A Walk in Andante
God of War and all associated characters and interpretations are property of Sony Santa Monica. Kingdom Hearts and all associated characters are property of Disney and Square Enix.
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The hunt was successful. He'd caught a stag, his spear piercing straight into its neck, and three of the snares around his home held rabbits. He left the deer for the wolves, and skinned and drained the rabbits of blood, before cleaning himself and entering his home.
He found Mimir still propped up on the table, though Sora was sound asleep on Atreus's bed.
"Hello, Brother," Mimir greeted. "I sent Sora off to bed."
"I did not think he was so tired."
"Neither did I. But deep into our lovely discussion on the utter insanity that is his life, he was hit by a sudden wave of exhaustion—he was surprised too. Said something about him not needing to sleep in that Final World he was banished to. He wanted to stay up to at least say goodnight—or afternoon, I suppose—but I convinced him to get some rest."
Kratos grunted and moved closer to observe Sora. Freya had called him a child, and while the young man clearly didn't care for the word, he was young. Not much older than Atreus, if that.
"He's got quite the heavy weight chained to his heart," Mimir remarked. "Or would that be Heart?"
"Don't," Kratos replied. He left the two alone precisely because he didn't want to hear about such nonsense.
"Ach, don't be like that, Brother," Mimir said with a short chuckle. "It's actually very enlightening, if harrowing." He grew somber. "I can see why you'd not want to inform any of us of such things."
Kratos nodded at his friend and sat down to look him in the eyes. "You are sure you have heard nothing of other worlds and travel between them?"
"Not a whisper, in my homeland or here. Like I said, Odin and I debated the topic a few times, but it wasn't serious." He grew thoughtful. "On my end, at least."
"If Odin did know, he obviously hoarded the knowledge for himself."
"Of that, there can be no doubt." Mimir hummed. "Although…if he did know of their existence, he would have done his best to avoid interfering with other worlds, for fear of them interfering with this one—well, with the Realms, at least. It's why he hated when Tyr would travel beyond the Realms and bring back treasures from other lands. He saw threats everywhere, as you know."
"Odin was obsessed with the tear in reality," Kratos reminded his friend. "Something which could only look beyond the veil of this world."
"True," Mimir said. "But it was under his control. Locked away under his home, constantly under watch. And, as you told us, it wasn't like the otherworldly energies you've experienced before, right?" Kratos looked down with a grunt. That was correct; the tear and the mask associated with it were not like the portals and magics to other worlds he'd used before. What it truly was, he couldn't say, but it was gone now, so, ultimately, Kratos didn't care.
"Well then," Mimir drawled, drawing Kratos back to the present. "Off to Muspelheim tomorrow?"
"You don't need to come," Kratos replied. "I know that recent events have interfered with your time with Sigrún." Kratos was honestly happy that his friend's bond with his love had endured despite their long separation and his diminished state. What he would give to spend another moment with Faye. With…With Lysandra.
Mimir scoffed and shifted his gaze to Sora, who slumbered with all the ease of a newborn babe. "And let that treasure trove of information slip through my hands—er, teeth? Not a chance!"
Kratos arched a brow. "You understand that information?"
Mimir faltered. "W-Well, not at the moment, no—wipe that grin off your face! I'm still the Smartest Man Alive!"
"That remains to be seen," Kratos said with a chuckle.
"Still smarter than you," Mimir jeered good-naturedly.
"Yes. That is why you lack a body, while I have kept mine."
"That's a low blow, and you know it."
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It was almost startingly easy to forget that a Keyblade wielder from another world was sleeping in his house. When Kratos himself finally heeded the call for rest—and set Mimir on a stool with a pillow—he startled at the sight of Sora sprawled out on his son's bed.
Truly, he looked so young. He wondered if he was naturally so, or the Keyblade's magics let him retain his youth. Considering his excitability, however, Kratos had to assume Sora was indeed as young as he looked.
And with the power to utterly wipe out entire worlds with a simple wave of his hands.
Kratos climbed into bed with a sigh, deftly ignoring the paranoid thoughts running through his head. For all the danger Sora possessed, he had not threatened to use it, and that would earn him amnesty.
It was with that calming thought that he went to sleep. Unfortunately, his dreams were anything but calming.
He was plagued by memories. Memories of living blades that manipulated unwitting victims.
"I will show you the greatest Nightmare!"
A land whose gods regularly pit mortals against each other for control of their lands.
"You are nothing!"
A being made of jagged, razor-sharp crystals, capable of pulling countless hapless fools from across time and space to fight for his amusement.
"How can a pawn hope to challenge a king?"
Kratos awoke with a start, the Leviathan axe flying to his hands on reflex. It took a moment for the memories to subside, and for him to remember where he was.
Mimir grunted from his stool. "Now that's something I haven't seen from you. Are you alright, Brother."
Kratos took a deep breath, resting his axe across his lap. "Yes," he answered. "I was simply…lost in memories."
"What kinds?"
Kratos considered keeping silent. But if he could trust anyone, aside from his son, it was Mimir. Still, they did have an audience. Sparing a quick glance at the still sleeping Sora, Kratos picked up Mimir and walked outside. It was dark, but dawn was fast approaching.
He hung Mimir on a post and sighed. "I dreamt of my past travels to other worlds."
Mimir bobbed his head in understanding. "None too pleasant experiences, I take it?"
Kratos stared out into the night sky. At the stars and worlds that lay beyond. "In the moment, it was almost…fun. As much as I allowed myself to have, back then. But upon my return to this world, when I was given time to breath, to think, it was all so…" He trailed off.
"Utterly terrifying?" Mimir supplied.
"Yes," Kratos said with a slow nod.
"Aye, I can imagine. I mean, the things I'm just hearing about from Sora are enough to give me the willies. Creatures born of dark magics that utterly violate your body and soul to breed more of their rank." He shuddered. "I thought being slain by a Soul Devourer was a rough way to go."
"All the more reason we need to send Sora on his way as soon as possible."
"And if we can't?" Mimir asked, staring Kratos straight in his eyes. "If he's stuck here?" Kratos didn't want to think about that. The longer Sora stayed, the greater the odds were that the Heartless or whatever other creatures seeking to eliminate him would appear. Or that people with malicious intent would hear of the Keyblade and try to take it from him by force.
And Kratos was unsure he could defeat a Keyblade wielder in combat. Sora looked unassuming, but so had Baldur, and he was one of the toughest opponents Kratos had ever faced, even after his lost his invulnerability—due to pure chance, he might add—and grew reckless.
And that was with the magics from this world. He didn't want to think about what otherworldly magics Sora possessed.
"…Well, we can worry about that should it come to pass," Mimir said, breaking the silence. "Right now, the question we should be asking is which of us is going to wake Sora? I swear, I've only ever seen children and the infirmed sleep so soundly."
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Atreus stirred awake to the sound of soft, rhythmic panting. With great reluctance, he cracked an eye open, to see Fenrir, low to the ground, looking down at Atreus expectantly.
"Fenrir," he groaned, turning over and screwing his eyes shut. "It's way too early to play." Unfortunately, his pet disagreed. He shuffled forward and poked Atreus with his nose. Now, if Fenrir were a normal-sized wolf, at most Atreus's shirt with get a little wet. But Fenrir, thanks to Atreus, was a giant-sized wolf. As such, that little poke not only got his entire back wet but shoved him face-first into the ground.
"Alright, alright!" Atreus rose to his feet with a groan. "I'm up." Fenrir, the silly old mutt, just stared at Atreus expectantly, tongue lolling out of his mouth. "Oh, don't look so happy."
A soft peal of laughter instantly cut through his irritation. Angrboda stepped up from behind Fenrir, the morning sun shining through her dark hair. Blood rushed to Atreus's ears, his heart beating so fast it was skipping every other beat. She'd only grown prettier since they first met. And taller. He barely reached her chin, and while Atreus had always hoped to one day grow as tall and muscular as his father, he didn't really mind being shorter than Angrboda.
"…ki? Loki? Are you still asleep?" Atreus jerked backwards as, suddenly, Angrboda's face was right in front of him. Thankfully, she darted her hand out and grabbed him by the arm before he could fall. "Woah! You really are tired."
Atreus pulled away, face flaming. "No, I'm good! I'm good!" Angrboda said nothing, lips curling into an impish smirk.
"Are you sure?" she leaned in closer, their lips inches apart. "You're looking a little hot under the collar." Atreus hated when she did this—she knew he was out of it for a bit when he woke up. Still, he'd regained his bearings, so he could perform some revenge.
Quick as a flash, he darted forward and kissed her deeply. When she tried to press their bodies together, he slipped back, but kissed her chin, and finally her neck. Now, she was caught on the backfoot, stammering and blushing up a storm.
"Are you okay?" Atreus teased. "You're looking a little hot yourself." He emphasized his words by looking her up-and-down and waggling his eyebrows.
Angrboda scowled at him—though it had little heat. "You're way too good at that," she grumbled as she led Fenrir away. He chuckled to himself as he gathered his bow and quiver.
He stepped outside Angrboda's hut to find her in the middle of a conversation with a couple deer—well, a couple deer with the souls of giants inside them. By the time Atreus approached, Angrboda was shaking her head, and the deer pranced away.
"What's up?" he asked.
"They were just telling me that none of the other giants—the one's that remember themselves, at least—know anything about travelling to other worlds." She sent him a bemused smile.
Atreus held his hands up. "Hey, if my father says it's possible, I'm going to believe him." She nodded at that.
Her eyes soon fell to Fenrir, who was chewing on a log. "Hey, what about using Fenrir?"
Atreus winced, remembering the chaos Garm had caused in Helheim. "Let's put that in the 'probably not' pile." He looked up at the sun. The flow of time between each realm wasn't exactly one-to-one, but they were all generally close enough. By his count it was just about dawn in Midgard.
"I should go, don't want to leave father waiting."
"Alright. Give me a bit to get my things."
Atreus arched a brow as Angrboda went back into her hut. "Wait, you're coming with me?"
"Well, duh!" She poked her head up with an amused grin. "You think I'm going to pass up the chance to meet the guy that's got your dad—who's only objection to fighting all of Asgard was that you might get hurt in the process—freaked out?" He had to admit, she had a point. Even if he didn't still see what the big deal was. Sure, Sora could destroy the world, but so could Fenrir if he tried. Or Jörmungandr, who should be able to eat the world once he got big enough. And neither of them got his father all bent out of shape. Hell, back when they first left home his father had been prepared to fight, and kill, Jörmungandr, even after learning about his world-ending potential. And that same man—who, like Angrboda said, only objected to fighting all Asgard to keep Atreus safe—was wary of a guy who didn't look old enough to grow a beard.
It was weird, to say the least.
Angrboda returned minutes later—and Atreus tried not to get distracted at the way the loose locks of her hair swayed in the breeze. Fenrir nosing his back and making him stumble kept him from making a fool of himself.
He turned around and scratched Fenrir's cheek. "Don't worry boy, we'll be back soon."
"I know I will," Angrboda said, scratching the other side of Fenrir's face. "Knowing Atreus, he'll end up getting himself lost in another world."
"I don't get lost!" Atreus protested.
Angrboda peeked over Fenrir's nose with a skeptical expression. "Remind me exactly how you entered and exited Jotunheim the first time around."
Atreus grinned. "Hey, I found you, didn't I?" Angrboda ducked away with a blush.
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Whenever Atreus stepped into Tyr's temple and heard the clanging of metal on metal, he had to stop himself from calling out to either Brok or Sindri. "Hey there…Lúnda," he said, wincing at his stumble.
Thankfully, if she noticed, she didn't say anything. She stopped her work to wave at them as the realm portal crumbled behind them. "Well, howdy there Atreus, Angrboda! What're you two doing here today?" She snapped her fingers. "Oh, duh, you're here 'cause of that stranger Lady Freya told me about!" She reached under her desk and pulled out two sets of armor. "Here we are. Extra protection from the fiery goodness of Muspelheim!"
Atreus ran his hands over the smaller set with a wide grin. It felt cool to the touch and bore snowflake sigils over the breast and shoulder plates. "Thanks, Lúnda," he said as he stripped off his current set and donned the new one.
"So," Lúnda drawled. "Lady Freya didn't give me any details about this stranger beyond a name and a need to enter Muspelheim."
Atreus made to answer, only for the door to the temple to slam open. Atreus turned to see his father walk in.
"Angrboda, Lúnda," father greeted each with a nod.
"Morning!" Angrboda replied.
"You're looking as fine as ever, Kratos," Lúnda called out. Atreus resisted the urge to turn to the dwarf in mild disgust—really? While he was standing right there?
His father just grunted, looking down at the armor Lúnda made for him. He started putting it on. "Thank you. I am aware that this was brought to you without notice."
"Aw, shucks!" Lúnda waved a hand. "Anything for you and Lady Freya."
Atreus looked past his father. "Where's Sora?" He looked down at his father's bare hip. "And Mimir? And why'd you take the long way? I figured you'd be waiting for us."
His father's face scrunched up in mild distaste. "First, Sora saw the wolves, and after being assured of their kind demeanor, insisted on petting them. Once that ended, Mimir insisted on taking the long way to further question Sora on his travels. And then Sora caught sight of Jörmungandr and stared at it in awe as Mimir took the chance to restore his wounded pride and regale Sora with what knowledge he does possess."
"Jörmungandr's awake?" Atreus said excitedly. Even after Fimbulwinter winter ended, the World Serpent still slept. He'd wanted to talk with it ever since he found out he and Angrboda, inadvertently, created the creature. Did that make them parent and child? It was weird and Atreus really wanted to get everything straight.
"Oh yeah!" Lúnda answered, returning to her work. "Damn thing shaking itself lose made me fall on my butt and ruin a perfectly good mace I was hammering into shape. Happened a little after that weird energy your new friend's the cause of shocked us all."
Angrboda hummed. "Well, if anyone's going to know about traveling through space-time, it'd be Jörmungandr."
"They are not speaking with the creature," Kratos said. "Its head is too far away from the temple, and Sora is eager to enter Muspelheim." He let out a disgruntled huff. "Though you would not think it."
Before Atreus could comment on his father's mood, the door to the temple opened once more. Then entered Sora, Mimir held in his hands, eyes wide as he gazed around the temple.
"Oh!" Angrboda gasped. "Atreus, you didn't say he was so cute!"
Atreus's brain stalled. "…What?"
"Sora," Angrboda said. "He's cute."
Atreus spluttered. "Wha—what do you mean cute!"
Angrboda shrugged. "He's nice to look at."
"Nice to 'look at'?" he incredulously repeated.
"She's right, hun," Lúnda spoke up. "I got an eye for that sorta thing, and that boy is a cutie." She eyed his father. "Course, I prefer a man with meat on his bones myself."
"I like 'em skinny," Angrboda replied.
Atreus groaned and pressed a hand to his face. "I don't need to hear this." To his side, his father just chuckled.
Thankfully, Sora and Mimir had reached them before either Angrboda or Lúnda could make his skin crawl straight off his body. "Hey Atreus!" Sora greeted with cheer. He looked at Angrboda and Lúnda. "Who're your friends?"
"Nice to meet you," Angrboda said, far too happily in Atreus's opinion. "I'm Angrboda." Lúnda said nothing, simply walking around her workbench and moving up to Sora with a mystified expression.
Sora stepped back. "Uh…hi?"
That broke the dwarf from her shock. "Hm? Oh! I'm terribly sorry about that. I'm Lúnda. I maintain all the lovely gear that Atreus and Kratos are showing off." She poked Sora's belly. "But I'm far more interested in these fancy furs you got on ya. Got all sorts of magic on 'em I've never seen!"
"Oh!" Sora handed Mimir over to Father and tugged at his sleeves. "That's probably because they're blessed with fairy magic."
"Fairies!" Mimir shouted, startling everyone—even Father. "You know fairies?!"
"Yeah, a few," Sora said simply. "They're really nice."
"Really nice?" Mimir repeated. "To a mortal?"
"Well, three of them tried to sell me and my friends out to Maleficent, but they apologized and joined our side in the end."
"Apologized!" Mimir looked as if he'd swallowed something sour. "Unprompted?"
"Yeah. Even gave me an…okay weapon."
"And they gave you a gift?" Mimir scoffed. "Who are these fey and where can I find them?"
"Enough!" Father sternly bit out before Sora could say anything else. "We are wasting time." With that said, he attached Mimir to his waist, and stalked towards the temple's bridge gates. Sora shrugged and followed, Lúnda trailing after him.
Atreus turned to Angrboda. "Want me to send you home?"
"Nah, I think I'll head to a couple of the mortal villages first, see what kinds of paints they have." She leaned down and pressed a kiss against his cheek. But before she pulled away, she whispered into his ear. "By the way, Sora may be cute, but you're more my style."
Atreus flushed and tried to hide his smile. "O-Oh, don't worry, I knew that!"
Angrboda pulled back with a chuckle. "Sure, you did." She walked—no, sashayed—away, and Atreus followed her until she reached the door.
"Atreus!"
The young man jolted at his father's bellow, hastily scrambling towards him. His father's annoyed expression set his ears aflame, and Mimir and Lúnda's chuckles didn't help. But Sora…he just stared at Atreus with a bitter, melancholic expression.
"Hey," Atreus said to Sora when he caught up to them. "You okay?"
Sora shrugged. "Yeah. Just…remembering." Before Atreus could prod further, Father opened the door, and led them inside. And right in the face of two of Freya's shield-maidens, Kara and Ròta.
After Ragnarök—specifically, blowing Gjallarhorn and opening all the realm gates at once—the temple's gates remained open. In theory this would allow all the people of the realm to freely enter and exit to share knowledge and splendor. In practice it allowed all sort of hapless creatures the chance to wander out of their homes and damage other realms' ecosystems. To say nothing of people with malicious intent, not liking the new sense of cooperation spreading through the realms.
As such, Freya's shield-maidens took charge of keeping such creatures in their home realms. No one really wanted to do it, so it was something of a game for them to pawn the job off to each other.
"General," the two said, bowing at Father. He grunted in greeting, and strode past them to the Muspelheim gate, where Freya and Tyr stood waiting.
"Woah!" Sora exclaimed in wonder at the sight of the world tree—a facsimile, at least—in the center. "What's that?"
"Yggdrasil—the World Tree," Mimir replied. "The organism that connects all the realms and allows travel between them." He clicked his tongue. "Ah, there's a thought! Why not use the World Tree in your endeavor to open a portal to another world, Sora?"
"Absolutely not!" a posh voice shouted.
Sora jumped and whirled around. "Who was that?"
"Me!" The voice called out. They followed it to see a giant squirrel, in green clothe, with an eyepatch over his left eye, climbing down the copy in the center of the room. "And I cannot allow you to use the World Tree to commit whatever violations you desire." He scurried before them, glaring up at them, Sora specifically, with his good eye.
Sora hummed and bent as best he could to meet the squirrel's eyes. "Oh, that's fine. Who are you, though?"
"I am Ratatoskr," the squirrel said with a flourish. "I tend to the World Tree, and occasionally converse with it. And it had quite a lot to say about you, my spiky-haired friend."
"Oh?" Sora frowned. "What did it have to say?"
"It said—and do pardon my language, I was expressly told to relay the words exactly—that you all needed to ensure that, and I quote, 'That weapon of mass destruction gets the fuck off this world as soon as fucking possible'." They all stared at the squirrel in shock. "Again, its words, not mine."
Sora rose to his feet with a nervous chuckle. "Well, not the first time I've been told to leave a world—but certainly the most forceful way." Sora glanced at the tree in the center of the room. "Uh…could you tell it that I'm working on it?"
"Of course, so long as the message is understood." He bowed. "Farewell, Master Kratos, Atreus, Mimir… Lúnda."
"Rat," Lúnda replied.
Atreus stared in bewilderment at the two. "Wait, what?"
"She knows what she did," Ratatoskr spat before climbing back up the tree. They all looked at Lúnda, who just harrumphed and turned her head up. It was then that Freya and Tyr, the former having run out of patience, no doubt, strode over to them.
Tyr stared at Sora with undisguised awe. "Greetings, Keyblade wielder, I am Tyr." He took a deep breath. "To think, I would see one of your kind with my own eyes."
Sora grinned at Tyr. "You've heard of the Keyblade?"
"Only the barest of rumors." He nodded at Father. "Much less than Kratos has, by all accounts. And to think, he's traveled to other worlds! When would have you told me, my friend?"
"Never," Father replied, walking past him.
Tyr didn't take it personally, merely laughing. "As terse as always!" He swallowed and turned bashfully to Sora. "Begging your pardon, but if it's not too much trouble, may I…see the Keyblade?"
"Ooh!" Lúnda squealed, pushing forward to stand beside Tyr. "You talking about that magic weapon of yours? I wanna see!"
Sora looked at the eager war god and just-as-eager dwarf. His lips curled into a sly grin. "Sure," he said. He held out his hand, and his Keyblade appeared in a flash of light. He flipped it in his hands, holding the hilt out to Tyr. "Here! You can hold it."
Tyr collected the weapon in trembling hands. Atreus still didn't see what the big deal was—it was an overgrown key.
"Woah!" Lúnda exclaimed, grabbing onto the weapon's 'blade'. "Now this is a magic weapon!"
"Stop that!" Tyr scolded the dwarf as he lifted it out of her hands. "This isn't some stick you can drool over like your pet would!"
"How dare you! Helka doesn't drool, she salivates!"
Sora just rolled his eyes and walked over to Father, Mimir and Freya. Atreus was right behind him. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked, staring back at the pair; Lúnda had started climbing Tyr to get at the Keyblade.
"It's fine," Sora replied off-hand as they reached the others.
Freya stared at Lúnda and Tyr with exasperation. "You'd think they were children…" She shook her head and arched a brow at Sora. "You're sure you're ready to enter Muspelheim? It's…hot, to put it lightly."
"I'm good. I got these!" Sora reached into his coat and pulled out three small items. The first was a red bracelet with horned, silver skulls at ends, which he clasped onto his left wrist. The second was a chain with eight red, swirling links, which he put on right above his crown necklace. The third was some kind of pin—it looked like some sort of red hat on fire, an oddly shaped black line going right down the middle of a white background—that he placed on his collar.
Sora sent Freya a thumbs-up. "All set!"
Freya pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to Father. "Please, don't let him get killed."
"Hey!" Sora protested.
"That is not my concern," Father replied.
"Whatever," Sora said irritably. "Can we go now?" He walked past them all to the Muspelheim gate.
Atreus called out. "Uh, Sora?" The young man turned with an arched brow. "Aren't you forgetting something?" He gestured to Lúnda and Tyr, who had entered a surprisingly even tug-of-war battle over the Keyblade.
Sora chuckled. "I haven't." He held up right hand. The Keyblade vanished in a flash, causing Lunda and Tyr to crash into each other. Less than a second later, the Keyblade reappeared in Sora's hands. "See? All good!" He started walking forward, only to pause once more.
He looked over his shoulder. "Hey, are we gonna run into any trouble in there? Like, fire creatures or something?"
Father replied, "The creatures of Muspelheim shall be of no issue for us."
Sora shrugged. "Still, better safe than sorry." He flicked he wrist, and once more his weapon vanished in a flash of light. The next moment, however, bubbles of water appeared out of thin air around his hand. Sora clenched his fist, and a new weapon formed in his hands.
This one looked like someone tore apart different parts of a ship and slapped them all together in the vague shape of a weapon. At the end of the hilt was a small chain, and a token of two keys connected on a ring at the end of it.
"There's more than one!" Lúnda shouted. She tried to rush forward, but Tyr grabbed her by her shirt, keeping her in place.
Sora chuckled and stepped forward into Muspelheim with a whistle.
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A/N: I still think the best scene in KH2 was when Sora let Captain Jack Sparrow 'have' the Keyblade, only for it to return to his hands not five seconds later.