Memoirs for Angels Forgotten

a hero to regenerate the world

--

Kratos awoke slowly; the world was blurry through his eyes and everything around him was stained a rusty shade of red. He exhaled, trying to…

"Lloyd!"

An amused laugh stopped him as he threw himself up, a very familiar laugh at that. His eyes caught on the familiar blond figure standing a few feet away, his son asleep in his arms.

Mithos. Origin, no, Lloyd.

"You needn't worry, Kratos, your baby boy is just fine." Blue eyes looked at him from aside, and Kratos carefully pushed himself up. "You know, I didn't understand why you were infatuated with that human girl, Kratos. In fact, I thought it disgusting but I suppose humans can't help who they love. But looking at this boy, your son, I think I have a new respect for you."

Yggdrasill slowly turned his gaze back to his son, and Kratos finally staggered to his feet as the half-elf continued. "I don't know if I can forgive you for deserting me in the first place but looking at him, I realize we have one thing in common. Just as I will never abandon my sister you will never voluntarily loose sight of your son. I think you'll be relieved to know that my interest in your son is genuine. He's strong for someone so young."

Yggdrasill's words were echoing in his head oddly, and Kratos swayed on his feet. "Mithos… what are you saying?"

A smile turned on those familiar fake features. "I'm saying that I'm going to let your precious child live. But don't you worry, teacher, you will be punished, in the most painful way. But that is not now. No… he is three, correct?" At Kratos' cautious nod, Yggdrasill gave a quiet hum. "In fourteen years you are to accompany the Chosen of Sylvarant."

Kratos sighed but nodded; this at least was a familiar if exhausting task. "Do you believe this Chosen will succeed?"

Yggdrasill let out another disconcerting laugh and Kratos forced himself to relax the instant tension it evoked in him. "Kratos, Kratos, haven't you realized yet? I thought that this was part of the reason you left and now I see it was merely for petty reasons! It's not a belief. This Chosen must succeed. Sylvarant is about to run out of Mana and I am not kind enough to just give these "Inferior Beings" the Mana running through the Tower of Salvation. They must earn it."

Well, Kratos thought, he actually had taken that into consideration but over the years he'd found it was better to let Mithos have his own conclusions. A lesson painfully learned at that.

Those eyes were on his son again, and Kratos had to wonder why Lloyd was so quiet. A spell, perhaps. Origin knew that Lloyd had an extra sense purely for detecting trouble; his midnight whines had saved him and Anna – do not dare think Aurion, stop – more than once from incoming troops.

And a chill ran down the swordsman's spine as his leader smiled down at Lloyd. Something was not right.

"And it is because they must prove themselves that you are going… and I, Mithos," On cue the false image of a Half-elven man turned into the eternal child, "Will accompany you."

That cold smile caught Kratos' eyes again and he clenched his fists. "Mithos… that is fourteen years away… are you sure?"

"Do not question me, Kratos!" Mithos Yggdrasill snapped, burning blue eyes meeting his. "You're punishment has been decided. You, I'm afraid, will never remember this conversation; not for years to come. And Lloyd… Lloyd will grow up with his father thinking him to be dead." He smiled again, that unpleasant sight and before Kratos could do more than ask Origin for protection Mithos had gathered his Mana and unleashed it.

Kratos' body fell to the blood and gut strewn ground once again, and Mithos put his hand down. "Kratos, you fool." He whispered, before jumping down the cliff. The toddler in his arms was still out cold, and looking around Mithos couldn't find any sight of the human bitch that had stolen his Kratos.

Then, a flash of green. "Come out, Protozoan." Mithos called confidently, and was rewarded with the sight of the bloodied and injured animal. "Don't worry, I'm not going to harm the brat. Quite the contrary." Wary and angry eyes met his and Mithos almost longed for the days when they had shown with trust. "I will put him down in the tall grass and leave. In return, you will go to whoever took the body of his Mother and bring them to precious "Lloyd". Does this agreement stand with you?"

Mithos could see the moment the worry in the Protozoan's eyes won over the suspicion at himself and the confusion over where Kratos was. Well, ideally it would be a long time until they met again. "Good. I, Mithos Yggdrasill, hereby take this vow. From the moment the last word of this pact is spoken and this boy is on the ground until he is grown and capable, I will not touch him."

Familiar eyes kept his own for several seconds, before the Protozoan bowed its head. It, Noishe, accepted the vow. Mithos stood by his word and put the child in the grass, briefly covering him from sight. Then, sighing, he took out his wings and turned to leave. Noishe started to do the same, but stilled as Mithos turned. "Protozoan, Kratos has no idea, and when he learns that Lloyd is alive you will not tell him. Besides, right now, he's fairly lacking the drive to defy me again."

Noishe's eyes glared at him, but after several moments the creature let out a concession in the form of a whine. "Good." Mithos whispered and flew to the cliff top as Noishe took off at a run.

His eyes caught his former teachers, and for a second he felt regret. It soon passed, and Mithos cast his eyes down the cliff. "We will meet again one day, Lloyd Aurion. For now, farewell."

Closing his eyes, Mithos gathered his Mana, wrapped it around himself and teleported. Kratos would never know.

-- End

Well. This is complete until further notice. It was just a drabble that had to be let out, a premise to a what if. Basically in my head Mithos would join them early on, probably meet Genis when he's frantically searching for Kratos and co in Triet, and Mithos calling Kratos "Master!" and attaching himself to the journey. Then those doubts would be piling more and more and more and that's about where my inspiration split into so many ends I don't want to tackle them.

But man, I am sick of typing "Yggdrasill". Suddenly I don't blame the people who type out "Yggy!" from Pronyma in all seriousness.

Disclaimer: I do not own any plot or characters pertaining to Tales of Symphonia, nor the game and franchise itself.