The air itself rumbled. The clouds crashed, flashes of light, storms of lightning shattering against chilling blasts of Hel-like frost. A lightning bolt blasted the landscape below. Flames roared to life even within the apocalyptic storm. Forests consumed in great conflagrations. To the citizens and gods of Asgard, it must have seemed the world was ending. That Ragnarok had come for them so very early.

No one was fool enough to interfere in the cataclysmic battle between these beasts of destruction. Their very own monster Thor, and the legendary Ghost of Sparta. This was a battle for two pantheons' ultimate warriors. It was known. An inescapable fact that sang in the souls of all witnesses. Anyone caught within it would be rent asunder in its all-consuming destruction. The best they could hope for was that the storm stayed over there, far away from them.

Even Odin, even the All-Father himself, simply watched. Making a show of absolute certainty of the outcome. Certainty that his son, that the god of thunder would take victory in the end. He had no choice but to do so. The Asgardians were looking to him, reassuring themselves of the outcome by trusting in the all-knowing Odin. He couldn't allow them to find him fallible. If the outcome of this battle ended in Thor's victory, Odin needed to have always known it would be thus. If the outcome ended in his loss... All of his people would likely die regardless.

While internally, all Odin could do was question. How had this come to be? There was no prophecy that spoke of this outcome. The death of Baldur came early. Fimbulwinter came early. This was no Ragnarok. None had sounded the horn, Odin himself held it in his possession. Heimdall was dead. No, before him, before all of this, Magni and Modi were dead. How? Every prophecy he had gathered, it detailed how this tale would unfold, and yet it had gone wrong at every turn. Where was the giants' champion? Where was Loki? Where were the giants come to sack Asgard?

None of them were present. This was not Ragnarok. And while that understanding reassured him, rendered the confidence he displayed less of a deception, the paranoia he carried that pushed him to seek forbidden knowledge and prophecy from the beginning ate at him. Something was wrong. Events had gone awry. And so as the battle raged, Odin wrestled with the dissatisfaction he always carried. He didn't know enough.

The ground cratered underneath Kratos as he landed in the scorched hellscape the most recent exchange left behind. "Mimir, are you well?!" he demanded, forcing his wounds to recover in the half moment he was allowed.

"A wee bit dizzy is all!" the head answered. "Seems I'm a wee bit more durable than I was when I was alive!"

Kratos had stopped listening after the confirmation, far more concerned with the bearded Aesir following him down with lightning crackling in his wake. His shield wouldn't save him from the hammer strike that was coming. The god of war wasn't sure anything would save anything else from it. Thor would shatter whatever he hit. The best Kratos could do was leap, avoid the brunt of the impact, and defend himself as best he could from the thunderclap that cracked the landscape. "Garrh!" A wall of force washed over him, there was no shield that could save him from all of it and so he had no choice but to rely on his own bracing and constitution to weather it.

Blasted back, he slammed into the wall of the crater, then leapt forward again. No time, no quarter, no respite, hesitation would kill him. In that moment, Thor had to have suffered a moment of backlash. Such a fearsome blow couldn't be overcome even by the one who struck it. And so Kratos thrust himself toward his opponent, leading with the Leviathan Axe, only for Thor to meet the charge. He had been stalled by the strike, but not so long that he was left vulnerable. He rent the ground asunder and was ready to continue the battle in a matter of instants. Fearsome did not even begin to describe it. Suddenly every story Kratos had ever heard about the god of thunder; Thamur, the World Serpent, Hrungnir, every story in which Thor went into battle, they became so much more vivid in his mind. The triptychs of the giants didn't even begin to capture the true might of Thor.

Their weapons clashed, and not for the first time, a bolt of lightning flashed into existence in one instant, and froze solid the next.

"Hahahahaha! You're FUN!" Thor laughed in the face of the Ghost of Sparta. "What a fight you must've given Baldur! I'm not even mad at him for getting my boys killed anymore! He needed the help!" The weight of Thor's strength tripled from one moment to the next. "Not mad at my boys anymore either. You cut 'em down, the moment they came for you it wasn't ending any other way! You're like me! You're made for war! Made for killing! Made for breaking everything around you!"

"I am not!" Kratos insisted, frost crystallising on the head of the axe. "I wanted no part of this!" He reared back and swung, not at Thor but at the bolt of lightning that shattered with a blinding flash, the pain of the surging electricity running through him, it was also a distraction. It blinded the god of thunder for an instant. Kratos leapt over the wild swing of Mjolnir, the Blades of Chaos circling around the haft of the Huldra Brothers' masterpiece. Yanking backward with one hand, Kratos forced the hammer tight against Thor's body. Then with his free hand, Draupnir came into being and stabbed forward into Thor's back.

The god of thunder laughed.

He took the wound without complaint. Released the hammer from his grasp to turn and hammer fist after fist into the god of war. Starting with an uppercut that launched both of them into the air again, then a combination of punches to Kratos' midsection. He didn't stop as the spear detonated inside him, uncaring for the damage it caused. The foreign god gasped, the chains in his hand released, and in that same moment, Thor called the legendary weapon back to his hand and with blades still attached, slammed it into Kratos' chest in such a way as to drive one of them deep into his body. Striking the Ghost of Sparta cleanly, and damning him back to the ground as the chains released.

"Brother!"

The laughter of Thor returned as he dropped from the sky. "Idiot. You're an idiot. Start to finish. Men like us? Gods like us? We're made for one thing. It's all we know how to do. It's all we can do. Any time we try to be better, it all just comes back to this. The heartbeat thundering in your ears, the–" He turned his head and spat. "The taste of blood in your mouth, ache of your bones, the singing in your soul. Men like us are made for battle. I don't even know you, I don't have Heimdall's eyes, and I can see it plain as day. You're somebody's monster, the same as I am. There's only one difference, and that's who comes out of this still breathing." Approaching the fallen god, he hefted his hammer in one hand, twirling it once over his wrist. "I've done this a lot. It always ends the same way." He raised the hammer high, ready to end the battle as he had with Hrungnir, by crushing his opponent's head in a single strike.

"I can say the same."

Once again the hammer clashed with the axe as it attempted to fly back into Kratos' hand. The deflection only delayed the process. The weapon bounced off the hammer, spun and landed in the god of war's open palm as he rose, turning as he hacked into the Aesir god's back. Thor turned, furious, cautious, caught another strike as Kratos released the frost weapon in favour of taking his blades for a flurry of blazing slashes, too fast and numerous for the small hammer to intercept all of them. The second he intercepted he struck hard enough to cause a blast of thunder, tearing it from Kratos' grip. The empty hand filled with a spear as Kratos dropped the other blade to take Draupnir in both hands and lunge.

Thor wasn't done. He grabbed hold of both of Kratos' arms, reared his head back and slammed forward for a headbutt. Raised a hand, called Mjolnir, brought it forward in a strike at the disoriented opponent–

Once again, the axe tore toward him, carved a gash into his side. In the same moment, the recalled Blades of Chaos blazed hot with primordial flame as they plunged into Thor's body.

A strangled gasp left the god of thunder's lips. Followed by one last gasp of laboured, wheezing laughter. "Haha... haha... haha... Fuck... You..."

...

Kratos stood over the fallen god, blood already burned to ashes from the blades. Yet as he recalled the Leviathan Axe, the weapon Faye had gifted him, it was still stained with the blood of another god. Still stained with the proof of what he really was. His true nature marked the last remnant of his life with Faye, and the land where the battle had taken place. Spires of frozen lightning dotted the land, storm clouds continued to roil above, all as forests burned around the crater where the battle had concluded.

"Brother–"

"I know." With a force of will, his wounds healed as much as he could manage in so brief a moment. With a hesitant look, he took hold of Mjolnir. Felt the immense weight of it in his hand. The power it contained. It would be mighty in his hands, just as it was mighty in Thor's.

He leapt out of the crater, once again leaving the devastation he wrought behind him. He allowed himself one final look. There were none who could stop him, who could prevent him from leaving as he liked. He knew it. They knew it. He had defeated their greatest warrior, taken that warrior's legendary weapon.

Atop the wall surrounding Asgard, Odin watched him. Others. A blonde woman. A stoutly built girl. Both holding fury he so easily recognised. The fury of loss. Of impotence. Watching as something precious was torn away, and knowing there was nothing they could do to stop it.

"Thor had a daughter," he observed.

"... Thrud. Aye."

"... I... Never considered to ask. Magni and Modi were grown men. Did they have children? Did Baldur?"

The head had enough. "Don't do this to yourself, Brother! You didn' pick a fight with Magni and Modi, Baldur died tryin' ta kill his own kin, and Thor you said your bloody self what kind of father he was! That girl will be better off wi'out him, as will all the realms!"

"It was not my choice to make."

"No," Mimir answered flatly and forcefully. "No it wasn't. It was his. The moment he swung that bloody hammer, your choices were fight or die! Don't you go rewriting history out of guilt like he gave you even half a chance at a peaceful resolution! He wanted you dead, you can't die until we rescue your boy! You have the choice of what you will do to see that happen! End of!" He let out a breath, to force himself to calm down. "Speaking of which, we should go before someone else decides to not give you a choice."

Reluctantly, Kratos nodded, sparing one last glance at the girl one the wall that happened to meet her eyes, then turned and vanished into the blazing forest. Taking the Leviathan Axe in hand, he used its power to calm the raging inferno around him as he made his way through. He was not who Faye wanted him to be. But perhaps trying to be who she wanted him to be, allowing that desire to temper him, it would be enough. Until he found Atreus, it would have to be enough.

For the first and last time, Kratos left Asgard behind and returned to the World Tree. He did not hesitate to march into the home of the dwarves, take the hammer from his belt, and drop it on the table.

The legs of the table instantly shattered under the weight.

"... My apologies."

"Is that..." For once, Brok was struck silent by what he was seeing. An object he didn't imagine he would ever see again unless it was about to smash through his skull.

"Mjolnir."

"I don't believe it..." Sindri breathed, taking slow jerking steps toward the weapon. "After all this time, after everything it was used for..." He looked to the god, to the hammer. "Kratos, I don't think I can work on–"

"It's yours," the god grunted, turning his back on the weapon. "I want no part of it. This was a source of pride and shame for the both of you. Pride for making it, shame for how it was used. And so I return it to your hands. Do with it what you will."

"Kratos–" Brok tried to speak.

"I want no part of it." With that, Kratos left the house once again, marched directly back to the gateway to the realms. Through it, back to Vanaheim. He wanted the day to be over, and so there was only one task left to complete.

"Brother," Mimir spoke up through the heavy atmosphere once again while they moved through the forests. "You an' him aren't the same. Don't believe that for a moment."

"He fought for his sons, I fight for mine."

"Don't mistake him, Kratos. He fought for the insult you did him by way of his sons. It isn't the same. He didn'a fight for 'em when he slaughtered his way through the giants on Odin's orders either. Or when he was doin' it for fun! Everythin' you're doing is to get your boy back, or you would've ended Freya right then an' there."

They both fell into silence for quite some time as Kratos tried to reconcile what Mimir was trying to tell him, how he was trying to reassure him, with what he knew to be true. "A killer with purpose is still a killer," the god finally said.

"Kratos–"

"I accept it," he continued despite the interruption. "There are times when a killer is needed. I know this. I have known this since my days as a soldier. It was a fact my entire life was shaped on. Ares... He wished me to care less for whether it was needed. He wanted me to be a weapon more than a soldier. As did Athena. Thor... Thor was what I would have been, had I chosen to serve only as their instrument of destruction. What I denied him was his chance to be better. Now the most I may do for him, the man who was what I so easily could have been, is regret robbing him of that chance."

"... You kill to survive," Mimir said, "Never as an indulgence."

"You speak my own words back at me," Kratos grunted. "But... Yes. I may be a killer. That is my nature. My domain is and forever shall be War, and War always means Death. But for the ugly truth of my nature and my domain, need must always be the cause. Desire for war, desire for death, is a poison of the soul."

"Well damn, those some purty words leapin' outta that bushy beard o' yers!"

Kratos didn't look. He sensed no threat from the dwarf woman. "Lunda."

"Good ta hear ya remember me! Comin' ta visit Freyr agin? Camp's this way."

Kratos stopped. He had been moving in the direction of the camp, but quickly realised they must have moved it after his last visit. A sensible precaution.

"Must say, Brother. The lusty dwarf isn' wrong. Never expected ye to wax so poetic."

"My homeland was famed for its philosophical traditions, even if Sparta was rightly known for the ferocity of its warriors. As I told Atreus, ferocity of the heart, tempered by the discipline of the mind."

"Aye. So you did. And wise words they were, then and now. Ye need to talk again, Brother. I'm right here."

The inhabitants of the camp watched expectantly as the three of them entered. Lunda turned and walked backward to her forge for the sake of sending a flirtatious wink.

"So," Freyr greeted with raised hands, "Didn't think we'd be seeing you agaaaa..." His words stopped short as Kratos reached to his belt and grabbed the slack-jawed head of Heimdall. Eerie violet eyes still glimmering within the sockets. "That... That's Heimdall. That's really Heimdall. This isn't a trick, right? Beyla, Byggvir, this is real, right?"

The light and dark elves in the camp raised their hands. The light elf's glowed with a power Kratos didn't know of or understand. "You should be able to feel the latent power of it, Freyr. So far as I can discern, it is as real as it appears." The dark elf woman beside him nodded her agreement.

"I know, but..." the Vanir god shook his head in disbelief, running a hand through his hair. "This doesn't make any sense!"

"It calls for celebration, if nothing else," said the dark elf.

Freyr nodded. "Yes. Yes! You're right, of course! I–" He stopped as his attention fully returned to the bearded man who had stood patiently waiting for them to acknowledge he had done as he claimed he would. "Eheh, I, never actually got your name, did I? I'm Freyr, you know that already, you met Lunda, this is Beyla, Byggvir–"

"I do not care."

"Oh..." Despite the wind being taken out of his sails, Freyr kept his joyous and much more welcoming demeanour. "Well you have my gratitude all the same! The death of Heimdall is the best news we've gotten in decades, maybe longer!" With a nod of certainty, he reached into his clothes and pulled out what appeared to be folded cloth and held it out for Kratos to take. "A deal's a deal. Here."

Putting Heimdall's head back on his belt, Kratos took the proffered cloth in one hand while taking Mimir in the other, turning the head to show him so he might verify. "It's legitimate. That's Skithblathnir."

Kratos nodded. "How does it function?"

"Just, unfold it and you'll figure it out pretty quickly," Freyr assured him. "It's under the command of the one who holds it."

Kratos nodded again before turning to walk away. But as he did, he paused. "You may also wish to know. Thor may also have fallen. I did not stop to confirm his death, or ensure the prevention of his revival." In the moment, it had seemed likely. But he did not know for certain. It didn't assuage his guilt, but he had seen far too many come back from what appeared to be certain death to assume such a thing. "At the least, Mjolnir is out of his hands."

"You... Thor is also–?"

He wasn't done. "... Freya. Odin has bound her to the realm of Midgard against her will via unknown means. And stripped her of the ability to fight by blade or spell, even to defend herself."

"You know my sister?!"

Kratos snorted in dissatisfaction. "I have come to wish I did not. But with this, if there were any lingering debt between her and I, it is resolved. If you care to, you may tell her that." He had killed her son. She had taken his away. She had also saved Atreus once. He would not say this favour was equal, but he was certain he would never do her another one.

Freyr stared, barely even comprehending the way this meeting had gone from the moment he saw Heimdall's severed head, he had entirely lost the thread of event following the words 'Thor may also have fallen'. "I... Uhh... Okay?"

With a final nod of understanding, and even a little gratitude for not stabbing him in the back as gods so often did, Kratos left the camp. Headed back to the gate to the World Tree so that he might finally rest.

"Don't be a stranger!" Lunda called out to his back.

Freyr looked to his companions, begging them to have followed all of that better than he had. "What in Helheim just happened?!"

-(-)-

A/N: This chapter seen very very early on THE GREAT FORBIDDEN P! FEAR THE P! LOVE THE P!