A Piece of Peace

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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Mimir, as befitting his title as the Smartest Man Alive, quickly picked up on the target practice. Even when Kratos pushed his speed to the limit and he and Sora were little more than blurs of Flowmotion, he was able to keep up and destroy the thrown projectiles with his Flowmotion enhanced Bifrost beams.

Still, he did eventually grow tired, and they had to stop.

The talking head groaned. "I forgot what it felt like to be sore! Can't say I miss it."

"Get used to it," Kratos declared. "Now that you have a reliable means of attack, you shall be joining me during my training."

"…Can I say n—"

"You may not," Kratos cut him.

"Well, damn me for wanting to be useful," Mimir groused good-naturedly.

"Aw, don't be like that!" Sora bent down and pet Mimir between the horns. "Training can be fun!"

"You're cut from the same insane cloth as Kratos," Mimir countered. "Your definition of 'fun' is not the norm, I assure you." He grumbled beneath his breath. "Probably tie me to his axe and throw it through the air so I can blast everything from above."

Kratos grunted. "That is an interesting suggestion."

"…I need to learn to stop talking." Kratos smirked while Sora let out a laugh.

"What's so funny?" Atreus asked as he dropped down beside them—waiting for Kratos to call an end to training, no doubt.

"Shot myself in the foot," Mimir complained.

"Ah, of course," Atreus nodded sagely. "Hey, Sora, I wanted to ask you something." The young man arched a brow. "What's that thing you sometimes do where it sounds like glass is breaking and then you shoot off into the distance?"

"Air Stepping," Sora answered. He looked at his feet with a bashful smile. "It's something I made up on my own, actually."

"Ooh, your own personal technique?" Mimir exclaimed. "Well, don't leave us in suspense!"

Sora chuckled and stared out across the yard. "I start by storing a lot of Flowmotion energy within my body, keep a real tight grip on it, you know? Then I aim at my target and just—" he expelled a forceful breath and shoved his arms forward—"release!" The sound of glass breaking emanated from him, and he shot out like and arrow, bounding across the yard before he stopped on a tree. He spun on the tree, glass broke once more, and he was before them in seconds.

Sora clasped his hands behind his head with a frown after he collected himself. "I wouldn't try it if I were you, though."

"Why not?" Kratos asked.

"Like with all Flowmotion in the Waking World, if you're not careful, you can veer way off your intended course." He shrugged. "I mean, you guys are gods, so you probably won't get hurt or anything, even if you mess it up in a fight, but I think you should make sure you've got the basics down first." Kratos hummed, taking the advice to heart. Indeed, a strong foundation would make all else easier.

In any case, it was getting late, and thus he called for an end to their day—to Mimir's great relief, he knew. They returned to the house, and after another delectable supper from Sora, went to bed.

They rose with the sun, and after a, as was rapidly becoming the norm, delicious, breakfast, they gathered in front of the house.

"You'll be fine getting to Skjöldr's village on your own?" Atreus asked Sora.

"I'll be fine," the otherworldly youth said as he clasped his hands behind his head. "You forget, I can fly. Just let me know if you will need my help with the Lyngbakr, Mimir."

"But of course!"

With that said, Sora leapt high into the trees, and soared away towards the Lake of the Nine.

Atreus sighed and turned around towards the Mystic Gateway in front of their home. "You know, I like Sora, he's a good guy, but I miss being able to just use a gateway whenever I want to go to another Realm."

"It is convenient," Kratos agreed, as his son keyed it for Jotunheim. "Give Angrboda our regards. Same with Freya and the Valkyries."

"Course." Atreus waved at them as he entered the portal. "I'll see you this evening!" Kratos waited until the portal collapsed, before walking up to it and keying it for Vanaheim.

Mimir took a deep breath as they walked directly onto one of Yggdrasil's branches. "Ah, there's just a certain charm to this void between Realms, isn't there, Brother?"

"All voids are the same" he replied. "Vast and empty. Though this one is…colorful."

"Come now, surely all voids have their own flavors. What of the Spark of the World—that's a different kind of colorful, at least? Or some other strange place beyond this World's borders?"

Kratos considered the question with a hum. "…This void is…bursting."

"Bursting?"

"With life." Kratos considered his words. "It does not lie still but waits."

"And other voids don't?"

"The Spark of the World does not," he said. "But it is chaotic and wild. Always churning, yet never in use." He paused for a brief moment. "The Polygon Man's domain was ever grasping. Even without his direction, it brushed up against other Worlds and copied or stole what it could for itself."

"Did it steal from this World?" Mimir asked.

"It did, in fact," Kratos replied as the portal to Vanaheim appeared before them. "A Hydra was taken from the sea and placed within a sprawling city of glass and metal, flocks of Harpies nested wherever they could land, and it forced open a pathway between the Underworld and a World filled with strange, powerful one-eyed creatures."

"How powerful?" Mimir asked, and Kratos stopped just before crossing the portal—no sense speaking of such topics in public.

He smirked as the memories bubbled to the surface of his mind. "They almost felled Hades himself."

"You're kidding!" Mimir exclaimed. "He was one of the more powerful of the Olympians, no?"

"Hades did not officially count among their ranks—he was rarely on Olympus enough to rule from it. But as one of the six children of Kronos and Rhea, he bore great strength." Though Kratos killed him, in the end.

Mimir scoffed. "What were these things, then, that could lay such a god low?"

"I do not know. I have not seen them since." He hummed. "After I escaped the Polygon Man's realm and later traversed the Underworld, I saw the scattered ruins of some sort of base the creatures had created in the Underworld, but no signs of the creatures themselves."

"They set up a base? In the Underworld?" Mimir let out a breath. "Well, whatever they are, they're certainly brave."

"Indeed." He wondered if Hades had killed any before the Worlds were split apart once more. If so, did their souls remain in the Underworld? Had Kratos released any unto this World when he killed Hades? Did their souls simply transfer back to their own World, their own Afterlife? Did they even have souls to begin with?

If he broached the topic with Mimir, no doubt they would enter a long, sprawling debate on the nature of souls. But they both had more important things to worry about, so he held his tongue.

Still, Mimir, ever curious, did ask. "To the best of your knowledge, this Polygon Man only ever took from Greece, correct?"

"Correct," Kratos replied. "And for the other victims of his insane game, he also only opened connections between specific locations, and misplaced a handful of creatures."

Mimir grunted. "Well, we can infer that the reason he took from Greece alone is because the Titans had forced open their own portal—why put in more effort when you don't need to? But do you know anything about the others? Were they sent by some absurd Primordial magics?"

"I did not care to discuss the circumstances of their arrivals, though they shared regardless." Kratos thought back on his once allies. "Some, like Cole McGrath, Jak and Daxter, and Ratchet and Clank, were specifically seeking curious energy signatures. Others, like Dante, Nariko, and Raiden, simply stumbled upon a portal." He grunted. "Though, knowing what I do of the Polygon Man, it is more likely he forced one upon their paths. But I could not say if it was all deliberate on his part, or part of an accident he took advantage of."

"And since the being himself is dead, and without access to his dimension to look through his things—if anything even exists anymore—we won't get any solid answers," Mimir concluded. Kratos grunted in agreement. With that said, he said, he passed through the portal and exited just outside of Vanaland.

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It was still early enough that the only people wandering the city were guards, merchants setting up for the day, and a handful of drunks stumbling home after a night of drinking. No one or nothing troublesome enough to impede Kratos's path—not that anyone would, but it meant less people were staring at him.

When they reached the palace, the guards immediately allowed them entry, and one of them went off to inform Freya of their arrival. There was a certain level of urgency in the palace servant's movements. A sort of cautious tension that permeated the air. Kratos attributed it to the lingering grudges between the Aesir and Vanir the anniversary Ragnarök always brought out. As they wound their way through the palace, they ran into Olrun—who was without her armor, wearing a simple green tunic and long blue skirt.

"General. Mimir," she greeted them. Kratos grunted back.

"Ah, Olrun!" Mimir replied. "Kratos, slow down on a second. I was actually hoping to find you, my friend. Would you happen to be free, today?"

"Sigrún tasked me with patrolling the eastern Wilds tonight, but I don't have anything before then," she replied, walking beside them. "What do you need?"

"I was wondering if you would help me search through some Vanir tomes and scrolls for how to dispel magical enchantments. Specifically, ones that lock items in pristine conditions."

Olrun hummed and tapped a finger against her chin. "It depends on the enchantment, really. And how long it was placed."

"Oh, this was ages ago, back when we all still worked for Odin in Asgard."

Olrun blinked. "Oh…This is about the Lyngbakr in Svartalfheim, isn't it?" Mimir answered 'yes'. "I seem to recall you and Queen Freya already tried that."

"Actually, we never really got all that far into it," Mimir replied. "Whatever we tried kept on causing the poor thing pain, and we didn't want to add to its trauma."

"Then, what's changed?"

"Quite a lot, actually!" Mimir said brightly. "But if it's all the same to you, I'd like to wait until we've gotten to Freya before telling the whole story." Olrun hummed inquisitively, and they continued in pleasant silence.

They entered Freya's private dining room, where only she and Sigrún sat, just finishing up their meals—as Kratos expected. Aside from those two, none of the other palace officials were particularly early risers, so Freya would be free for at least the next hour. Well, Sif typically woke with the dawn as well, but she grew…lax, during this time of year.

"Kratos!" Freya said with a smile. "It's not even been a week and you're back in Vanaheim." Her smile dropped. "What's wrong?"

Kratos shook his head as he sat down across from them. "I am merely here to cultivate the olive and cherry seeds I gave you the other day." He unhooked Mimir from his belt and set him on the table. "And Mimir has a request."

"Good morning, your majesty, Sigrún!" Mimir said. "I was hoping that I—and Olrun and maybe some young folk under your employ—might peruse through the palace's tomes of spell craft. I'm looking for something that can dispel enchantments that lock objects in pristine condition."

Freya's suspicious gaze softened. "The Lyngbakr?" Mimir nodded. "I know you recall what happened the last time we tried to remove all that junk from its body."

Mimir grew somber. "I do, aye." But he perked up just as fast. "But things are much different now! The Lyngbakr, it's been treated! Well on its way to being truly cured, if I may say."

"Treated?" Freya repeated, incredulous. "In what way?"

"It's no longer trapped within the nightmarish recollections of its traumatizing past!"

Freya arched a brow. "And you know this because…?"

"Because we killed the Nightmares that trapped it in the first place!" Now even Olrun and Sigrún stared at Mimir as though he'd suddenly sprouted a new body. It was at that moment that Kratos grunted and, briefly, provided context, and explain what Kratos himself wanted. Mimir wanted to go into greater detail, but they would be there all day if he let his friend do that.

Olrun and Sigrún continued to stare in unashamed bewilderment. Freya merely sighed and shook her head. "If it were anyone else," she mumbled with a fond smirk. "Physically traversing Dreams…The goddess Nótt is the only person I've ever heard of with the power to walk through Dreams, and even then, it was never so literal!"

"Regardless, it happened," Kratos replied, earning him an exasperated glare from Freya. "All that matters is that the Lyngbakr can truly begin to heal from its trauma."

"I suppose that is true." She held out a hand and muttered a quick spell. Wind swirled in her palm, and an image off the sun formed from nothing. She nodded and closed her fist, dispelling the image. "I can push some things around, Kratos, and give myself about an hour to help you with the seeds, if we start now."

"That shall be more than enough," he replied.

"Mimir, I can't speak for anyone, but I'm sure at least one young archivist or two will be more than willing to assist your search." She looked up at Olrun with a grin. "And knowing my shield-sister, she's no doubt salivating at the excuse to bury herself in books and scrolls."

"You couldn't keep me away if you tried, Lady Freya," Olrun shamelessly replied. "Besides, it will give Mimir time to expand on his strange Dream-walking experience."

"In truth I know little about it, we'd have to ask Sora," Mimir replied. "But…that might have to wait a bit." Olrun hummed inquisitively, and Mimir sniffed. "Ah, nothing you need to worry about, I'd just like a bit of time at the end of the day to speak with Lady Freya about…certain matters." Freya frowned but did nod.

Mimir shifted his eyes to Sigrún. "Feel like joining us, my dear?"

"As much I would love to search through dusty sheets of paper, I can't," Sigrún said, completely unapologetic. "I'm in the middle of coordinating the searches through the Wilds for Seiðr practitioners. I really can't put it off."

Freya nodded. "Well then, Sigrun, if you wouldn't mind showing Kratos to my private garden on your way to your duties." Sigrun nodded. "And Olrun, take Mimir and see who'd be willing to join you."

"Probably some folks in need of a punishment, if I'm being honest," Mimir said with a chuckle.

"Actually, I've got my eye on this one young scribe. A young woman named Borghild. She's got more of an aptitude for potions but is studious enough." Mimir inquired for more as they left. Kratos himself nodded to Freya and followed Sigrún to Freya's garden.

"These fruits you mean to grow, olives and cherries" she began as they left the room. "They are from your homelands?"

"Yes."

"And you've held onto them all this time?"

"No." Kratos shook his head. "Sora gifted them to me."

"Is that…wise?" Sigrún arched a brow. "To plant seeds from not only another region, but another…place entirely."

Kratos blinked at the question. He had not even considered it in his eagerness to cultivate his own olive and cherry trees. Eventually, he said, "Will Freya be able to cast a spell to keep out animals or insects?"

"She already has one in place."

"Then we shall be fine." Sigrún eyed him dubiously, but Kratos paid her no mind.

After a moment she said, "When the plants do bear fruit, let me know. I rather liked the olives." Kratos let out an amused huff; finally! Someone in these lands with good taste!

/+/+/+/+/

Freya's garden in Vanaheim was remarkably similar to the one she once maintained in Midgard. Rather, it had a similar feel to it. Though not as well maintained as the one in Midgard—where she had honestly had little better to do than tend to it—it still gave off an aura of peace.

Years ago, when he'd first met Freya, he had not appreciated it. Had not allowed himself to appreciate it. But now…Now he did. And, assuming all went well, he would have an adequate reason to do so regularly.

He had just scouted out some good areas to plant the seeds when Freya entered the garden, two small jars of olive and cherry seeds in hand. She was dressed in garments akin to the ones she wore when assuming the identity of a simple Witch in Midgard.

She chuckled as she come up beside him. "I must say, Kratos, I still find it hard to believe that you know how to cultivate plants."

He sniffed. "A healthy diet cannot be maintained on meat and foraged fruit alone." Faye hadn't believed he could maintain a garden either. He knew well the image he'd cultivated for himself, but the assumption that he couldn't grow vegetables was insulting.

"Growing a tree is a bit different from planting and harvesting root vegetables."

"…I also grow cabbage."

She laughed her bell-like laugh and bumped his arm with hers. "Forgive me for wounding your ego." She turned her gaze to the ground. "I assume this is the spot you've picked out for the plants?"

"Yes.," he said. "Both plants will need as much sun as possible, and excess water from rain or floods will kill it."

She huffed, offended. "No water enters my garden unless I will it."

"Forgive me for wounding your ego." Freya snorted. "We can plant both on either end of the hill—as far as possible to ensure neither will try and overtake the other." As he walked over to show Freya the best areas, he started to list off the steps they would need to take to ensure the plants grew to bear fruit. Even if magic could speed up the growing process, she had once told him, it meant nothing if one didn't know what plants needed to grow healthily.

Freya arched a brow after he'd finished. "I am having some fun at your expense, but honestly, Kratos, I am surprised at the depth of your knowledge."

"Olives…were a staple of Greek culture. All landed citizens throughout Greece at least had basic knowledge of how to ensure their health." Cherries and other plants less so, but Kratos didn't do things by half.

"This seems like a bit more than basic knowledge."

Kratos hummed. "…When I was a child, still too young to train, my brother and I would follow our mother most days as she worked in Sparta. Until she earned a position as a record keeper, she tended to the olive trees of a neighboring veteran."

"Your mother?" Freya repeated, as she set down the jars and began casting spells on the hill..

"Callisto".

Freya repeated the name gently. "What was she like?"

"My mother—" Kratos took a deep breath. "—was a strong woman. It was hard, raising two bastard children on her own. But it did not stifle her drive." He chuckled. "She was a hard woman, able to reign me in at my most temperamental." Until he'd grown, he admitted to himself.

"Sounds like quite the woman."

"She was." It was easier to think of his mother compared to the rest of his family. Deimos was taken from him far too soon, both as a child and when they reunited as adults. And Lysandra and Calliope, well, that was self-explanatory. But his mother…she at least died free.

Freya hesitated, before asking, "Did Faye know of your past family?"

Kratos swallowed a lump in his throat. "…I told her I had a wife and child before her and Atreus—it was an inevitable conversation when she spoke of a desire for children—but nothing beyond that." Perhaps she had known, with her gift of prophecy. If so…well, despite the love he held for Faye, he still had a great many questions regarding her motives and desires. Questions that would never be answered.

"And what of Atreus?"

Kratos felt his heart seize. "He knows nothing."

Freya ended her spell and turned to face him fully. Her face was twisted into a sympathetic frown. "Do you ever plan to tell him?" Kratos turned away with a grunt.

Of course, he had thought about it. He'd spoken of Callisto and Deimos, at his son's prompting. He'd even told his son some tales of Zeus. But whenever he even considered telling him of Lysandra and Calliope…When he imagined the inevitable look of disgust and horror on his son's face he just froze and felt as if he were sinking into the bottom of an abyss.

He jolted at the gentle hand on his shoulder. "Atreus is a better man than you think," Freya said.

Kratos blinked; he had spoken aloud?

"No, your thoughts are simply obvious. If you know what to look for," Freya replied with a gentle smile. She then sighed. "I never told Baldur of my family. At the time, it was still…painful to think of them. I had felt abandoned by them all, and I reasoned that there was no need for my son to know of them." She shook her head ruefully. "And yet, I wonder if it would have been better for him. To know of how other families, proper families, functioned. Perhaps he could have gone to them to seek a way to break the curse I laid upon him—someone might have succeeded too, knowledgeable as the Vanir are in the old magics."

She stepped in front of Kratos. "I realize the circumstances are not the same but…" she trailed off.

"I understand your meaning," Kratos replied gruffly. "But as you say, the circumstances are not the same." He knew he should tell Atreus the full truth of his past. He'd travelled through Greece—the nations that rose from its ashes, at least—while journeying south seeking the Jotnar. Even if he had stayed, however, Atreus would not hear of anything that Kratos had not already told him. While in the beginning of his service to the gods, all knew his origins, after he became God of War, Kratos zealously eliminated all traces of such tales. The only ones who knew after were the gods themselves, who were now all dead. There was no risk of Atreus discovering Kratos's past on his own. That should have been the end of it. And yet…

"Enough," he said, almost falling into a snarl. "I am here to plant the seeds and grow fruit-bearing trees, nothing more." Freya sighed but didn't push further.

She looked down at the soil with a frown. "…Well, we're just about done with preparing the ground." She gestured to the jars. "Open them up." Kratos did so and held them out for her.

She picked through first the olive seeds, and then the cherries. She cast a spell, and the seeds glowed green, while the ground glowed blue. She hummed. "Soil's almost good. I have a tincture in my room that will push things along."

"Where?" Kratos asked as he gave her the jars.

"In my side room, atop the low shelf at the end of it. It's in a brown bottle labelled 'balance'." Kratos nodded and walked towards the palace. But before he reached the entrance, he paused, and took a few steps back. No trees grew close enough that one could simply climb from one onto a balcony, much less Freya's personal balcony. But…one could leap from them.

With a nod, Kratos rolled his shoulders, and summoned the new well of energy held within him. After Flowmotion spread out through his body, he leapt high onto a nearby tree, and run up it at full speed. When he reached the top, he spun on a branch and launched off it towards Freya's balcony.

He landed with nary a sound, and easily found the bottle Freya needed. He launched of the balcony, and bounded from tree to tree until he landed before a slack jawed Freya. She only regained her composure when Kratos held the bottle in front of her face.

"What in all the Realms was that?!" she asked as she opened the bottle and used a spell to spread its contents over the hill.

"A traversal technique called 'Flowmotion'," Kratos answered. "Atreus and I learned it within the Lyngbakr's Dream, and Sora has been instructing us in its use."

She gaped at him, attempting to form a response. Eventually, however, she closed her jaw, took a deep breath, and deliberately looked away from him. "You know what? No. I'm not dealing with that." She collected the seeds and planted them on either side of the hill. "Besides, I'm sure Mimir will talk all our ears off about it at a later date."

"He will," Kratos agreed with an amused huff, before falling silent as Freya began her work. It took the full hour, but when two tiny sprouts popped out of the earth, despite the dark clouds permeating his thoughts, he allowed himself a smile.

/+/+/+/+/

A/N: I don't know how many people here care about the lore for PlayStation All-Stars Battle Royale, but within the game a lot of the Arcade Modes justify the characters being there because they heard about some sort of tournament or battleground filled with strong opponents. Obviously, I'm not using that.