I remember you said don't leave me here alone
But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight
WHAT: Atreus receives his motherâs knife. WHERE: His room at Crossed Quills WHEN: March 17th, morning WARNINGS: Sads. Someone hug this (BOY) man. SPOILERS FOR GOD OF WAR STATUS:Complete!
It was a day like any other. Waking up from a too-comfortable bed slowly, something that wasnât common for him these days. Atreus usually didnât have comfort. Or the luxury of sleeping in. His fatherâs disciplines were ingrained in his brain forever and always, and most days he was thankful for it.
Somedays, however, he just wanted to rest. But he didnât, because that would have been considered weak, and he had enough here to do that the guilt would have overtaken him in minutes. He went through the motions of getting ready, washing up, stretching. His gear was off to the side, most of it set apart because he didnât have a need for his full armor set here. Yet, anyway.
Today, he was going exploring. The forest had been thrilling to travel through already, ever-changing, full of magic and new people and creatures he could meet. Heâd explored it now as a few different animals to get a different perspective, but today he was going as himself.
Atreus talked to himself, both here and home. At home, usually at least Mimir was listening, but here he had no one, so the quiet musings for how he expected the day to go broke through the air softly as he put on his belts and assembled his pieces of leather, examined his arrows and went through the motions.
His ceased all moments when his fingers wrapped around the handle of a knife. A second knife, as the one his father had given him years before was tucked into his boot already.
This knife wasnât unfamiliar, however. It had a familiar weight that he hadnât felt in years. A weight that he would likely never forget. His motherâs knife.
Atreus still had the burn scar on his hand from when he grabbed it out of her funeral pyre.
He still remembered sacrificing it to save his fatherâs life. His mother would have approved, and gently told him that it was only a knife, and he had done a great deed, saving his father.
He didnât regret it, but it had still hurt to lose one of the only things he had left of her. He sat down heavily on the edge of his bed, pulling the knife with him so he could look at it carefully. Atreus didnât blink, afraid if he closed his eyes for one second, it would be gone.
Kratos had long since given up trying to get Atreus to be less emotional, but it was there in his own mind as he tried to blink away the tears stinging his eyes. He was a man now, not an eleven year old set upon a life-altering quest.
But he missed her fiercely. There wasnât a day he didnât think about her, and it never truly got easier, he had just learned to cope.
Laufey the Just. There was so much he hadnât known about her growing up, but she had still been the most remarkable, intelligent and fierce warrior he had known. Somehow, finding out her past wasnât as surprising as it shouldâve been, Faye had been everything to so many people, not just him. She had been the first guardian of Atreus, but the last guardian of her people. She fought wars, she brokered peace. She paved the way for her son.
Her son hadnât had nearly enough time with her. When he was younger and more selfish, he had been bitter and lost about that. Stuck with a father that was emotionally constipated. That relationship had grown, thankfully, and while Kratos still couldnât muster a smile without pulling a muscle, Atreus was no longer unsure of his fatherâs love for him. Faye had known it had to happen that way, but it didnât make it any easier for the young God to cope with.
Atreus wiped away the tear that had betrayed him and fell down his cheek, and he blew out a shaky breath.
The knife fit in the spot next to the one his father had made, as if it was meant to go there, and Atreus nodded, a smile coming to his lips. âThanks for the reminder that you havenât left me, mom.â