Kratos groaned, and pulled his blade out of the demon's chest with a loud squelch. Yet another demon killed in service to the Gods, yet another moment wasted before redemption from his past. Kratos stifled a sigh, and walked away from the bleeding carcasses he left behind. Devastation, destruction...chaos. It was all he knew. Ever since he was the youngest captain in the Spartan army, when people were in awe of him, and praised instead of cowering, hailed, instead of cursing him and betraying him. All he ever wanted was success and power, for himself. If only Kratos knew then, what he knew now, his child...his wife...Kratos cursed himself for reminiscing on the ghosts of his past. He could never show weakness, never surrender, that was the Spartan way. He looked down at his pale skin. The Spartan way was all he had left, that and the hope of redemption from the Gods.
"Kratos" a voice called. He turned, and met the white gaze of hisstatue of Athena. "Athena" Kratos greeted, back still turned. He had no time for the God's games. He wanted to rest. Wanted to find some other no-name women to bury his sorrow in. "Kratos, a ship is in desperate need of your aid, go Ghost of Sparta, for it is coming, for on that ship, is a piece...of your destiny" The light faded from the Goddess' eyes. Kratos clenched his jaw, and looked out to sea, waiting. As if on cue, a flaming ship appeared, screams beckoning the warrior. Kratos grasped the rope hanging from his mast, and swung, landing gracefully, with a thump. The men were running everywhere, fleeing from the risen centurions. Cowards. Kratos would've spat on them. Quickly and easily, Kratos dispatched of the stinking corpses, killing them once more. A clashing of swords drew his attention to the higher deck. Kratos stared, almost taking a step back in surprise. A young women, no older than 20 years of age, was fighting heroically with a demon. With a grunt, she plunged her feeble sword deep into the centurions heart. Blood covered the girl's fine face, and she didn't even flinched, seeming far too comfortable with the bloodshed for any normal female. The woman turned, and Kratos took in the sight for the first time.
The girl was blond, her hair tied back in a knot at the back of her head, out of the way when fighting. She had a striking face, her piercing green eyes menacing. She wore a blue split skirt that still revealed nothing, and a tunic that covered her chest. She was very modest for a women. "Don't help or anything, Kratos" she called, sarcastically. Kratos was stunned at such insolence, but merely turned away. Liquor, was indeed in order. "Wait" Kratos halted, stiffening. The voice was filled with knowledge no girl should have, and Kratos was surprised with a need to comfort the child. "You're hurt" she said simply, placing a hand gently on a Kratos' torn back. Kratos swung around, gripping the wrist tightly in his hands. The girl didn't even flinch, but just stared at him with haunted green eyes. "Why do you help me, child?" The girl smirked, "I'm no child, Kratos, and you just saved my life. Is it against Spartan law to accept help from a humbled warrior?" Kratos released her, throwing her to the ground. "You are no warrior! I do not need your help" The girl coughed, trying to get air into her lungs. "Then accept help, from kin" Kratos stepped back, finally letting his shock seep through his facade. "Kin? You are not my family. My family is dead" The girl nodded, standing up. She brushed her hair back behind her ear, and stared up at Kratos through the rain. "My mother told me all about you when I was 16, before she abandoned me at the soldiers quarters, for the soldiers pleasure. I have been through much pain because of her 'love'." Kratos glared at the stubborn girl, not used to being spoke too in such a way. "I'm your daughter, Kratos."
Kratos stepped back, mouth falling open slightly. Now Kratos looked closer, he saw himself. He saw his jaw, his stern gaze, his defiance and his skill with a blade. "My name is Astraea, Father, and I wish to help you. Then, you may decide what to do with me" Astraea fell to her knees in respect, raising her hands to her father. Kratos raised his blades reflexively. Astraea grew solomn, but flashed a determined look in her eye. "So be it, do it with my sword, so then it was suicide, Father" Astraea lifted her blade, hilt first, offering it, head bowed. Kratos took it, hand shaking slightly. He looked down at the girl, awaiting her death. Kratos raised the blade, ready to strike. He stopped. This wasn't any girl, this was his girl. His daughter. Astraea. She looked up. "Father?" Kratos threw her blade to the ground. "A warrior never shows weaknesses, child, you should learn that" he growled, helping her to her feet. "What's going to happen to me?" she asked, looking the pale man straight in the eye, unflinching. Kratos pulled her by the elbow to the edge of the ship. "Your skill with a blade is formidable, but needs to be perfected" was all he said. Astraea knew. She knew her father wanted her safe, something her mother never did. "Father? Thank you" she muttered. Kratos turned, and allowed himself a moment of weakness. He brushed his dry knuckles against her soft, pale cheek, frowning at the happiness emerald eyes at that simple show of non-sexual affection. His daughter had been hurt at those soldier's quarters, raped and tortured for men's pleasure. Kratos would stop at nothing to hunt down the people that hurt his haired, green eyed daughter. "Indeed" He picked her up easily, and jumped off the burning ship, swimming back to his own. Astraea's dress billowed out behind her, making her looked like a pale daughter of Poseidon. Kratos appraised his daughter, she was a pretty thing. Her arms tightened instinctively around her father's neck, making Kratos grin to himself. Still just a child, no matter how much she pretended. All these years of suffering may not be over, but maybe Kratos did not have to face them alone.
