In a way, the Overlook Hotel was Atreus’ worst fear. Ever since he’d heard about it feeding on the energy of the people inside, he has steered clear from it as much as possible.
His father had been right - Valhalla was controlled by Odin, and in a way, that made it so he knew his mother likely wasn’t there. But she had raised Atreus with the same customs as most Norse, with the knowledge that it was better to die a warrior and go to Valhalla. Soul Eaters were used as fear tactics to get children to eat their vegetables and behave, but Atreus had actually faced off against several and that had stemmed the worry of them.
Now there was a new thing consuming souls. Each and every time, he worried he would never see his mother again. Even if not in Valhalla, but anything beyond the cold gates of Hel.
Over the week, Atreus had played out a dozen scenarios in his mind. All of the things he might see. Something eating his soul was first, Baldur, Freya, Odin, Thor.. Ragnarök.
He hadn’t expected to see himself.
No, not himself. Long red hair tied back, green armor. Knife behind his back.
When the figure turned towards him, he took a step back. Smug smile burned on the face that was so similar and yet so unfamiliar. He beckoned Atreus closer, and held out the knife he’d had hidden, as if it was an offering.
Atreus didn’t take it. He shook his head, still quiet.
“Ah, but aren’t you ready for revenge?” When the figure turned to the side, it uncovered a dark mass on the floor, bloodied and unarmed.
Thor.
He was as Atreus remembered. Bearded, large. The arrogance was gone now, and all that was left was a weak man, bested by one of the last of the Jötunn.
Atreus stepped forward, unable to stop himself. The knife was slid into his hand, and his fingers grasped it.
“There you are. Just as it’s meant to be, little wolf.” The whispered words were taunting and cruel, and the figure didn’t stop smugly smiling as he thought himself right. He slid up behind Atreus, leaning in close to talk more. “Do you remember what he did to our people? He slaughtered them. Each and every one. Don’t you think he deserves to die for his crimes?”
Atreus shook his head, answering more for himself than the figure. “I- I don’t know.” He sounded eleven years old again. Unsure of himself, unsure of everything in this world. He struggled to remember father’s lessons, as he loomed over Thor now.
“We’re Gods,” The voice continued, sounding so smug. So sure of himself. It was so taunting, so cruel. An echo of the same voice that had been used against Modi. The same one that he had used to convince himself it had been fine to kill the Son of Thor, as taunts were thrown his way. Loki played to this, sounding almost sing-song with his arrogance. “We can do whatever we want. And we want Thor’s end. You are Loki, son of Laufey the Just. This is what you are meant to do.”
That snapped Atreus out of his own mind, and he shook his head more violently this time, pulling away from the figure. “No.” He was firm now, and his hand dropped the knife to the ground. “I am Atreus , son of Laufey the Just and Kratos.” He squared off his shoulders and held his chin high. “I will make my own destiny.”
He looked at Thor, beaten and useless, he had nothing left to give or live for, and Atreus could not - could never - bring himself to take another life like that again. “The cycle ends here.” Kratos had once said that, but it was during a moment of death, and Atreus was doing the opposite now, offering life instead. “We are better than this.”
The images faded slowly from mind as he regained control, Loki vanishing into the darkness, Thor slowly fading away. The knife remained, and when the room was back to normal in it’s ugly way, Atreus was able to lean down and slowly pick it up.
It was his own. His mother’s knife. The one that had been destroyed, and arrived in Vallo soon after Atreus had. He sighed, thinking of her and wondering if she would be proud of him. If it was the right choice to leave Thor alive, knowing what he did to their people.
He might not have known her half as well as he’d thought, but Atreus could feel her sometimes, and now he felt a breeze of cool air swirl around him, as if it was a comforting hug. Peace.
There was no way Faye had expected Vallo. No way for her to know that this realm, and this place, would afford him so much hope and love. He had been in nothing but an endless cycle of violence and war and the cruelty of Æsir that he’d forgotten what hope was. He had been tired, traveling a great deal, spending less time with his father and more time trying to find anything, anything that gave him direction of what to do next.
He had wanted love and friendship and a different life, but could do nothing more than make do with the path he had been pushed on. Vallo changed that. Vallo gave him that hope back, that love. The people in it were a part of his life now, and things could be different.
They would be different.
... If his father didn't grumble at him for being late for dinner.