Thwack!
Atreus hit his opponent again.
Thwack! Thwack!
In a display of grandeur, he leapt forward and with all his might swung his sword!- vanquishing his enemy.
Victorious, he rested his hands on his knees, his labored breathing echoing around the old temple. From a collapsed wall, the winter air chilled the atmosphere in the old temple, causing him to break out in a cold sweat.
He peered up between his lashes.
The straw dummy stared back.
Atreus screwed up his face. He growled and swiped at the dummy in frustration. He then turned sharply around and stomped a few feet away, gripping the handle of his wooden sword tightly with a pout.
"Why do you stop?" he heard his father say from above an elevated platform that overlooked the main hall that was chosen to become Atreus' training area.
"Because this is stupid!" he exploded and pointed at the dummy. "We've been doing this for days. When will I get to fight with a real sword against a real enemy? I've already fought against draugrs and trolls and even a god."
"You think this unnecessary," his father said, his tone even and emotionless. It made it hard to determine whether the man was angry or not. Atreus grew uncertain under his father's unyielding gaze but he had already opened his big mouth so he must speak his mind.
"Well, yes," he said slowly yet clearly. "I know you don't think I'm ready but I am. I am ready for so much more. I know I am..."
He gazed down to where his hand clutched the wooden sword and something deep inside him ached.
He could be doing something more.
He could- no, he should be out there already! Out there fighting the bad guys and saving the day. Just like his mother did.
Atreus' chest tightened.
She was a hero.
His father keeps talking about being better but how better can you get compared to her? If being better meant being like his mother then he wouldn't want to be anything less.
And then when he is better, he will show the world that gods can grow good, just like Tyr always believed. He will be better. He and his father. Together.
He snapped his head up as Kratos jumped down from the platform, landing easily on his feet despite it being a sizable drop.
"Uh, what are you doing?" he asked meekly, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
His father strode over to a bunch of weapons all lined neatly in a row on the floor. He bent down, snatched two swords (which had once belonged to draugrs) and returned to Atreus.
"Here," he grunted and tossed one at him.
He caught it easily and looked at his father uncertainly. "What are you doing?"
"You are ready," Kratos replied. "You said so yourself."
Atreus blinked and shuffled backwards. "Oh but, but what if I'm not?"
"You said you were," he stated whilst giving the sword a twirl. In his hand, it looked more like a toy than a dangerous weapon.
"Yeah but... but what if I'm not?" Atreus cast his eyes downwards and he lowered his voice. "What if I'm not ready. What if I never will be?" He knows he must sound ridiculous to his father but these were the thoughts Atreus just couldn't shake. Things used to be simple when it was just the three of them hidden away but after their adventure to reach the highest peak in all the realms, he realized the world was so much bigger than his tiny forest. Suddenly, nothing felt certain to him anymore, not even himself.
He gazed up at his father. Eyes round with innocence he asked quietly, "How will I know if I ever am?"
Atreus lowered his head after he said that, unwilling to see the disapproval surely forming in his father's eyes. He was taught to be confident, always, but here he was doing the exact opposite. Was he not strong enough? Was that it? Did his father think him weak? He hoped not. He would hate it if after everything they went through, Atreus would still be seen as a failure. That he will still be lesser than the son he knew his father wanted him to be.
He sensed his father's approach yet kept his head bowed.
His father got down on one knee, making him eye level with Atreus.
A heavy hand rested on his shoulder, causing Atreus to look up into the face of his father. There was not a hint of anger or even a frown and even though he tried to search, his father's eyes only reflected a stern sort of calmness.
"Only you can decide that," he said. "No one else."
His father stood up and nodded towards the sword in Atreus' hand.
"Are you ready?"
Atreus glanced at the sword in his grip.
Only you can decide that. No one else.
His grip on the sword tightened. There was still doubt in his heart but he pushed it aside with a firm smile.
"Yes."
"Good."
Kratos moved back to put a good fighting distance between them while Atreus tossed the wooden sword aside. He held up the real sword and tested its weight in his hand. It was heavier but not completely unfamiliar.
"Remember your training," Kratos said. "Block when necessary and strike with purpose."
Atreus gave a curt nod and fell into a fighting stance. They locked eyes and despite his father's intimidating stature, Atreus held himself with confidence, a quiet determination in his eyes.
"Begin."
He charged forth and swung high. In a blink of an eye, his attack was blocked and he found himself rooted to the spot, the tip of his father's blade aimed at his neck. He swallowed thickly and glanced at his father.
"You come at your enemy blindly. Do not expect your first strike to be a killing one." Kratos withdrew his sword and grunted, "Again."
With his neck no longer in any possibility of getting cut, Atreus nodded and jogged back to place. He got back into his stance and waited for his father's signal.
"Begin."
This time, Atreus refrained from rushing in. He approached his father slowly and when he was close enough he struck. It was blocked but this time, Atreus managed to bring his sword back up and parry his father's blade. He didn't get to enjoy his little victory for long. A light tap on his side drew his attention. Atreus groaned when he saw his father's blade prodding his stomach.
"Do not get distracted," he gruffed.
"Yeah, I know, I know," Atreus moaned and trudged back into position. He raised his sword with a sigh and waited for his father's command.
"Boy," Kratos called, surprising him. He lowered his sword and looked at his father curiously.
Kratos appeared stern as usual but there was a lilt in his voice when he said, "You did well to block my attack."
It took a moment for Atreus to realize his father was appraising him and when he did, warmth flooded his chest. Getting a compliment from his father happened rarely but when it did he treasures it forever. It may mean nothing to his dad but it meant a whole lot to him!
"Thank you, Father," Atreus said with a bright smile.
His father responded with a grunt and raised his sword.
"Begin."
Kratos observed Atreus in silence.
He was making good progress from when they began weeks ago. The boy was a quick learner and always eager to try again when he fails. It was just in the beginning of his training that his son ran into his first problem. Not one of skill but of the mind.
He held a lack of confidence within himself, one that Kratos never experienced when he was younger. He had always lived a fight or lose kind of mindset. There was no time for self doubt because he was too busy surviving. Too busy killing. Too busy winning.
That kind of thinking served him well as a soldier yet looking back now as an older man, that same kind of thinking isolated him from what was truly important.
His family.
Kratos swore to never be that kind of man ever again. He must be better. For his son, he will be.
Currently, that self doubt that plagued his son seemed to have dissipate. He had grown more confident in his handling and he was able to keep up a steady rhythm. But then Kratos noticed the boy was becoming a tad too comfortable, which in a real battle meant certain death.
So when the boy threw out his blade to block, Kratos inserted a smidgen of his true strength into his swing. He broke through Atreus' defense easily and caused his son's sword arm to jerk away and imbalance the boy. Atreus fell flat on his back with a grunt.
Kratos pointed his sword at him. "Do not expect your enemy to stay the same. You must always be alert. Things can change quickly in a real battle. There are no rules and fairness does not exist. Your goal is to survive." He narrowed his eyes. "If this were a real battle, you have failed that goal."
He finally lowered his weapon; a silent permission for the boy to get up.
But he did not.
Atreus sat himself up with his head hung low.
"I'm sorry."
"Do not apologize," Kratos replied and it sounded more like an order than a suggestion. "Learn from your mistake and do better."
Atreus scrunched up his face, "I know, I'm just... I'm sorry. I didn't know how serious this is to you." He gave his sword a little swing before letting his hand drop. "I would be dead by now, huh..."
Kratos looked down at him emotionless. He could say something to cheer the boy up but it was not in his nature to lie. The soldiers that trained him during his time in the agoge never lied.
You are weak. You are nothing. You will die.
The truth broke him.
And he defied it.
Be strong. Become something. Persevere.
All of that came true... but at what cost?
No. This wasn't the agoge and Atreus wasn't Kratos- for that he will be forever thankful for. He was unquestionably at a loss and not for the first time did a pang of longing hit Kratos' chest. If Faye were here she would know what to say, what to do. If she were here...
Kratos shook that thought away.
Faye isn't here.
He, is.
Like he has done countless times, Kratos ignored the thoughts in his head and went to his son and stuck out his hand.
Atreus stared at it, his eyes flickering to meet Kratos' and hesitantly he took it. He pulled the boy up like he weighed nothing, swiftly swiping the forgotten sword off the ground as well.
He placed the sword back in Atreus' hand and in a softer voice he said without thinking, "A spartan warrior never lets his back hit the ground."
Atreus' eyes lit up.
"Really?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face. "Are you saying I am a spartan?"
The tip of Kratos' lip twitched.
"No," he replied bluntly and glanced out at the sky through the opening of the collapsed wall.
It was beginning to darken earlier than usual. Normally daylight hours would stretch to midday in winter, but there was a certain crisp in the air that foretold troubling weather. Soon it will get dark and he did not want them caught outside without shelter when it does. It was already cold as it is and travelling during the night would only spell more problems.
Between the freezing temperature and the pitch black nights, there was also something else that put him on guard.
Now, Kratos is not a man easily spooked. He has faced unimaginable horrors; killed a few, too. So no, not a lot of things can 'scare' the god of war. But sometimes, in the dead of night when everything is as quiet as a mouse and when his thoughts keep him awake, he'll hear noises coming from deep in the woods.
Animals, he tells himself, or draugrs wandering around. That he can handle. Yet when he goes to investigate, as well as clear out any enemies nearby their home, he finds no evidence that anything was out there. Not even footprints.
"That is enough practice for today," Kratos said with a frown as the clouds outside turned a darker shade of grey. "Collect your things, boy."
"Yes, sir!" his son chirped and took off to do just that.
After they got done packing, they wrapped themselves under layers upon layers of heavy fur coats. It weighed them down some and made trudging through the snow harder but it was effective in protecting their bodies from the cold.
They then headed back to the entrance of the old temple. Kratos glanced at Atreus to make sure the boy was covered up before shoving his fingers into the crack between the two heavy doors and sliding them open with a loud thud that shook down some snow from above. Kratos stepped out first, his son right behind, and scanned the sky.
His frown deepened.
He was right in his predication. The weather was taking a turn for the worst and if they hurry, they might just make it back to the cabin and avoid the worst of it.
Kratos walked a few feet ahead before noticing Atreus wasn't following him. He looked back and saw his son hadn't moved an inch, the boy's gaze locked onto the stormy clouds in the distance. He appeared to be deep in thought and whatever it was his son was thinking about, Kratos could see it bothered him greatly.
"What is it?"
Atreus' brows drew together. "I don't know. I feel like... I felt like something bad is going to happen."
"There is a storm coming."
"It's not the storm. It was something else. I don't know how to describe it."
Kratos peered at Atreus with consideration. During their journey, his son began to possess an affinity in sensing things no normal kid or even a god can do. If he felt like something bad was coming this way, then Kratos would be a fool to disregard him. Could it be that the storm will be worse than he originally thought? Or was it like what Atreus said; was it something other than the storm that put his son on edge.
Whatever it is, they will deal with it and then only if it involves them. As of right now, their focus must be on getting home.
"There is nothing we can do about that right now. Come."
Atreus glanced at the dark clouds.
"Yeah, you're right," he said softly. "It's probably nothing."
A light drizzle began when they finally returned home.
An early dinner was prepared and by the time they crawled into their own respective beds, the rain outside became a downpour.
Thunder rumbled somewhere beyond the mountains; sounding more like the growling stomach of a starving beast.
Kratos laid wide-awake, letting the soothing pitter-patter of raindrops outside lull him to sleep.
When he opens his eyes next he sees two boys training with spartan spears and shields. Faintly, he realizes that the boy with the shaved head and scowl on his face was Kratos himself; the other boy with the peculiar birthmark to be... Deimos. His brother.
Kratos became drunk with sorrow while his younger self remained foolishly haughty. He could only watch as the young Kratos knock Deimos flat on his back and then shove the pointy end of his spear at his own brother's throat, barely breaking skin.
"A spartan warrior never lets his back hit the ground!" shouted the young Kratos. "Even in death, a spartan stands tall for battle. You are a spartan, are you not?"
"I'm sorry," Atreus answered, suddenly being the one on the floor instead of Deimos.
"Too late," a deeper voice replied, and the Ghost of Sparta sunk the spear into Atreus' chest.
NO!
Kratos whipped out his hand and crushed the spear in half. He fell to his knees and with one hand cradled his son's head while the other gripped the broken half of the spear still lodged into his body.
His son's eyes flew wide open and his face morphed into one of panic.
"No!" he shouted with desperation in his voice.
No! a feminine voice joined underneath his son's own screaming.
The sky crackled and lit up, blinding Kratos.
He jolted out of bed, reaching behind his back for his axe when Atreus' screaming snapped him into focus. He was at his son's side in an instant, checking to see if he was hurt anywhere. Kratos looked at Atreus' face and saw he was still sleeping.
A nightmare. Only a nightmare. His son is safe.
"Atreus!" Kratos yelled over the raging thunderstorm and his son's screaming. He took the boy by his shoulders and shook him while calling out his name again.
Lighting flashed outside, lighting up their home through the cracks in the wooden walls. Atreus shot up, his eyes unfocused and wild.
"He killed them!" he wailed, tears welling in his eyes. "He killed them all!"
Kratos squeezed his shoulders. "Atreus, Atreus! Listen to me! It is not real."
A look of anguish crossed Atreus' face.
"He's going to kill her," he cried. "He's going to kill her! He's going to kill her. He's going to..." His eyes slid shut and Atreus went limp in Kratos' grip.
"Atreus?" Kratos said but the boy was fast asleep. He didn't want to wake him so he gently laid the boy back down. He observed Atreus' face for any signs of more nightmares but it portrayed nothing but peacefulness.
Reassured that his son will be fine, Kratos left his side and returned to his bed. He looked at it and knew he would not be getting any more sleep. With a heavy sigh, he sat down at the edge of the bed and stared into the dwindling fire.
Deimos.
He can't recall it all but he does remember dreaming of his brother.
Hollowness gnawed the back of his heart.
How could he have been so cruel to his own brother? Kratos only wanted to protect him- make him strong. Yet what he thought was good for his younger brother, what he thought was tough love, was not love at all. His own brother used to be scared of him because he could see the monster hidden beneath the boy. He could see the Ghost of Sparta before anyone else could.
If only he could go back. He could have changed a lot of things. Acted differently, cared more for the ones he loved. If only...
Let it go, he hears Faye's voice whisper in his ear; a firm but gentle reminder.
It only breaks his heart.
"I can't," he says out loud. "Not tonight."
Tomorrow, he can lock away the memories and the pain and regret it brings and be the father Atreus needs.
But for tonight, he lets the monsters in his head win.
For tonight, he is weak.