Written for the "Elves" square on cliche bingo. I've only played the Tales of Symphonia game, so my apologies if something about Kratos past doesn't mesh with the drama cds, the OVA, or any other relatively new canon.
He loses his country helping Martel and Mithos escape. He can't explain how much it aches, how much he misses seeing Queen Soliel's face in the morning during drills and how often he wakes in the middle of the night, fearing some attack has rendered her lifeless.
Martel is beside him one night when he wakes up, panting and totally still, as he's been taught. She's a dark shadow in the low gloom of the fire, one that hums with mana and sweetness.
Kratos scrubs a hand across his face and sits up. "What is it?" he asks her.
She doesn't say anything for a few moments. Instead, she scoots closer to him, close enough that his skin prickles uncomfortably, and she bites her lip.
"I would very much like to hug you right now, Lord Kratos," Martel says finally, hesitantly. "May I?"
He blinks at her. "Why?" he asks dumbly.
"Because you look sad," Martel responds. She clasps her hands in her lap and smiles; Kratos can see the gleam of her eyes watching him.
"... if you'd like," he finally murmurs. He's sticky with sweat, his hair messy and awkward in his face, but Martel simply leans over, to rest her head against his own. Her arm slides around his shoulder a moment later and she gently urges his head into the crook of her own shoulder, sweet smelling and foreign.
He feels strange curled into a woman smaller than him, brittle. Kratos can't remember another person hugging him so.
"You are not so much older than Mithos, I don't think," she says softly, still smiling, once he's situated how she wants him. "I don't like to see you sad."
He doesn't have anything to say to that. He lets her hold him and gradually, the shaking stops. He inhales and releases his worries for the woman he'd (loved) sworn allegiance.
"Do you feel better now, Lord Kratos?" Martel asks, after the fire's died out and the sun has begun to crest the tops of the trees.
Yes. He turns away from her, removes himself from her embrace, too embarrassed to say it.
She laughs. "I'm glad," she says, as if he's spoken aloud.
The new Chosen (of course he knows her name, but he can't use it, because he can't become attached to this poor, doomed child) reminds him uncomfortably of Martel. She sits beside him one night, after she's lost the ability to sleep and she turns her pale eyes up to him and says, "You seem sad, Kratos."
"Do I?" he asks her, gently, because one shouldn't speak harshly to the dying.
The girl nods her head, blonde hair hiding her eyes for a few moments. "You do," she says.
He doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn't say anything at all.
"Can I...?" the Chosen begins. She trails off when he turns to look at her and he's amused to see her visibly take a deep breath and puff out her chest in a mock show of bravery. It takes a few more seconds, but then she leans closer to him and says all in a rush, "Can I give you a hug?"
Kratos blinks. "What?" he asks stupidly.
"It's just, whenever I'm sad, Lloyd gives me a hug. So I thought that if I hugged Kratos, he wouldn't be sad anymore either." She smiles up at him.
"... ah," he finally says.
She smiles at him brightly before she leans forward to nestle into his side.
Her arms barely reach all the way around him, to clasp her hands together on his bicep. Her head is golden blonde and light where it rests against his shoulder, and he reaches up to rest one hand on her back, feather-light on the bird bones of her shoulder blades.
She's so small. He's sent hundreds others just like her to their deaths without blinking, but she's so small and she's the first one since Anna to look at him and ask him why he's sad.
"Thank you, Chosen," he tells the top of her head.
She lets him go and sits back on her heels, beaming. "My name's Colette," she says cheerfully. "Did I make Kratos feel happy?"
No. You just broke my heart, little Chosen. "Yes."
The night they leave the others, the Chosen can't speak and she can't feel, all of her wrapped up tight in the heart she'll lose tomorrow.
Kratos brings the dragon to rest on the ground at the base of the Tower of Salvation, but when the Chosen climbs down and begins to walk away, he catches her elbow. He shouldn't do this, but. She's just a child, and his son loves her.
"Can I give you a hug?" he asks her softly.
She blinks.
Then her eyes fill with tears as she nods her head jerkily. He tucks her into his chest, wrapping her up in his arms like he can protect her from Mithos' plans and his own betrayal. She balls her hands in the front of his suit, her fingers just barely brushing the Crystal hiding under his clothes, and she sobs once, silently.
He strokes her back and tries to give her what strength he can. Becoming an angelic being is a frightening process, one he'd gone through himself, painful and lonely. He would he could have the strength to stand up to Mithos and stop this farce altogether.
Eventually, she draws away from him. The Chosen wipes her eyes with the backs of her hands furiously and smiles at him. She cradles his hand between both of hers and writes, "Thank you," on it, in his own ancient language.
"Be strong," he tells her, instead of you're welcome. He's just led her to her death. He can't take her thanks for a little human kindness before.
She smiles brighter at that and nods her head. "I'll be strong," she painstakingly writes out, "For Lloyd and everyone else."
The Chosen finishes and looks at him for a long few moments, the sun cresting on the horizon. Finally, she simply smiles wider and brighter than he's ever seen (that's a lie, Martel had smiled the same way) and turns away.
She trips on her way up the Tower steps, turns back and holds up her hands, still smiling brightly enough to see from where he's standing. He can almost imagine her calling, "I'm alright!" to him and he smiles a little back at her, raising one hand.
Did I make you feel better, Chosen? He wonders.
She smiles again, like she's heard him, and waves one last time before she disappears into the Tower. Farewell.
