"I barely knew the troubles our family had gone through before I was born. How hard my older brother had worked to reunite Mother and Father. If he hadn't, I wouldn't be here. When everyone seemed against him, he persevered. He died, dozens upon dozens of times."

"Wait, what?" Atreus asked. "He died?"

Melinoé grimaced. "It was... As you might imagine, as gods of death and the dead, the House of Hades has... Had... A particular relationship with the concept. In the great entrance hall, souls would emerge from the pool of blood flowing in from the river Styx to be judged by Lord Hades, and when we were struck down, we would emerge from it as well. Whole and unharmed." She smiled weakly. "Well, and a little embarrassed."

"Crazy," Atreus murmured. "I didn't think even gods could come back from the dead." Oh. And suddenly he certainly hoped not. "Then again, I remember thinking gods couldn't die at all."

We can." Her eyes held pain. A pain Atreus recognised. "We very much can."

-(-)-

It was the height of the War of the Three Factions, as people ended up calling it. Or the Great War, depending on who you ask. Devils, angels, and the angels' traitorous brethren all fighting for supremacy. The underworld, the mortal world, their Heaven, all were turned into battlegrounds. Three factions, each of them strong enough to challenge the pantheons, but all they could do was war against each other. Their Biblical God who thought himself above all others. The Satans he considered a blight on existence. The Fallen defined by their failure to live up to the ideals handed down to them.

I wasn't exactly party to the decision making on the subject. But many other factions were happy to let them kill themselves warring against each other. The House of Hades in particular. Olympus might have cared, but we had our duty and Father was nothing if not a servant of duty and purpose.

Mother and Father... They had been estranged once. It was complicated, but suffice to say, Mother left as a means to keep the peace between we and Olympus. Zagreus, my brother, changed that. He worked tirelessly, and eventually he brought Mother home and... They had me! However, there was still a problem. Mother was of Olympus, and again, to keep the peace, it was decided she would spend half the year with Grandmother Demeter on Olympus. Everyone was happy.

Even during the war, this continued. Zagreus would escort Mother up to the Temple of Styx, our exit to the mortal realm. He was unable to travel much further with her. The very same force that prevented our deaths, also bound us to the underworld. The further we ventured, the weaker we would become until the Styx would return us to where we belonged. That didn't stop Zagreus from trying, though. He would stay with her until the end every time. "Faster that way," he said, but really we all knew he just wanted to spend a little longer with her.

And then... One day...

"Hades, terribly sorry for bothering you like this–"

Hades glared at the divine conduit emitting Zeus' booming voice into his workplace. "Get on with it, Zeus. Some of us have work to do."

"Oh, of course, of course! I shan't keep you. I was just wondering you know, I don't enjoy separating my brother from his wife but when will dear Persephone be on her way? We're a couple of days beyond the usual you see and Demeter can get quite irritable when–"

The scratching of parchment ceased. Red eyes that had been glaring, suddenly filled with confusion, then concern. "She left days ago. As scheduled. Zagreus has long since returned from escorting her to the surface. You mean to tell me she has not arrived?"

The Lord of the Skies' response, the final word conveyed to Hades' home was not for his brother. "HERMES!" With that call, the communications ceased.

Not that Hades would have had any care to listen any longer. "NYX! Where is she?! Find my wife!"

It was a command Lady Nyx would have gladly followed, but her domain ruled over the night. Over darkness. Persephone was in no such place, or at least none where Nyx's awareness could find her. There was a search. Those few whose duties allowed them to venture further from the House, the Furies, Thanatos, they searched as best they could. Until, hours later, Thanatos discovered the truth. It was his role, after all.

"There is only one true God."

Inscribed with the light of the holy on the wall from which she hung. Littered with further inscriptions of a magical nature, to hide her presence, to contain her there. The kind, matronly form of Persephoney was left mutilated. She had been kept alive long enough that the Olympians, the House of Hades, they would notice. Let their fear build before they learned the truth.

It reeked of a staged incident. It was not impossible for the angels to have attacked her. It was far more possible for their God's human followers to have sought her death, with some help. Far more likely was it to have been the actions of the fallen or the devils. Attempting to aim the fury of the Olympians at their enemy. Turn them into another weapon for their war. But it didn't turn out that way. It was perhaps oddly uncharacteristic of them, what happened next. Instead of joining the war, the Olympians became even more fiercely isolationist. The most fury exuded came from Demeter, as she inflicted a cruel winter upon the world. But even that was brief, and soon gave way to the despair of a mother losing her child all over again.

And as for the House of Hades...

"Brother," Melinoé said to Zagreus as he knelt by the pool of blood. "Zagreus, please, you need to eat."

"No." He didn't move. He didn't look at her. Instead he stared unblinkingly at the unmoving crimson surface. "No. She's one of us. She's going to come back. Any moment now. She'll come back. She's never died before. It'll be nice for her to have a familiar face right away. She'll come back."

He had refused to believe it, even if he knew the truth. Persephone was their mother, the Lady of the House. But she was not one of them. She was an Olympian, not bound to the Realm of the Dead. Once she was gone... That was it.

And if Zagreus was struggling, that said nothing of his father.

The god of the dead had not ventured out of his chambers ever since Thanatos had delivered word of what had transpired. All he could do was stare at paintings. The joy he had rediscovered even if he struggled to show it. He, Persephone, Zagreus. And another made after Melinoé was born with the little girl bundled in his wife's arms.

He didn't speak. There was nothing to say. He had already decided what would happen. He was perhaps more like his brothers, like his nieces and nephews, than he cared to admit. For as certain of his duty and purpose as he was, for as unwavering in his focus as he was, there was no denying the fury that burned within him. He had never in his existence experienced hatred quite like this. For those who took his love away from him. But, it was his duty that saved him from following the course of indulging that hatred. He could never betray his purpose, to allow the god of the dead to become a death dealer. That was not his place.

Gods rarely considered whether there was an afterlife for them. Of course not. It was rarely considered that they might die, let alone what would come after that. In that moment, Hades hoped there was something. Hoped he would see his dear Persephone again. But if he wouldn't, that was fine too. He couldn't allow his own hatred to exist. One last time he looked at the painting... At his family.

"A dutiful god, his end is nigh," said an only vaguely familiar but entirely unwelcome voice.

"But can the dead eternal lie?"

"Fated end? No death may die."

"Fates." Nyx's damnable daughters. They had long since stopped presenting themselves entirely, especially when giving their horrid prophecies. None were receptive to them, especially when none were requested. "Leave me. There is nothing for you here and I have no patience for deceivers."

"Deceivers? No! Our words remain true!" one voice insisted.

"The only one lying to you is you."

"Pay us no mind. We know what you will do."

The bearded, pale-skinned god grunted in frustration. "I do not care what you claim to know. I do not desire an audience."

The room fell silent. He had no idea whether that meant they were truly gone. Nyx's daughters were capricious creatures. But, with the momentary distraction he was allowed a brief moment of clarity that saw him leaving a message for his children.

Then... With all of the fury available to him, all the power within his being, he turned it all inward. Turned it all against himself. The House of Hades was the seat of his power. Where he was at his strongest. And so, the process took hours. Hours of burning himself to cinders, remaining silent as he brought his own existence to an end.

"Father?"

Only for him to then emerge from the pool of blood. The viscous fluid pouring off of him as he rose to see his son staring at him, bewildered. He didn't understand. It was true those bound to the House would reappear here, but he was the House. He controlled it! He was the one through whom all were bound to–!

"Foolish god."

"Deluded sod."

"So dutiful as to be flawed."

"SILENCE!" His revitalised power spread through the house. "Enough of you! Your prophecies are false! Your insipid rhymes have no value!"

"Value? No. They never did."

"We tell only futures bid."

"No changing the truths amid."

"The truth remains," the first of the three continued. "The god of the dead shall have no heirs. Heirs are heirs to take what's theirs, from those who paid their final fare."

They spoke in riddles as they always did. But in this case... They spoke for clarity of what their prophecy truly foretold. Hades hadn't understood when it was first spoken but he understood now. He thought Zagreus' birth was impossible as Hades was fated to have no heirs. That was not to say he would not have children, but that he would never pass down what was his. Not his possessions, not his station, not his duty, not his role. Hades was the god of the dead. And as the god of the dead, he was not permitted to die. He was not permitted to relinquish his duty.

He...

"No."

Like so many before him, Hades refused prophecy. An unacceptable truth slamming into his will to believe anything else. He was not a powerless mortal, or even a minor deity! He was Hades! Lord of the Dead! No shackle would hold him if he did not wish it, not even fate! And so he did the only thing he could think to do in that moment of coldly furious denial. Destroyed the one thing that could link him to this realm. To this house. Tartarus shook from his full might unleashed upon the pool and its environs, the structure shattered and collapsed under the force of his divine might, leaving the river Styx to flow onward, disconnected from the house entirely.

And still, Zagreus only watched. As the blood dripped from the shattered marble edifice. He turned to look at the rage of his father. A visage that long since ceased to frighten him. "Father... Why did you do that? Mother was going to come back."

The residents of the house had arrived, and so were there to witness Lord Hades slam his unresisting son into the stone, then threw him to the other end of the room. A cloud of darkness caught the prince before he could hit the wall.

"Lord Hades! What are you–?!" Nyx demanded, only to see the regret in his eyes for what he had already done and silence herself.

"Nyx," he said solemnly, "Take care of the house."

Once again, the god of the dead turned his fury inwards, immolating himself. Zagreus, even after being so viciously struck, still tried to call out to his father alongside his sister. Still tried to move forward, to stop him somehow. Only Nyx holding them back prevented them getting caught up in Hades' self-inflicted pyre. The flesh seared, scorched, burned and crumbled. And still he stood.

His organs liquefied and leaked out. And still he stood.

His body reduced to nothing but bones. And still Hades stood.

"Why?" he asked, no lungs to breathe, no lips to form words and still he spoke. "Why?" The question was obvious.

And the answer, as ever, came from an unwelcome source.

"Think you through the blood that you were spared?" spoke the first of the Fates. "Through it were your house ensnared. Through you they were tethered there. It is as the Fates predicted. Through duty you are restricted. Your sorry fate is self-inflicted."

Despair.

Overwhelming despair.

It was no fault of prophecy that trapped him here. It was not prophecy that would dictate the path laid out before him. It was he himself, the fool who had accepted his role through gritted teeth and shouldered it regardless. Carried the burden of his station. His successes and his many, many failings. He had trudged onward through all of it because that was who he was. And it was who he would continue to be, no matter how unfit he had become. The only proof he needed was the sorry state of his body held together only by his will to continue on. All it would take for this to be over, to join his wife wherever she may be, would be to let go.

But he couldn't.

He turned. Looked toward what remained of his house. He saw his son. Held back by Nyx to prevent him from approaching. Fear. For him. For his Father.

If it weren't for him...

He raised a skeletal arm. "Take the prince, chain him in the pits of Tartarus!"

"Father!" Melinoé shouted.

"Lord Hades!" Megaera exclaimed, "If it would please you, we would be glad to confine Prince Zagreus to his chambers–!"

The dead god's power once again flowed outward, blanketing the hall in spiteful fury that crushed recalcitrant wills beneath it. "I will not give orders twice and as you can see," he gestured at the ruined pool behind them, "there are no more second chances."

Cowed, for the moment, Megaera led the stunned Zagreus away. With quietly spoken words meant only for him. "We'll work this out, Zag."

Once again, Lord Hades moved to sit behind his desk. Back where he belonged. Where he would remain until the end. "Everyone. Back to work."

And quietly, his rage, his spite, would grow. An unquenchable, poisonous flame fit to consume those who had earned his wrath.

-(-)-

Melinoé's tale left Atreus stunned. "I... I'm so sorry." It felt weak, absurdly so. But itt was something. A way to convey his sympathy. Often flowery words were less important than genuinely expressed sentiments. "I can't even imagine what it was like to go through that." He half-remembered something his father had said. That nothing good came from the Fates. Maybe this was what he meant. "What happened after that?"

"By the time Father returned to his senses, the war was already ending. One big stalemate. No one achieved anything except taking Mother away from us. Zagreus... He never let Zagreus free." She snorted, shook her head. "I suppose that part was obvious. I did ask you to help me free him after all. I know the Furies tried. I tried, once." Her flesh and blood hand ran along the arm brace that marked the origin of her spectral left arm. "Nyx looks after him now. Spends time with him. It's... He doesn't deserve this. He never did! Did he even get to mourn Mother?! He hadn't even realised she was really gone when Father–!"

Far older than him. More capable than him. More worldly than him. None of that mattered when someone was struggling in front of him and needed help. He pulled Melinoé into a hug as she collected herself, before letting her go again. "I want to help. I do. But what's your plan?" He would never give up the part of himself that said if someone needed help, and he could help, then he should. That was how his mother raised him. But his father wasn't wrong in that practicality couldn't be ignored. "Your father sounds pretty scary and it sounds like... I mean you tried once and it didn't go well."

"I know. I learned from my mistakes. I have a plan, allies, and Father unwittingly gave us an opportunity. All we need now is to teach you what you need to know, and I can get my brother back."

"I'll..." Atreus hesitated, his father's voice screaming in his head. "I'll need more details," he said to pacify the voice, "But I'll help you... In principle."

The pretty girl was smiling at him in gratitude. And the memory of his father's voice was grumbling and calling him a fool. So that felt like a good compromise.

-(-)-

Worlds upon worlds upon worlds away.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-AGH!"

Chained blades tore scales from draconic flesh, dragging a mighty beast down and into a cliff face, the cliff sundered and crumbling atop the monstrous lizard. Half-buried, the dragon Otr burst out from under the rockslide, glaring at the one who wounded him.

"Do we have an agreement? Or must we continue this further?"

The dragon didn't have the capacity to do so, and yet it seemed to sneer all the same. Giving a petulant nod, it crawled up the cliffs to rest atop them. Figuratively licking its wounds. And perhaps literally once Kratos' back would turn. Not that the former god of war would care about the dragon's wounded pride.

"Phew! Okay!" Mimir said breathlessly, despite lacking lungs to be shorter of breath than normal. "Can we say we're done with fightin' dragons now? I'd really like to be done with fightin' dragons now."

"This was the last," Kratos confirmed. "I know of no others, and do not care to waste time looking for them. Three will suffice."

"Oh, aye, suffice 'e says. Mad bastard. So... What now?"

"You know these lands better than I ever could. You tell me."

"S'pose that's how it goes, innit? Ah beg to stop fightin' dragons an' yer all 'We must press on'," the head said in a serviceable impression, "But the second you've had yer fill it's all 'Oh Mimir, smartest man alive, please tell me what I should do next–"

Kratos snatched the head from his belt, staring Mimir in the eyes. "Have you forgotten what is at stake, Mimir?"

The head grimaced. "... Aye. S'pose Ah did. Sorry, Brother. Not gonna lie, bouncin' on yer arse while you leap about wrestlin' dragons doesn't do great things for my ability to keep filterin' out things that needn't be said. But that was out of line all the same."

"... Mm. So?"

"Perhaps the Huldra Brothers have somethin' ready for us by now? We've been at this dragon hunting business for months."

"This task has taken longer than I anticipated."

"Aye, that second one gave us a real runaround. Still though. You think about it, we've given Brok and Sindri so much time, if they don't have somethin' to show..." Mimir trailed off, as he opted to finish that sentence a different way. "They'll have somethin' for us, Brother. I'm sure of it."

"Mm."

-(-)-

They hadn't expected the Lake of Nine to have frozen over by the time they got back. But, according to Mimir, that was Fimbulwinter for you. Not only that, the World Serpent was gone from the lake. Suspected to have begun to hibernate to escape the cold.

Their true destination however, was oddly silent. As they entered Tyr's Temple, there was no sound of constant hammering. There were flames, but only those of the roaring braziers keeping the space warm despite the freezing temperatures outside. Fimbulwinter might have been formidable, but it couldn't compare to the chill of Helheim and the temple space remained comfortable even there.

"They are not here," Kratos observed needlessly. Such was obvious.

"Per'aps they left a note?"

The god looked behind the counter that was the Huldra shop, finding a letter addressed to... Someone. Grimacing, the Greek pulled the local from his belt and pointed him at the letter. "Read it."

Considerately, Mimir opted not to mention how lost Kratos was without his son. Instead doing what he was so politely requested to do. "Says they've moved to a new location. But they'll pop in every now and again to check in."

"Are we expected to wait for them here?"

"Nope! No waiting!" The familiar and familiarly breathless voice came from behind them. Sindri appearing in a previously empty room with his hands on his knees. "Phew! No waiting! See? Brok said I was being paranoid for checking in so often but! I know how grumpy–"

"Mrgh..."

"Uh, irritable?"

"Hrmm..."

"I-Impatient you can be, but you're a busy man, god, man god, so it's totally understandable!"

"Mm. The hunt for dragons took more time than we anticipated. I assume you have something to show us."

"Ab-solutely!" the dwarf confirmed with a grin, hands proudly planted on his hips. "Take a look at this little doozy!" Once again from out of nowhere, Sindri pulled a hefty object, roughly the size of Kratos' head. "That stone you gave us, boy that was something special! But what we've done is isolate the special properties it shares with the Realm Between Realms that protect the bearer, and its harmonious resonance with the branches of the World Tree, to forge a sympathetic link that lets you–"

"Hrmmmmmm..."

Sindri wisely took the threatening growl of a god as an instruction to speed up his explanation. "You can use it to travel to any branch of Yggdrasil in any of the Nine Realms. It's like a portable Bifrost Bridge. Your personal Tyr's Temple."

"That... Is precisely what we need for whatever our next step is, Sindri," said Mimir.

"And it will still allow safe travel beyond the branches of the tree," Kratos stated more than asked.

"It's what the stone was made for and we didn't mess with it. Shouldn't be a problem."

"Hrm... Thank you."

The dwarf blinked. "Well shucks, actual gratitude! Heh, Brok's never gonna believe this. You, Kratos, are very welcome!" With a beckoning gesture, he led the god and head to the branch of the World Tree within the shop. "Now come on, there's someone you'll want to talk to, and you might as well come get some rest with us at our current workspace. Fimbulwinter isn't the most hospitable weather phenomenon, ya know!" Holding up the stone, the door to the Realm Between Realms formed and opened, allowing the three of them to pass through, then quickly to where they needed to go.

"Welcome to my home sweet home!" Sindri announced as they arrived at the pleasant dwelling in the boughs of the World Tree. "Well, technically we're just tenants but the owner hasn't had any complaints or threatened to kick us out, so I think we're safe there."

"Hello."

Kratos looked down, seeing a small rodent. It was far from the strangest thing that the Greek god had ever seen, and so he acknowledged it with a grunted greeting. "Hm."

"A man of few words. Just as they described you, Master Kratos," the squirrel continued. "I am Ratatoskr, the Guardian of the World Tree."

The squirrel was still talking to him, so Kratos assumed it must have been for a reason. "Sindri, is this the one you believed I should speak to?"

"Ah, yeah, sorry Ratatoskr, he's just... Kind of... Like this."

"Hrm."

"Not that there's anything wrong with that!" the dwarf hastily added.

"We could debate," Mimir murmured.

"No, no! It's quite alright! I can understand the stress of circumstances causing a little friction," the squirrel assured them all. "As it happens, there is something you should be made aware of, Master Kratos, something I hope will set your mind at ease, at least a little. I witnessed a boy passing through this Realm several months ago."

"Atreus! You saw him?!" Kratos demanded.

"I did indeed. For your sake I shall be brief. His body hit the tree, far above us. I do not know if fate was smiling down on him or scorning him as then, the tree seemed to cocoon him within its bark before sending him off into the unknown. I cannot even guess where he might have ended up, or if he ended up anywhere at all."

"I... If he doesn't have this..." Kratos said as he held the device that now contained the Unity Stone.

"The tree protects, Master Kratos. I couldn't begin to understand why, but it has deigned to keep your son alive."

He would never have said it. Would never have acknowledged the possibility. But there was a growing knot of tension within Kratos, a fear that his quest was doomed from the start. That Atreus was already gone. And in a single moment he felt that knot unravel as he experienced hope that he might truly be reunited with his son. "This is welcome news. Thank you, squirrel."

Mimir let out an impressed noise. "Two thank yous in a single day. This is a day for the history books."

Though Ratatoskr took it less well. "Ah, haha, well, you're welcome, but you do know my name. I, just told it to you? And Sindri also said it?"

"I wouldn't mind it too much, Ratatoskr," Mimir told him with a sigh. "It's just how he is. You wouldn't believe what we had to go through before he'd stop callin' me 'head'."

"Ah... Mimir. Um... You've lost weight?" the squirrel tried as a greeting.

"Aye, most of it."

"Well, I'll just be... Around," the tree's guardian said as he scampered away. As he did, Kratos moved in another direction, toward the trunk of the World Tree, wondering if he could see the spot Atreus might have hit.

"So. Time to work out next steps, aye?" Mimir asked of the ashen-skinned god.

"If the dwarf speaks truly, we can now travel to any Realm. Skithblathnir is no longer beyond our reach."

"Aye, not an easy get, but it's entered the realm of possibility, if you'll pardon the pun. We'd need to have a wander through Vanaheim if we hope to find it, mind."

"What was the other?" Kratos asked.

"Other, Brother?"

"Before we began our hunt for dragons," Kratos elaborated, "You mentioned you had a method through which we might give the search a much improved likelihood of success."

"Ah... Aye. I did at that. Well... That's also a possibility, but it wouldn't be my suggestion for the next item on our acquisition list."

Once again, Kratos pulled the head from his belt to look it in the eye. "Mimir, speak plain."

The head puffed out a gust of air. "Right. Plain. Okay. So, let me say up front I don't think you'll appreciate this plan, but it's the best I've got for raisin' the chance of savin' your boy."

"Mimir!"

"... We need to know where in the Realm Between is worth searching. And I can think of one fella who might be capable of giving us that capability. Someone with the ability of foresight that has allowed him to remain untouchable in battle."

"Heimdall of the Aesir."

-(-)-

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