For many years after Thor's violent appearance in Midgard, the temple of Tyr had been absent of mortal and Immortal life. Following Kratos's death and Atreus's disappearance, the Huldra Brothers went into hiding and abandoned their old shop there. Firstly due to the risk of encountering the bloodthirsty Aesir and for the impending signs of Ragnarok. Most other denizens of the realms within Odin's reach did the same.
With Atreus's return, the three make their way back to the abandoned Aesir temple. As the metal doors creak open, the generation of dust and snow build up pours onto the hard floor. Atreus, from the outside, like his father, pries the gates open. While frowning in strain when holding it open, Brok and Sindri squeeze by his legs.
"Can you believe this guy?" Brok asks, shaking his head in disbelief. "This punk decides to disappear off the face of Midgard for over ten years, then shows up expecting godly handouts like some greedy whore!"
As the brothers reach their old stations, the Last Son of Sparta releases his hold on the doors. When following behind, the gates slam behind him, reverberating the noise of banging steel within the chamber. Despite the distasteful comparison, Atreus finds humor in the comment.
"I see your rough mouth hasn't changed, Brok," he comments, finding comfort when being near his old friends.
"You know, I'm starting to find Grey hairs?" The blue dwarf asks. "Especially in the unwanted regions, and let me tell you they itch more than the dark strands!"
The unsettling image stuns Atreus and repulses Sindri. The dwarf begins to gag and walk to the closest corner of the room. Although he does not vomit, he does lean forward, ready to do so.
"I did not need to know that," Loki replies, clamping his eyes shut in disgust.
"Well, that's what you get for taking so damn long to come back," Brok says with a stern point of his finger. "Especially when the people you know think you're dead!"
The distress in Brok's voice, stricken Atreus with immense guilt. He becomes silent, tilting his head down as the dwarf stares. The sharp tone of the ambiance even catches Sindri's attention, who walks back to his brother's side.
"I'm sorry," Atreus expresses. "I had a lot on my mind... I was sad, angry, and horrified, believing that I'd be alone forever..."
"Exactly, where have you been?" Sindri asks.
For a moment, the son of Kratos thinks back through all the years of isolation. So much has occurred in such a significant amount of time, no simple response could summarize the overall time spent away. When crossing his arms sternly, his already firm body tenses at the thought of the past dangers.
"I've been training," he tells them with a stressful sigh following after. "I've been traveling across whatever realms are available to me."
"Training?" Sindri questions. "For what?"
The improbability of what he's planning is enough to make him feel uneasy. Again, Atreus is hesitant to speak of his intention out of worry for how they'll react. Taking on more breath to ease his anxious nerves, he kneels down to them.
"To stop the Aesirs' reign, and prevent Ragnarok," he tells them.
As expected, the dwarven siblings are speechless. Even the stern Brok has his jaw hanging open in shock. Sindri is shaken by the absurd notion, leading him to glance back and forth between his brother and the Son of Sparda.
"W-wait, what?" Are the first words Brok can form. "I thought the death of the Aesir is what causes Ragnarok?"
"I don't know the full details," Atreus says as he rises from the floor. "All I know is that the world of Midgard, if not all the nine realms are in danger... If I don't stop it, a lot of innocent people are going to die."
The weight of the situation is heavy on the dwarf brothers. Again they are temporarily hushed by such words. As they think quietly to themselves, the Son of Kratos makes his way to their old work table. When sitting down, the past flashes back into his mind, rendering him just as quiet. The emotional weight of enduring so much hardship alone, as well as believing so much depends on him leaves him locked in internal turmoil.
"Why the hell do you need to be the one to stop it?" Brok asks with a sigh and a shake of his head.
"Because Jormungandr told me that I played a crucial role in Ragnarok," Atreus claims. "I don't know what's expected of me, nor what is my fate... All I know is that I'm at the heart of it all."
While he's explaining, he is unaware of the dwarven brothers slipping behind him. A sudden wave of heat reaches the young demigod's back. Atreus lightly pushes himself off the dusty counter. Right as he turns himself to the source, he sees that the Huldra Brothers have rekindled the old furnaces of their shop. The uncertainty in the duo's eyes only causes more worry in him. With their forge revitalized, the two stand side by side.
"If you need a weapon that can kill an Aesir, what about the Leviathan axe?" Brok asks.
"Thor shattered it..." Atreus says, leaning down.
"That redhead son of a bitch!" The blue dwarf in rage slams his clenched fists onto the table. His brother, urgently, grabs his shoulder in an attempt to quell his anger. "I literally died to make that weapon, and that masculine princess goes and breaks it!"
"I don't think it would matter," Sindri states while patting his brother on the shoulder.
"What do you mean?" Atreus asks, crossing his arms.
"Well..." For a moment, Sindri calculates how to form a proper response. He rubs his glove covered palms while slowly pacing in silence. As his brother looks over to him, the same thought comes to the blue dwarf's mind. A stern expression is shared between the two.
"You see, Mjolnir was created using scarce materials, rare resources that are no longer available to us..." Sindri explains.
"Even if we could make another weapon like that, it wouldn't do you any good..." Brok adds.
"Why is that?" A hint of annoyance carries in Atreus' tone.
"Well, a weapon is an extension of its wielder. While you have come a long way, especially with your abilities... You-" Sindri goes on before being interrupted.
"You wouldn't last a minute against Thor the way you are now... Even with such a fancy armament. If the wielder doesn't possess the strength to use it properly, then the weapon won't make a difference..." Brok adds, looking up to the God of Mischief.
An instant expression of outrage emerges on the young demigod's face. A sigh of denial breezes from his clenched teeth while looking away from the brothers. Despite his resentment towards the statement, his gradual calming shows his acceptance of the notion. Their words remind him of a similar quote that his father once told him. As he places his arm onto the table beside him, he rests his weight on the muscular limb.
"Please, don't get the wrong idea," Sindri pleads when rushing to his side. "You're not weak, it's just-"
"I know," Atreus admits, shaking his head. "I'm not as strong as him... Despite pushing myself to my limits, time, and time again for so many years. Deep down, I know I can never match my father's shadow."
"Whoever said you needed to match it?" Brok questions with his arms crossed. "Last, I recall you're not a pale old man who angry all of the time. You are Atreus, the son of the pale old man who was angry all the time!"
Although rugged and slightly insulting, the blue dwarf's words are comforting. A smirk forms on one side of Atreus's face. Although the brothers' can't see it, they can sense his spirits lifting.
"You may be a twig compared to your old man, but you've got a brain that makes his look like a lump of coal," Brok comments.
The rough compliment sparks an epiphany in Atreus's mind. His eyes open wide as he ponders more on the idea that has appeared in his head. As he does so, he immediately pushes himself from the table and paces the room. The dwarves are initially alarmed by the urgent circling action.
"Brain," Atreus mutters to himself.
"Uh..." Sindri and Brok are frozen in place while watching the anxious demigod wander about.
"I may not know how to stop Thor, but I believe I know someone who does... Mimir..."
"Mimir?" The Huldra Brothers repeat in disarray.
"I thought you put him to rest years ago?" Sindri asks, becoming ill at the thought of the Aesir's head. The dwarf turns away, expecting to let loose his previous meal on the floor.
"We did," Atreus confirms. "During Fimbulwinter, he decided he wanted to pass on, despite knowing his fate."
"Helheim..." Brok speaks with dread plaguing his tone.
The very mention of the frozen realm sends shivers down the Huldra Brothers spines, cleansing the sick feeling from Sindri. Thinking hard on the memories of the damned kingdom, Atreus stands with his arms crossing. The dwarves look up at him while he dozes off. Taking very little time, the siblings instantly realize what he is planning but aren't able to object in time.
"That settles it," Atreus finalizes his decision. "I'm going to Helheim to free Mimir!"
Without even a second thought, the Last Son of Sparta marches in a hurry out the gate they came in. Believing his actions to be brass, the dwarven brothers' stand in his way. For a few feet, the demigod drags them effortlessly across the floor while they push on his legs.
"Now wait a god damn minute!" Brok projects. The rugged pitch in his voice halts Atreus in place. "You think it's that easy to just fetch a soul out of Helheim?"
"My father and I escaped the Land of the Dead once, I can do it again!" Atreus claims.
"Barely!"
"Not to mention the absurdity of it," Sindri claims, hands shaking with worry. "No dead soul has ever escaped Helheim, nor has anyone ever just taken a soul out of it. Bringing back the dead has a price."
"Don't forget that even if a soul is brought back, Mimir wouldn't be able to maintain his presence for long," Brok adds while stepping back to the work table. "You'd need a way to bind him to the world of the living, using the Old Magic."
At that moment, Atreus sighs tiresomely while shaking his head. Lacking enthusiasm, he ducks his head. Sindri and Brok stare bewildered at his sudden absence of motivation.
"I was worried you two would say that," Atreus comments.
"You know someone who can help?" Sindri asks.
"Yeah..." The Last Son of Sparta looks back up. Once more, he begins walking toward the gateway. This time, the Huldra Brothers only watch as he takes a hasty leave. "I just wonder if she's forgiven me..."
As Atreus departs, the dwarves return to their stations. With the fires of their furnace burning as brilliantly as they did ages ago, the duo piles their resources.
"Well, if you find any materials and ore while your out, bring them to us!" Brok says while waving his hammer around. "We'll make you some proper equipment, as well as tune-up what you already have!"
Without so much as a word, Atreus pulls the doorway open. The grinding of steel rings in the chamber and to the outside world. For a moment, he pauses while holding the entrance open. With only a glimpse back to the dwarven brothers, he gives them a smile of gratitude.
"Thank you for everything," he tells them.
With a small push, while walking forward, the demigod departs. The gates slam behind him automatically, but the floor shaking bang doesn't faze him. With minor concern for the inevitable reunion with an old friend, he stands in place. His fists clench as he releases a breath of regret. His body remains firm as he presses onward, preparing himself for a possible altercation.
After a few hours of traveling, Atreus finds himself on a familiar trail. A path of smooth dirt, with golden grass on each side of it. At the end of it, a wall of vines and roots intertangle with a stone formation. With the sun's rays just peeking beyond the trees in front of him, he stares nostalgically at the foundation. As he approaches, the past returns to him. Voices and visions of when he was younger fill his mind, halting him in place. He grasps his head from the pain of the words piercing his mind.
Once concentrating solely on the crying, Atreus's eyes open wide. For a split second, he envisions himself at this exact spot, over ten years ago. Looking back on that moment, Atreus had just lost his father. A vision of his younger self weeps at the entryway while holding his arms in the shivering winter. Back then, he desperately wanted to go to the witch of the woods but was too fearful. Shaking his head, the present-day Son of Kratos breaks his focus on the hallucination.
"It probably would have been better to go to her back then," he tells himself. "But now is no time to cling to the past."
Atreus presses on, coming close to the barrier while the vision fades. Grabbing a handful of dirt, he activates an incantation that he'd heard long ago.
"Greiỗa," he whispers with a wave of his now dimly glowing hand.
At his command, the plant life parts its way from the trail. Within seconds, as the vines glow and sparkle different shades of yellow and pink, the passage is open to him. He smiles at the calming display of magic before continuing. Although it has been many years since he's walked this trail, the garden, and lush forest is unchanged. The pale trees still have vibrant red leaves hanging from their branches. The shiny grass is lively and blows peacefully in the cold breeze. Even the open meadow ahead appears to be the same, as well as what lies at the center.
The tallest tree in the region stands unharmed by what transpired during Thor's visit. Based on his memory, all remains to be unaltered. However, before accepting that all is well, there is but one more thing to see.
"Heimili!" Atreus shouts out.
As his voice echoes in the distance, the very earth rumbles at the call. Below the giant oak, the hill begins to rise from the ground. Extending from the pit is a set of massive, leathery limbs. At the front of the mound, the round head of a turtle-like creature emerges. The gigantic reptile turns to look down at the Atreus. The two stare at one another while he approaches the old animal.
"You're still here," he comments in delight.
Meeting again fills the Last Son of Sparta with soothing happiness. Calmly to assure his intentions are good, he slowly extends his arms out to the turtle. With his hands brushing the creature's chin, Chaurli groans restful at the affection.
"It's good to see you too," Atreus says while still petting it. "If you're here, then where is Freya?"
At the mention of her name, the turtle becomes absent-minded to his presence. No longer does it hum at his rubs, but he stares off into the distance. Atreus looks at him in disarray for its sudden shift in behavior. He removes his hand from its flesh while stepping backward. With enough space between them, the Son of Kratos can now see what the animal is focusing on. However, an intrusion would prevent him from knowing what the turtle was watching.
From behind him, a thick vine wraps itself around Atreus' neck. Right as he grabs the root, he's yanked and dragged back. Fighting with all he can, it only takes a handful of seconds to be pulled several yards away. Before he can break himself free of the suffocating bind, he is thrown even further away. His body collides with a large boulder, the impact breaks and cracks a large portion of it. With the wind knocked out of him, Atreus plummets to the gravel.
Trying to catch his breath, he struggles to bring himself back onto his feet. Upon raising his head to the valley ahead of him, his assailant reveals themselves. Crashing into the earth in front of him is a hooded woman. Her robes, leather pieces of armor, and glimmering sword pale in comparison to one detail. Upon her back in a set of mighty, armor-plated wings of white and gold. So large in size that they could wrap around her whole body if needed. The sun's light sparkles on the feathers and stainless bronze.
"Who are you?" She questions with anger in her voice.
Groaning from the unsuspecting attack, Atreus doesn't respond. As fast as he can, he pushes himself off the floor while taking short, rapid breaths.
"Why have you come here?" She asks.
"I've come looking for the woman who lives here," he tells her, still light of air and with agitation.
"You are not of these lands, stranger! I see through your lies!"
Before hearing out what the injured demigod has to say, the hooded woman unleashes another attack. The floor around Atreus rumbles and moves. With only a second to spare, he leaps away as a cluster of vines drive themselves into the stone where he was. Clear from immediate harm, he reaches for his seax blade and hurls it at her. The subtle ringing of it soaring through the air is enough to alert her. With a swing of her sword, the two blades connect.
Repeatedly, with each parry of steel, the Last Son of Sparta would relentlessly throw his knife. Only for her to keep blocking and sending it back for him to catch with its magic. Until one such throw activates a force of energy within. The power behind both hits are enough to push her back, and send the dagger in the opposite direction. With a swipe of his hand, Atreus catches it, with another draws his bow. With smooth flowing motion, he swiftly prepares his arrows.
"Þruma!" He shouts as his three arrows pulsate with electricity.
With a flick of his fingers, he launches his attack. Roaring bolts fly towards the attacker. However, in the blink of an eye, a wall of stone and roots defends her. The crackling thunder shoots in all directions upon collision with her barrier. He holds his arms out, expecting to be hit, but is thankfully unscathed by the reflecting sparks. She, too, does not receive any harm from his barrage.
As the shield lowers, she waves her hand to invoke another spell. This time, pillars of rock along with dirt and thorned vines begin to form a dome around Atreus. With yellow energies emitting from her fingers, she clenches her fist. At her silent command, the elements slam down onto the Son of Kratos. A gust of dirt blows in all directions from the crash. At the same time, a quake that would make most mortals fall to their knees trembles in the field.
Slowly, the winged maiden approaches the ruble. All seems quiet, with only a single hawk flying away from the devastation. Looking upon the damage she caused, it would seem that Atreus is buried beneath the earth. She sighs tiringly in relief over her victory. Unbeknownst to her, this battle was far from over.
The same bird that flew away was rapidly descending at her from behind. As it comes close, a flash of blue light envelops the winged animal. As it's brilliance fades, Atreus exits the glowing orb while falling at his attacker. With the Blades of Chaos in hand, burning with bright Azure flames, he screams while preparing a savage swing of the twin swords. The hooded woman turns to the battle cry. Although she can direct her own longsword at the attack, she is unable to block the entire harmful hit.
As the Greek blades make contact with her own weapon, an explosion of red and blue fire blasts in all directions. Unable to withstand the explosion, she's hurled far into the distance. For the most part, she tumbles and rolls across the field. To stop herself, she plunges her sword into the earth. With one hard pull, she rises from the dirt to fight on. However, she pauses in place once noticing one crucial detail of her enemy.
Atreus Within a large ring of fire rests in a kneeling position from the high fall. As he stands, the Blades of Chaos burn in his grasp.
"Where did you get those?" She questions recognizing the dreaded design.
"None of your damn business!" He shouts while marching toward her.
As he walks to her, she attempts to take to the skies. Before she can ascend to a height beyond his reach, he extends his blades into the air. With his hands on the chains, the chain links of the twin swords wrap themselves onto her ankles. Turning the other direction, Atreus yanks and brings her down to the ground. Upon impact, her body bounces away, with her hood coming undone. For a moment, she remains laying to recuperate, not knowing her face became unconcealed.
Slowly Atreus approaches, with his blades flames fading away as he calms down. The sound of his steps alerts her to his coming, making her jerk her head to him. The Son of Kratos is all but frozen when seeing the face of his attacker. His hands shake, and the greek swords become cold by its wielder's reaction.
"Freya?" He asks, not believing his eyes.
The Goddess Freya, wife to Odin, and for a time ally to Kratos, and his son reveals herself. So many variables fill Atreus's mind with questions, leaving him stunned and vulnerable. In his resistance to fight back, the Goddess not recognizing the older Son of Kratos takes action. Holding out her hand, nature comes to her aid. The same plants that have been harassing the demigod latch themselves onto him again. He is forced back, the sudden tug makes him drop the Blades of Chaos. Now that he's restrained, she stands once more.
"You will pay for stealing from a dead man and his son," she claims, blinded by anger.
"Freya, wait, it's me!" Atreus attempts to reason with her.
Still unable to see passed her fury, she readies herself for a killing blow. Lunging through the air with a flap of her wings, she pulls back for a mighty swing of her sword.
"Atreus!" He shouts to her.
Not a moment too late does he speak his name. As the word leaves his lips, the Vanir Goddess stops her strike. The glimmering, sharp steel of her sword hangs with only an inch of space between it and Atreus' neck. Feeling the cold metal so close to his throat, he gasps with ease to his survival. The two stare at one another, both having an expression of trauma.
"Look at me, Freya," he tenderly requests. "You know it's me..."
The pupils in her eyes are alarmingly unsteady when looking down at him. A part of her doubts it to be real, and yet a sliver within her fast-beating heart says otherwise. The longer her eyes are set on him, the more she grows to accept it. For a split moment, she imagines a young Atreus. The comparison of the two faces is enough to break her from her skeptic sight. The overwhelming realization forces her to step away. Barely able to keep ahold of her sword due to her weak grasp, she stares at him.
With her other hand over her mouth, and with instant tears running down her eyes, her spell ends. Atreus is free from her binds and is now able to fully stand. Pulling back the blades with the chains and sheathing them, he remains idle, to give her the space needed to cope with the situation. Her crying saddens him, reminding him of the pain she was forced to endure from losing her son.
"I know I'm not the best person you'd want to see, but-"
Before Atreus can finish his sentence, a teary Freya approaches. With one arm, she embraces him as a mother would to her child. This affectionate, gentle action catches the Last Son of Sparta off guard. For many years he has not known such kindness. Unsure how to react, he simply freezes in place. However, as water builds and blurs his vision, he can't help but return the loving favor.
"I thought you were dead," she mentions, unable to hold back her tears.
"If you hadn't stopped, I would be," he replies with a smile of surprise while holding her.
As they pull away, she sheaths her sword. As the two hold hands, Atreus looks back to the majestic wings upon her back.
"How did you get your wings back?" He asks, astonished by the beauty of them.
"The Valkyries came to me," she says to him, sniffling with a happy look on her face. "They told me that you and your father saved them, and in return, helped me find my wings."
In the blink of an eye, the feathered limbs retract into her back. The armor on them places themselves onto her shoulders and body.
"Although I have my fighting spirit back, I am sadly still bound to this realm," she informs him. "But that doesn't matter right now, you must have so many more questions... Come..."
Still holding his hands, she gently guides Atreus to her home. Trusting her as he did before, the Son of Kratos follows. With the sins of the past no longer weighing on either god at this moment, the two walk together. For now, all they feel is peace, knowing that old grievances are no more and that they can move forward.