The realm of Remnant sprawled beneath the shimmering expanse of Yggdrasil, its vibrant landscapes a stark contrast to the war-torn fields of Kratos's past. Here, in this alternate Midgard, the air felt different, charged with the promise of unknown adventures and untold stories. Kratos, the once-God of War, stood at the threshold of a new journey, accompanied by the ever-talkative Mimir, his wise companion.
Ratatoskr, the squirrel-like messenger of the World Tree, had been the bearer of this new path. His discovery of alternate Midgards, parallel worlds connected by the branches of Yggdrasil, had intrigued Kratos. Seeking a semblance of peace and purpose after the tumultuous events of Ragnarok, Kratos decided to venture into one such world, urged by the promise of a new beginning.
The sun was setting as Kratos and Mimir descended into a serene forest in Remnant, its trees bathed in the golden light of dusk. The tranquility of the moment was shattered by the faint, desperate cries of a woman. Guided by the sounds, Kratos pushed through the underbrush until he came upon a heartbreaking sight.
A young woman lay at death's door, her breath shallow and labored. Clutched in her arms was a tiny infant, his wide blue eyes filled with innocence and unspoken potential. The woman looked up as Kratos approached, her eyes pleading even as her strength waned."Please," she whispered, her voice fragile. "Take him. Raise him. His name is Jaune. Promise me… he will be safe."
Kratos knelt beside her, his stern features softened by a rare gentleness. He nodded solemnly, taking the infant into his arms with surprising care. "I swear it," he said, his voice a deep rumble of conviction.
The woman's eyes closed, a peaceful smile touching her lips as she took her final breath. Kratos stood, holding the baby Jaune close, a new sense of responsibility settling upon his broad shoulders. He had lost much in his long life family, friends, and entire worlds but here, in this moment, he found a glimmer of hope and a reason to continue forward.
"Well, brother," Mimir's voice cut through the silence, "looks like we've got ourselves a new companion. Quite the responsibility, raising a wee one in a world like this."
Kratos nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "He will grow strong. I will teach him to survive, to fight, and to honor the memory of his mother."
With that, Kratos, the god who had walked countless paths of blood and battle, embarked on a new journey as a father once more.
As the twilight deepened, Kratos carried Jaune through the forest, the infant's small body nestled securely against his chest. The weight of his new charge was light, but the responsibility felt immense. Mimir, perched on Kratos's belt, was uncharacteristically silent, perhaps sensing the gravity of the moment.
The dense trees gradually gave way to a small clearing. The remnants of an old, abandoned cabin stood there, weathered but still sturdy—a shelter from the encroaching night. Kratos approached it, pushing the door open with a creak. Inside, the air was musty, filled with the scent of aged wood and disuse, but it was safe.
With practiced ease, Kratos started a fire in the hearth, the flickering flames casting long shadows across the walls. He laid Jaune down on a makeshift bed of furs, the baby gurgling softly, his tiny hands grasping at the air. Kratos watched him for a moment, his mind wandering back to his own son, Atreus, and the journeys they had shared.
"He's a strong one, isn't he?" Mimir's voice finally broke the silence, a note of admiration in his tone.
Kratos nodded, his eyes never leaving Jaune. "He will need to be. This world is not kind to the weak."
Mimir hummed in agreement. "Aye, that it isn't. But you've been given a rare chance here, brother. A chance to start anew, to guide this boy into something greater."
Kratos's gaze softened, the hard lines of his face easing as he watched Jaune drift into a peaceful sleep. "I will teach him," he said quietly. "Not just to fight, but to be more. To be better."As the fire crackled, Kratos settled himself near the hearth, his mind heavy with the past but his heart tentatively open to the future. He had been many things in his life, a god, a warrior, a destroyer, but now, in this new world of Remnant, he would be a protector and a father once more.
The night wore on, the forest outside alive with the sounds of nocturnal creatures. Kratos remained vigilant, his senses attuned to any potential threats. Yet, despite the unfamiliarity of this world, there was a strange sense of peace settling over him.
Morning broke with the soft light of dawn filtering through the cracks in the cabin's walls. Jaune stirred, his small face scrunching up as he awoke. Kratos lifted him gently, feeling an odd mixture of tenderness and determination.
"Time to begin," he murmured, both to himself and to the infant in his arms.
The days that followed were filled with routine and teaching. Kratos hunted and gathered, ensuring they had enough food and supplies. He cleared and repaired the cabin, turning it into a proper home. All the while, he kept Jaune close, the baby growing stronger and more curious with each passing day.
Kratos would speak to Jaune, his deep voice a soothing presence. He told him stories of gods and monsters, of battles fought and lessons learned. He spoke of Atreus, sharing memories of their adventures and the wisdom they had gained together.
Mimir, ever the storyteller, added his own tales, filling the air with legends of old and the rich history of the realms. Jaune would listen, wide-eyed and enraptured, absorbing the knowledge and the love that surrounded him.
As weeks turned into months, the bond between Kratos and Jaune deepened. The boy's laughter became a constant presence, a reminder of the innocence and joy that still existed in the world. Kratos found himself smiling more, the shadows of his past slowly giving way to the light of a new purpose.
One evening, as the sun set in a blaze of colors, Kratos stood outside the cabin, holding Jaune in his arms. The horizon stretched out before them, filled with endless possibilities.
"Tomorrow, we start your training," Kratos said softly, his voice a promise and a vow. "You will learn to be strong, to be wise. You will honor your mother and become the man you were meant to be."
Jaune looked up at him, his eyes bright and trusting. In that moment, Kratos felt a surge of something he had long thought lost, hope. Together, they would face whatever challenges lay ahead, and in doing so, forge a new destiny.
As seasons changed, the forest around their cabin transformed with the passage of time, from the vibrant greens of summer to the fiery hues of autumn and the stark whites of winter. Kratos and Jaune lived in a rhythm dictated by nature, the boy's laughter and curiosity infusing their days with a newfound light.
Jaune, now a toddler, followed Kratos everywhere, his tiny feet trying to match the giant strides of his guardian. The boy's boundless energy and innocence were a sharp contrast to the warrior's stoic demeanor, yet they complemented each other in an unexpected harmony.
One crisp morning, as the first frost of winter dusted the ground, Kratos led Jaune to a clearing near the cabin. The sky was clear, the air filled with the promise of a new day.
"Today," Kratos said, his voice steady and calm, "you will begin your training."
Jaune's blue eyes widened with excitement. He nodded eagerly, his blond hair catching the morning light. "What are we going to do, Papa?"
Kratos knelt to Jaune's level, placing a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. "We start with the basics. Balance and awareness. You must learn to trust your instincts."
Jaune's small brow furrowed with determination. "I'm ready!"
Kratos couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. Despite the hardships of his own past, he saw potential and strength in Jaune, a reflection of both his mother and the lessons he himself had learned over countless battles.
He led Jaune through a series of simple exercises—walking along a fallen tree trunk, balancing on one foot, and listening to the sounds of the forest. Jaune stumbled and fell more than once, but each time, he got back up, his resolve unwavering.
"Good," Kratos said, nodding approvingly. "You learn from each fall. Remember that."
Mimir, perched on a nearby rock, chimed in with encouragement. "You're doing great, lad! Keep at it, and you'll be as agile as a fox in no time."
As the days turned into weeks, Jaune's confidence grew. Under Kratos's watchful eye, he learned to move with grace and precision, his small body adapting quickly to the training. The bond between them strengthened, the trust and respect they had for each other deepening with every lesson.
One evening, after a particularly rigorous day of training, Kratos and Jaune sat by the fire inside their cabin. The warmth of the flames cast a comforting glow, and the aroma of a simple stew filled the air.
"Papa," Jaune asked, his voice sleepy but curious, "will I ever be as strong as you?"
Kratos looked at the boy, seeing in him the promise of a future shaped by both hardship and love. "Strength is not just about muscles, Jaune. It is about heart, mind, and spirit. You have all three. You will become strong in your own way."
Jaune's eyes sparkled with understanding and pride. He nestled closer to Kratos, feeling the comfort and security of his guardian's presence.
As the fire crackled and the night deepened, Kratos gazed into the flames, his mind filled with thoughts of the journey ahead. He had been many things—a god, a warrior, a father—but now, in this world of Remnant, he had found a new purpose.
"Sleep well, my son," Kratos whispered, placing a gentle kiss on Jaune's forehead. "Tomorrow, we continue."
Jaune drifted into sleep, his dreams filled with the adventures yet to come, guided by the unwavering strength and love of the man who had become his father.
Winter deepened its grip on the forest of Remnant, the world outside their cabin blanketed in snow. The crisp air and the silence of the woods were a stark contrast to the warmth and activity within. Kratos and Jaune had settled into a routine, each day bringing new lessons and challenges.
One frosty morning, as the sun's rays filtered through the snow-laden trees, Kratos and Jaune were practicing in the clearing. Jaune, now more agile and confident, was learning to blend the disciplined combat techniques of Kratos with the swift, agile movements that Atreus had once used. The boy swung a wooden sword, his strikes precise yet fluid, his movements a graceful dance of strength and speed.
"Good," Kratos said, his deep voice resonating with approval. "Remember, power is nothing without control. Strike with purpose.
"Jaune nodded, his breath visible in the cold air. "Yes, Papa."
As they continued, a familiar voice echoed through the trees, breaking the tranquil silence. "Oi, you big lug! Got a visitor for ya!"
Kratos turned, a rare smile touching his lips as he recognized the gruff voice of Brok, the blue-skinned dwarf who had been a loyal friend and ally. Brok emerged from the forest, his rugged appearance unchanged, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
Following close behind was Sindri, Brok's brother, his meticulous and cautious demeanor a stark contrast to Brok's brashness. The two dwarves approached, their expressions a mix of curiosity and warmth.
"Brok, Sindri," Kratos greeted, his voice reflecting genuine warmth. "What brings you here?"
Sindri stepped forward, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "We heard you found a new world, Kratos. Thought we'd come see for ourselves. Besides, Brok's been itching to test some new contraptions."
Brok grinned, his blue face lighting up. "Damn right. And, uh, thanks for...you know." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
Kratos nodded, recalling the arduous journey to the Realm of Hades. He had ventured there, theorizing that Brok's soul, lacking its complete essence, might have ended up in the Underworld rather than the Lake of Souls in Alfheim. His hunch had been correct, and after navigating the treacherous realm, he had found and restored Brok's soul, reuniting it with his body.
"You are welcome, my friend," Kratos said simply.
Jaune watched the exchange with wide eyes, fascinated by the appearance of the dwarves. Brok noticed and gave the boy a wink. "And who might this little fella be?"
"This is Jaune," Kratos replied, a note of pride in his voice. "He is under my care."
Jaune stepped forward, his small hand extending in greeting. "Hello! Nice to meet you."
Brok took Jaune's hand in his own rough grip, shaking it with exaggerated vigor. "Nice to meet ya too, kid. You're lucky to have this big guy watchin' over ya."
Sindri approached Jaune as well, his manner more reserved but equally kind. "Indeed. If you ever need anything—equipment, advice—don't hesitate to ask."
Kratos gestured to the clearing. "We were just training. Jaune is learning to fight, combining techniques from my past and Atreus's style."
Brok's eyes lit up with interest. "Sounds like a challenge. Mind if we watch?"
Kratos nodded, and the training resumed, this time with an audience. Jaune moved with a blend of Kratos's brute strength and Atreus's nimble agility, his wooden sword striking with a balance of power and precision. Brok and Sindri watched with approval, offering occasional tips and encouragement.
As the day progressed, the clearing filled with the sounds of clashing wood and laughter. The presence of the dwarves brought a sense of camaraderie and lightheartedness, their banter a welcome addition to the training.
Later, as the sun began to set, Kratos and Jaune, along with Brok and Sindri, gathered around the fire inside the cabin. The warmth of the flames and the scent of cooking meat filled the air.
"You've got a good one here, Kratos," Brok said, nodding toward Jaune. "Kid's got potential."
Sindri nodded in agreement. "And a good teacher. He's learning well."
Kratos looked at Jaune, his heart swelling with pride. "He will be strong. He will be ready for whatever this world throws at him."
Jaune, sitting close to Kratos, smiled up at him. "Thank you, Papa. I'll make you proud."
Kratos placed a gentle hand on Jaune's shoulder, his eyes filled with a rare warmth. "You already do, my son."
As the night deepened and the stars began to twinkle above the forest, the small group shared stories and laughter, the bond between them growing stronger.
Howdy. Bet this one came as a bit of a surprise. I couldn't get this idea out of my head so I started writing with some help and came up with this. Honestly I was a bit dissapointed about what happens in the game. I will try to avoid as many spoilers as possible but it will be difficult. I like the idea of Kratos having become more soft after the events of both games, beimg God Of War and God Of War Ragnarok. Other characters might make appearances. I will not confirm or deny that. I don't know if this will qualify as spoilers but Jaune will be using a sword, a bow, and rune magic. Jaune's childhood will only be shown when I feel it's plot relevant after this point. Anyways, sorry for yapping so much. Read, review, all that jazz. Have a good day or night!