"He doesn't know anything."
The threadbare mattress squeaked under the effect of dry blood as Atreus re-adjusted his sedentary position, his legs left dangling about just a short distance above the obsidian stone. The random scraps of wood and stone above flames were just enough to keep their wooden shack heated, the mild torridness blazing into his face.
"Why did I expect it to be any different now that she's..."
Slowly swaying his head towards the twin beds just near his, an audible sigh gave out under his frown as he stared at the pillow closer to the wall barely keeping together. He could see her mother sleeping, her chest rising and falling with each breath. Bordering near her was his father, his eyes set on the ceiling and his arms rested under his head. They looked peaceful, almost like a functional family. His father could be quite jarring at times, but he still awaited the night where he could watch the two of them sleep together, their breaths sometimes synced.
But the somber reality was quick to take over. The figure of her mother slowly dissolved into thin air, only leaving a vacant bed in her place never to be filled again. Except for her ashes maybe. The smoking vapor seeped through the door left ajar, acting only as an irritant stench for Atreus. He didn't like the notion of smelling that for the rest of the day, but they were the remains of her mother, and he very much doubted that his father would take him out for hunting anytime soon.
That was another matter that needed a few minds pondering questions about it. The forest. All the Draugr they faced just to hunt down a single deer was in baffling numbers. Deer weren't that far away from their house, and even if they were, Draugr would be much farther away from them. He noticed the change right after his father cut down the last tree they needed in order to honor his mother. The trees somehow felt different, more sinister and mysterious. They no longer had the sparkling joy that upheaved even the most angry soul in a good mood. He felt nothing as his father fiercely drove his axe through them, only seeing them as honoring equipment for her mother instead of living beings. He no longer breathed with them.
"You lost control."
The abrupt voice of Kratos, his father, snapped him out of his stupor. His looming figure stood before him, his eyes locked into his with intent. In his hand was a pouch, the contents inside easily guessed by the stench they gave off. Ashes. They must've burned while they were out hunting. He turned back towards his father, striking the words he spoke through his mind again to formulate an answer. He was talking about the troll they fought earlier, about how he wasn't ready and all that. He thought they could put that behind them, but his father apparently disagreed.
"That thing was trying to kill us. It's not like you don't get angry in a fight."
He reflected back on the words of his father. "Everything is different, boy." Everything felt different, but he lost count of how many times his father came home with scars all over his body, collapsing near the fire and claimed that he chased after wolves. He believed him for a bit, but the amount of times he came home with an almost severed limb... Wolves couldn't do that to him even if they tried to. It had to be trolls, even if his father outright denied it when he asked him.
"Anger can be a weapon."
Atreus chuckled at his words. Then why did he get angry at him when he made sure the troll stayed dead?
"If you control it. Use it. You clearly cannot."
Talk about hypocrisy, he thought. His father came home fuming with hate and anger after his often visits out into the woods, often covered with blood and guts. He was in no place to lecture him about that. He was probably just worried about him being sick again, but the sickness hadn't returned in a long, long time. What were the chances he'd get sick now?
"When you lose-"
"I haven't been sick in a long time. I'm better now."
During the times where the sickness was still dominant over him, he was unable to walk, often went unconscious out of nowhere, and had intense fevers rise up after boiling up even a lick of anger. No one in the family knew why the sickness was correlated with his emotions, but it happened. It was just a matter of convincing his father that he was able to fend for himself, and didn't need babysitting or training anymore.
"Fine."
Kratos took a few steps forward, knelt down in the same level as his son, and raised both of his hands to face him. His anger might not be that prominent, but his stubborn nature definitely was.
"Come on then."
This was the best way to demonstrate how easily his anger showed itself. He wasn't going to win the argument with just words.
"You want me to hit you?"
"I want you to try."
This should've been the hint that made Atreus realize his father was luring him into a trap, but he hesitated only for a moment before straightening his composure and thrust a fist towards his father, only for his fist to get painfully blipped away by Kratos' hand.
"Ow! What are you-"
"Try again."