Kratos the God of Strength was in wonderfully high spirits. Another day of running with his son, of showing the merits of strength to the mortals watching in awe. Their route had changed. It took a while to realise, but by taking such a direct path east they were likely to see the east Asian coast far sooner than Kratos would have liked. So they had begun to veer wildly on northern and southern roads to take a more circuitous route.

Ooh! Good word, Kratos! Circuitous!

Not only did this new path push his young son all the harder for even longer, it also took them through much more varied climates! From the wintery tundras of northern Russia to the baking heat of India and everything in between! Bracing cold and scorching heat! A true test of endurance and ability to adapt to harsher climes. Nothing beyond the simple constitution of a god, but certainly uncomfortable. More struggle! That was what his son needed!

"–And you know, it was a startling thing. When the war began we were so sure it would be a foolish thing that would destroy all of it! Ha! How wrong we were, with the mortals fighting so desperately, a conflict that touched all corners of the world at one point or another, the furore and faith they held for the biblical god rose higher and higher! Ha! We can lament our powerlessness now, but it was our choice to stay out of it. As a result, we are what we are. We, and the Norse, we stood aside, considered their war as not our concern. Self-inflicted irrelevance, you could say! But, seeing the constant scrambling and sabre rattling of their three factions, I can only consider it to our benefit, don't you think so Atreus?"

No answer.

"Atreus?" He slowed his pace a little, allowing his son to catch up. Atreus' pace had been consistent for a long time. Consistent enough Kratos was considering adding to the weight again. Consistent enough Kratos had gotten lost in telling stories. But the god of strength hadn't realised that pace had been consistent because it was automatic.

Atreus was asleep. Running while asleep.

... What a dedicated young man his son was! Kratos couldn't be prouder! To continue to chase gains even while his mind rested!

Well, it made sense that such a thing might have happened. Kratos wasn't unaware that his boy had been sneaking off at night. He had a sneaking suspicion of why too, but he wasn't about to follow Atreus just in case he was right. If it really was to go see Artemis then Kratos knew his cousin would see him coming twenty miles off.

If it was Artemis... Well, it was a frivolous thing, to spend his time with a lady when he should have been resting to properly accumulate his gains. But Artemis was quite lovely and Atreus was young! One day he would realise that self-improvement was more fulfilling than any woman could be, but for now, Kratos would let him have this. Artemis could use someone to loosen her up!

-(-)-

Atreus was exhausted. In every way someone could be exhausted. On that first day after he had met Melinoé for the first time, he had been mentally tired from his first lessons in magic. Physically tired from a full day of exertions with Kratos, and from training his archery with Artemis. Naturally tired for just the standard need for sleep as part of a daily cycle. He got two hours. And then it was back to the exertions of the 'father-son' training.

Day. After day. After day. After day. He believed he could tolerate it. The first day was a struggle, but he eventually recovered enough to be awake and aware. It was an insidious experience, one that convinced him that yes, this was an acceptable, tolerable status quo. He could continue like this, keeping Kratos happy, learning from Artemis and Melinoé to keep he and they happy. He held that belief until it was clearly no longer true, but by that point he was too exhausted to even realise it. All he could think to do was keep going through the routine. It made sense once so it had to continue to make sense, so addled was his thinking from his ever escalating fatigue.

He went through the motions of sparring with Kratos. And somehow, the daily humiliation burned more harshly than it usually did. He wasn't trying to win, but he wasn't trying to win because he was a coward. Even when Kratos cleanly slapped him across the face hard enough to leave him spinning and falling to the ground. He felt poisonous anger build. But it would be for nothing. All he would get if he retaliated would be another humiliation that would only prevent him from enjoying the rest of his night.

"What are you doing? Did you forget how to aim today?"

Enjoy. That was... That was optimistic.

He couldn't focus. He couldn't aim. Five coins, five targets. A feat that he had gotten so used to performing it had become a warm-up exercise. And tonight he could only hit two. In his better attempts.

"I'm trying," he grumbled irritably. He slapped himself, trying to focus his mind and his eyes properly. "Let's do it again."

"Really?"

"Just do it!"

Her head reared back at the sharply spoken words, a deeper frown than normal forming on her face. But she absently tossed the coins.

He drew, nocked, loosed.

Missed all of them.

Artemis sighed. "I know what this is. It's because of Kratos isn't it?" she asked with a very slight reprimand in her tone. "I saw how it ended. How about instead of letting him walk over you, you actually do something about–?"

"How about you stay out of it?!" he snapped back.

He didn't think to regret the words until he saw his friend still. Saw the flash of hurt that she hid so quickly with the kind of indifference she saved for the rest of the Olympians. "Very well. I think I will." And in a flash of green, she was gone.

He processed what had just happened. It took his tired mind several seconds to realise just how badly he had messed up. She was being rude and condescending, but that was just who she was. Under all of that attitude, she cared. She was trying to help. And he told her off for even trying, took his frustration out on her. The person who least deserved it. And with that realisation he slammed his foot into a rock face hard enough to break and scatter stones across the tundra.

"That was ill done."

Melinoé. "I know."

"Do you?" the chthonic goddess asked. "I'm not sure you know anything. Are you even still awake? You look dead on your feet."

"And whose fault is that?!" he demanded.

"Yours," she answered without hesitation. "I didn't demand you let your problems and commitments pile up until they overwhelmed you. I admit, I didn't help you avoid doing so either, but you trust Artemis far more than me and look what you did with her advice. Nothing."

"I'm not doing it."

"Even now?" his teacher asked. "Is that blind stubbornness? Or even after this, do you still believe this is the outcome you prefer to actually dealing with your problems? Angry, exhausted, lashing out at the people who care about you? This is better?"

He stayed silent. He didn't know. Was it better? He let Kratos continue to hurt him, and in turn he hurt Artemis. All to protect the feelings of the man he lied to, and to protect himself from consequences of acting. Was it worth it?

... No. Of course it wasn't.

"What do I do?" he asked.

She didn't answer right away. Instead, Melinoé seemed to regard him with pity, and maybe even regret in her eyes. "I won't be teaching you."

"Wait–!"

"This is partially my fault. I shouldn't be pushing you this hard on top of everyone else. You need to get some real rest, Atreus."

"No." He said it more firmly. That was one outcome that was outright unacceptable. "I need to learn from you. I need to learn magic. Please."

"Atreus–"

"I need to! It's important!" He had already learned so much. It was a foundation of possibilities that could maybe lead him back to his father. An objective he could never lose sight of.

Melinoé sighed. "Atreus. Sleep. What worth do you have if you run from your own problems? Get a proper night's rest. At the moment, that will help more than another magic lesson."

And yet again, in a flash of teal light, Melinoé was gone.

Stubbornly, he raised his hands as they glowed with mystical light, as if he intended to practice on his own if no one would help him.

But... He was so... Tired...

Slowly, awkwardly, almost drunkenly, the boy god stumbled his way back to the camp and flopped on top of his bedding. Asleep before he could even climb inside.

-(-)-

The next morning, Atreus awoke. And having slept like the dead for upward of ten hours, he rose to consciousness groggy and disoriented. It was a good half hour of breakfast, stretching and once again going on the move before he was truly awake.

And when he was... He felt like a bigger idiot than anyone he had ever met. He paid no attention to Kratos' droning stories, instead completely lost in the stupid mistakes he had made. Even in his exhausted and sleep-deprived state he knew he was being a coward. But only when he realised, when he experienced the consequences of it did he seem to care that it was a bad thing. He had gifts that helped him understand others, but what was that worth if he didn't put the work in to use them? To make them mean something? He was stupid, and a coward, and that needed to change.

And so... Atreus used that day. Planned for the evening to come.

"You've been much more spry and aware today, Atreus!" Kratos observed as he stretched out his muscles and joints in preparation for the spar to come. "Had a good night's rest?"

"Not good, but one I needed."

"Rest is important! A key facet of self-improvement! A chance to recuperate from the harsh strain we put our bodies under for the sake of attaining–!"

"I'm just gonna start," Atreus interrupted him.

"Ha-ha! Eager I see! Then by all means!"

It began as it always began. Atreus going on the offensive. However, from there it differed greatly to what Kratos had come to expect. In their very first bout in the Olympus gymnasium, Atreus had begun with clever tricks and manoeuvres that allowed him to evade Kratos' grasping hands or striking limbs. At least enough to get a few minor hits in. He had continued to do so for several attempts until Kratos decided to demolish him in a very final manner. Ever since then... Atreus had never tried to be fancy. He had come at Kratos in very similar ways with very straightforward methods. Always attacking from the front, always with simple strikes at vital areas. The only difference, the greater power Atreus could bring to bear as the strength training continued, but even that was like trying to fight an avalanche with a series of progressively larger snowballs.

With those methods, fighting Kratos was meaningless. That was the point. No friction, no confrontation, no resolution, no meaning.

It was different today.

Once again, for the first time since the day they met, Atreus faced the god of strength with all of the technique he had learned. Every trick his father had taught him to make use of his smaller size. Not quite as small as he had been then, but still tiny compared to the mountain of muscle he faced. A dip under a swinging arm that expected a too straightforward approach, repeated strikes to the body. Kratos' foot kicked out but Atreus was more than aware that it was the next response, and so slipped to the side of it and around to land a heavy punch at Kratos' liver.

It barely shook him. But it still shook him. A pained gasp from the well-placed punch. Another swinging arm, this time aiming to grab, only for Atreus to roll out of the way and punch the lower left side of his back. Kratos tensed, taking the strike without complaint or sound, spinning around to reach out and grab Atreus with speed the young god only saw when Kratos was truly trying. And because of that, far too fast for Atreus to dodge.

The god of strength grunted in satisfaction at catching and trapping his son, only to feel sudden pain that ran in shockwaves through his body. In his arms was not Atreus, but a wolf made of the storm itself. Golden lightning crackled as the wolf's jaws opened and snapped at the god's face, forcing Kratos to lean back, release the beast only to grab it in a better way to smash it until it disappeared.

Atreus waited, let the god of strength realise he had no idea where his supposed 'son' was and seek him out.

"Atreus!" Kratos called out, seeing the boy holding his bow with an arrow nocked and ready. "This is pankration training! What are you doing?!"

"You don't carry weapons. You fight bare-handed, right?" Atreus asked. He had never seen Kratos fight in any circumstance but these spars but it stood to reason. "So that means the rules you set let you have all your options, while only taking away mine."

"I was training you!" Kratos argued.

"What did you teach me?" Atreus asked. And was met with silence. "I wanna see how this goes with a fairer match-up."

The archer loosed his arrow, but not at Kratos. Instead the arrow soared skyward far above them, then scattered to take the place of the shining stars above. Before each light screamed down to seek the god of strength. Kratos dodged, evaded, dug his fingers into the earth to throw a boulder to intercept others, before punching through another wolf.

He barely had time to recognise that threat was dealt with before charging boars came at him. With a mighty stomp, he upended the charge prematurely, creating a fissure in the ground, a chasm for the animals to fall into. Atreus, riding one of the boars, leapt off it to fire arrow after arrow at Kratos only for him to avoid all of them. The boy landed, shot the sky and a flock of crows descended. Again. One arrow split into five, that curved to spiral around Kratos before lancing inward.

But scorched from lightning and impaled several times over, Kratos lunged out of the storm and pinned Atreus down by his throat.

Only once again the storm fell upon him, the Atreus beneath him vanished into nothing.
Losing his patience, Kratos slammed the ground once, "Enough!" twice, "Enough!" three times, "ENOUGH!" The true power of the god of strength triggered a moderate seismic event in the region, but more locally shattered the ground into a crater, leaving Atreus entirely helpless as he was finally ripped out of the air and brought down.

Hurt, confused, and furious. Kratos stared at the boy pinned under him by his hand on the boy's throat. "WHY?!"

"Why?!" Atreus shouted back. "The day I met you you broke my ribs so people would praise you for it! Everything you've done has been about making yourself feel big and strong!"

"I've been training you!"

"You've been having me pull something heavy all day and then beating me at night!"

"Teaching you to fight!"

"No! Every night I held myself back, knowing if I actually tried all that would happen would be a repeat of that first day on Olympus! You didn't teach me a thing! You don't know what teaching is, just showing off!"

It was then Kratos realised he was still holding the boy by his throat. And forced himself to let go. To let the boy get to his feet. "You are my son, I had to show you what that means! It's a legacy to live up to and as your father-!"

"You're not my father! My father-!"

... Once again, Atreus had said something that didn't need to be said, no matter how honest it was. And he could see the pain it had caused in Kratos' expression. Never before had Atreus seen the man, the god, appear as though he were... Insulted? Offended? No, that wasn't what it was. Atreus knew better and wouldn't let his preconceptions tell him who he believed Kratos was rather than the evidence before him.

The accusation that he wasn't a real father. It hurt him. What was written in the god's expression wasn't offence. It was guilt and regret. Atreus had known the best way to communicate with this Kratos was in a language he understood. Actions, not words. So he had shown exactly how he felt about everything that had come to pass over the year or so that had passed. The frustration, the anger, the humiliation, the powerlessness. And not only had Kratos heard, he understood.

The boy remembered. A journey with a man who made many mistakes, both during that journey and long before it. A man who carried his regrets, his mistakes, and did his best to overcome them. To be the god he would choose to be, not those who had been. And that man, despite all the differences, shared a name with the man before him now.

"... My father," Atreus continued quieter, "is a man who made mistakes. Who did horrible things. But he also tried to teach me not to make those same mistakes. That I can be better. And trying to be better means admitting when I've done wrong." He wore his apology on his face as he spoke it. "I let this sit for so long and I never gave you the chance to make it right, or even know that you hurt me."

Kratos took in the words. Not saying anything for a short while. Gathering his thoughts, Atreus had to assume. "I didn't realise you were so fragile," he murmured more than spoke. "But even then... I felt you deserved it for humiliating me," the god admitted. "I wish I was proud of how capable you were instead, but I had nothing to do with that. Your... Your father." It seemed a struggle for him to say the words. To give the admission that such a person was not him. "You looked up to him."

"I learned a lot from him. Some good lessons, some bad. I think... One of the most important lessons... He was always scary strong." Atreus ignored Kratos' hum of approval. "But he once told me, the strength of a weapon comes from here," he recited, tapping the muscular god over the heart, "but only when tempered by this." The finger moved to the man's head. "Sometimes just being strong isn't enough."

"I won't lie, I hate those words." Understandably so, for a god of strength. The idea that strength was insufficient went against everything he was. "I hate those words. But... Maybe there is some wisdom in them." Getting to his feet, Kratos seemed to move with a weariness that Atreus had carried the night before. "Perhaps tomorrow we can train together. And I can learn to temper."

-(-)-

The boy, the nascent god, felt relieved. Like he had taken a weight off of his shoulders that he had needlessly carried for so long. Poetic, considering that was the part of Kratos' training regimen that had actually paid dividends so far. But maybe from now on the rest of it would have meaning. If he could actively learn something from the sparring, that would be something. Kratos might even learn a thing or two as well.

But that was no longer the only burden he carried. A burden of regret still weighed him down, and he wouldn't allow this one to remain for any longer than he needed to. Unfortunately, Artemis did not visit. And so he had to do what he could on his end and hope it would matter.

His knife continued to carve at a piece of wood, gradually shaping it into a deer. Her sacred animal. "Artemis," he said aloud. "Lady Artemis." That felt too formal. But he didn't know what was right here. "I don't know how prayer works or how I'm supposed to do it. Mother and Father taught me not to worship the gods. But, if this is the only way I can contact you... I want to say I'm sorry." He laid down the small wooden figure. "This is my offering. I'm sorry, I really don't know how this works. And I'm sorry for what I said. I got angry at you and you didn't deserve it. I... I wasn't even really angry at you, I was angry at me. That just makes it worse. I'm really sorry, and, I hope you can forgive me."

His eyes stayed closed. Willing her to hear him, having no idea how any of this was supposed to work. He expected that when he opened his eyes he would see the same blasted tundra from the fight with Kratos. He expected it to not have worked.

And so he felt joy that when he opened his eyes, he instead saw Artemis. Sitting silently, holding the small wooden figure. She glanced at him, knew he knew she was there, but still said nothing. "Artemis... I'm really sorry, for what I said and why I said it."

"... I heard you fought with Kratos, for real."

"Yeah," he confirmed, not that he needed to. She could see the crater just as well as he could. "I took your advice, even if it took me way too long to do it. It's... I think things might be better from now on. At least I hope so."

"I'm glad." She still didn't look at him as she cleared her throat. "And... It has been brought to my attention that I can be... Somewhat blunt and inconsiderate at times. So in the spirit of your apology... I'm sorry I kept giving you grief when I could see you were struggling. Don't know what possessed you to let yourself get run quite as ragged as you were but, who am I to judge? Just try not to be quite so boneheaded in future."

That... Was maybe the most lopsided apology Atreus had ever heard of. But if it meant they could move past this, he would take it. He wasn't really expecting an apology in the first place. "Thank you."

"Hm!" Awkwardly, tentatively, she smiled at him. "I'll be returning to Olympus for tonight. But I'll see you tomorrow. Make sure to keep getting plenty of rest, alright?"

"I will."

In a flash, she was gone and he was alone again.

And where she had been, Melinoé once again stepped out from her illusion or whatever she did when she appeared out of nowhere.

"Can I ask a question?" Atreus said as Melinoé appeared. "Is there a reason you don't want to be here when Artemis is? Do you two have some feud I don't know about?"

"Nothing like that," Melinoé answered. And... It was evidently the only answer he was going to get because she chose not to elaborate. "How do you feel?"

"Like I'm a little less stupid than I was yesterday."

"That sounds about right." She sat down, one leg crossed over the other for the sake of her skirt in a tacit acknowledgement of modesty. "Why do you want to learn magic so badly?"

It probably said something about him that the two people he liked most in this world were also often the most blunt and straightforward. "The way I got here is weird and I don't remember a lot of it. I left my father behind. I want to find him, but I don't know how. I feel like magic might be able to help. I don't know it will, but it's the best option I have right now."

"Oh, I kind of wish your reason was shallower than that," the tomboyish goddess complained. "Something stupid like wanting to see girls naked or something. Would make this easier."

"Wha-Why would anyone want that?!"

"Oh, you don't like girls?"

"I didn't say that! What are these questions?!"

To make it worse she laughed at him ."You're adorable." But then her smile fell. "Look, I've taught you some magic. I'm sure if you looked even a little bit you'd find someone able to teach you more. So you don't have to feel obligated, you have other options, and while I hope you say yes that's not why I offered to teach you–"

"Are you finally gonna tell me what you want?" Atreus asked.

Melinoé grimaced. "It's probably really dangerous. So you don't have to say yes."

"I've done dangerous before." He smiled as he said it, as if to reassure her, to convey his confidence that whatever it was, he could handle it.

It did nothing to reassure her. But she gave her answer anyway. "I want you to help me free my brother."

-(-)-

A/N This chapter seen very early by my generous supporters on THE GREAT FORBIDDEN P! FEAR THE P! LOVE THE P!