Always on my Mind

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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Father hummed appreciatively as he set down his bowl. "That was a very good meal." He nodded at Sora. "Your rat taught you well."

"Thanks. The hardest part was learning how to flambé." Father grunted inquisitively. "It's where you pour alcohol on food in a pan and light it on fire to, what was it called…ah, right! Caramelize the food."

"Sounds rather dangerous," Mimir noted.

"Oh, for sure. Lit my hair on fire more times than I care to admit." Sora chuckled sheepishly and scratched his cheek. "But honestly, I was more terrified when Uncle Scrooge found out how much alcohol I'd wasted and read me the riot act."

Father blinked. "I thought you said you did not learn from the rat on your home world?"

"Oh, Scrooge isn't my uncle, he's Donald's. But everyone calls him Uncle Scrooge—I guess 'cause he's so old. And rich." Sora's whistled lowly. "Like, obscenely rich. Donald told me that Scrooge has a giant vault somewhere with all the gold and treasures he collected over the years. Apparently, he likes to go swimming in it."

"Swimming?" Mimr asked. "In liquid gold?"

"No, solid gold coins."

"Well, now I have even more questions."

"He is a duck."

"I'm sorry," Atreus cut in from the other end of the table. "But how can you guys talk about all this stuff like it's normal?"

Sora tilted his head. "But it is normal." He spoke so sincerely that Atreus was genuinely unsure if he was screwing with him or not.

"It's really not," Mimir said delicately. "All the same, the food smelt divine!"

"Thanks!" Sora replied cheerfully. "I'm just sad you couldn't, you know, eat any of it."

"Ah, it's fine. I've had time to grow accustomed to this new life of mine." Sora exchanged warm smiles with Mimir, and made to clean up the dishes.

"You don't have to do that," Atreus quickly said, getting up to clean out the table himself. "Even if you didn't cook, you're still our guest."

Sora sat with a nod. "If you say so. Oh!" he snapped his fingers. "Before I forget. Kratos, Atreus, do you guys have any allergies or foods you dislike?"

Atreus paused at the question. "Uh…never had allergies, and I'll eat pretty much anything." He shuddered as he placed the bowls and spoons in the wash bin, "Well, except oysters."

Father grunted. "So long as it is edible, I shall eat it. Why?"

"I wanted to make sure before I started doing anything fancy."

"Wait," Atreus returned to his seat. "You're planning to cook for us again?"

"Yeah." Sora arched a brow at him. "You guys are letting me stay in your home free of charge. Least I can do is cook."

"It is unnecessary," Father said. "But I shall not stop you."

"Hey, if it's going to be anything like this, you won't hear my complain!" Atreus added.

"Nice!" Sora crossed his arms. "For that matter, do you guys have any favorite foods you want me to whip up?"

Atreus smiled as memories came rushing back. "My mother used to make this berry bread all the time, but I've got that down perfectly. And Mimir's told me about something called 'Black Pudding', but I haven't been able to get it right."

"Maybe we can get it right between the two of us," Sora said with a wink. "And you, Kratos?"

"Olives," Father bluntly replied, just a hint of nostalgia creeping into his voice.

Sora blinked. "I was talking more of a dish, but okay." He reached into his furs. Before anyone could ask what he was doing he pulled out a sealed glass jar that definitely shouldn't have been able to fit in his pockets. There was some sort of green and black fruits suspended in liquid held within it.

Father straightened in his seat as Sora held the jar out. He took a deep, shaky breath. When he spoke, he did so—and Atreus shared an incredulous look with Mimir at the sight—with a stutter. "I-Is that what I think it is?"

"You tell me~," Sora teased, shaking the jar. Father swiped it out of Sora's hands. Slowly, he popped open the jar, and Atreus was hit with an intense, bitter scent.

Gingerly, with more care than Atreus thought possible, his father picked up one of these olives with his thumb and pointer finger. He brought it close to his face and took a long whiff. He closed his eyes and let loose a deep sigh before he popped it into his mouth.

Atreus had to rub his eyes after that, because in the next moment, his father relaxed in a way he'd never seen, his lips spreading into a soft smile as he ate the fruit. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and fixed Sora with a look on unending gratitude. "This…" he paused and shook his head. "I have no words. Thank you, Sora, for this boon."

Sora waved a hand through the air. "Don't mention it." He pat his furs. "I've got dozens of jars. And some unpreserved olives if you want to plant your own tree—you look like you need it, if I'm being honest."

Father grunted. "An olive tree will not survive in this climate." He gained a…hopeful? Yes, hopeful gleam in his eyes. "But perhaps in Vanaheim." He popped another three olives into his mouth and let loose a content hum.

"Okay, I gotta try this," Atrues cut in, holding his hand out to his father. His father plopped an olive in his palm, and his first thought was the thing was way too oily. Then he put it in his mouth, and it was so bitter it took all his father's instilled discipline to not spit it out on the table—well, that and pure spite following Mimir's raucous guffaw. He was reminded of the disgusting drink he and his father shared in Tyr's temple years ago.

His face pinched and he felt tears well up in his eyes. He forced himself to chew the fruit down and swallow it. He coughed to disguise his gagging. "Whew…uh…Father, are all the foods and drinks from your homeland so…strong?"

His father chuckled. "Strong flavors for a strong people."

"For what it's worth," Sora leaned forward conspiratorially, "plain olives aren't my favorite thing either. If I had to pick a small fruit to snack on, I'd choose grapes. Or cherries."

Father stared at Sora. "You have cherries as well?" In response, Sora plucked two jars of small red fruit out from his furs.

"With or without the pits?"

"With," Father declared, almost offended at being offered a choice. Sora nodded and put one of the jars away. He then pulled out a small ceramic bowl with its own cover. Before Atreus could even ask what it was for, his father, having already popped a cherry into his mouth, reached up to his lips, pulled out a small seed, took off the bowl's cover and tossed it into the bowl.

Atreus arched a brow and picked up a cherry. "You can't eat the seeds?"

"You can, technically." Sora replied, spitting out his own seeds into the bowl. "But you can get poisoned if you eat too many."

"I am a god," Atreus replied, tossing the fruit into his mouth and chewing around its seed before swallowing it all. Well, he already liked it more than the olive.

"There is no merit in recklessly disregarding your safety," Father replied, tossing another pit into the bowl.

Mimir grunted. "He's right lad. Even Baldur, after Freya spelled him with invulnerability, could still be affected by poisonous substances." He looked down in sorrow. "Course, after the reality of his curse sunk in, he'd down various poisons like mead to force himself to feel something—even just his organs briefly shutting down before healing themselves—until he'd developed an immunity to everything." Sora hummed inquisitively, to which Mimir replied. "Baldur—a former god of the Aesir Kratos and Atreus ran afoul of—was enchanted to be invulnerable to all threats, physical or—shut it"—Mimir deadpanned when Atreus snorted at the familiar phrase. He huffed. "Invulnerable to all threats, physical or magical. Turned out, the spell had a particularly nasty side-effect of not being able to feel anything at all."

"Anything?" Sora repeated, eyes wide. He leaned forward. "Did Freya know that when she cast the spell?"

"At the start? I can't say, but in the end, Freya refused to break it, even though she knew exactly how to do so."

Sora let loose a whistle. "Wow. Freya must have really hated this Baldur guy to do that to him." Atreus, Mimir, and his father winced. "…What am I missing?" Sora asked.

"It's…not exactly our tale to tell," Mimir hesitantly replied. "The start of it all, at least."

"I doubt Freya would keep it from him—and most everyone knows the details, now," Atreus replied.

"All the more reason he should hear it from her," Father countered. "She should have the chance to tell it, so Sora can get the facts from the source, unaltered by second-hand biases."

"Guys, guys," Sora held up his hands. "I'll ask Freya whenever I see her next—if she doesn't want to tell me…" he trailed off. "It's not a problem that'll come up later, right?"

"No," Mimir replied.

Sora shrugged. "Then I'll leave it alone." He turned to Father. "Oh, and Kratos." He reached into his furs and pulled out another jar of olives, not floating in any liquid. "For you to plant, whenever you get around to it.

Mimir hummed. "You know, of all the things you've done and said, pulling things out of impossibly small spaces has to be the most familiar."

"Storage magic?" Sora asked.

"Aye," Mimir replied. "It's good to know that there's at least some aspect of you that's normal."

"I'm normal!" Sora protested. Atreus, Mimir, and even Father, all sent him flat looks. Sora himself chuckled sheepishly and scratched his chin after a moment. "Well, yeah, I guess not."

"Ah, nothing wrong with being abnormal, lad," Mimir said jovially. "In fact, I'd say you're in the right kind of company for that sort of thing."

Sora leaned back in his seat with a wide, grateful smile. "Thanks, guys. I can think of worse people to be trapped on a world with."

Father grunted appreciatively and looked out the window. "It grows late. Atreus, do you plan to spend the night?"

Atreus hummed in thought. "…Don't have a reason not to."

Father nodded. "Then Sora can sleep in my bed tonight. I shall take one of the chairs."

"Hey now," Sora said. "You don't have to give up your bed for me, Kratos. I can share with—well, you might be too big, but me and Atreus can squeeze together."

"No," Father shook his head. "Not only are the beds too small, but you are our guest. Besides"—he gestured to the fruit jars—"for the gifts you've given, yielding my bed is a more than adequate trade." When Sora made to protest again, Father held up a hand. "We can make more suitable arrangements tomorrow, should it come to it. Tonight however, you shall sleep in my bed."

Sora sighed. "Fine, if you insist."

Mimir chuckled. "First time I've ever seen someone get huffy over being given a bed."

"I'm 'abnormal', remember?" Sora said a smirk.

Atreus rolled his eyes with a smile and stood up. He walked over to his bow—to make sure it was fine before heading to bed himself, only for a knock at the door to stop him.

"Master Kratos?" Ratatoskr's soft voice called from the other side of the door. "I pray I'm not interrupting anything, but we must speak."

Atreus looked to his father, who nodded. Atreus walked over to the door and opened it. "Come on in," he said.

"Thank you," Ratatoskr replied, bounding inside and climbing atop the table. "I won't be long, I assure you. The World Tree has recovered enough to speak once more."

"Wonderful!" Mimir cheered. 'What did it say?"

Ratatoskr shifted his gaze to Sora. "Well, first it released a long string of curses and detailed the many different ways it wished to kill our young friend."

Sora blanched. "Well, that'd be the second tree that wanted to kill me."

Atreus blinked. "What was the first?"

"The Heartless of a woman that kidnapped my friend when she was a baby so she could abuse her magic hair," Sora said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Ratatoskr cleared his throat. "Er, quite. In any case, after the World Tree calmed down, it did devise a solution. If we gather some of the World Tree's seeds—specifically, seeds for Muspelheim and Niflheim—I can grind them up into a paste that will drastically decrease the World Tree's recovery time."

"You require the seeds we have?" Father asked.

"No," Ratatoskr replied. "Those seeds have been altered by using them on the mystic gateways and won't do any good for what I need. We need fresh seeds—and luckily, I know where they have fallen."

"Where?" Mimir asked.

"A seed for Niflheim has fallen in Vanaheim, and a seed for Muspelheim has fallen in Alfheim." He sighed. "Alas, I cannot tell you any further details."

Father grunted. "Shall you be assisting us in our search?"

"I have tasked Anxious and Perfectionist to search the realms in my stead. In truth, I would have preferred to go after them myself, but I cannot leave the Lindwyrms alone for so long—they've become very testy in their adolescence, and I've got my hands full keeping them from gnawing on the World Tree's damaged branches."

"What about Bitter and Arrogant?" Atreus asked. To the side he could see Sora lean down and ask Mimir who and what they were talking about, and stare at Ratatoskr with wide eyes as Mimir explained how the talking squirrel was able to project aspects of himself. A small part of Atreus felt proud of something from this world putting Sora on the backfoot, for once.

"They've been assisting me with the Lindwyrms," Ratatoskr continued. "The Lindwyrms, thankfully, still have yet to realize that the pair don't have physical forms, so they keep them in line, especially in these trying times." Ratatoskr hopped off the table. "With that said, I must be off. Myself and my aspects can easily handle two at a time, but anymore and the Lindwyrms become overwhelming." He stopped at the door to look over his shoulder. "Best of luck to you all. And please, try not to harm the World Tree again."

"It was an accident," Sora called out.

"That does not reassure me," Ratatoskr replied before scurrying away.

When Father closed the door, Mimir hummed. "Well, I suppose our first question should be where to go first."

"Vanaheim," Father answered. "It will allow us to inform Freya of Ratatoskr's plan—with any luck, she will be able to direct the Shield Maidens to finding the seed in Alfheim while we search Vanaheim."

"They probably won't," Sora replied. "This seems like one of those things that won't get done unless we do it ourselves, you know?"

"Perhaps," Father commiserated. "But we shall worry about it in the morning. We leave an hour after dawn."

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The trek from home through the woods to Tyr's temple was proving remarkably uneventful. Atreus assumed that something would have jumped out at them—a wild animal, a mortal bandit, or maybe even one of the ever-dwindling Odin loyalists seeking revenge. But, no, nothing. Sora spent the time telling Father and Mimir the same tale he told Atreus that made him run out the previous night.

Needless to say, they were both suitably unsettled by the time Sora had finished.

"Ach, lad, that's a terrible thing to happen" Mimir said in sympathy. "My heart goes out to you and your family."

"Our minds are the one thing we can truly call out own," Father said with a fierce scowl. "To have it tampered with it for nefarious ends…"

"Yeah, it wasn't fun," Sora groused. He quickly smiled. "But, hey, all's well that ends well, right?"

"Your optimism is positively astounding," Mimir muttered, equally in awe and disbelief. "And you haven't regained your memories of that time?"

"Nope," Sora replied.

"Well, don't you want them back?"

Sora frowned. "Even if I did, those memories involve my other memories getting utterly ripped apart. I don't want to even think about what that'd do to me." His expression softened. "Besides, I don't want anything to alter how I think of Naminé."

"The young woman who altered your memories?" Father asked. "You still interact with her?"

"I've been trying," Sora said with a sigh. "We haven't actually met face-to-face—physically, at least—since Castle Oblivion."

Atreus shivered. "I'm sure she's a lovely person, but I don't think I could do the same in your shoes. Someone that can just pick apart your memories at their leisure…"

"Naminé's not some monster!" Sora fiercely countered.

"I didn't say that!" Atreus held up his hands defensively. "It's just…a bit of a scary thought, you know?"

"Freya spelled my mind to not reveal her relationship with Baldur—or anything about his curse," Mimir cut in. "And I'm happy to be around her."

"Sure, but Freya didn't take away your memories, just scrambled your head when you had a specific thought," Atreus rebutted. He could see Sora straighten a bit and take a breath.

Thankfully, Father took the wind out of his sails when he said, "You forget, Atreus, that this Naminé only tampered with Sora's memories at the direction of a malevolent group." He turned to Sora. "This Organization XII."

"Yeah!" Sora nodded resolutely. "If you're going to call anyone monsters, call them that." He faltered. "Well, kind of."

"Kind of?" Father repeated, deadpan.

"Ah, it's hard to explain." Sora hummed in thought. "I guess by default Nobodies can be callous—only having the memories of your old life and the emotions along with an instinctual desire to regain a Heart will do that to you—but Xemnas cultivated it for his own ends." He crossed his arms and tilted his to the side. "Can you still be a 'monster' if you're only doing it because you've been led to believe that it's the only way you can be free?"

"Yes," Father bluntly, yet mournfully, declared.

Sora stared sadly at him. "…Well, there's your answer."

They travelled in awkward and heavy silence after that.

Still, Atreus found it in himself to step close to Sora and clear his throat. "I, uh, didn't mean to offend you, you know? About Naminé."

Sora sighed. "It's fine, Atreus. You didn't mean any harm. It's just…I guess I just feel a little responsible for her."

"Why?"

Sora snorted. "Aside form the fact that the Organization used her to try and get to me?" He tensed, before slumping over. "Okay, technically speaking—and I mean the barest, thinnest technicality to ever exist—she's…my daughter." That brought both Atreus and his father up short. Even Mimir's eyes widened at the statement. "But I don't like thinking about her like that because then that makes Roxas my kid too, and Xion's somewhere in the mix, and Roxas has something weird going on with both of them and thinking about them as my kids just makes it so much weirder." Atreus opened his mouth to ask who the heck this Roxas and Xion were, but Sora preempted him. "Roxas is my Nobody, but instead of looking like a carbon copy of me like the other Nobodies that keep their original form, he looks like this guy called Ventus. Probably because I held Ven's heart within my own for about a decade while it healed—long story, don't ask."

"You have a lot of long stories," Atreus remarked.

Sora continued as if Atreus hadn't said anything. "Xion is a replica formed largely out of my memories from back when the Organization scrambled my memories in Castle Oblivion."

Mimir worked his jaw wordlessly for a moment. "Now hold on a minute. Didn't you tell me that a Nobody is created when a strong-willed person loses their heart? Then wouldn't that mean—"

"I turned into a Heartless, yeah," Sora said casually. "About two years ago. It's a—"

"Long story," Atreus, his father, and Mimir finished in unison. Sora just chuckled and clasped his hands behind his head.

"You turned into a creature of Darkness?" Father asked incredulously. "How did you return to your true form?"

Sora's lips spread into a soft smile. "Kairi brought me back."

"How could she have done that?" Mimir queried.

"I heard her call out to me from the Darkness."

"It's that easy?" Atreus replied.

"Well, it helps that she's a Princess of Heart."

Before Atreus and his father could ask what the heck that meant, Mimir exclaimed triumphantly. "Ooh, I know this one!" He cleared his throat and looked at Atreus. "A Princess of Heart is a young woman that bears a Heart of pure Light, not a speck of Darkness to be found within. Their purity grants them a whole host of abilities, mostly relating to cutting through and repelling the Darkness that lurks within and between the Worlds." Sora nodded at Mimir, who smirked proudly.

Father grunted. "I am glad to hear that your interrogations of Sora are actually useful."

"They're not interrogations!" Mimir protested. "They are discussions of things outside the boundaries of this world."

"They're kind of interrogations," Sora said with a shrug.

"Sora!" Mimir gasped, betrayed.

"What else do you call it when one person just asks another person a bunch of questions until they get the answers they want?"

Mimir harrumphed, but soon adopted a thoughtful expression. "Hey, Sora, I have a few more questions about this Naminé girl."

"See! More interrogations!" Sora said with a laugh.

Mimir chuckled. "Oh, quiet you. Didn't you say that part of Naminé's manipulation of your memories involved inserting herself in the place of Kairi, the woman you love?"

"Yup," Sora said, pooping the 'p'.

"And, by your admission, she's your child."

"Technically." He shuddered. "That's another reason I don't like thinking about her like that."

"Oh, I can imagine—a dastardly thing she was forced to do." Mimir nodded. "But then, how old is she? And how was she born in a way that you can consider her your child?" Sora sighed, but before he could answer, Mimir added, "If it's another long story, just her age will suffice."

Sora smirked a bit before frowning. "…Well, she's got the looks and maturity of someone around my age, but it's only been about 2 years since she was 'born', so to speak."

Mimir's eyes widened. "…And this Roxas and Xion you mentioned, your other technical children, are…"

"Also two years old with the body and mind of people my age—you could consider Roxas and Naminé twins, and Xion's a couple months younger than them." He hummed in thought. "Now that I think about it, the 2-years-old thing should really only apply to Xion. Nobodies are basically the same age as their Somebodies. Although Roxas and Naminé are special Nobodies, to say the least, so it really depends on how you want to slice it."

Atreus stared wide-eyed at Sora—better than Mimir, who was slack jawed. Father, however, just chuckled.

"The four of you would not be out of place with the gods of my homeland," he said. "Many of them were born with adult faculties, even in infant bodies, or reached maturity in a matter of weeks."

"Yeah, Herc mentioned that when I questioned him about the whole 'son of a god' thing," Sora said with a shudder. "Says the only reason he didn't have that was because Hades drained him of his godly essence the day he was born." He frowned. "Also, it's kind of sad that Hades has spent so much time and effort trying to kill his own nephew."

Father blinked. "…The Lord of the Dead tried to kill Hercules?"

"Multiple times."

"Why?"

Sora shrugged. "To take over Olympus. Something about a prophecy or whatever—another crazy old man and his prophecies, I guess." He tilted his head at Father. "Unless…You're telling me that this world's Hades never did those things?"

Father shook his head. "He did not. Hades had no desire to take over Olympus. Nor did he have a reason to bother with one of Zeus's bastard children." Atreus noticed that his father clenched his fists. "…Unless they sought him out."

Sora frowned. "Zeus and Hera weren't married in this world?"

Father arched a brow. "No, they were wed. But I fail to see how that is relevant."

"You just said this world's Herc is Zeus's bastard son. That means that Zeus and Herc's mom, Hera, weren't married, right?"

Father paused. When he spoke, it was with a heavy dose of disbelief. "You mean to tell me that the Hercules you know is the trueborn son of Zeus…and Hera?"

Sora nodded, and he and Father just stared at each other.

Mimir whistled. "Well, that is a fascinating difference! We should take stock and compare notes between the Olympians of this World and those Sora knows."

That got Father moving once more. "No," he declared.

"Oh, come on!" Mimir complained. "Even you have to admit you're curious about all this!"

"You and Sora may converse, leave me out of it." The extra gruffness in his father's voice told Atreus that they were edging towards territory he didn't care to tread. About his past and the like. But…his tone wasn't as harsh as it used to be.

Atreus smiled softly. "You are the foremost expert on your homeland in the Nine Realms, Father." His smile sharpened into a smirk at the glare sent his way. "And, as Sora's proven, Mimir's nowhere near as smart as he claims."

"I beg your pardon?!"

Atreus ignored the outburst. "So why not save us all some trouble and just lend your knowledge for a bit?"

The quirk of his father's lips told Atreus that he knew exactly what he was doing. Still, he did nod, and say, "We shall compare the facts, nothing more."

"Gladly," Mimir stated, though he did glower at Atreus. Between the body thing yesterday and this, it was safe to say the half-Jotun was not his favorite person right now.

Still, anything to get his father to actually talk about his past was a good thing in his book.

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A/N: I only wanted two things out of this story and giving my man Kratos his olives was one of them. Also, did you know that cherries are native to Greece?