Apprehension

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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"Uh…oops?" Sora said with a bashful chuckle. That action, Kratos noted, ramped up the sense of horror permeating the room. Cutting of a realm, let alone two, from the World Tree was one thing. For it to be done by mistake…No wonder even the Polygon Man had wanted nothing to do with the Keyblade.

"Oops?" Ratatoskr repeated, incredulous and furious. "Oops?! I'll show you oops you motherf—mmhphmhhp!" Tyr clasped a hand over the squirrel's mouth.

"Hey take it easy!" Sora summoned his Keyblade. "I'll unlock them, geez." Again, the casual way he spoke did nothing to ease the tension in the room.

Atreus, however, did find the nerve to break through it. "Have you forgotten about the pissed off primordial being that's after us?"

Sora considered the question, before shrugging and holding up his Keyblade. "We can take her."

That broke through Freya. "Your confidence is astounding," she noted with a hefty dose of disbelief.

Sora looked over his shoulder with a smile. "Hey, you fight one godly-being, you've fought 'em all, right?"

"That has been my experience," Kratos replied.

"You're insane," Freya declared at the same time, glaring at both him and Sora.

"Gah!" Try suddenly exclaimed, letting Ratatoskr go and waving his right hand. "He bit me!"

At the same time, Ratatoskr bounded towards Sora. "Don't do anything you insufferable oaf!"

Sora backed away before the large squirrel could ram into him. "Hey, I'm trying to fix it!"

Ratatoskr gestured angrily at Sora. "The World Tree has just experienced an unspeakable trauma because of your actions." His face twisted into a hissing snarl. "Performing the same, if opposite, action shall not be 'fix it', I can assure you of that!"

Sora's face fell and looked back to the copy of the World Tree with a guilty expression. He turned back to Ratatoskr and bent down to look him in the eye. "I'm sorry," Sora said. "I didn't know, I just wanted to help my friends."

Kratos blinked at the declaration. 'Friends?' they barely knew each other. Still, Sora's voice rang with such confidence…How long had it been since someone so readily and openly declared Kratos a friend of theirs? Not even Mimir had been so open when they first met.

Ratatoskr took a deep breath and relaxed a touch. "I'd be better if you had nothing to apologize for but…I appreciate it. The World Tree won't, but it's surly on the best of days anyway."

Sora nodded. "How can I help, then?"

The keeper of the World Tree shook his head. "I am unsure. I need to converse with the World Tree, but it is…preoccupied." He moved away from Sora towards the copy of the tree. "You are staying with Master Kratos, correct?" When Sora nodded, he added, "I shall find you once I've determined what the World Tree needs to recover."

"Can the Realms survive that long?" Mimir called out from Atreus's arms. "Niflheim and Muspelheim provide all the heat and cold for them all, no?"

"It's more complicated than that," Ratatoskr replied. "But with the residual energy from Asgard's destruction the Realms aren't in danger of collapse—for now. Otherwise, I'd demand the Keyblade Wielder reconnect them, regardless of the World Tree's health."

With a sharp nod to the rest of them, he leapt onto the copy of the World Tree, and climbed up into the darkness.

Sora clapped his hands after a moment of silence. "Well, I'm gonna go talk to that giant snake outside!"

"Wait a minute!" Freya called out. "You can't just leave!"

"Why not?" Sora asked. "I was specifically told to not do the only thing I can do to fix the mess I made. Unless you know of a way to heal the World Tree?"

Freya grit her teeth. "I do not."

"So, what, you want to just stand around and stare at walls until Ratatoskr comes back?"

She took a deep, steadying breath. "Of course not."

"So, what's the problem here?" Freya stared at Sora with wide eyes and flared nostrils.

Atreus hesitantly spoke up. "I, uh, planned to ask Jörmungandr if he knew anything about other worlds anyway." Sora exclaimed in victory and gestured happily to Atreus.

Freya turned to Kratos with a huff. "You don't let him out of your sight."

"Hey, I can take care of myself!" Sora protested.

"I promise," Kratos replied, raising a hand, and placing it comfortingly on Freya's shoulder. Her expression shifted to one of intense gratitude as she stepped back. He did feel bad for her, truly. Dealing with other worlds and their inhabitants could be a hassle. And aside from those three thieves ages ago, he'd never dealt with any on his home world, much less hosted one of them.

Sora rushed up beside them. "Yeah, yeah, cool." He grabbed Atreus by the arm. "C'mon, let's go!"

"Woah, hey, slow down!"

"Careful of the detached head, if you don't mind!" Mimir called out, jerking back-and-forth from his rope.

Kratos allowed himself a small smile as the three left the main chamber. It was comforting, he supposed, that the wielder of such a terrible thing as the Keyblade was such an agreeable youth. He could only imagine the destruction a malevolent individual could bring.

Freya pinched the bridge of her nose. "Sigrún, gather your sisters and patrol the other realms to see if there has been any more damage following this whole…mess." Sigrún nodded and started to converse with the shield-maidens in the chamber. "Tyr, come with me to Vanaheim. We need to research possible ways to heal the World Tree. I don't want to leave everything to Ratatoskr."

"Of course, Freya."

"Lúnda, I need you to—where'd she go?" Freya looked around the room.

"She followed after Sora, Atreus, and Mimir," Sigrún replied off-handedly.

Freya rolled her eyes. "Never mind, then. It can wait until she returns to Vanaheim." She turned to the closed Niflheim and Muspelheim portals. "I just hope there won't be any permanent damage when this is all over with."

"Even if there is," Tyr began, "I doubt it will affect much. Outside of the odd monster, Sinmara is the only person that lives in either realm. No one is in immediate danger."

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Sindri stared down at the forge's fire as he pumped the bellows, relishing in the heat it provided. A little hotter than strictly necessary, even for him, but it staved off the chill of Niflheim.

The icy realm was not one of Sindri's favorites. He never thought he'd come here again after…they…helped him in Ivaldi's workshop. But it was also the one realm that Brok hadn't spent much time in. A place where very few memories haunted Sindri.

He picked up a bit of Aegir's gold, tossing it into a crucible and shoving it into the forge. He wasn't sure what he was going to make with it—he had not real reason to create anything, anymore. But if he wasn't working, he would start thinking. And if he started thinking, he would start to grieve. And then what would he be doing?

Certainly not 'letting go' as his brother had told him. His final words, of all things.

Sindri's took a shuddering breath, clutching Brok's forging hammer in both hands. Fuck, why did it have to be that? Brok's last words should have been something crass, some regret over a lurid act he'd been unable to perform over the course of a long, long life. Not some, what, last piece of brotherly advice following a stab in the gut? In their own home? Done by the hands of someone that he'd thought he could trust, at the urging of people he'd once—

Sindri jerked back with a shuddering breath. That was close. He almost started thinking.

He looked back at the forge—the gold should be melted by now—only to balk as a cold gust of air blew it out.

Then, a soft, feminine voice spoke with the wind.

"You are one of the Huldra Brothers, are you not?"

Sindri ignored the stab to his heart and turned to face the voice. In an instant, he knew that the giant, snow-white woman with a hole showing off her beating, fiery heart was Sinmara, the last Frost Giant, and de facto ruler of Niflheim.

He sniffed. "The only Huldra Brother left, you mean."

"Oh, of course, my apologies." She spoke with so much sincerity Sindri actually appreciated it. "In any case, I require your services."

He let out a bitter chuckle. "Ignoring the fact that you snuffed out my forge, I don't do commissions anymore." He clenched his fists, face twisting into a sneer. "All it does is take away everything I ever cared about."

"I understand," Sinmara replied. "But this commission, it will you lead you to as much joy as me, I assure you."

"Really?" Sindri said with a scoff. Sinmara, however, took it for genuine interest.

"Yes! I need you to craft a device that will allow me to exit Niflheim with all my abilities intact."

"I fail to see how that will bring me joy."

Sinmara leant down, a wide grin on her icy face. "It is but a steppingstone to my true prize, the Keyblade."

Sindri arched a brow. "Key what?"

"Keyblade," Sinmara repeated. She rose back to her full height. "I'm not surprised you don't know of it—I only ever heard of them when this world was young." She placed a hand over her fiery heart. "But it is a wonderous, terrible weapon capable of a great many things." She looked up at him with a wide, shaky grin. "It can bring me my heart's greatest desire, I know it!"

Sindri took a big step away from her. "Then why don't you just get it?"

Sinmara's lips twisted into a frown. "It has an…owner. And I very much doubt he'll give it up without a fight."

Sindri rolled his eyes—great, now she wanted him to aid her in theft. But then a terrifying thought occurred, and he stared straight at Sinmara. "Wait a second; can't you leave Niflheim anytime you want? I mean, even if you're weaker in other realms compared to this one, aren't you still a Primordial Being with more raw strength than even Thor could have shaken Mjolnir at?"

"Yes," she smoothly replied.

"But you still want me to, somehow, craft you something that'll make it so that you'll have access to all your natural-born abilities outside of this realm?" Sindri let out an amused breath. "Isn't that overkill?"

"Not in the face of the Keyblade's wielder," Sinmara said, as serious as a grave.

Sindri blanched at her admission. "Well, now I'm even less inclined to help you. I don't need to get within sights of something that can make the likes of you worry." He turned away from her, only to yelp as she rose up from the ground before him like a reverse-icicle.

"You're missing the point!" she stressed, looming over him. "The Keyblade can do things the likes of us can only dream of! Traverse time and space with the ease of snapping your fingers." She placed a hand on his shoulder, gently, soft as a feather. "Imagine it! The ability to go back to a time, a world, where your brother still lives!"

Sindri's heart seized at the thought. Getting back Brok? He'd dreamed of such a thing every day since he'd lost him. If the idea came from anyone else, he would have dismissed them as insane. Well, he didn't like the look in Sinmara's eyes, but when a Primordial Being took the time to tell you something, they were usually right on the money. He could do it. He could get Brok back!

"Y'gotta let go."

Brok's dying words cut through the manic fog in Sindri's mind. He shook his head and stepped away from Sinmara. "No."

Her face slackened into a dead frown. "No?"

"Even if you're right, what'll that accomplish? My brother still died, and getting some…copy, or whatever won't change that." Sindri sniffled and turned to his forge. "I'm not helping you, so please, leave me alone." Sinmara didn't respond after that. If not for the unnatural chill in the air, even for Niflheim, he'd have though she left.

"I think," she said after a long moment, "you're misunderstanding something here." She snapped her fingers, and a sudden gale knocked Sindri into his forge face-first and pinned him in place. He saw her lean down out of the corner of his eyes, her icy-cold breath forming frost over his beard. "You will assist me in leaving this realm and getting what I desire."

Sindri grit his teeth—"Not happening, lady!"—and called upon his dwarven magic. He felt space crumple around him like paper and slipped through a crack in the Realms. Rather, he tried to. The minute he touched one of the familiar pathways, he was violently shoved back into Niflheim.

Sinmara chuckled. "Oh, did you not know? Niflheim has been cut off from the World Tree. It hurt like hell, let me tell you. It was probably the Keyblade Wielder—I can think of no other reason or person that could cause it." Sindri had no idea what the hell she was talking about, and he didn't care to hear more.

Space crumpled around him again, but instead of leaving the current realm, he just shifted to another place within it. He fell through a crack in space and landed in front of Ivaldi's workshop.

He rose on unsteady feet, clutching a hand over his chest. Only to scream as sharp shards of ice sprouted from the ground an entrapped him.

Sinmara's harsh chuckle sounded all around him. "Are you stupid?" She formed out of the mist in front of him, a bemused grin on her face. "Niflheim is my realm. I am it as much as it is me. There is no place you can run to that I cannot find."

She bore down on him, face twisted into a snarl. "You are going to help me," she hissed. "The only question is, will you do so with, or without your legs?"

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A/N: I cut this part off from the last chapter because I thought it was getting too long. Didn't realize how short this part would be, so I'm posting it sooner than I'd initially planned.