Chapter Text
Father didn't talk about the Blades much.
He only used them when he had to and barely tended to them. Actually, Atreus was pretty sure Brok was the only one who did. That was weird because Father always talked about how important weapons upkeep was. He tended to Mother's axe as if it were alive, and always made sure Atreus kept his bow sturdy and his knife sharp. But Atreus had never seen him do anything like that with the Blades.
Somehow, though, they never seemed to get dull.
He didn't like Atreus going near them, either. The closest Atreus got was whenever he had to ride on Father's back to climb things. Being near them felt a little weird, but not weird enough to explain why he wasn't allowed to touch them. Atreus wanted to know more about them, but they had something to do with Father's past, and, well...Atreus had stopped asking questions after Helheim and what had happened with Baldur. Even if he wanted to know, he understood that whoever Father had been before was...messy. Confusing. Too big for him to really understand right now.
So he didn't ask and he stayed away. But then one day, everything changed.
Father had left the Blades with Sindri for repairs, then stepped away to argue with Mimir about something. It was snowing again, and Atreus was standing near the forges to stay warm. Usually Brok was there, but he was hungover or something, so he wouldn't be in until later. It made things quieter than usual. And unexpectedly complicated.
"Hey, uh, Atreus?" Sindri swallowed nervously. "I hate asking, but, uh…"
His eyes darted to where the Blades lay on the ground.
Sindri didn't like blood. Or dirt. Really anything filthy. And since Father didn't really take care of the Blades, they had a lot of blood on them. Atreus should've remembered that Father didn't like it when he was near the Blades, that he definitely wouldn't like it if Atreus touched them, how weird they felt and how weird it was that Father treated them that way, but he'd moved or cleaned off things for Sindri before. Right then, this was just another thing to move or clean. Nothing special.
"Yeah, sure, hold on."
Atreus grabbed one of the swords.
He meant to put it on the table, maybe help clean off the handle so Sindri could work on it, but he'd barely lifted it before he realized something was wrong. It wasn't cold anymore; it was actually really hot, like there was a big fire burning somewhere close. He could taste ashes in his mouth, like in Muspelheim. A fire troll? he thought. When he turned around, there was no fire troll. There wasn't even a fire, even though he could feel there was one nearby. Before he could call out to Father, ask what was wrong, he saw…
"Πατέρας?"
She was standing right in front of him. Her skin was ashy grey and there was blood in her hair...on her dress...everywhere. Half of her face was burnt, and the fire was spreading down her neck, up her arm. She was scared. In pain.
"Πρέπει να τρέξεις. Κάτι δεν πάει καλά." Her hands gripped the front of his shirt. "Κάτι δεν πάει καλά μαζί του. Φοβάμαι…"
Suddenly, she was gone, and it was very cold, and he wasn't holding the Blade anymore.
"Okay! Okay. We're fine. This is. Uhm…" Sindri stepped in front of him. He looked pale, scared. There was dried blood on his gloves. "Please tell me you're not possessed or something."
"...huh?" Possessed? What was Sindri talking about? What had just happened? Was it a dream? Was he dreaming now? "What?"
"What's your mother's name? How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Uhm." Atreus shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "Faye. Laufey. And uh...three. Where's…?"
The Blade was on the table. Sindri must've taken it from him. That explained the blood, but not why he looked so worried. "Oh, thank goodness, I thought I'd lost you for a second." Sindri glanced over his shoulder. "Shit. Act normal."
Father was walking over. Of course, that was when Atreus remembered what the Blades were, that Father would be furious if he knew Atreus had touched them. So he grabbed a small whetsone and pretended he'd been sharpening his knife the whole time. It was stupid and pointless, because Father would definitely know something was wrong, but this time…
"Geez, do you ever clean these things?" Sindri complained as he picked up the second one. Atreus half-expected him to freeze, too, but he didn't. He just put it down on the table with a disgusted look on his face. "Do you know what all that blood will do to your body? Forget deteriorating the blade, you'll catch who-knows-what from a Draugr…"
Father stared at him. Atreus knew that stare. At least it was directed at Sindri and not him, because Atreus would definitely fess up if Father were staring at him like that. Even Sindri looked like he was going to confess for a second, but he squared his shoulders and kept working. “At least you take care of the Leviathan. I don’t know what these blades did to you to deserve this.”
“Are you done or not?” Father snapped.
“No, I’m working on it. Bit hard to get anything done when my idiot brother is sleeping off a hangover.”
Father growled quietly and stalked away again. Fortunately, he didn't seem to notice Atreus. "That was close," Sindri said. He sounded shaken again. "Seriously, are you okay?"
"I don't know." Atreus rubbed his eyes. HIs head still felt foggy. "What happened?"
"You just froze up. Looked like you'd seen a ghost or something. I've seen what cursed weapons can do, so I got worried."
"Cursed? You think they're…"
Sindri shrugged. "Maybe? They're definitely not normal, even for a magical weapon. Even just glancing at them, I can tell there's something…" He carefully picked one up and gestured towards the hilt—specifically, the metal ring at the bottom. "...binding about them, if you know what I mean."
Atreus did, kind of. The loop attached to the chains Father usually wore. They were a part of the sword and how he fought with them, but Atreus didn’t understand why he kept them on. They looked painful. They had hurt him already. Atreus had seen the scars. They didn’t bleed as much as they used to, but sometimes…
He never talked about it, but Atreus had seen the blood.
“Can swords bind people?” Atreus asked. “I saw someone when I…” He didn’t want to say more than that. He didn’t know what Sindri might think about it, especially if he knew it was a little girl. “…but I don’t know who it was.”
Sindri’s nose wrinkled as he looked at the Blades. “I don’t know about binding people, but sacrifices are sometimes made in the creation of a weapon or armor. Remember the screams you gathered to craft that armor for your father? It could be something like that.”
Atreus definitely did. The whole castle had felt…wrong. Like there were dozens and dozens of people watching him and screaming for his help. Maybe that little girl had been like that—sacrificed to make the Blades.
Why would Father have swords like that?
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sindri asked. “I’m sorry…if I’d known the magic was that strong, I wouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s not your fault. I didn’t know, either.”
His hand was still shaking.
Despite that, he was able to help Sindri get new gloves and clean up his work space when he was done with the Blades. But Atreus didn’t touch them again. He couldn’t make himself do it.
The snow picked up later that day, which was annoying, but it meant that Atreus could read without worrying about a chore or something interrupting him. Well, he wanted to read. Instead, he kept thinking about what had happened earlier that day.
He hadn’t thought about it at the time, but Atreus realized he knew what the girl was saying, kind of. She’d been speaking Greek. Father had started teaching him, and Atreus was pretty good, but he'd been so confused and scared that he hadn’t been able to translate it. Now, though….
Πατέρας was father. That was easy. That was one of the first words he'd learned. The rest was still a bit jumbled in his head, but he was pretty sure it was something like...like she was telling him to run? That something was wrong, and she was scared. Something is wrong with him, specifically.
Atreus suddenly felt uneasy. He glanced Father's way quickly, hoping he wouldn't notice. He wouldn't, because he was sitting on the other side of the room, and...writing. Again.
The writing wasn't bad, not really. Atreus was actually kind of happy Father was trying to write. It meant that he was paying attention to the reading lessons and wanted to learn more. It made Atreus feel like he was doing a good job teaching. But...it was a little weird that he'd gone from not writing at all to writing a lot. Whenever they had down time, actually.
Atreus had thought about asking, but it seemed rude. Journals are private, that's what Mother always said. Father had never asked her about what she wrote, and they were married. No matter how much Atreus wanted to know, he didn't let himself ask. It's private, he told himself. It's private.
Still, he couldn't help glancing Father's way again when he heard paper tearing. The pages went into the fire; all Atreus saw before they turned to ash was that Father had switched from Runic to Greek halfway through the page. His handwriting wasn't very tidy, either, like he'd been writing really fast. When Atreus glanced his way again, he was writing more slowly and carefully. He seemed…
"Are you okay?" Atreus asked.
Father didn't look up, but his body un-tensed a bit. "I'm all right," he said.
That was a lie. He'd been weird for a long time. It got worse the longer the winter went on. Atreus was starting to think Father was scared. Everyone knew what happened at the end of the Fimbulwinter, and...maybe he just didn't want them to get hurt.
They probably wouldn't, right? Ragnarok was Aesir stuff. As long as they stayed away…
Atreus shook the thought away. There was a reason they didn't talk about it. Just thinking about it made him feel queasy and scared. He didn’t want to feel worse. Not when he was already starting to feel bad.
The ghost had been calling for her father.
He knew he had a half-sister. He knew her name was Calliope. He knew she was dead.
That was all he knew about her.
The questions drummed at his skull, but Atreus pushed them back. He glanced over to the trapdoor in the middle of the house. The Blades sat underneath the floorboards, where Father usually kept them when they weren’t out. Atreus wished they were a lot further away than that. Like another realm entirely. Maybe if they went back to Musfelhim and threw them into the volcano, that would solve the problem.
Somehow, Atreus knew it wouldn’t that easy. If it were, Father probably would’ve tried by now.
Atreus wasn’t expecting someone to knock on the door. He probably shouldn’t have answered, but Thor probably wouldn’t knock first, and he was the only person Atreus could think of who might cause trouble. He still kept a knife in one hand as he opened it.
He didn’t need it.
“Sindri?” Atreus opened the door all the way. “What are you doing here?”
The snow was coming down thickly today. Sindri looked cold, so Atreus let him inside the house. “Oh, I was just out scavenging and I noticed there might be more ogres in the area than usual. Thought you’d want to know.” He looked around the space. “Where’s your dad?”
“Went to get more firewood.” Which really meant he wanted to be alone. Atreus just wished he’d say so instead of making stuff up. “He should be back soon, though. Mimir won’t let him stay out too long.”
“Oh, well in that case...” Sindri smiled sheepishly. “I really came over here to make sure you were okay. ”
Good thing Father wasn’t there, then. “I’m okay. But…” This could be his chance, Atreus realized. He still hadn’t figured out how to ask Father about any of it, but Sindri knew about all kinds of magical weapons. Even if these weren’t from here, he might know something. “I was actually kind of hoping I could ask you some questions about weapons like those? Father doesn’t really talk about them ever.”
“Well, if he’s not going to be back for a while…” Sindri glanced over his shoulder before he kept talking. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to give you any specifics. The magic is definitely foreign. I’ve never really seen anything like it. But…I do have a theory.”
“Theory’s better than nothing.” Atreus sat down next to the fire; Sindri sat next to him, shivering a bit less now that he was near its warmth. “What do you think?”
“It’s a bit complicated, but sometimes, when a person makes a pact with a more powerful entity, say, a god, there’s some kind of item that signifies the pact. You know the Travelers, the ones you keep running into?” Atreus nodded. “All their weapons are marked, to show their devotion to Odin. Tyr used to bless the weapons of his worthies followers, though he must’ve stopped at some point. I don’t really see Tyr-blessed weapons anymore. So, it could be something like that.”
Atreus nodded again. What Sindri said reminded him of one of the stories Father had tried to tell him. He wasn’t very good at story-telling, but Atreus had written them all down anyway. It was the one about the stag, the horse, and the hunter. The horse made a deal with the hunter to kill the stag, but then the hunter refused to let the horse go. Revenge had cost him his freedom.
Hope it was worth it.
It was not.
And then later, after that last fight with Baldur, he'd said, I made a deal with a god that cost me my soul. So maybe he'd been talking about himself with that story. He was the horse. But… “Do gods make deals like that with other gods?” Atreus asked.
“Around here, no. Not that I’ve heard of. But he’s not from around here, right? They might do things differently in other places.”
“Maybe.” And hadn’t Father mentioned one time that Atreus was part mortal? Mother was a giant, so if he was part god, part giant, part mortal…had the mortal part come from Father? Was he part mortal? Had he grown up normal like Atreus had? And which of his parents was mortal? Atreus only knew that Father had killed his father. He'd never talked about him beyond that, and he hadn't said anything about his mother.
Atreus huffed in annoyance. “He never tells me anything,” he muttered. “I don’t get why he has to have so many secrets. We’re family.”
Sindri looked uncomfortable. Atreus was about to apologize, but the dwarf spoke before he did: “Listen, I don’t pretend to know what’s happening in your father’s head…ever, but…sometimes, you keep secrets for a good reason. Sometimes…” Sindri sighed and stared into the fire. “…them knowing wouldn’t make anything better. It’d probably just make it worse. Trust me, I know.”
He sounded sad, sad and a little scared. “Did something happen?” He’d always figured Sindri and Brok stopped talking to each other because of what happened with Mjolnir, but it seemed like Sindri was talking about something else.
Sindri stared at the fire for a bit longer, then looked at Atreus and smiled. “It’s behind us now. No sense in thinking about it.”
He still looked sad, which almost made Atreus shut up, but he had to say something. Not just because of what Father wasn’t telling him. Sindri was his friend, and he didn’t like seeing him look like that. “But what if they could help,” he said, “if they knew what was wrong. If they want to help, but…”
The sound of wood dropping outside made them both jump. Atreus glanced towards the door guiltily. He could hear the low rumble of Father’s voice and Mimir speaking in response. It sounded like they were talking about plants. “It’s not always that easy,” Sindri whispered. “Sometimes people can’t fix as much as they think they can.”
That was all he had time to say before the door opened. Father stopped, frowning in confusion when he saw Sindri. “Just stopping by to let my favorite customers know there’s more ogres in the area than usual,” Sindri said cheerfully, as if they hadn’t just been talking about Father behind his back. “Though I’m sure you’ve already noticed by now.”
“I noticed,” Father said. “But…thank you.”
Weird. Sindri looked just as surprised as Atreus felt, but happy too. “Oh…you’re welcome,” he beamed. “Glad I could help.”
He didn’t end up staying long after that; even though Father was being a bit nicer than usual, he still kind of made Sindri nervous. That left Atreus alone with him and Mimir, trying to figure out how to make the garden work when it was still so cold all the time.
Mother probably would’ve known what to do. She was always good with the garden. Thinking about Mother made Atreus think about all the things she hadn’t told him about before she died. All the things she’d kept a secret. Just like…
“Father?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you ever wish that Mother had just told you the truth about everything?”
Father stopped what he was doing, thinking before speaking. “I don’t know,” Father said finally. “I do not like to think of her bearing that weight along, but…the selfish part of me is glad she didn’t. If I had known then…” Father paused again. “…I don’t know what I would have done.”
What you would have done about what? Atreus almost asked, but when he thought about it, he realized he didn’t have to ask. Father had always protected him. Even when they were mad at each other. Even when Atreus was being really stupid. He’d brought down a whole dragon to save him from Baldur, and gone to Hel, twice. He’d killed Magni to protect Atreus. Would he have done it again if he’d known what Baldur would try to do to them? That Odin would be hunting them? What Thor had done to Mother’s family?
“Do you wish she had told you?” Father asked suddenly.
It took Atreus a moment to answer, mostly because he was surprised Father had asked. “Sometimes. A little.” Atreus shrugged. “It just feels like there’s all this stuff I don’t know about myself now. And she could’ve told me, but…”
But now she’s not here. And whatever she could’ve told him about being a giant and what that meant had left with her.
Father considered that, then nodded. “She did not keep it from us to hurt us,” he said quietly. “Of that I am sure. I think it is best if we remember that.”
It didn’t seem like he was just talking about Mother anymore.
“Yeah. You’re right,” Atreus said. He didn’t think Mother would ever do anything to hurt him. “But…still. I wish she’d said something.”
He wasn’t just talking about Mother, either.
If Father caught on, he didn’t say anything.
Father got quieter and wrote more and more. It wasn’t unusual for him to be quiet, but it felt different now. Like this wasn’t just Father not talking because he didn’t really like to talk. Mother always told him when the forest was completely quiet, that was a bad sign. That was what it felt like.
Atreus tried to talk to him whenever he could, but there wasn’t much to talk about. They did a lot of the same stuff—scavenged for food, for supplies for the house, for whatever might be useful. Atreus studied any books about magic he could find. Mimir told stories—sometimes the same stories over and over again, but it was better than things being just quiet. The most exciting thing to happen was when they ran into a wulver or maybe an ogre. That didn't give them much to discuss, except the difficult and scary things that they avoided most of the time. Like Fimbulwinter. Like why Father was so tense.
Sometimes Father left the Blades at home. Atreus was always happy when he did. They felt different lately, too. Whenever Atreus had to be close to them, they felt hotter than usual. It was stupid, but sometimes Atreus felt like the faces on the hilt were watching him. Like the eyes of that girl (he was still too scared to think that she might be his sister) were watching him from inside the metal.
We should just throw them away. He thought about saying it a thousand times. Just get rid of them. Leave them under there forever. You don’t need them. We’re not going back to Helheim. I don’t like them. Just get rid of them, please…
But he couldn’t bring that up without Father asking why he was so scared of them now. There was no way Atreus was going to admit to having touched them. It’d definitely get him in trouble, and it might get Sindri in trouble, too. Atreus tried his hardest to think of a way to convince Father to get rid of them without giving anything away, but he couldn’t.
It felt like something really bad was going to happen. Atreus just couldn’t figure out what or how to stop it. Maybe that was how Father felt. Maybe…
“You all right, lad?”
Atreus sighed and kicked a rock down the path. He was holding Mimir today. Father walked ahead of them both, shoulders tense. The Blades were strapped to his back. Atreus wanted to pull them off and throw them down the mountain. “I dunno. Just…” Father was standing too close, so Atreus couldn’t even confide in Mimir about what had happened. He wished he could. Mimir usually had good advice. “…nothing feels right.”
“Well, to be fair, it’s been bloody cold for two years. Anything in particular, though?”
I’m scared for Father and I’m sick of secrets.
Atreus was trying to figure out how to say that without actually saying that when the feeling hit him. There was something out there, and it was very close. Atreus froze in place, eyes darting around, trying to figure out where the feeling was coming from. "Father…"
Father stopped immediately, reaching for the Leviathan. "Where?" Father asked quietly, eyes slowly scanning the trees.
Atreus shook his head. He couldn't tell; just that something was out there, threatening, waiting. He reached carefully for an arrow. He couldn't hear movement, or anything else, really. No birds, no small creatures scurrying under the snow, no deer or wolves or foxes trying to move over it.
When the forest goes quiet, that’s a sign to leave.
"We should turn around," he whispered. "It's-"
A branch crunched somewhere behind him.
Atreus wheeled around in time to see a figure emerging from the forest behind them. He thought for a second the person was a bandit, but he was too well-armed for that. He didn't remind Atreus of the Reavers they'd run into before; they all felt hungry, desperate, angry in an almost animal-like way. This person—no, these people, there were two more starting to block the path—mostly felt triumphant. Like hunters that had finally cornered their prey.
They were looking for us, Atreus realized.
Father rested a hand on his shoulder protectively; when Atreus glanced back up the path, there were three more. Six total. "About time you showed yourselves, jotnar," sneered one of them. Jotnar. Giants. He knew? Were they looking for them because of that?
"Step aside," Father responded, his voice low and threatening.
"Not likely. The Allfather demands your presence."
Atreus suddenly felt hot and angry at the name. "We don't care about what Odin wants," he snapped, aiming his bow. "Get out of the way."
One of them was smart enough to look scared. The others, not so much. A few felt relieved, like they'd been searching for so long that they only cared about catching them. The one who kept talking sounded overconfident, which just made Atreus angrier. "He only wants you alive, runt. As for-"
He was cut off by the sound of a weapon being drawn. Weapons. The Blades, not the axe. Atreus glanced over his shoulder at Father, suddenly nervous. Put them back, put them back…
"Your god has sent you to your deaths," Father said. He didn't sound angry. He didn't sound like anything. "You do not know whom you are facing and you do not want this fight. Let us pass."
Please. Please, walk away. Not for their sakes, either. Atreus didn't know what Father was going to do, but he knew it wouldn't be good.
The scared one and a few of the relieved ones hesitated. It wasn't enough; the overconfident one kept talking. "We've been tasked by the Allfather to bring the last giants to him, and that's what we're going to do." Atreus heard him draw his own blade. It sounded weak in comparison. "But if it’s a fight you want, fine."
Something shifted. For a second, the air felt hot, full of ash, difficult to breathe. It was like all the tension that had been building up over the past months was finally too much. Like a branch that had been holding too much weight for too long. Like a dam that couldn't hold up any more against the water behind it. With just one word...
"Fine."
...Father broke.
Atreus wanted to stop him. He wanted to say something, anything, to fix things. But suddenly all six of the men were rushing at them, weapons drawn, and the only thing Atreus could think of was defending himself and watching Father's back. He used a runic summon to call on a swarm of crows, which kept the three behind them occupied. By the time he turned around to face the other three, one was already dead, hacked to bits in the snow. Father was holding off the other two at the same time. Atreus managed to get one in the shoulder with a light arrow; the blue light burst into his eyes, causing him to stagger back, giving Father an opening to stab up and through a gap in his armor.
Atreus had seen people die before. He’d seen Father kill before, to protect him. This felt different.
But before Atreus could dwell on it, before he could figure out what to do, arms suddenly wrapped around him. He barely managed to draw his knife and bring it up into his attacker’s face, once, twice, again. He darted out of reach when the man let go, reaching for another arrow…
The Blades sliced through the air, cutting the man’s throat.
Atreus’s gut was twisting itself into knots, but he didn’t have time to worry about it. He only counted four bodies…no, five. When he turned around, one of the three men behind him was lying on the ground, breathing his last from wounds from the runic attack. Atreus braced himself for an attack from the sixth one, but…no, he was running away. Tripping, falling, bleeding and injured. Atreus breathed a sigh of relief. It was over. Everything was fine. Everything…
Father advanced on the man, blades still drawn, eyes blank.
Atreus tasted ash. He heard screams. Begging. Some from a woman, and a girl, young. Some was from the man, pleading for his life.
“Father - !”
Atreus ran ahead, nearly tripping himself in the snow. He thought for a second he’d be too late, but he reached the man in time, throwing himself between Father and the man. “It’s okay!” Atreus yelled. “He’s beaten! We’ve won!”
A cold breeze swept across his face, dissipating the inexplicable heat. Father froze, blades raised, eyes suddenly wide and present. His hands started shaking. “It’s okay,” Atreus repeated. He was shaking, too, from adrenaline, from how suddenly cold it was, a little bit from fear but he tried not to let it show. “He’s not going to hurt us.”
When Atreus turned around, the man was staring at him, scared and confused, tense, like he was still waiting for the Blades to come down. “We don’t want to hurt anyone,” Atreus said firmly. “I don’t know what Odin told you, but we just want to be left alone. Tell him that. Leave. Us. Alone. We're only going to fight if you start it. Understand?”
The man nodded. It looked like he was going to shake apart, but he was able to get to his feet. He whispered something twice, his voice trembling so badly that Atreus almost missed what he’d said. Thank you. He turned and ran back in the direction he came, disappearing into the trees as suddenly as he’d appeared.
It was quiet after that, except for the heavy rasping of Father’s breathing. Atreus turned around to see Father staring not after the man, but at Atreus, as if he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. “Are you hurt?” Atreus asked, stepping forward to check.
Father flinched away. His arms were bleeding, Atreus realized. He’d stopped wearing bandages, so now the chains sat directly next to his skin. It looked like they were digging into his forearms. Blood dripped onto the snow.
"...maybe we should go home," Mimir suggested quietly. "I think we've had enough for today."
Atreus nodded immediately. His hands were shaking and he felt like he was going to throw up. Father didn't look any better. He didn't even respond to Mimir's comment; just started walking back down the path, Blades still held loosely in his hands, trailing blood. Mother used to sleep walk when she was really sick. Father looked like he was sleepwalking now.
What do I do?
Atreus didn't want to do anything. He wanted to go home, get in bed, and sleep until winter was over. He wanted to see Mother, because she always knew what to do. But Mother was gone. It was just him and his father. And Father was…here, but not here. Atreus couldn't usually guess at what he was thinking, but today he felt like a deep, painful burn.
Atreus wanted to help. He just didn't know how.
They made it back home okay, which was good. It wasn't until they were in view of the house that Father spoke: "Are you injured?" Atreus shook his head. It had all happened too fast for him to really get hurt. "Wait inside."
Atreus frowned. "But you're hur-"
"Boy…" The word came out in a frustrated growl, but when Father stopped to take a deep breath...he looked frightened. Not like he was just trying to calm himself down. "Inside. Please."
The fact that he said please made Atreus want to do it less. He said please almost like he was begging. He sounded like how Atreus felt, and Atreus felt really bad. He shouldn't be alone, not when he was hurt. But Atreus had tried to argue with him before. It never worked. Father was too stubborn and he didn't care and…
Atreus took a deep breath and went inside.
First thing he did was put Mimir down. Then his quiver. He went to go clean his knife and bow, but he only go so far as pulling out a clean cloth before he put everything down and started pacing. "You all right, lad?" Mimir asked.
Atreus didn't answer. He couldn't, because he was scared if he opened his mouth, he'd start yelling. He didn't even know what he'd be yelling about. His mind was just a swarm of fear and frustration and worry. He heard chains clinking outside, not the slow repetitive clink he was used to whenever Father strapped them on, but something slower. More erratic. Every clink felt like it was pinching his ears.
I just want to help, I just want to help, I just-
He grabbed bandages, clean water, the healing salve mother had taught him to make. Father would need them when he came inside. If he came inside.
I just want to help, I want to help, why won't you let me help -
He thought he heard crying somewhere. A little girl's voice. Not for her life. For her father's.
Their father's.
"Atreus? Atreus, lad, easy…"
Too late. He was outside before Mimir could finish the sentence and before Atreus could really think. He turned the corner around the house to see Father sitting on the chopping block. One chain was only half-unwound from his arm. Atreus couldn't see everything, but the snow as stained red and Father was hunched over and shaking. He didn't even look up when Atreus stopped near him. "I said to wait inside," he said dully.
Atreus didn't say anything. He tried to pick the words out of the storm cloud in his brain but it was too hard. Everything just felt like one big scream. Like he was going to be the next one to snap.
Father looked up finally. He didn't look angry, just exhausted. "Boy-"
"Stop being stupid."
Any other day, Atreus would've started apologizing immediately. Today, though…
"Just stop. You're being really stupid and I'm sick of it." Atreus's hands clenched into fists. He tried really hard not to raise his voice, but he didn't try to stop the words at all. "You can't keep shutting me out. You're hurt and I want to help. Just let me help you."
He expected Father to stand up, to raise his voice, to start lecturing. But he just looked smaller now. "You can't help me with this."
"How do you know?! You won't even let me try!" This time Atreus did yell. He was crying now, too, even though he didn't want to. "You said you don't like thinking about Mother suffering alone. You're making me feel the same way. I know you're both trying to protect me, but I didn't ask you two to hurt yourselves for me!"
He stopped and angrily wiped some of his tears away. Father didn't say anything. "I'm not going inside until you do," Atreus said finally. "So...you can let me help or we can both freeze out here."
Father stared up him. Atreus didn’t recognize the look on his face. Well, he did, but he’d never seen Father look like he was in pain before. Like he was overwhelmed. He didn’t get overwhelmed. Not before this. Father leaned back over, resting his face in his hand. He took a long, deep breath. “All right,” he said. “All right.”
And, to Atreus’s relief, he stood up, gathering up the swords and the loose length of chain in his hands. Atreus walked behind him, just to make sure he really went inside. He tried not to pay attention to how much blood dripped from Father’s arms, or how painful the chain marks looked now. I’ll fix this, Atreus thought. I can fix this.
Father sat down on the edge of his bed, dropping the Blades on the floor with a clatter. Atreus wouldn’t be able to get the salve and bandages on until the chains were off, but it looked like they were stuck on his skin. Atreus should’ve felt nauseous, but he felt weirdly calm, because at least now he felt like he was doing something. “Do you want me to…?” he asked, stepping forward and reaching for the chains.
Father shook his head and pulled his arm closer to his chest. “I have it.” He breathed in and out slowly. “Your Mother told you stories when you were ill?” Atreus nodded. “What stories did she tell you?”
“Oh. Uhm…” Atreus sat next to him. He was a little relieved he didn’t have to touch the chains, but he wanted to be close, in case Father couldn’t do it anymore. “She told me a story about a giant and one of Thor’s sons. Not Magni or Modi…he had another one, I guess? Ullr?”
“Ah,” Mimir said. “Yes, he and Sif’s firstborn. He left Asgard…not too long after the giants sealed off Jotunheim for good, actually. No one’s heard from him since then. What did she say about him?”
“I guess he spent a lot of time in Midgard taking advantage of the people living there. Eating all their food and stuff, like Thor did with that one spirit? And one day the giant…” Father finally pulled the last of the chain free and stopped, elbows on his knees, trembling again. Atreus didn’t know what else to do, so he rested a hand on Father’s shoulder and kept talking. “…she comes across one of the villages he was taking advantage of and sees what Ullr is doing. There was a stag in the forest, the biggest stag anyone had ever seen, and so she decided to challenge him. If she brought back the stag first, he had to leave and never come back. If he did, he got to kill her.”
Father nodded and straightened back up. “A risky proposal,” he said, his voice only shaking a little as he started to remove the next chain.
“Yeah, I guess so. But she wanted to help. It wasn’t fair that he was treating them like that.” Atreus’s nose wrinkled slightly as he tried to remember how the story went. “Before the giant went to go hunting, she asked for wisdom and guidance from Skadi. Skadi heard her and gave her a special arrowhead that could pierce the thickest hide. She asked for help from the wolves as well, and between Skadi’s wisdom and the help of the wolves, she was able to find the stag. She took it down and brought it back. Ullr tried to accuse her of cheating, but her standing up against him made the town brave enough to stand with her. And I guess he swore an oath, so he had to leave. The town was safe, and…”
“Hah!”
Atreus looked back at Mimir, startled. “What? Did it not happen like that?”
“No, no, that happened. She didn’t happen to give the giant’s name, did she?”
“No. I guess who did it wasn’t important. She said that it was about…how sometimes you being brave gives other people the strength to be brave. And how we should look to our ancestors for wisdom and strength. Why?”
Mimir laughed again. “She was being modest, lad. That giant was your mother.”
Both Atreus and Father looked at Mimir, the pain of the chains and the awful, awful day forgotten for just a second. “She what?!” Atreus said.
“It’s true! That was one of the moments that made Thor take notice of her. He was not happy that one of his children had been humiliated by some giantess. When Ullr couldn’t make her pay for it, Thor made it his life’s mission to do so himself. I hope she knows she went to her grave denying him that.”
Atreus looked at Father in surprise. Father looked surprised at first, but then not that surprised. “She was a very good shot,” Father said quietly. He turned back to the chain, but didn’t start unraveling it.
"...do you need help?" Atreus asked.
“…I could have killed you. You shouldn’t have…” His voice broke as he fell silent.
Oh. Right. “You wouldn’t have hurt me,” Atreus said. He’d been scared in the moment, sure, but not that Father would hurt him. He was scared that Father would do something he’d regret. “You stopped, right? I'm okay.”
Father didn’t say anything. He stared at Atreus like he was expecting to see someone else. “Promise me you’ll never do anything like that again,” he said finally. “You can stop me any other way, but…you cannot stand in my way. Ever. Understand?”
“Okay. I promise.” It was easy to promise. Atreus kind of understood why it was dangerous. Father always talked about how easy it was to lose yourself in battle. He’d just really believed Father wouldn’t hurt him. He didn’t know why Father didn’t feel the same way.
…then again…
Atreus glanced at the Blades on the ground near their feet, and the chain lying next to them. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Father flinch. That killed any questions Atreus had. It didn’t kill the next thing to come out of his mouth. “Maybe you…you shouldn’t bring these with us anymore,” he said. "Please?"
Father had that look again, the one that usually preceded him talking about how something wasn't that simple. He didn’t say anything, though. Instead, he said, “I will not bring them anymore.”
And, with that, he gripped the chain and pulled the last length free. The chain clattered to the ground noisily as Father dropped it. The sound wasn’t loud enough to hide pained sound Father made. He held his arms close to his chest and leaned over, breathing heavily, shaking again.
Atreus’s chest felt tight. He looked down at the Blades again, his teeth gritted, suddenly gripped with anger. He didn’t ever want to see them again. Ever. Atreus got up and moved to the other side of the room, to the hidden hatch and the rug covering it. He pulled the rug aside and opened up the hatch, trying to move carefully. He knew Father would try to stop him, so he had to make sure he didn’t notice until it was too late.
He also needed to move quickly, though, because if he thought about it for too long, he’d just get scared. So he walked back as fast as he could, leaned over…
“Boy - !”
…and grabbed the Blades and chains before Father could stop him.
He expected the space to feel hot again, expected to taste ash and hear that terrible sobbing from the girl who may have been his sister. Atreus pushed back against his fear and walked back. As he did, he thought he felt a small hand clinging to his wrist.
Helping him carry them to the hole, where he tossed them in.
The Blades hit the ground with a thud, the chains following after with a noisy rattle. “Good riddance,” Atreus muttered before kicking the hatch back shut.
When he looked up, Father was staring at him. For a second, Atreus had thought he was going to be lectured. That almost looked like a lecture look. But…
“…are you well?” He sounded like Sindri did after Atreus had touched the Blades that first time. Like he expected something to be wrong with Atreus now.
“I’m okay,” Atreus said. And he was. His hands were a little warm, but other than that, he felt fine. “We need to clean your arms.”
Father didn’t say anything else. He didn’t flinch or cry out in pain again, even though the wounds kept bleeding and cleaning them off only seemed to make it worse. It felt like ages before they’d finally cleaned them off, applied the poultice, and bandaged them back again.
Atreus remembered him on the mountain, letting the bandages drift away in the wind, talking about he had nothing left to hide. He felt sad at the memory, and the sight of Father’s arms covered up again, the bandages already turning pink. It wasn’t fair to see them like that again.
Now that it was quiet, now that he was thinking about how not fair it all was, Atreus’s mind was getting loud and scared again. He needed something else to do. “I’m gonna…” He tried to wipe the blood off onto his pants, but all that did was make his pants and his hands dirty. “…change…?”
Before he could step away, Father grabbed his hand. “You did the right thing,” Father said quietly. “Your mother would be proud of you. I am proud of you.”
Atreus’s chest tightened. Those were good words, words that he wanted to hear, but somehow they just made him feel worse. Father meant it, but…he should’ve been saying it about something else.
Anything else.
They didn’t really hug. Mother did all the time, but things were different with her. Atreus was always nervous to hug Father, but today, it felt like he would shake apart if there wasn’t something holding him together.
Or maybe Atreus was the one going to fall apart if he wasn't holding on to something.
Atreus stepped closer and, carefully at first, but more tightly when Father didn't pull away, hugged him. After a second of hesitation, Father hugged him back, but gently. As if he were afraid he'd snap Atreus in half.
He wouldn't, though. Atreus knew he wouldn't.
How could he, when he was the only thing keeping Atreus upright now?