Next Kratos awoke, the first thing he noticed was that he was no longer in the forest.

And there was a young woman touching his head.

"Oh, my-" she retracted her hand and back away from him. She appeared nervous and kept fingering at a wooden cross necklace dangling from her neck. "You're awake. I- I'll be right back-" She scampered out of the tent before he could say anything.

Kratos groaned and sat up. There was a slight pounding in his head, but it was only minor and didn't bother him at all as he took in his surroundings.

He was not in the forest, nor did he think he was at the caravan. This was a huge tent and he laid on an actual bed with fur blankets. There was another identical bed across from his and he assumed this tent belonged to two people. It looked lived in, as if whoever owned this tent had been living here for a while.

Kratos tensed when something came bursting through the entrance flap. Fenrir barked happily and jumped onto the bed and attacked him with wet, slobbery kisses. Atreus, Thrud and the young woman entered afterwards.

"Father!" his son greeted cheerily and ran at him with a hug. Kratos stiffened and unsure of what to do, awkwardly patted the boy's head. "You're okay," his son whispered, hugging him tighter.

"I am," Kratos said and gently pushed his son back. "What happened?"

He faintly remembered that night but it all felt like a dream.

"You broke my hammer, that's what happened," Thrud answered, crossing her arms but the smile on her face told him there was no anger in her words.

"You were under the spell of a hulder," Atreus explained. "But don't worry, Fenrir and I found it and killed it. I'm just glad you're okay. You were out for a long time."

Kratos frowned at Thrud. "You hit me."

She shrugged. "It was only a precaution. You were still under the hulder's influence. Besides, you broke my hammer. Think of that as payback."

He grunted and asked her where they were.

"We're at base camp. You were still out cold and I couldn't leave you two there so we dumped you in the back of our wagon and here we are." She jammed a thumb to the entrance of the tent. "Now, if you're feeling any better get out of my tent and get something to eat. You're scaring my roommate."

Base camp was a hundred times bigger than the tiny caravan. It was as if the entire population of Midgard had decided to congregate in one spot. It couldn't even be called a camp, more like a city made of tents.

The eating area was located somewhere in the middle of the camp, if he had to guess. There were dozens of tables and it mustn't have been meal time since there was barely anyone there. He didn't mind, he liked it this way better.

They ate in peaceful silence, though his mind was far from peaceful.

The other night's events were starting to come back to him in pieces. The only clear memory he retained was running through the woods with Thrud and then it got a little foggy after that. He also remembered feeling great sadness and powerful rage. The rage part frightened him.

He's spent many years trying to control it. If it could take over him so quickly, was all his work for nothing? Could it happen again? Will it happen again?

And if it does, could he stop himself from hurting the ones he loved?

He set his spoon down, unable to stomach his food.

"Atreus, did I hurt you?" He spoke softly, ashamed to have to be saying these words out loud.

The boy froze and swallowed. "Nah, well nothing I can't handle. You beat up Thrud pretty good, though." He tried to laugh it off but Kratos' face darkened.

"I hurt you. I lost control." he said lowly, his hands balling into fists. Fenrir whined and licked his arm but it did nothing to comfort him.

"It's alright. It's not a big deal," Atreus mumbled with an irritated frown, stabbing his spoon into the porridge.

Kratos slammed his fist on the table, making it shake. "I could have killed you!"

His son jumped up. "What's wrong with you?" he cried out in alarm. "I told you it was no big deal."

"Sit down," Kratos snapped and the boy complied. He leaned in and said gravelly, "Listen to me. If I try to hurt you- listen to me! If I ever try to hurt you, you must defend yourself. No matter what. Even if you have to kill me to survive, you will do it."

Atreus' face flushed red with anger. "I'm not going to kill you! You're my father."

"That means nothing if it compromises your survival," he hissed. "Your life is more important than mine."

"I'm not like you," his son spat. "I love my father and I would never kill him."

Kratos narrowed his eyes and slowly stood to his full height. "You are crossing a line, boy. You speak of something you do not understand."

Atreus stood up as well and squared his shoulders. "I understand that my father told me we must be better and we must end the cycle and now he is telling me the complete opposite."

He leaned across the table, staring his son down. "You will do as I say."

"I will." Atreus met his gaze unflinchingly. "I will be better. I will never kill you."

They were stuck in a tense battle that required no swords or words and it didn't seem either side was going to give up anytime soon.

"Sorry to interrupt but you two have been summoned by lord Olaf. He wishes to speak with you now."

Kratos snorted in frustration and turned away from his son. "No man can summon me," he growled.

Thrud crossed her arms. "He isn't any man. He is a king and he would like to speak to the both of you in regards of the job proposition."

"I serve no king," he stated.

"Can't we hear him out?" Atreus asked.

"No."

The boy shifted uncomfortably. "But, but I already, well, I kinda, um-"

"Speak up," Kratos barked.

His son peered up at him. "Well, I uh, sort of promised we could help out with a problem they're having..." His voice got higher towards the end and he chuckled with a sheepish grin.

Kratos hummed in severe disapproval. His foolish son had already given his word and he couldn't go back on it. That would be renege and that was the one thing he took very seriously. If his son promised they will help the king, then they will. If Kratos vowed to slay all the gods and have his revenge, then he will and he did. But, he always wondered if it was the right thing to do, in the end.

For better or worse, he kept his word. So will his son.

"Lead us to your king," he ordered Thrud who raised a brow but said nothing and showed them the way. He glanced down at Atreus. "Don't ever make promises without consulting me first."

"I know, I'm sorry. I will from now on." He quieted down but it didn't last. "It's just, mother would have offered her help."

"Do not presume to know what your mother will or will not do."

"I know what she would do," he muttered under his breath but Kratos caught it anyways.

He wanted to berate the boy for his insolence but steadied his temper. He only spoke what he believed to be the truth but the person he knew Faye to be wouldn't. She was the one who decided to live out in the woods far from civilization and he went along with it because he too liked the isolation. Not once has she ever shown an interest in other people or their affairs. She was kind, yes, but she never struck him as the hero type.

Then again, she never bothered told him anything about her past while he poured his all out to her.

It was a while before they came upon a tent much larger than the rest, probably the biggest in all the camp. They were about to enter when four men came outside. One of them stood out from the rest as he was dressed in finer clothes and adorned expensive looking jewelry.

The rich man's lips curled at the sight of them. "Hersir," he greeted Thrud crisply.

"Jarl Haakon," she greeted back like the name on her lips were poison.

He sent her a dirty look and he and his men went on their way.

"What's his problem?" Atreus asked innocently.

"He's an arsehole, that's what his problem is," she replied sourly. She entered first and they followed in after.

There was a group of men surrounding a table with a map sprawled across it. They seemed to be in a deep discussion and did not take notice of the new arrivals.

"My Lord, Kratos of the WildWoods and his son Atreus are here to see you as requested."

A man standing in the middle straightened up and briefly inspected both of them. There was nothing particularly kingly about him in Kratos' eyes. Olaf, he recalled his name to be, looked more tired than anything else.

"I see. Welcome, I hope you ate well. Thrud informed me how you helped protect the caravan. Such selflessness shall be rewarded with payment."

"It was nothing," Atreus chirped happily. "We're glad to help."

Kratos cut straight to the point. "My son offered to help with your problem. What is it," he demanded, his patience wearing thin. Olaf appeared to have taken no offense to his blunt words and in fact looked relieved. Maybe he was just as eager as Kratos to get down to business and not waste time chatting about less urgent matters.

"We need a location we can fall back to in case of emergencies." Olaf tapped his finger on Tyr's temple in the map. "The temple is surrounded by water on all sides and the only way to get there is by its bridge but its location proves a challenge to us. It's not easy to access in the case hundreds of people need to flee with all their necessary belongings, especially if we have to make a hasty retreat."

"Why would you have to retreat? What are you running from?" Atreus asked tentatively.

Olaf's face went grim. "My scouts have reported spotting hordes of draugrs out in the danger zone. It seems they are coming together to create an undead army. The good thing is that their numbers are small compared to ours but, if you've ever fought a draugr you'd know how dangerous they can be."

"The temple will be your people's tomb," Kratos commented. He couldn't help himself. It's been awhile since his military days but the battle strategist inside him took over; before his hunger for power and needless violence took control of the smart man he used to be. "You take your people there, they will have have nowhere to go."

"What other choice do I have?" Olaf dragged his finger across the map. "Mountains block our way to the east and we do not have enough food to make the trek across the snow lands to the north. The sea shore west of us is frozen for miles not to mention we would have to build and drag over a hundred boats across it without getting attacked. And to the south is where the horde is. Compared to the rest of our choices, the temple is our best bet."

Kratos shook his head. It was a nonsensical plan. "It is crowded. Your people will starve before they die."

"That won't be a problem." Thrud interjected herself into the conversation. "The temple was built with huge subterranean structures that could house around, maybe more than a thousand people. There will be plenty of room."

"What! There is?" Atreus exclaimed in awe. "I didn't know that existed."

"Of course it does. Where do you think the famous 'World Market of Midgard' was? The dwarves were the ones who built it since they were the most knowledgeable at digging tunnels and the works." She smiled like she had just remembered a joke. "They did a good job, only they made it so only the size of a dwarf could fit through! Tyr had to make them re-do the entire thing so even a troll could fit. They were so mad."

"Wow, that's amazing." His son chuckled and his face scrunched up. "Wait, how do you know all this?"

She pursed her lips and shrugged. "I read about it... in a book," she added and quickly changed the subject. "Anyways, using the market as a last minute shelter is a solid idea."

"The only problem is how to get there easily," Olaf concluded. "Now, your son mentioned you two have a solution to our bridge problem. It's currently over here and we need it over here where there is flat path for our wagons. In legend, it is told that the temple bridge can move but only if one has a-"

"Bifröst key!" Atreus finished excitedly. "We already have it. We can move the bridge for you."

"You have a Bifröst key?" Thrud exclaimed in bewilderment.

"Yes," Kratos answered in a tone that conveyed he wasn't in the mood for any further questioning.

"That's good news," she muttered. "You can use the key to open the market. There are three pillars you will find on the main walkway, right before the entrance to the temple. One of them should have a key hole in the shape of the Bifröst. Use it and it will open the market."

Olaf waved his hand. "Then it is settled. Move the bridge over to the gate near us and you will be rewarded handsomely.

"We're on it," Atreus chirped and moved to leave.

"One more thing," Olaf said quickly. "I have sent a few men to check out the temple beforehand and they've come back saying it's haunted with spirits. I don't know the credibility of their report but just in case, be on the look out for any ghosts. They could be dangerous."

"Won't be our first time but will do," his son replied dutifully and jogged out of the tent, Kratos and Fenrir following after him.

They made their way through the city camp, which provided them with a pretty good look at the people living here, which were many. Old and the young went about their daily lives despite their current living conditions. Surrounded by this many people, it reminded Kratos of the cities in Greece, except with major cultural differences.

Beached on the pebbly shore laid four fishermen's boats.

"Isn't this stealing?" Atreus asked as Kratos placed one foot at the end of a boat and gave it a light push. The boat shot across the shore and into the water.

"We need it," he simply replied.

Halfway across the Lake of Nine, Atreus peered over the boat and into the murky depths below.

"Weird," he mumbled. "The lake's not frozen and there wasn't any snow back at the camp. And it's warmer here. How is that possible?"

"I do not know. Ask the head."

Atreus plopped back down. "You're right. Mimir might know what's going on. I'll ask him about it when we get home."

They reached the island and after rowing the boat to a stop next to a platform, got off and headed up a row of stairs that took them up to the main walkway. To the left were the double doors of the temple and to the right were the three circular pillars Thrud mentioned.

Kratos went over to the circular structure and found the strangely shaped keyhole she must have been talking about. He inserted the bifrost and watched as the structure lit up with blue streaks of light. The circular design on the floor began moving, slithering around like snakes until it opened up into a huge hole. The day's light reached the first few steps but darkness consumed the rest of the way down.

"Let's go explore it!" Atreus made a dash for the stairs but Kratos hooked his fingers around the back of his shirt and dragged him towards the temple.

"No, that is not our mission. We will move the bridge and return home. Nothing more."

Atreus sighed, over dramatically in Kratos' opinion, and jogged over to the entrance. He had to wait impatiently as Kratos walked over and slid open the heavy doors, allowing the boy and the wolf to run inside eagerly. They slowed to a stop when they spotted the dwarves. The brothers were talking in raised voices, obviously having another fight about something Kratos could care less about.

Sindri was first to notice them.

Kratos wished he hadn't.

The overtly neurotic dwarf threw up his hands and exclaimed, "Oh thank the gods, it's you two! A group of mortal men stormed up the place and- AUGH! What is that!" He physically leapt back and pointed at Fenrir with a shaking finger.

"This is Fenrir," Atreus introduced, petting the wolf's head. "He's friendly."

"OH, oh no, get that thing away from me. You don't know where's it been. How can you even-" He covered his mouth as he made a puking sound, "-even touch that thing with your fingers! Oh gods, I think I'm going to-" Sindri dashed behind the forge and bent over a bucket.

Brok waved him off. "Ah, ignore him. Just make sure the mutt don't go n' bite me or something and we'll be all peachy." The blue dwarf wandered behind the forge and began hammering at some golden metal arm. "By the way, we had a little vermin problem. Some mortal men passed through here acting like they own the place."

"Indeed, they were very rude," Sindri added, wiping his mouth.

"We went invisible soon as we saw 'em. Knew they weren't customers." Brok pointed his tool hammer at the shelf. It was stocked with all the collectibles Kratos and his son had given them. "Greedy assholes tried to steal our shit."

"But we outsmarted them, didn't we brother?" Sindri wore a proud smile. "See, mortal men are easy to spook since most if not all are highly superstitious. That said, we pretended to be ghosts and that did the trick, far better than I thought it would."

Brok threw back his head and bellowed with laughter. "You got that right! Ya should've seen 'em run; bunch'a cowards."

Atreus looked back at Kratos." The king said his men encountered ghosts. Guess they don't have to worry about being haunted."

Sindri popped out of nowhere, startling Atreus. "King? Did you say king?"

"Uh... yeah?"

The golden armored dwarf mumbled something to himself and asked, "Does this king, let's say, have a lot of people following him? Warriors, in need of weapons, perhaps?"

His son scratched the back of his head. "I guess. They are fighting draugr."

The dwarves looked at each other and twin grins broke out on their faces.

"You hear that, Brother? Customers!" exclaimed Sindri.

"This'll bump up business," Brok said and waggled a finger at them. "Hey, you tell the king if he needs weapon to come talk with us, the Huldra Brothers. We'll make him sum."

"For a reasonable price, of course," Sindri added with a light chuckle.

"Tell him yourself," Kratos snapped, heading to the travel room.

Sindri straightened up like a plucked chicken. "W-wait, what does he mean by that?"

"The king wants to move his people into the market." Atreus perked up towards the blue dwarf. "Brok! Did you know there's an entire market underneath the temple?"

"Course I do! Was there myself after it was built." He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. "Those were the days."

Sindri looked about ready to freak out. "Uh, excuse me! Are we forgetting the fact we're about to be over run?! No, no way thank you very much. I do not do well in crowds. You tell the king we were here first and the temple is our space. Completely off limits, you hear me."

"Boy," Kratos called.

"I will," Atreus said and joined him into the travel room. They weren't there for long. It took no time to insert the bifrost and change the destination location to the desired gate. They were out and walking back to the exit.

"Remember! The Huldra Brothers are open for business!" Sindri's voice wavered after them as they left the temple.

They headed back to the boat when Kratos realized his son wasn't behind him. He turned and spotted the boy staring out into the wide open lake.

"Boy."

"Father, the world serpent is gone."

Kratos glanced to where the huge reptilian usually rested and like he said, it wasn't there.

"Do you think something happened to him?" His son's voice was thick with worry. Kratos, on the other hand, wasn't.

"It is a sea serpent, is it not? The snake has left for the sea."

"Yeah, you're probably right. He must have gotten bored laying there all day. I would."

"We all watched the bridge move. I never thought it possible until I saw it with my own eyes." The king motioned with his hand and one of the guards came up to Kratos with a baggie of gold. They had no need of it but better to have it than not. "Your payment as promised."

"There's no ghosts," Atreus piped up as Kratos tied the baggie to his belt. "It's just Sindri and Brok, the Huldra Brothers."

Thrud snapped to attention, a curious look passing her face. "The Huldra Brothers?"

"Who are these, 'Huldra Brothers'?" Olaf inquired.

"They're dwarves and they're brothers," Atreus answered. "They live in the temple. They're blacksmiths, too."

"The best blacksmiths in all the realms," Thrud boasted and when she saw everyone staring at her she cleared her throat. "My lord, their work is incomparable. We would be lucky to have their weapons in the hands of our men."

Olaf raised a brow. "That is a heavy claim. But if they're blacksmiths, why do they scare our men away?"

"Your men tried to steal their stuff. It's not their fault. I don't think they knew it belonged to them," said Atreus. "But Sindri and Brok said they don't want anyone else in the temple. They want it to be off limits."

"Done," Thrud said.

Olaf gave her a sideways glance. "We will take that into consideration when it comes time for negotiation of space. Thank you, young Atreus, for telling us. Will you and your father being staying?"

Atreus opened his mouth to answer but Kratos beat him to it.

"No," he stated gruffly. He did not miss the frown Thrud directed at him

Olaf's lips thinned into a straight line. "That's too bad. I could use a warrior like you. If you ever change your mind, seek me out. Otherwise, safe travels to you and your son."

He grunted and left while Atreus waving goodbye. He hadn't taken but five steps before Thrud was on them.

"You can't be serious. After what you've seen, what you've heard? How can you return home? It is no longer safe there."

Kratos halted and nodded at Atreus. "Go. Wait for me over there," he commanded. His son pouted but Kratos gave him a hard look and the boy obeyed, taking Fenrir with him. He watched him stop and wait a little ways away out of earshot. He faced Thrud.

"You heard what Olaf said. There is an army of draugr out there and other things of the night. Why would you want to risk you or your son's life like that? You must stay. It will be safer here."

"You said that last time," Kratos reminded her bluntly.

She squinted at him. "The situation is more dangerous than I thought. Hel, goddess of death, she walks among Midgard. She's the one causing all of this and she won't stop until every last one of us is either dead or undead, including you two."

"I can handle gods."

"Right, of course. You have plenty of experience with that sort of stuff." She shook her head with a defeated sigh. "Fine, I know better than to waste my words on someone who's already made their choice. At least take this with you. It will protect you from basic magic, including a hulder's." She reached behind her neck and took off her troll necklace. "Take it," she insisted when he didn't immediately reach for it.

Not one to turn down items, especially ones that might have some use, he took the necklace and slipped it into his pouch. There was nothing left to say and he was eager to leave and return back home where he could be alone.

"Stay safe!" she yelled in farewell, though it sounded more like a demand.

Atreus nudged his arm. "Father? Can we come back sometime to visit? I like it here."

"No."

"Why not? It's nice here and they need our help."

"Their matters are of no concern to us."

Atreus stopped walking and glared at him. "How can you say that? We are-" he paused and looked around and lowered his voice," We're gods. We should be helping. That's what gods are supposed to do, isn't it?"

"Do not be naive, Boy. You've seen what the gods truly are." He continued walking, leaving Atreus to jog after him.

"But that's not us. Until gods grow good, remember? We can be the change. We can be better."

"We do not belong here."

"Mother would help them," he replied defiantly.

Something snapped inside Kratos. He swiftly turned around, catching Atreus off guard. "Your mother is gone," he hissed, looming over his son. "If she wanted to help these people then that is her decision but not mine. Do you understand?"

Atreus glared at him but nodded.

"I said do you understand?" Kratos repeated more forcefully.

"Yes, sir," Atreus bit out.

The boy was hurting, Kratos could see it.

He knelt down, placing a hand on one skinny shoulder.

"Your life is far more important than any of these people, even my own. It may be selfish but this world, Atreus, is cruel and lonely. I learned this the hard way, and I am telling you now to prepare you for it. There are no heroes. Only monsters and the ones who survive them."

He stared at his son, willing him to listen and understand.

Atreus had his head tipped down and when he looked up, there was a hardness in his glossy eyes that has never been there before.

"You're right. Mother is gone." He shrugged off Kratos' hand atop his shoulder and marched away.

Fenrir tagged after him but the boy coldly ignored the wolf. Defeated and with ears down, Fenrir wandered back over to Kratos. He sighed heavily and brushed his fingers through his fur as he stood up.

His son had much to learn about the world and even more to accept the things in it.

They set off back to the cabin they called home. There, they could avoid the dangers of others and deal with their own.

And if any god wanted to hurt his son, the Blades of Chaos always craved for more blood.

Sister Edith pulled her hood further over her face.

She was in the wrong side of the camp and it would be in her best interest to keep herself as inconspicuous as possible. After all, not many people liked her kind. Don't get her wrong, she was proud of her faith and many in Olaf's circle tolerated her, but that was only within Olaf's side of the camp.

Lord Olaf's authority did not reach these parts so if she were to get into any trouble, help wouldn't come.

Merchants young and old selling this and that squawked at her, egging her to take a look at their wares but she only wrapped her cape tighter around her body and moved away from them.

She arrived at an open tavern and sat down at an empty table. A roundish lady with a stern face came around and curled her lip at Edith.

"You again. Are you going to order something this time besides water? Tables for real customers."

Without raising her head, Edith didn't hesitate to deposit a few gold coins onto the table.

"Water, please, and bread."

Thankfully, the lady made no more comment and scooped up the coins and left her to her business.

And what business was that, exactly? Edith had no clue.

What exactly was she hoping to accomplish? Aside from stalking a man that could rip a draugr in half, she was getting nowhere.

The beserker who had inadvertently saved her that fatal night, she found out through basic forms of stalkin-investigation, liked to visit this establishment. He never comes alone, always with a pack of wild men that deterred Edith from approaching him. She couldn't talk to him afterwards since the wild men lived outside the camp; slept in the woods like animals and she wasn't brave enough to go out there alone.

Being in this part of the camp was risky enough.

Soon, a rowdy group of burly, half naked men arrived and sat themselves a few tables away from where she sat. They were an odd sight even amongst their fellow Norsemen.

Edith spotted him immediately.

He was the biggest in the group, yet strangely the quietest.

When he sat he would curl his shoulders inward, making him appear smaller despite his size and the thick bear skin he wore over his head and back. When the lady gave him a jug of mead he would cradle it and stare forlornly into the cup, as if something was bothering him.

What a beserker could be thinking about, Edith had not the slightest idea. For all she knew, he could be daydreaming of murder and violence. It seemed to be what these brutes lived for.

She watched from a distance. Observing their behavior, studying them. They appeared docile at the moment but Edith knew better. She witnessed what they could do first-hand, and twice. One, when they raided her village and killed all those people, including her parents. Two, when they fought alongside Olaf against the invading draugr.

Yet, that was all she knew of them. Other than that, their culture and beliefs were a mystery to her. If she were to do the Lord's work and convert these lost souls, she would have to get to know them better and who better to start than with the man who saved her.

After a while the wild men got up and left.

Edith followed after them and made sure to be discreet about it. Every time she hoped he would stray from the group and catch him alone but it never happened. Until now.

She frowned when the hulking man veered down a path, separating from the group. Quickly she went down the same path. He kept zigzagging through the tents and she struggled to keep him in sight. In the back of her mind, she noted that they were getting closer to the wall- a tall lumber border that ended with spikes at the top. It was the only thing separating the people from the forest outside.

There was nobody around when he disappeared into the space between two large tents. She rounded the corner after him and bumped into solid rock. She slowly looked up into the face of the beserker.

Her heart leapt to her throat and she stumbled backwards.

"S-sorry, I didn't see you..." Her words faltered when he turned and began leaving. She jumped into action and threw out a hand. "Wait!"

To her surprise, he listened.

The beserker faced her and she grew nervous under his frightening gaze.

She bit her lip and drew back her hood, revealing her face. "Do you recognize me? Back at Fiskr, you saved me." She paused, waiting for him to confirm that he knew what she was talking about.

The beserker stared at her, then turned and walked away. She scurried after him.

"Wait, please, I just want to thank you-"

Edith choked on her words when he pushed her back with one hand. He did it with no force but to her, she could have been a leaf for all it mattered. Somehow, she managed not to fall.

"Alone," he growled deeply and again turned to leave.

She stepped towards him, "My name is Edith. Do you have a nam-"

In the blink of an eye, he whipped around and roared in her face, dribbles of spit splattering on her skin.

Edith's eyes shot wide open and she was so stunned that she hadn't realized she'd fallen until her butt connected with the muddy ground. From her place on the floor, she could only watch him stride away without even a glance back.

The shock finally left her body and she struggled to her feet. Her nerves were still jittery and she had to steady herself as she took a few deep breaths. Once she felt like she wasn't going to die, she glanced down at her clothes and sighed. They were muddied and ruined. She was going to have to clean them.

The walk back to her tent was an unpleasant one. Doubts plagued her, telling her this whole idea to understand and convert one of those animals was a waste of time. She'd come out here for no reason but to fail.

Despite her depressing thoughts, a flicker of hope lit in her heart. The task set before her by the Lord was not an easy one. It would test her resolve, both physically and mentally but she won't quit. He has guided her here to Midgard for a reason and she must put her trust in Him to once more guide her on her path, wherever it may take her.

Edith entered the tent feeling better than she had before.

She froze in her steps, a little 'o' falling from her lips.

Her roommate, Thrud, sat on the floor, holding a sword to her face.

"Excuse my intrusion. I will be out soon." Embarrassed, Edith tip toed her way over to her side of the tent. She changed quickly and grabbed her dirty gown and headed to the exit to go wash it by the lake.

"Wait," Thrud called, "Can you help me?"

Edith paused and hesitantly turned around. "I can try. What is it do you need?"

Thrud set down the sword and cocked her head. "Oh come now. You're supposed to bargain with me. A favor for a favor."

"That would be ungodly of me," the nun replied with a growing frown.

The shield-maiden smiled. "I jest. Come." She patted the spot in front of her and Edith went to sit there. It was then she noticed two bowls of what appeared to be crushed berries and the other kohl. She gazed shyly at Thrud's face and saw what the two ingredients must have been used for: The berries the soft red in her lips and delicate pink in her cheeks; the black kohl lined around her almond shaped eyes, making them pop.

In the back of her head, Edith thought the make up unnecessary. The warrior was the most beautiful woman she has ever seen. But it wasn't solely her looks that made her quite attractive, in her opinion.

Strong and proud was what she would describe Thrud, and despite the woman's rugged exterior, there was a sort of grace to her that bespoke of royalty. No one else seemed to notice it, but Edith was always the inquisitive type. Plus, she did share a room with the woman.

"Do you mind braiding parts of my hair? Every time I try to do it, it always turns out sloppy. It's been so long that my fingers have forgotten to do anything other than handle a weapon," Thrud confessed with a light chuckle.

"Of course." Edith set down her dirty clothes and used a comb to brush the warrior's long hair which was surprisingly smooth. She began braiding some strands and as she did her task, she felt it safe to ask, "Has somebody caught your eye?"

The corner of Thrud's lip curled upwards. "No. Olaf wants me to lead a group down into the market, make sure it is safe before letting civilians inside. It's been abandoned for over a hundred years but who knows what's really down there."

Edith hummed and couldn't help a smile from growing on her face.

"What?" Thrud asked, raising a brow.

The nun shrugged. "One doesn't go into battle looking pretty."

Thrud squinted at her and smirked. "You're clever, for a nun."

Edith only smiled and finished braiding one side and started on the next. When she was done with the other, Thrud moved to stand but she reached out and stopped her. "Wait, the kohl around your eyes, it's a bit smudged. Let me..." She pulled out a cloth she kept in her pocket and refined the edges of the liner, making them look less fierce and deranged and more neatly shaped.

As she cleaned away, she couldn't help but examine the tattoos on the warrior's face.

"The markings around your eyes, they look like butterfly wings."

"They are."

"They're beautiful. Do they have any meaning?"

Thrud's smile disappeared and her face became stony.

Edith immediately withdrew her hands. "Forgive me. I overstepped."

"No, it's, it's okay." The warrior sat back and looked up. "When I was a little girl, my father had this nickname for me. 'Little Butterfly' he would call me because I was kind of the social butterfly back then. I was the kid who never knew when to shut up. I still don't know when to shut up." Edith giggled as she continued talking. "My poor uncle, I would ask him questions for days and looking back, I'm sure I talked his ear off but he never showed he minded. That was just the kind of person he was."

Edith listened intently and asked, "Your family, are they here? In the camp?"

"Oh, no. They don't live in Midgard."

"That's good to hear. I am glad your family is safe."

"Me too..." Thrud clicked her tongue. "What about your mamma and pappa? Aren't they worried about you being here?"

It was Edith's time to feel sad although she did not show it. "My parents were killed by raiders."

Thrud's eye flickered. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"You meant no harm. I was young when it happened. Time and prayer have given me peace over the years."

Then why are you here? a little part of her mind questioned. Edith chose to ignore it. "I do have a favor for you," she said slowly.

"Oh? What happened to being ungodly?" Thrud laughed and nodded. "Let's hear it."

"I want you to teach me how to fight." There, she said it. She held her breath in anticipation.

"Why does a nun want to know how to fight?"

She let out air she had been holding. "Because I want to protect others. I still believe prayer is the ultimate weapon against evil but I- I, I don't know what I'm saying."

"I understand," Thrud reassured firmly. "You have no need to explain yourself. I will train you to use a sword. To be honest, I think that's the only thing you can handle. What do they feed you in that church of yours? We gotta put some meat on your bones!"

They shared a companionable laugh and, after Edith retrieved her bowl, walked with Thrud, chatting all the way about the basic of sword handling. She was so engrossed in the conversation that she did not notice someone approaching her until said person shouted in her ear making her shriek with fright.

"Leif!" she said breathlessly, clutching at her hammering heart.

Leif Erikson, slave turned warrior in Olaf's army, laughed in delight, as did a group of men she could only assume were the party Thrud was leading into the market. She punched him in the arm and he pretended it hurt. The explorer got a taste of his own medicine when his sight settled on Thrud. He gave a shout and tripped, falling flat on his rear. The men laughed even harder at that.

"Thrud! By the gods, I almost didn't recognize ya."

Thrud crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Get up, will you? We have a mission to do."

He grinned and jumped to his feet, saying, "Up and ready!"

Thrud rolled her eyes.

You will be careful, won't you?" Edith said before they could leave.

Leif grinned at her. "Aw, don't worry little sister. We're always careful." He grasped her by the shoulders and smacked a kiss right between her eyebrows. She scrunched up her face and finally he let go.

"Leif, let's go," Thrud called.

Leif petted her head, much to her annoyance. "Pray for me," he said and left to catch up with the others.

Edith knew he doesn't really mean it. It was just a thing they had going on, like an inside joke.

He doesn't know that she does pray. She prays every time.

The hand is a delicate structure, Sindri has come to learn.

It's not as simple as connecting finger to finger, but to allow them to be separate and joined at the same time with all the flexibility and fluidity of a real one. Out of all the things he has created, a hand had to be the most detailed and difficult to craft.

That was why he was hunched over his work table, sweat dripping from his brow as he carefully and painstakingly slowly connected a metal tendon in the knuckle area of the metal hand. He wished he can take a break but if it were his brother doing this, the brute would take a hammer and beat at it and claim that it is done.

No, it had to be Sindri working on the finer points of their latest project. He, after all, had the skill for more, let's say, 'advanced' metal crafting. And don't let his brother say otherwise!

His concentration was a vital part for their success.

It was why he almost had a heart attack when a loud, grating noise cut through the air, disturbing his focus. He let out a rush of air, immensely frustrated. It sounded like the entrance doors sliding open.

"Oh, Thor in a dress! Who in all the realms could that be?" he grumbled to his brother.

"I'll go check it out," Brok said and left his place behind the forge. "Hey! You ain't supposed to be in here, ya hear? This place is off limits so fuck off!"

A familiar laugh echoed down the hall, freezing Sindri in place, his mind going stark blank.

"You haven't change one bit, have you Brok?"

It was her voice. It was unmistakably, undeniably, her voice.

"By the braided hairs of Odin's butthole, Prudr, is that you?"

"Who else, ya halftroll!"

A commotion broke out. Sindri silently made his way around the forge and hid behind a table. He peeked around the corner and inhaled sharply.

It was Prudr. It was really her.

She and his brother clasped the other's arms and head butted each other.

"Prudr, where the fuck have you been?" Brok said as soon as they released arms. "Last I heard you ditched Asgard and fucked off into nowhere land."

"The first part is true. I did leave Asgard but I didn't go nowhere. I hanged around Midgard for a while but things happened and I decided to leave. I went overseas, traveled a bit. Got to meet new people, see new places. But enough about me, Brok, do you know you're blue?"

"Really? I never noticed," he snorted sarcastically. "I ain't blind, missy, at least not yet, I ain't! My brother claims I touched too much silver with my bare hands but that's an insult to my work ethics. A good smithy always use their gloves and I'm the best there is."

Without thinking, Sindri sprung up from his hiding place and declared, "That is not true!"

He froze when he and Prudr made eye contact.

The intensity in her eyes proved too much for him. His chest tightened and it became hard to breath.

He felt like he was going to faint.

He felt like he was going to throw up.

Sindri ducked behind the table and clamped a hand around his mouth. No, no, no don't you dare throw up in front of her, dammit! That would be the highlight of his day wouldn't it? Of course it would be just like him to embarrass himself in front of the goddess he hasn't seen in over, give or take, a hundred and six years, four months and seven days but who's counting, right?

"Sindri?" her voice called out to him.

Despite the churning in his stomach, Sindri gathered his wits and crept out from behind his hiding place. He stepped out into the open and opened his eyes.

Gods, there she was.

She hasn't changed one bit. Well, she looked more mature but other than that she was still the same old Prudr that used to come by his workshop whenever he and his brother were in Asgard. She always asked if they needed anything, did retrieval quests for them with her brothers, or simply hanged out and talked with them. He always thought she would get bored of them, of him, but she never stopped visiting.

Remembering those times resurfaced old feelings Sindri had spent years trying to squish down, to forget, because with those feelings came the bad ones. A reminder of what happened all those years ago.

"Hello, Sindri," Prudr said softly, a faint smile on her lips.

It hurt to look at her. Sunlight streamed from the open doors, lighting her up in a fiery halo, and when the light hit her just right, her hair glowed bright, just like her mother's.

He dared to look her in the eyes and his heart skipped a beat. "Hello, Prudr."

A silence filled the room. It wasn't awkward or tense like Sindri had feared. It was just... there. It felt right, not to say anything. It was peaceful. Prudr always had a way of making him feel like that. She was the 'live in the moment' type of person and not the 'worry every second of the future' kind of person like he was.

Brok made an obnoxiously loud disgusted noise and threw his hands into the air, startling them from their reverie. "Ugh, you two make me wanna hurl," he muttered, returning to his forge and continuing his hammering.

That peaceful quiet moment passed and the weight of the situation he was in came bearing down on Sindri.

He wrung his hands, helplessly hopeless. "Prudr, how- how have you been? It's been a long time since..." Sindri bit his lip and wanted to hit himself in the face. Stupid, stupid! Why did he have to bring that up? What is wrong with his brain? Oh great, now he's ruined everything and now she's going to hate him if she hasn't already.

"I've been doing better," she replied and there wasn't any venom to her tone. She nodded towards the forge and his brother. "I see the Huldra Brothers are back together. That's good, you guys make the best weapons together."

"Y-yes, we are..." he trailed off and frowned, "How did you know we separated?"

She blinked and glanced away. "Well, after I left Asgard I searched for you two but I found out that you guys parted ways and no one has seen either of you two ever since."

"You were looking for me?" Sindri asked quietly, staring up at her with round, hopeful eyes.

Prudr opened and closed her mouth as Sindri waited eagerly for what she was going to say next. A loud bang made him jump.

"She was looking for both of us you numb skull," Brok snarked as he took a cloth and wiped at a piece of dirty metal. He threw it down and pointed at Prudr with a wrench. "Now this has been such a 'lovely' reunion but my brother and I got work to do so either you got something that needs fixing or get your immortal booty out of here."

"Brother!" Sindri exclaimed, completely and utterly mortified.

Prudr laughed and reached behind her back and pulled out what looked to be a simple, metal rod. She tossed it onto the table as well as a huge leather pouch that made a clinking noise as it landed next to Brok.

Brok grabbed the rod and inspected it while Sindri wandered next to him and picked up the heavy pouch. He untied it and scooped up a pile of metal chunks and showed it to his brother.

"The hammer you made me. It broke."

"Shut your mouth," Brok gasped as if she had just cursed his mother. "Our weapons never break. What did you do to it?" He clutched the rod possessively and stared at her accusingly.

Prudr placed her hands on her hips. "You know that big tall guy, white skin, red tattoo, always has something up his ass. I knocked him out with my hammer. Turns out it was a bad idea."

Sindri pressed the baggie to his chest, "Are you okay? He didn't try to hurt you, did he?"

"I'm fine. He was under a spell and I had to knock him out so he wouldn't hurt anyone else."

Sindri let out a sigh of relief and grinned. "Well, Kratos can be a bit hard headed... " he paused and chortled. "Get it? 'Hard-headed'"

Prudr giggled and it did funny things to his heart.

Brok groaned. "Why are you laughing? It ain't funny."

They were interrupted by a masculine voice calling from the entrance.

"Hey, Thrud! What's taking so long? We gotta go!"

Sindri leaned over the desk to get a better look at this mystery person. It was a strapping young man, your typical warrior adventurer type-esque. But the most important part was that he was handsome and manlier looking than Sindri could ever be.

Bitterly in his mind, he couldn't help but think that this man was the type of person Thor would have approved of...

"I'll be out soon, Leif. Wait outside," Prudr yelled and the man disappeared from view.

Sindri scrambled back to avoid being caught looking.

Prudr took out a baggie of gold and began shifting through it. "So, what do I owe you two to make me a new hammer?"

"Oh! Oh no." Sindri shook his head. "Our services will always be free for you and I won't hear otherwise."

Brok made a disgruntled noise and Prudr pushed her hair back behind one ear.

"Thank you, Sindri. That's very generous of you. I do have one special request, if that is alright with you guys."

Sindri slipped into his business persona. "Sure, let's hear it."

"When you make the hammer, can you make it so I can call it back to me? I realized that would come in very handy for a lot of situations. But can you make it that it only listens to me?"

"No problem. That is our specialty. We would require a small portion of your blood though, so we can infuse it into the metal."

"Here," she said and stuck out her hand.

Sindri cringed, leaning back. "Uh.."

"Here I got it," Brok grumbled and used a knife to cut the palm of her hand. Sindri covered his mouth and nose as blood dripped down into a bowl. The cut didn't last for long as it healed up almost instantaneously; the perks of being a god, he suspected.

"Thanks," Prudr said and rubbed the blood from her hand, something Sindri had to look away from in fear of puking. "When do you think I can stop by and pick it up?"

Sindri waved his hand. "You don't have to walk all the way over here again. I can come to you."

"Really? Are you sure? I live in the camp and there's a lot of people-"

"No, no it's fine." He gritted his teeth at the thought of walking into a camp filled with dirty, close quartered people. "It's really no big deal."

Prudr raised a brow. "Okay. If you're ever there, ask one of the guards on duty to take you to Thrud. That's my mortal name. Can't have them knowing I'm a god, right?"

"Right," Sindri agreed, his palms sweating over the anticipation of going to the camp. He wasn't there yet and he was already nervous.

"Oh, and you don't have to worry about anyone squatting in the temple. This place is your space, I've made sure of that."

Relief flooded him. "Thank you, Prudr. You don't know how relieved I am to hear that."

She smiled kindly. "I do. That's why I did it." She sighed and glanced towards the doors. "I got to go. We're clearing out the old market and my men want to get it over with already."

Sindri pursed his lips. "Be careful. You don't know what icky horrible creatures could have moved in over the century."

"That's exactly what I thought. But no one listens to us."

"No one," Sindri added with a chuckle that faded into an awkward silence. He cleared his throat. "Well, safe travels and I will have your hammer done as soon as possible."

Prudr gazed at him, making him uncomfortable. "Goodbye, Sindri. It was nice seeing you again."

"Yes, um, yes it was very nice seeing you, too."

Her eyes flickered behind him. "See you later, Brok."

"Yeah, whatever," came his usual reply.

She smirked and looked back at Sindri.

Say something you idiot. But no words left his lips.

She smiled tightly and walked away. His stomach dropped with each foot step until she was out the door and gone.

Why didn't you say anything?

"You're an idiot, you know that?" he heard Brok say.

Sindri sat down on the stool and slumped over the table, hiding his face inside his arms. "Yeah, I know," he mumbled miserably.

The person he's loved- still loves- shows up unexpectedly and he acts like a complete fool. Great.

He was glad she didn't bring up what happened, or perhaps that was his fear talking. He knows, deep down, that eventually he will have to talk to her about it or she will confront him about it. Either way, the conversation he has been dreading for over a hundred years, that made him run away like a coward, was bound to happen, whether he was ready or not.

Not only that, he has to deliver her hammer. Inside the camp. With all those people.

He should just bring a bucket.

He's going to need it.

Notes:

The idea of Sindri/Prudr came from the mythology of Alviss. He was a dwarf who wanted to marry Prudr but Thor didn't like that so he asked him questions to test him until the sun came up, turning Alviss into stone. Course, I changed things around with Sindri's version of the tale.

Low key ship those two for real. Thank for reading!