No Time to Think

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.

Note: The basic idea for the following arc was PMd to me by FFN user alpha13a. I've changed a couple details, but the idea is largely theirs. I'm excited for this.

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Mimir eventually recovered from the mental shock Sora inadvertently forced on him. At least, Atreus assumed it wasn't on purpose. Either way, the talking head has requested that he be pointed towards the woods so he could stare into the trees to recover.

Atreus really wished that Mimir didn't request that, however. It left him alone with the full focus of his stoic father and the absurdly peppy Sora as he worked on his shield. He'd gotten the weight problem down easily enough—the solution being the startingly easy method of simply pouring more magic into the shield—now he just needed to form it from his feet.

If he could just get a moment's peace.

"Do you think he needs a hand?" Sora mock-whispered to Father behind Atreus's back.

"Perhaps," Father replied, not even bothering to be quiet.

"…It looks like he needs a hand."

"Hm."

Atreus stomped his left foot, previously held up in the air, and glared over his shoulder. Sora sat against one of the training dummies, and Father stood beside him, arms crossed over his chest. "Could you guys not, please?"

"We're bored, sue us," Sora replied.

Atreus scoffed. "Bored? Don't you have training you can do or something?"

"We have already trained," Father replied. "We are taking a break."

"…Was that sass?" Atreus wasn't even frustrated anymore, merely confused. And a touch concerned. His father merely arched a brow. Atreus cleared his throat. "Well, staring at me isn't going to make this work any faster."

"What's the holdup?" Sora asked.

"It's my feet." He stared down at them. "They just feel more…limited, you know?" He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. "I've got a lot less range of motion, for one."

"Your shield spell requires precise movements to be cast?" Father asked. "This has not come up before."

"Not like that." Atreus shook his head. "More like…You can do a lot with your hands, right? Point at something, pick things up, hold stuff. But feet…you just walk with them." Granted, you could pick something up between your toes, but that was just an awkward experience.

"A mental block," Father surmised.

Atreus nodded. "I'll work through it, just need some time to wrap my head around it." He'd probably have to pay a visit to the Giants again, get some more advice. "But it'd go a lot easier without the two of your boring holes into the back of my head." To his dismay, despite the admonishment, neither Sora nor Father looked the least bit remorseful.

Still, Sora did turn to Father. "You said you have stones that can stop time?" Father nodded. "Mind bringing them? I want to practice powering through time magic." Father was silent, thoughtful, before he nodded and left for the house.

Atreus tilted his head at Sora's words. "Power through time magic?" he repeated. "You can do that?" Father had told him that Heimdall, through channeling the Bifrost, appeared to have some measure of time manipulation. But he'd never specified how exactly he'd put it to use, or how Father countered the ability.

"Sure," Sora replied, rising to his feet and stretching his arms over his head. "Course, the time magic I know, almost all magic, really, comes in different tiers, and the higher versions are harder to either block or power through. The lower the tier, the easier it is to resist." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I wonder how your dad's stuff will compare."

"Would you mind explaining that in depth?" Mimir called out from his post.

Sora walked over and turned the talking head around. "Guess you're done sulking, huh?"

Mimir sniffed. "I was not 'sulking'! Simply compiling all the information I've recently gathered."

"Have you been successful?" Atreus asked as he joined them.

"…Mostly," Mimir bit out.

"And you want to add more things you don't have a clue about on top of your 'mostly' compiled information?" Mimir harrumphed indignantly but didn't otherwise respond.

Sora and Atreus shared smirks. The former said, "Well, there's elemental magic, and more abstract magic like time or gravity magic, and Light and Darkness fall somewhere in-between. Oh, and Nothingness."

"Nothingness?" Mimir slowly repeated.

"It's something Nobodies can use, some sort of non-elemental energy like Light and Darkness, but distinctly not, I guess. I'd have to ask Ienzo about it, he used to be a Nobody and is all smart and technical."

"Let's move on!" Atreus hurriedly said before Mimir could lead them down the tangent of what the hell a 'Nobody' even was, and how you could have once been one.

"Sure." Sora replied. "Aside from a handful of exceptions, magic comes in four tiers, and you know what they are based on their, what's the word…suffix!" Sora summoned his Kingdom Key and aimed it at a training dummy. "For example, there's Fire." The tip of his Keyblade glowed red, and a small ball of fire shot out and impacted against the dummy, leaving a scorch mark on its chest. "Fira." Another fireball, this one bigger than the last, shot against the dummy. There was a small boom, and the chest was entirely scorched, small flames flickering on it. "And Firaga." The biggest ball of flame yet zoomed out from the Keyblade, blasting the dummy apart into smoldering chunks of wood and straw.

Sora dropped his Keyblade and stared at his handiwork with a frown. "…Kratos won't mind that I blew that up, will he?"

"It's fine," Atreus replied. "He goes through dozens of them on his own. I think he likes making new ones."

"He does," Mimir piped up. "Told me the repetition is relaxing."

"Whew," Sora dismissed his Keyblade with a relieved sigh. "Load off my back." He turned back to face Atreus and Mimir. "There's a fourth tier, the highest one, which I previously called 'Grand Magic. It ends in '-za', so fourth-tier fire magic would be 'Firaza'. I heard Master Aqua call it '-ja', once, but I don't think it matters."

"So, that giant whirlpool in Muspelheim you used to wipe out those Dragur would be, what, Water…za?" Atreus asked.

Sora grinned and clasped his hands behind his head. "Bingo!"

"I recall you saying you need to build up to such a thing," Mimir said. "Does it not call upon your usual reserves—your magical abilities are drawn from your own body, correct?"

"Yeah, regular magic is." Sora scratched his chin with a thoughtful frown. "Grand Magic is kind of hard to explain, now that I'm thinking about it." He was silent for a moment. "It's like…You know how when you're in a fight, when you get in a groove, there's this sort of sparky energy that's just flowing all around and through you?"

"Bloodlust?" Atreus offered.

Sora shook his head. "Not that. It's like…I don't know, like I said, it's hard to explain. But the point is, it's a separate form of power than my regular magic uses. Kinda like my formchanges, or Team Attacks, but still different."

"I've noticed your magic's a rather combative sort, Sora," Mimir stated. "Do you know anything a little more…recreational? Like how the Vanir can manipulate nature?"

"Not really. I know some healing magic, and basic telekinesis with my Keyblade, but that's it. But that doesn't mean I can't have fun with what I know." He stepped away from them and summoned his Kingdom Key again. Lightning sparked along the tip, and Sora telekinetically twirled the Keyblade in his hands, sparks dancing as they trailed after his weapon.

"Ooh, that's pretty!" Mimir cheered. "You'll have to show that off during the celebrations—should you desire to join, of course."

"Are you kidding, I love parties!" Sora declared as he dismissed his weapon. "Hey, will there be dancing?"

"There have been at the last few, smaller celebrations," Atreus said. "You can dance?"

"I cut a pretty mean rug," Sora boasted. Atreus and Mimir stared blankly at him. "…Yeah, I can dance."

"What does cutting a rug have to do with dancing?" Mimir queried.

Sora let out a breath. "It's just an expression, Mimir."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm quite fond of metaphors and word play," Mimir replied. "But I do like to know the origins thereof. Part of my being the Smartest Man Alive, you see."

"About that, how does that work?" Atreus sucked in a breath and tried to get Sora to stop. Alas, his friend said, "'Aren't you technically dead?" Atreus quickly left the pair behind as Mimir went on his usual rant on the differences behind being dead and resurrected.

He saw his father exit the house, a few of those enchanted stones in his hands, and walked over to meet him halfway. "Give it a minute," he said, "Sora set Mimir off on his 'I'm still technically alive', rants." Father grunted in a mixture of exasperation and fondness. "What took you so long anyway?"

Father held out the stones in his hands. "I was searching for the strongest time halting enchantments I had. I suspect anything less will not be of much effect on Sora."

"You're probably right," Atreus agreed. "He's pretty strong. Especially for a mortal." Atreus leaned against the side of the house. "And that still boggles the mind, you know? I didn't think mortals could get that strong."

Father nodded. "Typically, they cannot. They would need some form of divine assistance, or divine blood." Father hummed. "…In this World, at least."

Atreus let loose a long whistle. "If I hadn't met Sora, I wouldn't have believed you." He shrugged. "Well, you would have lost me at all this 'other Worlds' business anyway."

"I have no doubt," Father said good-naturedly, though his expression was guarded, as it always was when speaking of other Worlds.

Still, Atreus asked. "You ever meet a mortal like that?"

"…Many," Father eventually replied. Atreus stared at his father expectantly. His father grunted, and after another long moment of silence, spoke again. "There was one mortal I met, during one of my travels. His name was Raiden."

"Raiden," Atreus repeated. The name tingled against his tongue like a lightning storm. "I feel like I've heard it before."

"It is a name he shares with an Eastern god, I've no doubt it exists within Tyr's foreign collections, and that's where you've heard it." Father replied. He crossed his arms over his chest. "The majority of the mortals I met could be divided into two categories: those with or without access to magical or divine assistance, be it with tools, an enchantment, or their own blood. But Raiden…his strength came purely from mortal inventions." Father stared down at his arms. "Almost his entire body had been replaced with mechanical parts. He was more machine than man."

"His entire body?" Atreus winced. "That sounds painful."

"It was," Father agreed. "But Raiden professed that it was worth it. And the results spoke for themselves. He was one of the few 'pure' Mortals that could match me blow-for-blow."

"You're kidding!" Atreus goggled.

"I am not," Father said, amused. "And even without his enhancements, which, again, were purely Mortal ingenuity, he was a skilled warrior. Self-taught, much like Sora, but tempered through constant battle." Father tilted his head up to the sky, a sort of wistfulness overtaking his features.

Atreus was still trying to wrap his mind around the idea that a Mortal, mechanical or not, whatever that mean, could stand against his father. Still, he noticed his father's expression, and asked, "Do you miss them? The people you've met from other Worlds?"

Father heaved a great sigh. "Some," he admitted. "At the time I convinced myself I did not but…they were good allies. Good people."

"Anyone in particular standout?"

Father considered the question. "…There was a girl."

Atreus turned on his heel. "And I don't need to hear this."

"A child," Father said with a huff.

Atreus turned back and leaned back against the house.

Father grunted in amusement, before his wistfulness returned. "She called herself 'Sally'. She was one of those dragged into the Polygon Man's games."

"Polygon Man? Isn't a polygon a shape, or something?" Atreus arched a brow. "He was a man of shapes?"

"The Polygon Man was a mass of ever-changing purple crystals that took the rough shape of a man's head." Father's face twisted into a scowl. "He was capable of crossing the barriers between worlds and mashing them together for the sake of entertaining himself. To that end, he sought to bring all of creation together, so he could manipulate all creatures within for his petty joys."

Atreus blinked. "…Should I get Mimir? Because if he finds out you're telling me about your otherworldly adventures without him, he's gonna chew both our necks off."

Father grunted in amusement. "Do not worry, I shall tell you no more of the Polygon Man without Mimir present."

Atreus chuckled. "Good. So, Sally? How did a little girl get swept up in some otherworldly adventure" Was she some super strong child or something?"

Father rested against the house beside Atreus. "No, she bore no great strength or abilities. She was simply dragged alongside a…creature known as Mr. Bubbles, which she professed to be her father."

"Okay, I've got two questions."

"I do not know why he was called Mr. Bubbles."

"I've got one question."

Father chucked. "He wore this…strange suit that I was informed mortals had created in order to safely explore the depths of the ocean. Depths light itself does not reach."

Atreus wondered at that. He'd dived into oceans during his travels, as fish, sharks, dolphins, a sea turtle, once. But never far enough where the light couldn't reach. "Must've been a brave guy."

"Mr. Bubbles was certainly fearless."

"So, what makes him a creature?"

"He never took the suit off, even for repairs, and spoke only in long, moaning grunts." Father hummed. "That itself would be nothing too strange, but beneath the suit, when it was damaged, you could easily see that he was…misshapen. As if he were molded into it. The other mortals I was with informed me that such a thing was not, in fact, normal. They suspected some form of torture, but Mr. Bubbles could not speak of it. And Sally herself was…disturbed."

"Well with a 'father' like that, I can only imagine." Atreus tried for a chuckle, but his father glared in admonishment. He trailed off into a nervous grunt.

"…Sally bore some sort of disease. Her skin was pale, her eyes were pure, glowing yellow, and the way she spoke easily denoted that she was out of touch with reality."

"…But…?"

Father sighed. "…She loved him, her father. More beast than man, but she loved him with all her heart. And he her. There was…nothing he would not do to see her safe."

Atreus drew back, a pensive look on his face. He knew that his father had long-standing insecurities on his own belief that he was a monster due to his past, and his ability to be a good father. But this…this felt different. Deeper.

His father swallowed a lump in his throat. "Atreus…I—"

Ru-Ruff-Woof

Father jerked forward and grabbed his ax from his back following the barks and yelps from the wolves.

"No, wait!" Atreus held out an arm in front of his father. "Those are happy noises." He focused on the overlapping sounds. "…They're excited over someone. Someone friendly."

"Or someone with a flank of meat," Father derisively noted, though he did place the ax back on his back.

"Hey, they're not that bad."

"They have grown fat and lazy."

"Svanna's gotten lazy," Atreus corrected. Though he could not deny that both of them were fat. "C'mon, let's see who it is." Father nodded, and the previously vulnerable air surrounding him vanished in an instant. Atreus was personally, annoyed at the interruption, but he could always take his father aside and restart the conversation at another time.

They made their way to the wolves, and Atreus perked up at the sight of a tall, muscled mortal squatting down to pet them. "Birgir!" he called out, hurrying over to his friend.

"Atreus!" the man replied as he rose to his feet, ignoring the whining from Speki and Svanna. "It's been a long time." He held out his arm, which Atreus eagerly and warmly clasped and shook.

"You're telling me. How's Chaurli?"

"As well as a magic tortoise with a house for a stomach can be." Birgir shifted his gaze ahead. "Kratos."

Father grunted. "What brings you to our home?" he asked, with a subtle inflection of warmth that almost no one would be able to detect.

"A couple things, actually." Birgir bent back down, much to the wolves' joy. "Hildisvíni contacted me. He wanted me to tell you, Atreus, that Queen Freya is meeting with the leaders for each of the races to discuss reparations for the mortals of Midgard."

"So soon?" Atreus asked, eyes wide. "That's amazing!"

"It really is," his friend said with no small amount of wonder. "And it's all thanks to you, from what he told me." Atreus blushed at the praise. Birgir jerked his head at Father. "As for you, Kratos, apparently Lady Freya's sectioned off a plot of land for you in Vanaheim?"

Father smiled—actually smiled!—and said, "That is excellent news. Should you see her, inform her that I shall return to Vanaheim soon to begin planting."

Birgir blinked at Father's good mood. He looked down to Atreus. "Don't ask," was all he said. When Birgir shrugged, Atreus continued, "You want to stay for a bit? Rest, maybe have a meal?"

Birgir looked tempted, but ultimately shook his head. "I'd love to, but I can't. Hildisvíni didn't reach out to me just to pass on a message. He wants me to be present during the talks, since I'm a Midgardian mortal who used to be one of Odin's 'vaunted' Travelers and spent a fair few years in Vanaheim alongside Freyr's resistance." He chuckled. "Apparently, I've got a 'wide range of perspectives' to bring to the table."

"Sounds fun," Atreus commiserated.

"Shall Freya require our assistance?" Father asked.

Birgir blinked. "…Are you volunteering?" Father grunted, and Birgir looked to Atreus once more, who smirked and shrugged. "…Right, well, Hildisvíni didn't say, but I can ask when I head to Vanaheim today with Skjöldr, Anders, and a few of the other village leaders." Birgir rose to his feet once more. "Fair warning, it's going to be a whirlwind. Queen Freya wants to try and get it all done before the anniversary of Ragnarök."

Atreus whistled. "That's a…tight timeline."

"She's begging for a miracle," Birgir said without shame. "But the Light and Dark elves haven't tried to kill each other in droves since Ragnarök, so what do I know?" Birgir clapped Atreus once on the shoulder and nodded at Father. "It was a pleasure seeing you two again!" he called out as he left the boundaries of their home.

After Birgir disappeared into the woods, Atreus turned to his father with an arched brow. "You really want to insert yourself in the middle of all that?"

Father grunted and turned on his heel. "I assisted with the elves' gulon issue, did I not?" he asked as he marched for the backyard.

Atreus snorted as he kept pace. "You were there for one day and contributed nothing of importance."

"My presence was important."

"Oh, of course, your grace!" Atreus declared with a bow. Father huffed in amusement.

They returned to Mimir and Sora to find the latter leaning against a weapon rack, eyes glazed over. The former had his eyes closed as he spewed out his rant on his status among the living.

"—And now that I've adequately explained the origins of Lady Freya's spell, we can delve into the real meat of the classifications that arose following its inception."

Oh wow, he was going with the long one. Atreus hadn't heard that in years.

It was at that moment Atreus and his father reached the pair. "Enough," Father declared, startling Mimir from his rant.

"Ah, there you are!" Mimir shifted his gaze to Sora. "We'll finish this later." Sora let loose an unenthusiastic cheer. "What got the wolves all excited?"

"Birgir stopped by," Atreus said. He relayed the information the ex-Traveler told them. He chuckled after he finished. "I mean, I'm glad Freya's getting on top of all this, but trying to get it all done the literal week before Ragnarök? I'd rather dunk my hand in lava. Again."

"You did what?" Father asked, alarmed.

Before Atreus could explain, Mimir gasped. "Oh dear, is Ragnarök really a week away?" He closed his eyes let loose a ragged sigh. "Oh, how could I have forgotten?!"

Atreus arched his brow at his friend's despair, only for the answer to strike him like lightning.

Father reached out and picked Mimir up. "Mimir," he said, voice soft. "A lot has happened. This lapse is no fault of yours."

"Oh, Kratos, please, spare me your false assurances."

"Uh, guys?" They all turned to Sora, who stared at them with concern. "What's wrong?"

Atreus and Father looked at Mimir. "Well?" the former began. "Do you want to tell him?"

Mimir let out a breath. "Aye, I won't hide my sins. Come along Sora, we're heading to Svartalfheim," he said as Father placed him on his hip and led them forward. "It starts years ago when I was working with Odin. There's this sea creature within the Realms, known as the Lyngbakr."

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A/N: Again, alpha13a and me had a PM chat where they gave me the basic idea of the next arc, and permission to use it. It really helped me iron out a few plot points. You're a peach, alpha13a.