though, he'd be an alright dad with his own little family 

Probably plans on having another one once his kid is like,,, 2 because he's insane 

[wendelsae]

Agamemnon and Priam are both bad kings- Agamemnon because he is overbearing, of course, and Priam because he is underbearing: he lets his sons rule and sits around, passive- in the antique sense as well. Paris & Hector dislike each other, but between the former's backroom bribes and the latter's populistic militarism they maintain the same disastrous policy, which will bring their own deaths and ten thousand other sufferings. meanwhile their father blames the gods for the war he could try to stop and doesn't. Troy is not only besieged by the Greeks, it's constitutionally fucked.

and, speaking of kings-

"Too many rulers is not a thing- let there be one ruler, one king, to whom the child of crookreading Cronos gave the sceptre & laws, by which he may reign." t. Odysseus, Β.204-206

one often sees these lines cited (not the least in Sid Meier's Civilization IV) as a monarchist creed. but in context it's clearly ironic. Agamemnon's made an incoherent rambling speech (with a labored mathematical argument that he then erases in a line) urging the Greeks to abandon the war, which has the obvious result. and the Greeks would have returned home, were it not for Odysseus snatching the sceptre right out of Agammenon's hands- the sceptre whose stately genealogy was just lovingly traced just before Atreides' speech- snatching it from Agamemnon without even asking- and then rushing around yelling at everyone. this is comical. and that's when he utters the immortal lines, at the very moment he's physically usurping the monarch's power, materially contradicting the very thing he's preaching. note also here Odysseus' happy allusion to the famously orderly & lawful succession of the Kings of Heaven, much like how the genealogy of the sceptre itself tells of its pious passing from Atreus to Thyestes without a word about any unpleasantness.

(some scholars would say that Homer included all these allusions because the stories of Atreus & Thyestes, of Ouranos & Cronos & Zeus, hadn't been invented yet. (so then why is Cronos ἀγκυλομήτης?) I think Homer was very aware of these stories and knows you are too.)

my read on this is that Homer is, in the characters of Priam and especially Agamemnon, satirizing monarchy, for his audience who were, after all, well on their way in exchanging their old decrepit royal lineages for more oligarchic & republican governance. likewise this colours his whole subject of the quarrel between Achilleus & Agamemnon. and of course he could leave out such a satirical episode were he singing at, say, Sparta.

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Talofa Sleepy! Question for Siljia! Since I am curious about her!

2) How loosely or strictly do they use the word ‘friend’?

3) How often do they show their genuine emotions to others versus just the audience knowing?

AND

4) What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss?

Hi Taro!! Thank you so much for asking about Silja ✨✨ I appreciate it so much MUAH

2 - How loosely or strictly do they use the word "friend"?

For Silja, a friend is someone who could see her and likes her DESPITE her eyes' abilities, and that is almost impossible. The only one whom she called friend is only Heimdall at the moment.

Later, she'd call Brok and Sindri (Sindri more) and Kratos, Mimir, and Atreus her friends too!

3 - How often do they show their genuine emotions to others versus just the audience knowing?

Silja shows her true feelings to people she meets 100% of the time. Much like Heimdall, she hates pretentious people, because she sees people's past deeds. What she lets out is pretty much what she feels inside. You won't see her being pretentious EVER.

4 - What's a hobby they used to have that they miss?

She misses spending time with her father, Freyr, doing anything at all. Be it venturing the realms, or even the simplest thing like sewing clothes or braiding each others' hair.

She also misses the old, carefree, young Heimdall.

--

Thank you so much Taro 💕💕