The boy had been silent since they returned to the dwarf brothers' lodgings in Svartalfheim. The time they had spent frequenting their workshop within Tyr's temple had eased Kratos into their bizarre company, but such a time had long passed with the ferocity of the winter forcing the father and son to remain near their home.

But Atreus had never held such reservations, even upon their reunion with the brothers.

Kratos returned from the back-facing alley of the shop, carrying a bursting crate of supplies that the blue one had insisted he carry in while they worked on their weapons. He laid the crate down on the counter, holding back the irritated urge to drop it lest he damage the items inside and delay them further. Glancing around the shop through his peripheral, he caught sight of Atreus curled into himself within the dwarf-sized chair in the corner. He had been shorter than the two dwarves, and yet now had to duck his head in order to look them in the eye.

"Boy," He called out, unable to catch the word before it escaped him, ready to hear the retort his son would throw as a result. He was no longer a child, but still, not yet a man despite the expeditious growth spurts that left his trousers constantly hanging at his ankles and his shirts stretched far more often than they could keep up with.

No reply came.

"Ah, the lad's probably just tired," Mimir spoke instead, his voice twinging with a reasonable edge. "You two barely left your house these last few years, wouldn't surprise me that a growing lad would need rest."

"Hmph," Kratos grunted in reply, long used to the head's insistence to voice his opinion on matters that did not concern him, but his care for the boy had not gone unnoticed. His council had its uses, Kratos could admit to himself as he rested his weight between his spread legs. "Distractions can prove deadly if allowed to fester."

"Aye, don't suppose you want to talk to him, then?"

Kratos did not bother to respond, turning his attention towards his son as he headed towards the further corner of the room, the small space shrouded in the dancing shadows of the candlelight. The boy did not notice him, his shoulders pulled tightly into his chest and his eyes squinted, his journal pressing against his knees.

Atreus muttered under his breath as he worked, not yet noticing the looming figure of his father before him as he scribbled over something on the page with a frown. His nose wrinkled with his frustration, "No… too far apart… not so round…"

"Boy."

Atreus jerked to attention, scrambling to keep ahold of the journal he had been doodling in and cursing in one of the many tongues he had learnt with the books they had gathered from the temple as it tumbled to the floor. Kratos stopped one of his pencils from rolling far with his boot, stepping back into the spot he had almost moved from to let the boy duck now and retrieve his things. Pages swept from between the journals covers, loose with the makeshift binding Atreus had attempted to avoid using their limited hide.

"Father!" He squeaked, face flushed and pupils dilated, leaping to his feet with a little jump, his weight bouncing on his toes before he stooped to snatch up the paper. "I-I was just…!"

Kratos refrained from lifting a brow, the curiosity at the speed of how quickly Atreus slammed his journal shut churning in his gut. "You are distracted."

"Oh," Atreus said quietly. His parted lips shut, brows furrowed as his attention quickly returned to the sheets strewn across the floor of the workshop. "It's nothing! Just-just deciphering those runes we saw on those old ruins we passed." He added, his teeth bared to the candlelight with the strength he put into the smile that followed.

"I thought you'd already figured those ones out, Laddy?"

Atreus went to speak again, but he merely stumbled with a bundle of words, tongue-tied as he avoided his father and head's shared gaze on him. Kratos made a quiet sound at the sight of the usually talkative boy lost for worlds, sensing that the head dangling from his hip shared the same thought.

"You hide your journal."

"I-I'm not finished-!"

A moment of silence passed, the two gods staring to a stalemate as neither looked away despite the flush of colour along the tops of Atreus' ears. The sounds of hammering and the crackle of flames filled the silence as Atreus pressed the journal up into his chest.

Atreus shoved the remaining loose pages back into the journal. His lips pursed in thought as he kept his eyes to the floor, angling each page so that his father would only see the faintest outline on the used side of the paper. Dark shapes and curves sank through, the pressure he had put onto the charcoal imprinted onto the other side.

"What ya da' means to say lad," Mimir added, interjecting into the silence between the two. "Is that you're usually so open with yer work?"

Kratos let the head speak. He watched the muscles of Atreus' face shift under the scrutiny of his gaze, his bright eyes dancing from the forge, to the door, to Mimir. He never looked to Kratos.

The boy squirmed, thin brows pressed together and wrinkling the skin of his forehead that peeked out from beneath the wispy hairs of his fringe. Sweat trickled down his brow, the warmth of Svartlfheim leaving the boy sweltered in his furs. He had always been one to fidget, even as a small babe that fit into the inside of Kratos' hand, whimpering and flailing for the warmth of his mother and not the hulking man that shadowed the threshold of their home.

Even after their journey to the mountain, Kratos held his tongue, watching the animated conversations the head would have with his boy and how it loosened the solid mound of guilt in his chest. He could provide for Atreus, gather supplies, reinforce their home, and defend their woods, but he still struggled with the words that slipped so easily from his son's lips.

And, yet… the boy stumbled with those same words in those moments.

"It's nothing, really," Atreus insisted, tilting his head aside as he finally faced his father's stare head-on.

"Hmm."

"Really!" Atreus pressed.

Kratos frowned at this.

"Need to work on hiding that smile of yours, little brother," Mimir grinned, "I don't even need to see you to hear it!"

Kratos considered the body-less man's words, looking over Atreus with a probing eye. The boy had grown with the head's company, learning to bounce back with Mimir's quips and jokes as jovial as he took them, finding a quick-wit and constant stream of discussion that Kratos simply could not provide, even with Atreus' insistence that his storytelling abilities had improved as well.

Every clever word in his mind seemed to wash away like stones in a strong current when Atreus met his father's eye again. "I don't have to show you everything," Atreus grumbled, nudging his boot along the grooves between the wooden planks that made up the house's floor.

Kratos swallowed hard. He was content to offer the boy his privacy, especially as he grew into a man and required more space and time to himself, but such secrecy troubled him still. A pit dug into his stomach, a trickle of concern for his son washing through his veins as he contemplated pressing further.

"Leave him, head," Kratos said instead, noting the surprised look his son gave in return. "If the boy wishes to keep secrets, he may as long as they pose no threat to the task at hand."

Atreus' face twisted into a contemplative frown, conflict immediate on his young features as he watched his father turn away and start to make his way back towards the forge where the two dwarves waited behind the counter. His fingers, slender and calloused, interlaced together around the back of the journal.

Protective, Kratos noted to himself.

A few empty moments of silence passed before Atreus rose from the too-small chair again.

"I met someone, is all…!" He blurted, the confidence in his voice fading quickly. "Her name was-"

Mimir barked out a laugh, the blithe sound making Atreus twitch at the interruption. "Oh, oh, oh! I knew you were keeping something, Laddy! And a girl? Oh, you're becoming a man right before our eyes!"

Kratos didn't speak, allowing his attention to slip back to Atreus who awkwardly shuffled on his feet as Mimir chortled, his mouth pressed into a chagrined line. The boy refused to meet his eye once more, appearing even smaller than he had while sitting down. The boy who had faced trolls, draugr, dragons and even gods by his side had never looked more afraid.

Brok and Sindri shared a look during the protracted pause as all waited to see which of the two gods would succumb to the other's equal stubbornness.

"You… draw her?"

Atreus held back any reply, his upper lip slipping over his bottom one as he ducked back, seemingly attempting to crumble in on himself upon Brok letting out a surly laugh, shaking his head and shrugging off the glare Sindri threw at him with haste.

The boy paused.

Before rushing out of the small home with wide enough strides that any mortal eye would think he had taken flight. He batted away Mimir's concern when he called out after him, shrugging away from his father and dropping his head to slip under his gaze as he threw his weight into the door and threw it open, the wood splintering at the ferocity of the swing.

Kratos frowned, working to swallow the concoction of emotion flooding up his throat. He read the look on his son's face as he passed, the discernible anger riddling his features overwhelmed by the chagrin that only reminded him of Faye more. In times like those, when he had spoken out of turn or pushed too hard for answers both knew they'd eventually reveal, he often spotted her along the borders of the stave chopping more timber than they could use in five winters.

"Uh…" Mimir said gingerly, "Might be best to let the lad calm down for a bit, aye?"

Kratos hadn't noticed the paces he had taken towards the door, stepping back. "Yes," He mumbled. He levelled a stare back towards the dwarves before adjusting the head's position against his hip and stepping back over to the counter.

Sindri gave him a sympathetic smile, the corners of his lips barely curling, before heaving his axe and blades from behind the countertop, handing them to Kratos without a word for once. Kratos begrudgingly took Atreus' bow.