Author's Note: Sorry for the late chapter, I've been pretty busy lately.

{The Royal Suite, the Great Tomb of Nazarick…}

Fuuuuuuck! I really wish my emotional suppression could get rid of all this stress. Especially now… I've got these powerful gods and monsters and things all breathing down my neck. It would probably be really costly to fight any one of them, and there's a risk everything I've worked to create will be lost no matter what, because of Ragnarök and stuff. I've got no idea if even Nazarick would survive Ragnarök. Demiurge and Albedo seem pretty confident it will, since it's in a dimensionally-separate space, whatever that means. Mimir seems pretty optimistic, too. He said some of the Aesir are fated to survive Ragnarök, but then again, that's just a prophecy. Magni and Modi were supposed to survive, but Pandora's Actor told me that Thor said his sons were dead. Unless Thor has other sons, or something.

Ainz turned uncomfortably on his large and ornately-decorated bed. He never slept since becoming an undead, so he dedicated the time instead to trying to read about various things, being a good leader, mostly, although by this point most of his literature had turned to YGGDRASIL lore and Norse mythology. He had tried reading the Prose and Poetic Eddur, which his friend Tabula Smaragdina had probably added to the library, being a fan of all sorts of myths. But even when translated to Japanese, the two books were written with such esoteric language that it was like reading an entirely different language written with Japanese characters. I need to find a way to get Demiurge or someone to read these thoroughly and then make a simplified version that someone with just an elementary education like me could understand… But I somehow need to make it not sound like it's for me. Hm…

Ainz got up, leaving his inner bedchamber to the office space adjoining it. The severed head of Mimir rested on the desk. The maid for the day, Foire, waited quietly by the door.

"Foire. It is time for you to go and rest. As always, I am pleased with your work. Please fetch the maid on the next shift."

"Yes, Lord Ainz. I will go at once."

Foire departed.

The Sorcerer King sat himself at the desk with a weary sigh.

"What's on your mind, Your Majesty?"

"Please. Call me Ainz."

"Right then. What's on your mind, Lord Ainz?"

"A good deal."

"Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, eh?"

"Hm?"

"Came up with that one just now. Might find someone good to write it down some day, seeing as I may not be able to myself."

Ainz chuckled at this. Mimir continued.

"I think I can work out what the 'good deal' that's on your mind consists of. There's Asgard, Kratos and Freya running around, your kingdom needs managing… did I miss anything?"

"No."

"Ha! I've still got it. For your information, Your Majesty, I'm more than an advisor and an ambassador. I've a reputation for keeping confidences too. Anything weighing down on your mind, I'll listen to what you have to say. As a severed head, I'm not exactly going anywhere anytime soon."

Ainz turned the page of the encyclopedia. Developing a proper rapport with Mimir should do wonders for maintaining his loyalty to Nazarick, but I should be careful what I tell him. I've done things I sense he may disapprove of, and if I tell him everything on my mind, that information would give him possible leverage over me. But then again, he's just a severed head. He can't go anywhere without my permission, so he's essentially under house arrest.

"That is, unless there's already someone else you talk to about such things," said Mimir. "If there is, I'm not one to steal their work."

"Umu. No, Mimir. That's acceptable."

"Incidentally, could I share a thing or two weighing on my mind with you?"

"Please."

"No offense, but are you aware of just how bloody daft your people are? Albedo told me the other day that she would rather off herself than take five minutes for a bite of lunch on her own initiative. Who the bloody Hel lives like that?"

"They do."

"Can't you do something about that? Honestly, of all the places I've been, these are by far the worst working conditions I've ever seen. You're their boss after all. I really hope this isn't your doing."

Ainz winced slightly. "It's not. I'm trying to improve their working conditions with rest and leisure time, but they push back against me on that matter as much as they do you."

"But I've seen how deferential they are to you. You could just give the word, right?"

"I tried that, but it led them to question the value of their own lives. I don't want to have them do that."

"Frankly, that sounds like a matter of communication, more than anything. I could help with that, if you would like me to. You mind sharing what progress you've made, if any?"

Ainz closed the encyclopedia. "I've had to fight to get the homunculus maids like Foire to accept any time-off plan, one day for each maid every forty or so days. The reason is that the day after is when they attend to me personally. Even so, several of them want more work."

"Tch… Okay. So, how do you persuade a group of fanatics to take time off from their work? If you tell them not to work, they have an existential crisis, since it seems like their entire self-esteem is based on their utility to you. Yeah, now that I say the words out loud, that's not exactly a healthy relationship for anyone to have."

"You're telling me."

"What if you told them to think of their time off from their main work as a second job?"

"What?"

"Emphasize that you are giving them additional tasks, those being to rest and recuperate for later."

This… I like that. It's brilliant, even, at least to my elementary-school-educated brain. I'll put it in our anonymous suggestion box, and get Albedo's impartial opinion on it…

There was a knocking sound.

"We'll pick this up later, Mimir." Ainz called out to the unknown visitor. "Enter!"

The two doors swung open to reveal Demiurge. He strode in quietly and knelt in reverence of Ainz. "Lord Ainz, forgive the intrusion, but an urgent matter has arisen. Cocytus' scouts report that the World Serpent has been incapacitated, and that the reanimated corpse of a giant, nearly 30 meters in height, has emerged from the massive ice bed southwest of Týr's Temple. And-"

The earth shuddered gently for several seconds, being felt even in the Royal Suite.

Ainz's nervousness grew strong enough for his undead emotional suppression to kick in. "I… see. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Demiurge. Have Albedo and Cocytus prepare to accompany me to that area immediately. You and the remaining Floor Guardians should form the reserve. Including Victim." Alright, something big is happening! Also why didn't we see the giant corpse earlier? I suppose we were more worried about the World Serpent and Asgard…

"Understood, Lord Ainz. In anticipation of this, Albedo and Cocytus have already armored and equipped themselves for a fight, and gathered suitable vassals in the Throne Room."

"Good. I will have some of our Hanzos scout the area first, and then we will enter directly and investigate if it is safe. We'll keep their other vassals in reserve, should there be an ambush."

Ainz felt something. A spell he had cast some time ago triggered. A spell he had cast on Freya. [Ward of Harm].

"Lord Ainz, is something wrong?"

"Hmm. Freya is involved in this somehow. I sense that she has just been injured. We must go, quickly."

"Lord Ainz," interjected Mimir. "Does this outing have room for a severed-"

"This time, yes. Where's that Death Knight?"

{The Corpse of Thamur…}

"D-... do it!" croaked Baldur, Kratos' hands squeezing around his neck. He was on the verge of suffocation.

A short distance away, Freya groaned in pain as she sat up. "Stop… please…"

"Father…" said Atreus. "We should leave him. Not a threat."

Kratos said nothing in reply, glaring at Baldur. "You will cease your pursuit of us. You will not harm her."

Freya clenched her fists in irritation. "I don't need your protection."

Ignoring her, Kratos released his chokehold. He stood up, and walked a short distance away, wary of the battered Aesir.

Baldur gasped and coughed for a moment, feebly and painfully trying to rise to his feet. "... just can't… help yourself… can you… Mother? You don't even… listen to me… no matter what… I… I do… you just… don't stop…. INTERFERING IN MY LIFE!" His voice rose from a venomous muttering to tantrum-like screaming.

The Vanr sighed, hoping to explain herself. "I was just trying to protect you! You must understand that I… I have made my mistakes… I'll admit that… but now… now you're free, we can start over, we can be a family again, the family we should have been… please."

Baldur limped closer to Freya, shaking his head the whole time. "... no… no no no no no… no, we can't… there's no starting… over… not with the… lifetimes you've stolen from me…"

"I've paid for that… I've spent the last hundred years knowing that you… that you hated me. I just want to keep you safe, I just want you to be happy… so if… my death will truly make things better, then I won't stop you."

The Aesir god gasped, likely from a collapsed lung. It was a pitiful sound. "I… know…" He stumbled forward, hesitating for a moment as he stood within arm's reach of his mother. He put forth his arms, seizing Freya by the neck. She did not struggle, only gagging slightly as he tightened his grip. She collapsed to her knees.

"WHAT?! NO! FATHER!" shouted Atreus.

Baldur suppressed a cry of pain, the effort of strangling Freya seeming to hurt him almost as much as it did her. Freya reached up to him, trying to give him one last embrace as her vision clouded around the edges. With a strained voice, she spoke to him one last time.

"I love you…"

Her arms went limp after that. Not much longer now. Freya could barely see now.

Suddenly, the grip on her throat went away, and Freya dropped entirely, just barely alive. She coughed violently as her body fought for air. What… is happening?

Kratos dragged Baldur away from Freya, putting him in a standing chokehold.

"W-why?! Why do you even care?! You could have… walked away!" wheezed the Aesir god.

Kratos whispered something into Baldur's ear. He put one hand on top of Baldur's head, and the other on his bearded chin. The Aesir's eyes widened with fear at what was to come. A sickening snap followed as Kratos pulled his hands apart, moving Baldur's head with it. He let out a soft whimper as Kratos stepped back, and the Aesir fell to the ground with a thud.

As the darkness came swirling down over Baldur, son of Odin, he felt something touching his cheek, melting away only moments after. It felt like–

"Snow…"

Freya heaved for air, as her vision cleared up again, and her body returned to relatively normal. She looked around. Just a meter or two away, lay Baldur. Her son. He was still, as if asleep. His body was still bruised and battered from the duel against Kratos. He was still.

A pang of fear swept through Freya's mind, as she saw nothing else. She crawled over to Baldur, cradling him in her arms. She brushed her hand against his cheek, took hold of his wrist in her hand. Cold. Cold. Cold. Cold like death.

"My boy… my dear sweet boy…" whispered Freya, in the faint and dying hope that he might answer or move, even if it meant her own death. His eyes were half-lidded, his mouth half-open. No breathing at all. Baldur was utterly, completely, and horribly still. "My son…" she whispered again, her voice thick with restrained tears and her body trembling at the inevitable truth.

"Freya…" That voice. She knew who said it. She knew now where he was from. What he did. Tales of apocalypse in a far-off land had spread through Vanaheim early on in their people's war with Asgard. Her first impression of the tale had been skepticism. Could anything as hideous as vengeance incarnate itself as a person, let alone murder an entire pantheon of gods? After Hildisvini, her boar friend, had been wounded with an arrow by the man's son earlier, she had not made the connection yet. By the time she had come to this place to speak with them again, she had a good idea of whom she was dealing with. The sight of her son's lifeless eyes, bloodshot, was evidence enough. This was Kratos, the Ghost of Sparta, the Killer of Gods. And here was her son, himself a god, slain by his hand.

"He chose this," said Kratos.

Freya said nothing, simply staring down at the corpse of Baldur. With a sob, she buried her face on his shoulder, hugging him close. Kratos drew close as well, she sensed. In one quick movement, she took hold of his wrist. Even for him, her grip was of iron, and her voice lost all tenderness, an entirely different emotion taking its place.

"I will rain down every agony, every violation imaginable, upon you. I will parade your cold body from every corner of every realm, and feed your soul to the vilest filth in Hel! That is my promise."

She spoke clearly, and at a first glance, calmly. The trembling of her own arm as she clenched her grip on Kratos' wrist told a different story. As she finished, she let go of Kratos, and he stepped away, unphased by the pain.

Atreus shook his head in absolute confusion. "He saved your life!"

Freya let go of Baldur's corpse, setting it gently on the snow-covered ground. "He robbed me… of everything… everything…" She wept openly now, turning her attention back to Kratos. "You are just an animal, passing on your cruelty and rage, you will never change!"

Kratos shook his head. "Then you do not know me."

"I know enough. More than your son does." Freya glanced at Atreus.

The grizzled god pondered for a moment. "... Boy. Listen well. I am from a land called Sparta. I forged a pact with a god that cost me my soul. I killed many who were deserving, and many who were not. I killed my father."

The boy looked around him, forlornly. "Is this how it always ends? Sons killing their fathers, their mothers?"

Kratos strode over to the boy, kneeling and taking him by the upper arms. "No, boy. We will be the gods we choose to be. We must be better."

Freya walked past them, carrying the corpse of Baldur. She paused, glaring at Kratos for a moment, before continuing on.

"Guess we're the bad guys now," sighed Mimir, once Freya passed out of earshot.

"In her eyes, yes," replied Kratos. "She could never make that choice." He sighed. "Come, Atreus. We should finish the journey while I still have strength."

{Some distance away…}

A small pavilion had been pitched in the snow-covered ground. Ainz, Cocytus, Albedo, and Mimir were within. Ainz sighed, looking into his Mirror of Remote Viewing. Kratos and his son must still be under the protection of Freya's magic. Otherwise, I'd be able to find them with my divination magic. I guess I'll have to wait for the Hanzos to return and give a full report. The Vanir concealment magic doesn't seem to work against the naked eye. He dismissed the magic item.

"Lord Ainz, how will we deal with the Godkiller if we encounter them again?" Albedo inspected her bardiche 3F, with its newly-added Muspelheim runic enchantments, as she spoke.

"Diplomacy first, of course. The two Dwarf smiths work for me on condition that Kratos and his son be left alone, unless in self-defense. And besides, it worked out well the first time we cooperated."

Mimir raised his eyebrows at the statement. "Oh? The Huldra Brothers do business with you? I thought I recognized that pattern of those runes on Albedo's weapon over there."

"Indeed. With a major project by them underway, I would hate to have those two turn against me now. I will request information on his plans and intentions, if we meet again. If Kratos refuses to hold reasonable conversation with me, then I will authorize the use of force to contain him."

"And. The. Child. Of. His?" asked Cocytus. He surveyed the terrain around their temporary headquarters, the land cast into ruin by the fallen body of Thamur. The air was filled with the sound of moving, as Jörmungandr slithered his massive body away, back towards the center of the lake.

"The boy's connection to the Giants will be of interest to us. We still adhere to Demiurge's plan of divide and conquer. It would be a waste to kill him, which is why I wish to approach Kratos diplomatically at first and gain information from him."

"Surely the spell [Dominate] will be more expedient," suggested Albedo.

"Is that really necessary, milady?" questioned Mimir.

Ainz shook his head. "That spell works best for interrogation. It's wasteful of MP, unfortunately, and I could maintain control over a subject for only 4 hours, at the rate of MP it consumes, and I would be unable to cast other spells the entire time."

"With your permission, Lord Ainz, might I add something?"

"Speak, Mimir."

"Have you considered trying to make those two your allies? Like full-fledged allies?"

Albedo's brow wrinkled at the idea. "Elaborate."

"Yes... Mimir, lay out the ultimate benefits this idea would bring Nazarick."

"Aye, although a few of the perks strike me as obvious. How does having a Godkiller on your side sound, particularly if you find yourself up the Aesir?"

"Hm…"

"Not to mention, if you can build a mutual rapport and effective communication channels, you wouldn't have to worry about where Kratos is going or what he's doing, since he could tell you or you'd trust that he's not causing trouble. Essentially, you'd be disarming a serious threat, turning a possible enemy into a friend."

"And what about our alliance with Asgard?" inquired Ainz. "Surely if those two found out, that would cause a loss of trust, which is essential to an alliance."

"I think they may have worked that out already. The lack of destruction around here would also suggest that we're in good with the Aesir."

"Umu. Either threats or pawns to Odin… like you said earlier."

"Aye, Lord Ainz."

"Lord. Ainz. The. Hanzos. Have. Returned."

"Thank you, Cocytus. We can discuss this later, Mimir."

As Cocytus said, five humanoid figures, dressed in black, like stereotypical ninjas, with dark veils covering their faces, entered the tent and knelt before Ainz to give their report.

Mimir blinked at the news, as the Hanzos filed out of the tent. "Baldur? Dead? They actually did it… Ha… I can't believe it… and OH! I remember now!"

"Remember what?" asked Albedo, sourly.

"Mistletoe."

"What about it?" asked Ainz.

"Baldur's weakness! It was mistletoe all along! My mind's so clear, unlike before, if you remember. Freya was nicknamed Frigg after she married Odin, and she's Baldur's mum! Clear as crystal, hahaha!"

Albedo rolled her eyes in annoyance. "If the Hanzos are correct, then that information is useless to us now."

"It's not like I bewitched myself! Honestly!"

"At any rate, Lord Ainz, if we are to speak to Freya and make an offer, this may be the opportune moment," suggested Albedo.

Ainz stood up. "Hm… yes. We should go."

Mimir sputtered momentarily. "Hold it! Wait just a moment, please! Aren't we missing something important here?"

The Guardian Overseer felt her annoyance with Mimir surge, but to avoid an embarrassing outburst, she just fumed quietly.

Ainz himself looked at Mimir. "I understand that you feel guilty for what happened to Freya, but I must move these plans of mine forward."

"I understand that, Lord Ainz. It's that you're the missing the insignificant detail that her son is demised."

Ainz ignored Albedo's intermittent eye-twitching. "And?"

"She's Baldur's mum, and he just went and died, probably right in front of her. Think about that for a moment, and how that might affect her mental state."

Albedo spoke calmly, her smile unbroken. "Are you so desperate to hinder our objectives, Mimir? What cause do you have to undermine Lord Ainz?"

Ainz and Cocytus looked at Albedo in shock at her words. A heavy, tense silence filled the air.

"Albedo–" started Ainz. This is bad. She seems likely to explode.

"Forgive me, Lord Ainz, but oh! How I envy your limitless patience with this idiotic, blabbering–"

"Floor Guardian Overseer. I intend to tolerate whoever I have to if it brings benefit and progress to Nazarick and the Sorcerer Kingdom. Nothing would please me more if you can find it in yourself to follow suit."

Albedo's mouth hung open momentarily, before she bowed in deference to Ainz, and stepped back, defeated.

Cocytus let out a cold breath he was unaware he was holding.

Ainz relaxed as well. "Excuse her, Mimir. Please continue."

The severed head gulped. "Aye… Not in the bottom spot on that list of 'Tolerables,' am I?"

"No. You're fine."

"Phew, that's a relief… Now, to rephrase what I was saying. I just want to point out that we might not get the best results from approaching Freya right after her son died."

"Is this your guilt talking or your logical faculties?"

"A wee bit of both. The fact of the matter is, it would look rather cold-hearted to approach Freya for some sort of bargain right when she's carrying her dead son home. Why not let her mourn in peace for a bit?"

Albedo breathed deeply, marshalling all the politeness and courtesy in her being to speak. "If I may ask, Mimir, what potential benefit would waiting longer to speak to Freya bring to the Sorcerer Kingdom?"

Nice attitude shift, Albedo! Ainz cheered in his head.

"You may ask, milady, and I will answer. Firstly, waiting for her to mourn her son might leave a good impression on Freya when we do approach her. You'll get to offer your condolences, inquire after her health, show her that you care. And when you make the actual offer, you'd stand that much more of a chance of winning her over. Wait, say, a week or so. Give her time to process what's happened. Show her that you're considerate of her feelings. That's key to persuading people. It'll lend extra weight to your offer of aid, when you make it."

"And what if she moves about?" countered Albedo.

"Where would she go? She's still under Odin's curses, bound to Midgard, unable to fight. She's not suicidal enough to rove that far beyond her grove, even as she is now."

Ainz stroked his chin. "But she reanimated this giant. She is capable of violence. Any other benefits?"

"If she accepts your offer in her current emotional state, she might not think it through, and end up regretting her decision later on, years from now, even. Believe me when I say this. Years ago, I played on her emotions to get her to marry Odin and end the Aesir-Vanir war, and she came to regret it in the end. If you let her approach your offer with a more rational mind, and if she does accept it, she will be less likely to end up regretting that decision in the future, since she would understand and have contemplated the conditions more fully. This will secure you against trouble from her in the far future."

"Umu."

"Lastly, and the inverse of reason one, she may not even be interested in doing much besides burying or mourning her son right now. Approaching her would likely backfire."

"And if I offered to resurrect her son?"

"That would complicate things, Lord Ainz. Baldur's first course of action would be murdering her, more likely."

The information shocked even Albedo. "His own mother?"

"Aye. The magic Freya cast on him, he never asked for it. Sure, it gave him invulnerability to all threats–"

"–Physical or magical–" came the unanimous interjection from the others.

"That, aye. But it came at a terrible price. Imagine: could any of you live completely deprived of three senses for a century, or any length of time? No touch, no smell, no taste. It'd drive me mad, and it definitely drove Baldur mad. It's hardly even living at that point, just a more painful species of death."

"What. Would. Drive. Freya. To. Such. Action? It. Appears. Desperate."

Mimir would have nodded in agreement. "Aye, there's the rub. Shortly after Baldur was born, Freya set out to consult the Nornir, three reclusive witches who spin the fate of the World Tree. They warned her that Baldur would die a needless death. She found that idea utterly abhorrent. Imagine being told someone you loved was doomed to die, and there was nothing you could do about it. And so, safe from Odin's prying eye, Freya labored for many winters, crafting and perfecting a Seiðr spell unlike any other."

Sheesh… helicopter parent much? That's rather extreme, but then again, Freya's a lot more emotional than I am. What would I do if I knew any of my people were going to die?

I'm starting to see that having Mimir might be problematic in some ways. Every one of his suggestions so far have been extremely reasonable, well-informed, and elegant in their simplicity. His intellect comes from having lived a lot, whereas Albedo, Demiurge, and Pandora's Actor simply know a lot. I especially liked his idea of reframing time off as a secondary duty rather than it being separate from the NPCs' jobs. I need to shut down or reject some of Mimir's ideas the same way I do with Albedo or Demiurge, but just to show I'm not playing favorites. If things keep up as they are now, Mimir will become the most despised person in Nazarick, especially since he's an outsider. Should that happen, there is the distinct possibility that he might wind up in some form of unfortunate "accident," despite my orders to keep him safe. I'll take his suggestion regarding my plans for Freya, and then I'll have to think of some way to avoid the appearance of favoritism in the future.

"I see. Very well, Mimir. I will follow your advice. We will wait for some time, and then approach Freya."

{The Realm Travel Room, Týr's Temple…}

"Here we go! The tower's back, we got both of Mimir's eyes! Nothing's gonna stop us from seeing the Giants now!" Atreus beamed brightly as Kratos opened the double-doors leading into the circular chamber.

"Well, if everything works as we hope, ahem…" The severed head cleared his throat, nervously. Kratos and Atreus drew near to the central pedestal. Taking out a small item on his belt, the bifröst, Kratos inserted the device into the appropriate slot on the pedestal. The whirring of gears and machine parts filled the chamber, as the Temple bridge rotated left from its starting position at the Vanaheim Realm Tower, moving to its neighbor, the newly-restored Jötunheim Tower. A column of white light shot out from the pedestal, aimed at the gates to the land of the Giants.

"Atreus. Get ready."

"Right!" The boy took Mimir off of his father's belt, walking into the space between the pedestal and the richly decorated gate marked with the rune ᛇ, the symbol of Jötunheim. Atreus stepped towards the empty place where otherwise the travel crystal would have been. "Hope this doesn't make you explode or anything, Mimir."

"Of all times to mention something like that, lad. Now I'm having second thou– OUGH! THAT'S UNPLEASANT!" Mimir was cut off as Atreus raised the head into the column of light. After a few moments of the white light streaming into Mimir's eyes, the beam stopped.

"Now, boy!" ordered Kratos.

Atreus spun around, pointing Mimir's face towards the Jötunheim rune on the gate. Two beams of golden light blazed from the severed head's eyes for several seconds. The decorations on the gate were subsumed in a brilliant yellow glow. It worked. Kratos stepped off of the pedestal, joining Atreus.

Mimir groaned slightly as Atreus returned him to Kratos. "That still smarts…"

"We're so close!" exclaimed Atreus.

"We will see."

Of their own accord, the gate to Jötunheim opened, revealing stairs hewn from stone leading up into the distance. Branches of the World Tree supported the steps.

"Lads, I just thought of something," said Mimir. Kratos paused, removing Mimir from his belt in order to make proper eye contact. The decollated advisor continued. "You really need a severed head up there, spoiling the moment? This is between you and the boy, brother. Why don't I stay here for a moment?"

"True. But if someone–"

Kratos was cut off by a particularly gruff voice. "By Lady Sif's soft, perfect sloshers. Ya done did it!" Brok stood a little ways behind them, looking extremely proud of himself. Sindri was there too, looking to be on the verge of tears.

"Sorry," he said, quietly. We had to see this." He sniffled.

Kratos glanced between the two dwarf brothers, and then Mimir.

"Oh no, you don't! Oh no no no! UGH! Fine, dammit, fine."

The ashen pale god spoke to the two dwarves. "Watch him until we return." He tossed Mimir to Sindri, who caught him neck-stump side up.

"I can do this," Sindri reassured himself. After looking at Mimir's severed spinal cord, he retched slightly. "No, I can't!" He passed the head to Brok.

"Right then," the blue dwarf remarked.

Kratos nodded at the two dwarves, before looking to his son. "Atreus. Come." Father and son strode up the stony steps to Jötunheim. The doors of Týr's Temple closed behind them. After some steps, Kratos stopped, and turned around, narrowing his eyes and surveying space behind them.

"Father? What is it?"

"I sensed something there, in the shadows. It has gone."

"Oh…"

"Let us fulfill Faye's last wish."

The two of them pressed on, and at last a flash of light surrounded them for a moment.

They stood atop a rocky mountain. The air was cold and dry, but a steady breeze was blowing. Withered plants grew here and there. Before them stretched a great bridge, stone slabs suspended by mighty chains, crafted in a forgotten age by an ancient people. Beyond that bridge, and through a passageway carved into the mountain itself, was a peak higher than where they stood.

Atreus pointed at it. "Look! We made it! This is the Giant's Fingers, and there's the highest peak!"

His father nodded wordlessly, patting Atreus' shoulder.

"We did it," said the boy.

Kratos turned aside slightly, seeing the bloodied bandages on his arm. They'd come loose. He took the loose end, preparing to fix them, so Atreus wouldn't see the scars below, when it occurred to him that he should do something else. Kratos started peeling the bandages off.

"What are you doing?" asked his son.

"I have nothing more to hide."

Holding his arms out, Kratos let the Jötunheim wind carry the bindings away and into the distance. Scars shaped like chains wrapped themselves around Kratos' forearms. He sighed, as if a great weight had been lifted from his rugged shoulders.

"Father… we're so close…"

Atreus began moving off towards the stone bridge.

"Wait, boy." Atreus stopped, and faced his father. He held a small cloth sack in his hand. The whole reason they were here in the first place. Faye's ashes. Kratos knelt down, holding the pouch out to Atreus. The boy reached out to take it, looking to his father to confirm this was okay. Kratos nodded, curtly, and passed the bag off to Atreus.

They crossed the bridge.

"Hm…"

"Boy?"

"I thought I'd hear voices by now. It's so quiet."

On the far side of the bridge, two stone statues pointed into the passageway.

Atreus called out around him. "Hello?! Anyone there?!"

There were more statues within, some standing and pointing. Two supported each other, as if grievously wounded.

"What is this place?" asked Kratos.

"They must have come this way after escaping from Midgard and from the Aesir trying to exterminate them. Not very many made it, it looks like… Odin and Thor ruining everything for everybody."

"Hmph."

"This place feels so… dead. Like there's no one here at all. I'd feel them if they were alive. What happened to them? Why would Mom send us here?"

"One question answered, and two more take its place…"

Kratos passed through an exit from this strange chamber, more like a hole broken through a wall than an actual threshold. Atreus followed, absent-mindedly putting his hand on the side of this break in the wall.

Golden sparks shot out from where he touched, and the dull stone began melting away from vast tracts of the wall. Atreus gasped as he stepped back. "Wait! Something's happening! Father!"

Beneath the stony veneer were a series of brightly colored reliefs, adorned with runes. Atreus moved to the nearest one.

"Look! That woman holding the axe! That's… it's Mom! She's arguing with Giants? She knew Giants?" He looked around, moving to the next closest one. "And look! There's us in the boat, meeting the World Serpent… and on the mountaintop, meeting Mimir and the Sorcerer King… And there's our fight with the Sons of Thor! Even our fight with Baldur! That just happened! They… they knew everything that was going to happen, before it happened! The dragon in the mountain, the Giant stone mason… All of these drawings… they're our story!"

"No, Atreus. This is your story."

"But why? What does it all mean?"

"Your mother kept secrets too. Even from me."

"You didn't know… she was a Giant! I'm a Giant! Why didn't she tell us?"

"She sent us here, knowing we would find this."

"Why not tell us the truth?"

"Your mother would have had good reason. I was never Baldur's mark. He was sent to find her, unaware she was only ashes."

"If Mom had a plan for us, I trust it. She hasn't been wrong yet."

Kratos nodded, seeing a part of the murals covered by a ragged red cloth. Atreus went back to the hole in the wall. The ashen god remained still, staring at the hidden part of the murals for a moment, before turning to join his son.

Through the gap in the wall, a small path led upwards. Atreus paused at a small and familiar mark imprinted on a nearby rockface. A handprint, colored like gold. "Look! It's Mom's! She was here! It's like she saw every step we'd take before we took it. Like she was always with us… watching over us… leading us home. Let's finish it."

Climbing up one last steep ridge, the two of them stood atop the peak, the highest in all the realms. The cliffs here commanded a supreme view of Jötunheim, the distant land filled with a low grey mist. Atreus' face went pale as he looked out across the desolate landscape. It was strewn with corpses, giant corpses. He regained his composure after a moment, opening the sack with Faye's ashes, and holding it out to his father.

"Together," said Kratos. He put his hand on Atreus' shoulder. "My son."

Atreus nodded. He reached gently into the sack, taking a handful of the ashes. With the utmost reverence and care, Atreus let the handful fall into the air. Kratos reached in next, repeating what Atreus had done.

"Goodbye, Faye."

"I love you, Mom."

The gentle wind carried Faye into the distance, to her people, to her home.

Nothing was said for some while.

At last, Atreus spoke. "The giants really are gone."

"There is nothing more for us here, Atreus. Let us go home."

The boy nodded, and the two of them turned to go.

"So… you're a god, and Mom was a Giant. So I'm half-god and half-Giant?"

"Part-mortal as well."

"Really? Huh. The only thing I don't get is my name."

"What do you mean?"

"The drawings on the wall. The Giants called me… Loki?"

"That was the name Faye wanted for you when you were born. Hm. Let us go home."

The two of them passed back down the peak, and across the bridge.

Author's Note: Ok the GOW4 part is over, Fimbulwinter and the GOW: Ragnarok part begins! (Finally.)