Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Winter came to pass, bringing along with it snow. And upon leaving, it took with it Atreus’ mother. She had fallen ill years prior, when Atreus had only barely learned to walk, and held him close as she told him what would happen. He just didn’t think it would come so soon. First December brought her death and then January brought her funeral.

The funeral was bare, all of Faye’s family had perished before Atreus was born and his father’s family were but a mystery to him. The priest read from a scripture as the casket was laid to rest and his father held onto his shoulder as though he might leap onto the coffin and dig through the cold dirt for his mother. But he knew she was gone. Knew he had to learn to accept that.

“Find your way home,” his father’s resonant voice whispered. “You are free.” Atreus wiped away a tear and mimicked his father’s step backwards away from the grave. He turned his back on his mother, one last time. His father’s hand lifted away from his shoulder, moving instead to stop him from walking away and forcing him to look at his eyes.

Atreus wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Maybe a stern talking to about how it was time he grew up, now that his mother was gone and he'd mostly be on his own. Or maybe some advice about how to handle loss - how to close his heart to it . He didn’t expect his father to kneel down next to him and say what he said that January day.

“It is okay to be sad. For a time. But she would want us to move on.”

Atreus nodded, looking to his feet as they rustled the snow by his toes. “I know.”

“Good. Let’s go home.”

Silence settled in the car on the drive home. Atreus was unable to find the words he wanted to say, so he decided on none. His father apparently felt the same way.

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Come the last snow in April things were pretty much back to normal. Besides the ever-looming absence of his mother, Atreus couldn’t really tell the difference in day to day life. He went to school, came home, ate dinner with his father, did his homework, and repeated it all the following day. But school was coming to an end in less than a month and he was not sure how he was supposed to occupy his time while his father was away during the day.

The pamphlets for summer camps were less than exciting, all of them promising a ‘safe’ and ‘wholesome outdoor’ experience. He didn’t care about safe ! He wanted to have fun ! Wanted to skin his knees and jump out of trees and maybe break a bone or two. The last thing he wanted to do was be put in safety gear and sat on a horse.

“Boy!” He jumped in his bed, unaware that his father was even home, and set the pamphlets down on his bedside table.

Peeking his head out of his door he shouted back. “What?” No answer. He groaned, slouching and stomping down the stairs.

Over the past few months Kratos had turned out to be rather good at parenting. He wasn’t the best at it, Atreus wouldn’t go that far, but he was pretty good. He had the whole ‘I’m disappointed with you’ look down and he was never one to not dish out harsh but true advice.

Entering the kitchen with caution, Atreus looked around for the tall bald man, confused to find him nowhere in sight. He looked to the living room, then peaked his head in the basement (only for a short time, the cool breeze and pitch blackness gave him the creeps) before heading back to the kitchen. “Father!” He called, crossing his arms.

“Outside!”

Atreus headed for the backdoor, peeking his head out to find his father sitting on a lawn chair staring at the sky. He walked up to stand beside him, staring at the same part of the sky as his father. Atreus didn’t see anything. “What’d you need?”

“Here.” Kratos carefully kicked a ball out from under his feet. Atreus picked it up.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a soccer ball.”

“I-I know what it is father, I’m just confused as to why you have it.”

“You spent your summer holiday hunting with your mother in the past. Now that cannot happen.” His father inhaled, the kind that Atreus knew meant his father was nervous. “The internet tells me that soccer is good for children.”

He dropped the ball to his feet and kicked it around a few times. “Okay, cool - that sounds cool. When’s the first practice?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Awesome! Sounds fun. I’ve never really been into soccer but you’re pretty competitive, so I must have some of that in me too.” Kratos hummed, not sparing a glance towards his son. Atreus kicked the soccer ball a few feet away and onto the grass. He had seen a few movies about soccer and he figured it couldn’t be that hard.

He was proven wrong when he had aimed to kick the ball forward and instead sent it flying into the chain fence at his right. He frowned. Okay so maybe soccer was harder than it looked.

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The uniform was a brown and gold mesh shirt and shorts. The shoes his father had bought him were snow white (already tinting green from the grass) and he had been allowed to write his name along the outer side of each one. The only socks he could find that morning were one black one and one blue one. His father had shaken his head at his choice of socks, telling him that they’d go buy matching ones that night. Atreus had only grinned at his father and excitedly jumped out of the car and onto the concrete.

The park was rather large. A playset and some swings were to their right and then a square mile field for soccer and other sports was before them. Not to mention the basketball court that was nestled to their left. Atreus hadn’t even known there was a park this big anywhere near his house and he was happy to get to play in it.

He trailed behind Kratos as the man approached a woman only slightly shorter than him. Her hair was tied back in a few braids and decorated with beads and feathers. Atreus wanted to ask her to touch it but knew that was wrong, so he refrained from doing such a thing. “Freya, we spoke on the phone.” Kratos said, holding out his hand.

The woman smiled wide and shook his hand. “You must be Kratos, hard to forget a voice like yours, which means…” she crouched down to look at Atreus in his eyes. “You must be Atreus. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too!” He said with a smile, peaking around her body to look at all the other kids messing around on the grass.

“You can go ahead and get warmed up and introduce yourself to the others if you like.”

He looked to his father. Kratos grunted out his approval. Eager, Atreus didn’t wait another moment before jogging around Freya to join up with the other children.

Once Atreus had left them, Freya spoke to Kratos again. “Are you planning on staying throughout the whole practice?” Kratos nodded. He would do his best to be there every time Atreus had practice on his days off. He wanted to be a good father. Wanted to be around when his son needed him. “Great! You can go ahead and grab a seat on a bench over there by the concrete or just stand wherever you like – as long as it’s not in the kids’ way.” She gave him a small smile before parting to go get the players ready.

Kratos moved to stand near the middle of the field. He ensured that he was not blocking the view of any of the other parents watching, but could still see Atreus play.

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Atreus didn’t stop talking when he shoved mashed potatoes in his mouth. “And then there’s Magni and Modi, they’re brothers and they never stop talking about how they’re so perfect in every way.” He swallowed so that he could continue speaking. “But they’re sister is cool. Her name is Thrúd and she’s way cooler than either of her stupid brothers.” He shoveled a few more bites into his mouth. 

“And then there’s Skjoldr, he’s cool but kinda weird. He kept kicking the ball to Thrúd even though she was on the other team!” Atreus thought for a second. “Oh! Oh! I almost forgot about Angrboda, she’s definitely the coolest and the best player out of everyone.” Atreus set down his spoon, his plate finally empty. “Um, but did you talk to any of the parents?”  

“No.”

“Oh. Why not?”

“Wasn’t necessary.”

Atreus frowned, picking up his plate and then walking it to the kitchen sink. He ran the water over the porcelain for a few seconds as he listened to his father begin to clear the table. “You should make more friends.” He mumbled.

“Feed the animals, take a shower, then go to bed.” Atreus frowned, deepening said frown when his father ruffled his hair (a habit he had only recently picked up).

“Fine.” He said. First he went to the area by the backdoor that led to their decently sized yard. He grabbed a can of dog food and divided it out between two metal bowls. “Speki! Svanna! Food!” Moments later the two large wolfdogs came bounding into the area, playfully pushing at one another to get to their bowls. Atreus backed away and allowed them to eat in peace.

Heading for the stairs, Atreus took them two at a time. The heat bulb that hung above Jormungandr’s tank illuminated his room with a soft yellow glow. He smiled at the serpent through the glass, waving his fingers at him, and removed the lamp from the top to set it on a heat pad on the tank’s stand. Finally removing the tank lid, he let the serpent slowly slither its way over the brim of the tank and onto the table. Atreus picked him up, allowing Jormungandr to wrap his body lightly around his arm and rest his head against Atreus’ cheek. The boy laughed, running his fingers along the serpent’s body.

Over the years his pet snake had grown rather large, almost as if he was growing right along with Atreus. At this point in the snake’s life he was long enough to slither from Kratos’ toes to his head without having to move the tip of his tail. “You hungry buddy?” The snake rubbed its face along Atreus’. A yes then.

Carefully, without dropping or disturbing the snake, he walked over to a smaller tank that held a few mice. He reached in and grabbed one by the tail. He hung the small rodent in front of Jormungandr’s face and looked away for the split second it took the snake to swallow the mouse whole. With a final satisfied flick of his tongue, the snake slithered back into his tank and obediently waited for Atreus to close the lid once more.

“Good boy Jormungandr,” the boy said, placing the lamp back onto the top. “Maybe one day father will let me take you for a walk, but he keeps saying that will scare the neighbors,” he whispered the next part. “Like they aren’t already terrified of us.”

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Three weeks into going to soccer practice and with a few games under his belt, Atreus had really blossomed. He was good at the game, energetic, and was grateful when he won and graceful when he lost. Kratos was glad to see that his son was doing so well. 

And then one day the two had argued about Atreus’ sudden negative attitude towards his fellow players. 

It had started as an offhand remark about how one of the younger boys was slower than the rest of them, how Atreus would run him over if he wasn’t careful. Then it escalated into Atreus telling Kratos how if he could he would replace his entire team and their ‘feeble bodies’ with a better, more equipped team that could ‘keep up with’ him.

Kratos had told him that a big head only ever led to bad decisions and broken relationships. Atreus hadn’t taken that very well.

He dropped his son off that day for practice during his lunch break, it was a weekday and he had work to get to, so he just told Atreus to keep his attitude in check around Ms. Freya. The father and son duo had grown close with the woman and he was glad to see that Atreus had a strong female figure in his life. He didn’t want the boy pushing her away because of him.

“Whatever.”

Kratos drove away with a pit in his stomach.

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Atreus approached the field and started kicking up the grass. Freya saw him and jogged over. “Hey Atreus, ready to get started?”

“Why do I even have to practice? I’m already better at this sport than all the other kids. And I’m even better than you. I should be the coach.”

Freya frowned. “That’s not the sort of attitude to have while you’re on a team, Atreus.”

“Well maybe I don’t want to be on a team! I’m the best one here, I’d be much better off on my own.” He folded his arms over his chest with a huff. Freya sighed, already knowing how to deal with this.

“If that’s how you feel then maybe you should just run laps for the whole practice.”

 “That’s like a whole hour!”

 She raised her brows. “I thought you were the best one here?”

Atreus attempted to stare her down. It didn’t work. He groaned as loud as he could, tightening his shoelaces and beginning the run around the park, staying as far away from the practice area as he could. The longer he ran the more he found it difficult to cool himself down, spending the time ruminating in his anger over everything that had happened that day.

The man had walked out of the forest, which had already made Atreus suspicious and nervous from the start.

Atreus had stopped running and gave the stranger a once over. In his hand was a light blue dog leash. Atreus tilted his head, curious. “Can you help me? I lost my dog.” The man turned back to the forest, a worried look on his face. “His name is Garm.” The stranger turned away from Atreus and yelled, “Garm! Come here boy”

Strange name for a dog, Atreus thought. He was kind of far from the practice area and he knew his dad would be pissed if he ever found out Atreus talked to a stranger…but…

“I have dogs too, I’d hate to lose them.” He moved to stand beside the man. “Come on, I’ll help you find your dog. What’s he look like?”

“He’s silver, kinda small, I think he went this way, come on.” The man walked back into the forest whence he came. Atreus cast a final glance towards Freya and the other players. The woman was cheering some of the other kids on, completely unaware of what he was up to. Atreus squared his shoulders. He’d be fine, if he got in a sticky situation he was fast and besides, it wasn’t like the guy was dangerous or anything - he was just looking for his dog.

The boy followed the stranger into the dense trees.

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When Kratos arrived back at the park only fifty-five minutes after he dropped Atreus off, he was hoping that Freya worked her magic and whipped his boy into a better mood. But, when he stepped onto the grass he didn’t see his son. His ever-present frown deepened as he approached the coach. “Where’s Atreus?”

She turned to him. “I sent him to cool off some steam. He’s running the perimeter.” Kratos nodded.

He walked the perimeter slowly, careful to check everywhere he passed. He called Atreus’ name a few times.

When he came across a discarded dog leash he felt his heart rate pick up. It didn’t mean anything, but when he looked around and couldn’t see his son anywhere around the park, he couldn’t help the direction his imagination went in. Kratos walked into the forest towards the dog leash. He didn’t touch it and instead did a once over of the area.

Broken branches. 

He took a few more steps.

Muddy footprints. Cleat footprints.

Five more steps.

A shoe.

Child’s size 7. White. With a name on the side.

“Atreus!”

Chapter Text

They search for fifteen minutes before Freya calls the police. She’s had her hand over her mouth for a while, unable to fathom what had happened. In her ten years of coaching soccer she had sent hundreds of kids to do laps by themselves for having a bad attitude over the years and only one of them had ever gone missing - Atreus.

She stood still as Kratos came up from his third run of the perimeter, his eyes dancing every which way, chest rising and falling quickly. He approached her with his fists clenched and his jaw tightened. His usual calm demeanor gradually shed away the longer Atreus wasn’t standing in front of him. “You let him go out on his own?” He hissed at Freya, his instinct telling him to fight her but the reasonable part of his brain telling him that he needed to reel himself in.

“I-I do it all the time. It’s a disciplinary technique, this has never happened before – Kratos, we will find him. He’s probably just wandered off. It’s gonna be okay.”

Kratos growled low in his throat, stomping past her towards where the rest of the parents were standing. The police had requested that none of them leave, for obvious reasons, and Kratos was going to keep an eye on all of them. At the moment they were all his enemy.

The police arrived moments later, lights flashing and sirens silent. Kratos leaned up against his car and kept his eye on the officers as they jogged up towards Freya. She shook hands with the first officer that she saw, a red haired young woman with wide shoulders and well fitting blue uniform. “Are you the woman that called?” Freya nodded. “I’m Sargent Skoll, my partner here is Sargent Hati, where are the child’s parents?”

Freya pointed at Kratos. “That’s Atreus’ father.”

The female officer nodded and headed towards the seething man, seeming unperturbed by his offputting nature. Skoll introduced herself again, lowering her hand when Kratos made no move to shake it. “We’re going to everything we can to find your son, is his mother nearby?”

“Fa- his mother has passed.”

She nodded. “And do you know what he was wearing?”

Kratos described the soccer uniform, and his shoes. Told her he found one of the boy’s shoes in the forest nearby and he left it where it was. She nodded, making a mental note to find the shoe as quickly as possible. “What do you need me to do?”

“For right now just sit tight, sir. My partner is going to take your information down and I’m going to call a squad out here to sweep the area.” She offered a small smile.

It didn’t do much to calm Kratos’ nerves. “I could ‘sweep the area’ myself. What are you going to do to find my son?”

“I’m going to do everything I can. For right now you need to stay put and stay out of the investigation so I can do my job.” Her voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. Kratos wanted to argue, but before he could get a word out the police officer was running towards the direction Kratos pointed at. He ran his hands over his face.

Sargent Hati came to write down all of Kratos’ information, taking the man’s license and scribbling down all the important info before tucking the ID in his back pocket. “You’ll get it back when you’re exonerated.” The man said.

“Exonerated?” Kratos had to suppress the urge to body slam the officer. “I would never hurt my son, I have no reason to stage a kidnapping, how dare-,”

“Sir, this is just how things work. I’m going to interview the rest of the parents here, you’re welcome to stand here and do nothing or sit in the back of my cruiser. Your choice.”

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They made him ride home in a police cruiser, promising that they’d get his car back to the house by the next morning. Clearly they didn’t trust him, and while it may have been getting under his skin, he knew it was best to cooperate. The more he helped the police the faster they would leave him alone to go find Atreus himself.

They had also made Freya ride to the police station, giving Kratos the promise that they wouldn’t let her go until they were sure she wasn’t involved. He felt a little better about that, but deep down he knew she wasn’t at fault.

Sargents Skoll and Hati had been the ones to escort him to his house and been the ones to begin the investigation. Skoll picked up a few photos off the mantle, both photos of Atreus and his mom. She set them down to pick up another. Her eyes glanced over to Kratos who was sitting at the kitchen table. “Just one family photo?”

“I wasn’t around much.”

She set the photo back down. “But you are now?”

“Yes.”

“Would Atreus go off with someone he didn’t know?”

“Not likely.”

Hati raised his brows. “But he might?”

“If there were special circumstances. Maybe.” Kratos placed his fists on the table. His knee bounced below, causing his foot to tap the floor rapidly.

“Special circumstances?”

He let out a breath through his nose, telling himself to calm down. “Atreus is…kind.”

Kratos was about to go on when the front door burst open. Skoll reached for her side arm, Hati did the same. They both relaxed when they recognized the man in the doorway. “Odinson.”

The man at the door was average in stature, but when he walked into Kratos’ home it was as though the entire building was flooded with his ego. His medium length dark blond hair was tied back against his neck. This stranger’s eyes were a dark blue, almost purple, and when he set his gaze on Kratos, he felt instantly unsettled.

Kratos stood from the table. The newcomer approached him, hand extended, and a slimy smile plastered onto his face. From his peripheral Kratos could tell both sargents he had already been cooperating with, while they were respecting the newcomer, they were displeased by his presence as well. 

“Mr. Sparta, I’m Detective Heimdall Odinson, head of your son’s case.” Kratos nodded, shaking the man’s hand. “I’ve brought with me a family psychologist, he’ll be...interviewing you..." Detective Odinson looked around for said family psychologist. When they were nowhere to be found, the detective frowned. “Excuse me for a moment.” He said in a hiss and then the detective stomped out of the house. He threw the door open and stood on the porch to yell something. After a few moments the detective walked back into the home, this time with a bald, bearded man in tow.

Kratos wouldn’t say by first glance the man was a psychologist, but who was he to judge? The bald man’s shiny head was donned with plenty of tattoos, his eyes were hazel, bordering on yellow, and when he smiled his teeth looked as if they might just fall straight out of his head. “Names Mimir brother, where’s the little one’s room?”

“Upstairs, I will show you.”

Mimir (technically Dr . Mimir, but when Kratos had tried to call him that he had refused the honorific) entered the rooms with his arms outspread. He turned in a small circle and scanned the walls. His eyes landed on the snake’s tank. “Little brother likes serpents, does he?”

“Yes. He’s had the snake for a while.”

The doctor looked around the tank, finding the sticker with the pet’s name on it. “Jor..mun..gand..er.” He read aloud. “Quite the creative lad, it seems,” he moved on to the boy’s desk. “A few drawings and notebooks here. He sure likes to document his life, does he?”

“I’m not sure,” Kratos had never seen his son's journal, but he supposed that the evidence was right there before him. Mimir picked up one of the journals and opened it up to a random page. He felt the need to take the notebook from the man, to protect his son’s words from this stranger’s eyes.

Mimir set the notebook down and moved on to the next piece of furniture in the room. “Photos of his mother along his dresser - they were close?”

“Very.”

“And one photo of you,” he picked it up, showing it to Kratos. “How old was he here?”

Kratos glanced down. “A few months.”

Mimir hummed, setting the photo down and taking a seat at the small computer chair under the desk. “So, Mr. Sparta,” he spat out the name like it burnt him. “What do you do for a living?”

“Security.”

“And before that? Obviously little brother’s father wasn’t around much, or else there’d be more recent photos of you two, maybe a few toys you gave him…” He gestured to the corner of the room where Atreus kept his toys neatly in a wooden box. “Action figures, stuffed animals, a few HotWheels. Those are toys a mother gives her son. Metal model planes, wooden trains, those are the things a boy gets from his father. But I see none of that around. So, Mr. Sparta, I ask you again, what did you do for a living?”

He felt his whole face twitch in anger. “I was a soldier.”

“Ahhhh, that explains some of it.” Mimir bounced up from the chair, much quicker than his elderly body should’ve been able to move. “Why don’t we explore the rest of the house?”

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Taking a step back away from the corkboard, Heimdall admired his handiwork. A photo of the missing child was in the center and off from that were photos of his friends and family. Of course, once he looked to the family side of the board he frowned. There was a photo (taken just that day) of the boy’s father and then next to that was an older photo of the boy’s mother. The whole family was quite plain , if you asked him. 

On the ‘friends’ side was a web of photos of both the soccer coach and all the parents who also had children on the team. And while this was good information to have, Heimdall had a feeling none of them were involved. Certainly not his own brother. He removed the photo of his older brother from the corkboard. “Father is going to lose it if this missing boy brings any attention to the family.” He muttered. 

If Heimdall was a more bitter man he’d try to find some sort of way to convince their father to punish Thor for this, but he knew that Thor probably had no clue that he was connected to the missing boy. His wife probably knew of the boy, but Heimdall had no issues assuming Sif didn’t know anything either. He crumpled the photo in his hand and tossed it into a nearby bin.

He didn’t think that the child's father was involved either, but he had a feeling a member of his family might be. If not, then they’d have a rather rare stranger abduction on their hands.

When Heimdall’s personal phone rang, he answered it without even looking at the caller ID. “This is Heimdall.”

“Son, I’m glad I could reach you.”

Heimdall looked around the station. He was the only one in the area, but he knew not to take any chances and moved to take the phone call in a nearby broom closet. “Father, what can do for you?”

“A lot, actually. First, I’d like you to inform Skoll and Hati that they’re expertise will no longer be needed for that missing boy. Then I’d like you to go back to the child’s home as soon as you can, there’s something I need you to look for.”

Chapter Text

Kratos tapped his toes impatiently on the floor. They had pulled him into the station that morning for whatever reason they could cook up and he knew it was because they wanted to search his home without him there. He didn’t know what evidence they were hoping to find on him, but he knew that there was nothing there that they could use against him.

They had thrown him into the room and had left him waiting there for nearly three hours before the door finally opened. Kratos sat up, but instantly sat back down when it was just Mimir. “Don’t look that sad about seeing me, brother, I’m here to help.”

“Help? How can you help?”

“Well, I just got off the phone with Heimdall and it sounds like he’s a bit wrapped up in keeping his da’ happy, so I’d guess that he wouldn’t notice if you went on a little mission of your own.”

“They will not let me leave.” He said. Kratos had tried to exit the room an hour into his stay and some officer in blue had come in and told him to be quiet and cooperative until the detective was back.

Mimir opened the door. “Yes, well, I signed you out. Unofficially of course. Heimdall will know where you are at all times and you can help me and the others I’ve called in to assist to find your son.”

“Hmm.” Kratos stood and followed Mimir out of the room. “Who are the others?”

“They’re a private organization who’ll come in and do what they can for your boy through the police department so you can work on the downlow with yours truly. They’ll keep Heimdall busy with organizing search parties and making fliers - he won’t have a spare moment to chase after you if you go full vigilante, if you catch my drift.”

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Atreus woke up on a concrete floor. He sat up on his hands and backside. He knew he shouldn’t have followed that asshole. That’s the last time he tries to do something nice for anyone! Ever! At least as long as he’s not carrying a god damn pocket knife.

His soccer uniform was dirty, but thankfully still on. Unfortunately he was missing his shoes. And socks. So I can’t run away, he thought, standing. The floor was cold and the room was rather dark, the only light coming through a small window in what Atreus assumed to be a door. He carefully slid his feet over to it, fearing that the man who had taken him might’ve put glass or something on the floor.

When he got to the door he was just barely tall enough to see through the almost opaque window. He jerked back when he saw the man come into view. He couldn’t tell where he was, but by the looks of it he was underground. When the man didn’t open the door or approach it, Atreus leaned over to look back outwards. The stranger was pacing, back and forth, until a phone rang.

The man’s face instantly scrunched up to a look of disgust as he answered the phone. “Took you long enough.”

Atreus could only hear one half of the conversation, but he figured if the stranger was taking a phone call five steps away from his ‘cell’ then it must be about him.

“What do you mean ‘busy’? I have the little shit in your basement. He’s just as much your problem as he is yours.” A glance over at the cell. Atreus ducked back. “No, he’s still out.”

A heartbeat.

“Can’t keep him that way forever. Just give me the greenlight and I’ll get the twerp to talk.”

Atreus didn’t want to think about what that meant.

“How am I supposed to calm down? I’m doing all of the work here!”

The man’s pacing picked up again.

“If that’s what you want…then I’ll do just that.” He hung up and turned back towards Atreus.

As quickly as his body would let him, the boy fell to the floor and rearranged himself back into the position he had woken up in. The door slid open just a crack. A huff, then a scoff, then the door closed again. 

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“I know how to get to my own room.” Kratos snapped, causing the young officer to shrink back, nod, and head back downstairs. They might be able to keep him locked up in his house, but he’d be damned if he allowed them to babysit him.

Once in his room, Kratos closed and locked the door, heading for his dresser. He pulled the bottom drawer out, checking over his shoulder to make sure no one was in the room with him. Underneath a few shirts he hadn’t worn in years was a green ammo box. He lifted the lid off, checking over his shoulder one last time, and pulled out black pistol. He set that one to the side and reached back in to remove a second one. He tucked them both into his jeans.

Lifting his bedroom window, Kratos slung one leg out, then the next, and dropped down ten feet into the bushes below his window. Cops were patrolling the front of his house so he’d have to find a way out through the backyard. Crouching along the side of his fence he made his way around. Kratos checked over his shoulder.

Once over the back part of his fence he ran across his neighbor’s yard to get to the front of the house and onto the street. His neighborhood was fairly close to the city and the park in which Atreus was last seen. He headed for the park.

He didn’t have the time or the privacy to conduct his own investigation before the police showed up the day Atreus had gone missing and he was going to be damned if he let those bozos investigate the disappearance of his son without his involvement.

Kratos heard the car pull up beside him and grimaced, glancing over his shoulder to make note of the license plate. The car revved its engine, pulling up to park in front of Kratos. When the window rolled down he couldn’t help but grumble. “From what I understand you’re under house arrest, brother.”

“It is not house arrest.”

Mimir pulled his car over and unlocked his doors. “Hop in, I’ll take you where you need to go.”

“And why should I trust you?”

“Because you have no one else to trust. And I know a few things you don’t.” He sighed when Kratos just stared at him. He lifted his cell phone. “Or I could just call the police captain, got him on speed dial~.” 

“Tell me.” Kratos said, reluctantly getting into the man’s car.

“Huh?”

“You said you know things I do not. Tell me what they are.”

ᚷᛟᛞ ᛟᚠ ᚹᚨᚱ

Odin rested his jacket across the back of his chair and turned his computer on. He glanced out his window towards the bullpen. One of his sons made eye contact with him and he gestured for him to come to his office. His son shut and locked the door behind him. “Any luck with the search?” Odin asked, leaning onto his desk with his fingers steepled.

“So far no, but there’s still a few places it might be that we haven’t checked yet.”

“The quicker we find it, Heimdall, the happier I’ll be.”

Heimdall stared at the floor. “There’s something else.”

“Something good, I hope.” Odin leaned back in his chair. Heimdall would always admire the way his father was able to take charge of a room without even being on his feet, but at that moment the admiration turned into trepidation.

“The psychologist,”

Odin interrupted him. “Ah, yes, Mimir. He’s in the dark about the situation, no need to worry about him.”

“Well he -,” Heimdall clenched his teeth. “He hired a private task force to help the case.”

Odin finally stood. He was not a tall man, or a big man like his son Thor, but he was imposing nonetheless. “A private task force? Where did he find the money for that?”

“They work pro-bono.”

Rounding his desk, Odin shook his head and chuckled. “That slimy piece of shit always goes against me even when he doesn’t realize he is. Fine. Fine. I’ll take care of it. You just keep looking, the sooner this can be put behind us the better.”

Chapter Text

The air in the station shifts to one of reprieve the moment the elevators open to reveal the special task force that had taken on Atreus’ case. Captain Odin watched as they gracefully moved about the station. He didn’t recognize them, but he knew that if Mimir hired them then they must be skilled in what they do. Which would be a positive, if this were any other case.

Standing from his desk, Odin left his office, readjusting his tie and vest as he did so. He approached the flock of private investigators with the best smile he could muster. Only one of the group of eight sharply dressed women seemed to notice his arrival, he reached out to shake her hand first.

“You must be The Valkyries I’ve heard so much about. I understand you were called for, but I’m the captain around here, and it seems a disgruntled employee of mine,” He clapped his hands together, squeezing them and imagining that little bald shit’s neck between them. “Was a little misunderstood when I said he was needed on this case. Clearly he was overwhelmed and was a bit…well trigger happy - if you will - about calling you.” He laughed and let his hands relax. “So, I have to apologize for you going through the trouble to come all the way down here, but we’re fine, really.”

The woman who he shook the hand of smiled at him and shook her head. “Mimir is a good friend of mine, when he calls, I answer. Coming down here was no trouble at all. We’ll stay out of your way if you stay out of ours.”

“Like I said, I can assure you that we are doing just fine on our own without you. My detectives have solved plenty of missing persons cases without your help, they can manage this one alone as well.”

The woman stepped closer to him. Odin pushed his shoulders back, bringing him up to his full height. Even so, the woman still was a few inches taller than him. It made him want to kick in her kneecaps. “With all due respect, Captain Odin, we’re here to help the missing child, not you.”

Odin felt his face twitch in annoyance. He schooled his expression to something more pleasant before speaking again. “Of course, I understand. You’re welcome to help the family in whatever way you want, but I can’t stop my officers from arresting you if your team gets in their way.”

She took a step away from Odin, an incredulous look on her face. “Our organization has worked with countless police departments countless times and this is the first time we’ve been threatened to be arrested.” She smirked at him. “Says a lot about what’s going on here.”

Odin clasped his hands behind his back. “I’m sure it does. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

ᚷᛟᛞ ᛟᚠ ᚹᚨᚱ

The door finally opened after what felt like a full day of sitting in the dark. Atreus tugged his knees to his chest and scooted away from the sliding metal slab, not wanting to get caught off guard. The man who entered the room was the same one he had seen outside his door - and the same one who took him. 

He was taller than Atreus, but by a single glance the boy could tell he was shorter than his father. He was shirtless, which was new, but his stark white skin wasn’t left bare. Instead it was littered with blue tattoos that moved when he flexed.

Atreus slid up the wall, pulling himself to his feet. The man tilted his head, as if he was an animal assessing his prey. “Are you scared?”

“Not of you.” Atreus blurted out, unable to stop himself from saying what his father might.

“Oh,” the man said, a smile splitting his face as he shook his head. “You will be.” The man took another step towards him, careful and precise. Atreus pushed his back harder against the wall. “But don’t worry, we have quite a lot of time to get to all the fun .” He let out a sigh. “For now, I’m supposed to,” he waved his hand around. “Make sure you don’t die. So, mac and cheese or ramen?”

The question caught Atreus so off guard he couldn’t answer until the stranger yelled out a ‘well?’ and startled him enough to process what just happened. “Um, ramen I guess?”

The stranger nodded. “Okay.”

“Who are you?”

“Does it matter?”

Atreus nodded. “I’d like to put a name to a face.” The man continued to ignore him. “If you don’t tell me I’ll just take a guess.” More silence. “You like the name Tim? I like the name Tim. How’s that work for you, eh Tim?”

The stranger laughed and Atreus felt his face go red from anger, his mind racing with images of what he wanted him and his father to do to him.

“You sure are annoying, I’ll give you that. It’s so unfortunate I can’t just kill you.” He took a step outside the cell. As he pulled the door shut, Atreus heard him say his name. Crisp and clear like water from the cleanest mountain rivers. “Baldur.”

ᚷᛟᛞ ᛟᚠ ᚹᚨᚱ

Mimir set a mug down next to Kratos, holding his own as he rounded the table. They had been sitting in Mimir’s dining room for the last eight hours sucking down pot after pot of coffee, digging through old case files and prior arrest records. When Kratos had asked the psychologist how he had gotten ahold of the files, the man had just grinned and murmured something about how brains always beat brawn. Kratos didn’t question him further.

Kratos grabbed the cup and drank it all in one go, not at all bothered by the heat. “Where’s the files on the officers?”

“Officers? You mean the police?” Mimir sat down on the other side of the table, facing the other man. “Well I don’t have any of those here, I don’t think I’m even allowed to look at ‘em. You think one of the cops coulda done it?”

“Absolutely. Never trust those in power.”

Mimir hummed in acknowledgement. “Then I’ll get those files for ya.”

They managed to get through another fifteen files on registered sexual predators and people with priors of child abuse, before there was a knock on the door. Mimir stood from the table, taking one last sip from his mug, and running to answer it.

He faked a smile at the sight of the lead detective on the case. “Heimdall! How…good to see you?”

“He’s here, isn't he?” He looked over Mimir’s shoulder. The psychologist sighed and nodded, moving to the side. “We told him not to leave the station.” The detective grumbled, stomping into the dining room. The sight of the hundreds of case and personnel files alarmed him, his pace slowing as he reached a hand out to touch one of the many manila folders. “I see you’ve been busy.”

“Hmm, yes.”

“What a good way to make the police want to help you - steal anything you can get your grubby hands on.” He scoffed. “Well, since you’re a detective now too apparently, do you have any leads?” Heimdall picked up one of the folders. Kratos took it back from him.

“White male most likely and about five-foot-ten.”

“You found out his height by looking at a bunch of unrelated files?”

Mimir held up another folder. It was the one that contained the crime scene photos from Atreus’ disappearance site. Heimdall gritted his teeth - father was not going to be happy about that.

“Shoe imprints.” Kratos said simply. “They were too small for a man over that height.”

“And you’re sure it was a man? Children are more likely to follow after women.”

“Men’s shoes.”

“And a woman wouldn’t need a ruse like a lost dog to get a child to follow her.” Mimir chipped in.

Kratos dug underneath all the papers of crime reports and mugshots to pull out a few photos.

“You shouldn’t have these - any of these. How did you even get to them?”

“Mimir.”

Heimdall shook his head, setting the photos back down. At least his father would now have an actual excuse to convict the freak psychologist of something and get rid of him for good. “I guess you’re more resourceful than I gave you credit for. Clearly we’ll need to up your security if you can’t be trusted not to break the law.” Heimdall started to pile all the papers together. “I’m taking these back to the station and you’re both going to be placed under arrest for theft of evidence.”

“I discovered more about the man who took my son in eight hours than you did in double that time. Arresting me does nothing for Atreus.”

Heimdall held the folders with one arm and pulled out his phone with the other. “You should’ve thought about that before you committed a crime, Mr. Kratos.”

“Who are you hiding?” Kratos stood, sliding his chair back.

“No one.” Heimdall faltered, stepping back.

“Who are you protecting?” He demanded.

Heimdall dropped his phone to put his hand on Kratos’ chest and pushed. He took another step back, out of Kratos’ reach. “I don’t appreciate what you’re accusing me of and you better cut it out before you find yourself behind bars for something other than just theft.”

“You will not arrest me for helping my own son.”

Heimdall’s phone rang. The man leaned down to pick it up, eyes never leaving Kratos’. He answered the call. “Yes, I found him.” He looked from Kratos to Mimir. “He’s here too….But father - I know that, but -,” Heimdall snapped his mouth shut. “Yes. I understand. I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone. “Turns out I have more pressing matters to deal with right now that aren’t thieving scum.” He stabbed a finger in Kratos’ direction. “Do anything like this again and you’re behind bars, do you understand?” And with that, Heimdall surprisingly left, files in hand.

Mimir locked the door behind the detective. “You sure got a set on you, brother, talking to the son of the police captain like that. Although I’d venture that after all these years, he deserves to hear it.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, he took all of our evidence with him…and we have no way to get the files you think we really need.”

“We do need them.” Kratos said. “He is protecting someone - possibly the man who took Atreus - and I plan to find out who that is.

Chapter Text

“This is certifiably insane. I should lock you up in the looney bin for this one, brother. I swear to the gods you’re going to get shot or worse! Caught and stuffed in an interrogation room and you know what you can’t do from an interrogation room? Help your boy.” Mimir grabbed Kratos and pulled him back into the passenger seat of his car. “Do the right thing here, let the police do their jobs. You’ve already gotten away with stealing those files, don’t test Heimdall’s patience, brother.”

“No.”

“I know you think that they’re hiding something, and while I agree that Odin and his children are all assholes in their own right - and certainly up to something nefarious - I doubt they’d have anything to do with Atreus’ disappearance. Besides, what would Odin want with your boy anyhow?”

“I do not know.” Kratos admitted. “But something is wrong here.”

Mimir sighed. “If you’re really insisting on doing this, why don’t I do it for you? Better I than you behind bars right now.”

Kratos stared at Mimir, judging the man’s offer. “Alright.” He said.

“Perfect. Now, while I go execute the worst plan ever conceived, why don’t you stay out here and keep watch, yeah?” Mimir opened his car door, muttering, “Sneak into the house of the most ruthless detective the city has ever seen, yes that’ll go over well Mimir, you certainly won’t get your head chopped off for this…” before shutting the door.

Kratos watched the man stalk across the street and disappear into Heimdall’s backyard. The man lived luxuriously. No doubt, this was thanks to what Mimir called a ‘massive family fortune’ supplementing his government employee income. His home was two stories, nothing too out of the ordinary, but was no doubt three thousand square feet. The front yard was plain, leaving the man’s front door to be the biggest contributor of curb appeal for the home.

The door was large and white with Heimdall’s last name embossed into it with gold leaf. It was gaudy, as far as Kratos was concerned, but he had known many people in the past to take their wealth past the point of taste and directly into the pits of garishness. 

The man’s driveway was empty and there did not seem to be any light on inside the home, so Kratos was certain that Heimdall had yet to return. He wondered what the detective was doing. Kratos doubted anyone that wasn’t a member of the Valkyries Mimir had hired, himself, or Freya and her brother, were actually looking for Atreus. Most certainly none of Odin’s children were looking for his son, not with the way they all seemed so desperate to keep him from looking.

Mimir came sprinting out of the home a few minutes later, hands empty. He slipped inside his car and smiled at Kratos in a way the tattooed man had not yet done. “What is it?”

“I figured it out, brother. I figured it out! Start calling me smartest man alive, because I just cracked the case.”

ᚷᛟᛞ ᛟᚠ ᚹᚨᚱ

When the door to the cell opened this time, Atreus lost all fire within him. He had promised himself that the next time ‘Baldur’ came through that door that he would fight for his freedom. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t stay another second in whatever this little room was without at least trying to escape.

But, as the door opened to reveal three men, not just Baldur, Atreus knew that he had already lost his chance to escape.

Father , he thought, please find me soon .

“Baldur,” the man in the middle spoke first. He was the oldest among the three standing in the doorway and the only one who was looking at Atreus. He didn’t recognize the man, not even with his unique appearance - Atreus had never seen anyone with an eyepatch before, not outside of a pirate movie anyways. “Leave us, would you? You’re scaring the poor boy.”

The man who had been his captor looked frustrated, but said nothing as he left. Atreus felt no more at ease with him gone.

“Now, son.” The one-eyed man took a step farther into the cell, the man next to him stepping in as well. “We just need to talk to you about something really important and then you can go home. How does that sound?” Atreus, excited at the prospect of finally seeing his father again, nodded vigorously. The man crouched down to match Atreus’ eye level. “Good, now listen very carefully okay?” He turned away from Atreus for a moment. “Turn on the overhead light, would you, Thor?”

The man beside him agreed and suddenly the room was awash with light. Atreus kicked himself for never thinking to look for the switch himself. Of course, he felt not as bad about it when he realized where the switch was - near the top of the door frame, clearly meant to be out of his reach. 

“Hey!” Atreus said, interrupting the one-eyed man before he could speak again. “I know you! You’re Thrúd’s dad!”

Thor - as the older man had called him - looked shocked for only a moment before he schooled his expression into anger. “You don’t know me. I’ve never met you.”

Atreus shook his head. “No, no, Thrúd talks about you all the time! Magni and Modi do too, but they’re jerks-,” Atreus winced. Okay, probably not the best idea to say that to one of my kidnappers . “Bu-But Thrúd talks about you a lot and showed us a picture of you and her!”

Thor huffed. 

The one-eyed man started to laugh. “Well that changes quite a bit. I mean, isn’t that just amazing?” He turned to Thor. “My own son had a connection to you and none of us even knew.” He turned back to Atreus, his expression soft considering the situation. “Where did you meet all of my grandchildren? School?”

“Soccer.”

The man nodded.

“Sif signed them up,” Thor started. “I never even went to the field.”

The one-eyed man raised his hand to shut Thor up. “Enough. That’s in the past. Now, let’s talk about what is really important here. Five days ago you came across a cell phone, did you not?”

Atreus nodded. He had found it sitting on a park bench and waited for nearly an hour for someone to come claim it. When no one did, he took it home with him. He knew he shouldn’t have, but father would never let him have a phone of his own and he just wanted to be able to message all of his friends when they weren’t nearby. When he got the phone home and realized it was passlocked, he tried everything he could to open it - to no avail. 

“Good, that’s good. Now, we had the chance to look through your home while you’ve been away and it seems like no one was able to find it. I had hoped to not have to speak to you like this, but I couldn’t wait any longer and you seem to have hidden it quite well.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“If I can’t get that phone back, then yes. But, if you tell me where it is I’ll let you go home like I said.”

“I don’t have it anymore.”

The one-eyed man clenched his jaw. Atreus had seen his father do it sometimes - like when Atreus climbed that rotting tree when father specifically told him not to because he might fall out and break his arm or when Brok tried to explain to him what a ‘juicy nokken’ was and father had to stop him in his tracks. But when father did it Atreus knew that deep down he was more worried than angry. This time, with this strange man, he could feel the anger seep off of him.

“Where is it?”

“I-” Atreus tried to back away from the man. “I gave it to someone.”

Thor spoke this time. “Who?”

“Thrúd.” Atreus admitted. “She said that her dad - uh, you were good with electronics and that she was too and since I couldn’t figure out how to unlock it she’d offer to do it for me.”

The one-eyed man turned to look at Thor. “She’s probably opened it by now.”

“She won’t say anything.” Thor said. “I’ll speak with her.”

The older man nodded and stood back up to his full height. “Then let’s go.”

As the two men were walking out of the room, Atreus lurched forwards. “Wait! Can - Can I go home now?”

Thor looked to his father for the answer. The eldest man contemplated his answer for a few seconds. “No, no I don’t think that will work for me.”

“But you said-!”

“Yes, well, we’ve all got to protect our family, son, this is me protecting mine.”

Chapter Text

Kratos nearly broke down the woman’s door and had she not opened it after the second knock, he just might have done that. As the door opened, revealing a frazzled and clearly half-asleep Freya, Kratos pushed himself inside. Mimir traveled meekly behind him. It had been quite the surprise to learn everything Mimir knew about Freya without even knowing that he knew it.

As it turned out, Mimir had known Freya’s son for a number of years. The boy was now in his early twenties, but when he had been growing up he had gone to Mimir for therapy. According to the psychologist (who was only okay with breaking his confidentiality agreement because it all intertwined with Atreus’ disappearance) Freya and her ex-husband had not been the most stable of parents. The boy who had gone to therapy would eventually turn eighteen, cut all ties with his mother, and work ‘off the books’ for his father.

Or so said the emails that Mimir pulled off of Heimdall’s personal computer.

Not only was Baldur working for his father to run illegal sting operations, but he was also being paid quite a hefty amount to find a certain someone. Mimir had put all the pieces together as he had read those emails, figuring that Freya would probably be the next clue in their search for Atreus and directing Kratos there next.

“What is this?” Freya said, stepping away from Kratos as he pushed his way further inside.

“Your son.” 

Freya looked taken aback. “What about him?”

“He is working for his father. Working to find my son .”

To her credit, Freya looked just as confused as Kratos felt. “No, no, that makes no sense. Why would he be looking for Atreus? He has nothing to do with anything.”

“You know of Odin’s illegal going ons, don’t ya Freya?” Mimir finally shut the door behind him.

She sighed. “I know enough.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And I know that it makes no sense for Odin to go after your son.”

“There were emails,” Mimir said. “Baldur got paid to find him and take him.”

She shook her head. “No, you’re wrong. Baldur has been led astray by Odin, but he’s no kidnapper.”

“He is now.” Kratos felt the rage he had bottled up for so long boiling to the surface. “Tell me where he lives.”

“Even if I knew where he lived I wouldn’t tell you. Clearly you’re on a warpath.”

“My son is missing!” Freya jumped. “And you seem more interested in keeping him that way than helping me.”

Kratos didn’t move when she leaned into his face. “I can not help you, Kratos. If I could, you know that I would…but I haven’t spoken to Odin or my son in years. I don’t even know where either of them live.” He searched her face as she spoke, trying to find some indication that she was trying to deceive him. When he found no such evidence, Kratos leaned away from her and Freya seemed to relax. “None of this makes sense, you know that, right? Baldur - Odin - has no reason to take your son.”

“Unless your boy was doing something he shouldn’t have been doing.” Kratos raised a brow, prompting Mimir to continue. “Well, think, brother. When you were a lad, how much did your father really know about you ?”

Kratos grunted. He did not like the idea of his son keeping things from him. Even more so, he hated the idea that this Odin knew what his son was up to more than he. “We cannot go to Odin.” He stated. “We should ask the other children, they might know something.” When he was a boy there were many things that he had kept from his own father - things that only those he considered friends had known. He should have known that Atreus would have done the same - like father like son, as people would say.

“You cannot go around interrogating other people’s children, Kratos.”

“Then what do you suggest that I do?”

Freya knew how he felt as she herself had felt that way a number of times in her life. He felt helpless, useless, like a bad parent, and every other feeling that went along with that. His son was missing, he had no clue who had taken him, and it didn’t seem like the police were doing much to help him. Freya wished she could offer him some counsel, but she couldn’t. “I don’t know, Kratos. I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

ᚷᛟᛞ ᛟᚠ ᚹᚨᚱ

Thrúd clenched the phone in her hand tightly. She couldn’t believe what she was doing and even more so couldn’t believe that she was getting away with it. Her dad had been absent that night, explaining to her mother that he had some family business to take care of, so she’d only had to wait until her mother went to bed. Her brothers cared little for what she got up to in her free time which made sneaking out that evening fairly easy.

With a bag that contained her cell phone, twenty dollars in cash, and a paper map, Thrúd made her way down her neighborhood’s dark road. 

It had taken only a few hours for her to break through the phone’s passlock - a record for her, if she might add - and once she had done so, she knew what had happened to her friend. Atreus had gone missing much too close to him finding the phone for it all to be a coincidence. Unfortunately he had sought out her help much too late. 

When he first gave her the phone, Thrúd was shocked to see that he hadn’t even turned off the GPS location. She had snatched the phone from him and turned that off first, explaining that she’d have to shut off the rest of the location services later when she finally opened the damn thing.

Atreus had been so grateful he promised to draw her something and Thrúd had been too excited to get a new drawing for her wall to stop and think about what this found phone might contain.

After turning off all the location services and effectively hiding the phone from being found from any means, Thrúd began to snoop. She reasoned that if Atreus wanted to use it as his own personal device, it was best that she rid it of anything not kid friendly. Of course, the best thing for her to do would be to take the phone to her dad, but she didn’t want her dad to tell Atreus’ dad and get both of them in trouble.

So, she said nothing and snooped away.

What she found made her stomach churn.

She had always known that her grandfather was not to be trusted. Her mother always cursed the man’s name whenever it was brought up and never allowed any of her children to spend time in the man’s house alone. Her dad also spoke poorly of her grandfather, but always seemed to seek out his attention or approval, always jumping at any opportunity to help the man.

As it turns out, he grandfather was not just a shady police captain, he was much, much more.

Thrúd knew her mother would know that bringing this information to light would only result in it being shoved under the rug. Grandfather was the police captain, too high to be struck down, and his children were still too loyal to turn on him. So, she needed to get it to someone who could actually do something.

Using the paper map she brought with her (so that she could keep her own cell phone location settings turned off) Thrúd walked and walked until she finally reached her destination.

The home was, well, homely . There were plants all over the front porch and solar powered lights made the whole front of the home look magical. Thrúd admired the decorations as she approached the door.

She clenched the phone in her hand harder. Could she do this? Could she ruin her family for a boy she just met? Thrúd raised her fist to knock on the door. What if her dad was involved? What if he got arrested? Wouldn’t mom be mad? Would her dad ever speak to her again? Was it worth it to stay silent if it meant Atreus was never seen again?

Thrúd knocked on the door.

ᚷᛟᛞ ᛟᚠ ᚹᚨᚱ

Atreus slammed his body against the door as hard as he could. And then he did it again. And again. And a few more times until he hit the door so hard a cry was ripped from his throat. Then he tried banging his hands on the door and shouting. He pleaded for his release, begged and cried, promised to never say a word, then he began to threaten whoever was listening. 

“I’ll kill you! I’ll rip your throat out, do you hear me?! You’re dead!” He slammed his hands harder against the door. “You’re nothing to me! My father will rip you to shreds!” He screamed obscenities until his throat went raw and his voice withered into a soft hoarse whisper.

He fell to the ground. The door wouldn’t budge, he couldn’t even reach the light switch, he couldn’t fight his captors…he was powerless. Atreus began to cry, this time for his mother. He cried for his father. He wished either of his parents were there to save him.

Chapter Text

Kratos had seen the girl sitting on Freya’s couch a few times. She was one of the players on Atreus’ soccer team, but he didn’t know her name. He’s sure that Atreus had told it to him. He tries to recall all the names that Atreus had vomited out of his mouth over his weeks playing on the team. Nothing comes to mind that fits. 

Freya hands the girl a cup of hot tea. “Here, Thrúd, you must be exhausted. Would you like something to eat?”

Thrúd shakes her head. “No, I’m alright, thank you.”

Silence blanketed the room. Thrúd sipped from her cup.

“Thrúd, why are you here?” Freya asked eventually. The girl looked around at them all, then set the cup down. They watched as she rummaged through her bag and pulled out a cell phone. She handed it over to Freya. “What is this?”

The girl pushed her shoulders back. This was it. This was where she betrayed her family. “He found it - Atreus did. He wanted me to open it for him so he could…uh, use it.” Kratos raised a brow. “He said his dad would never let him have a phone so I had to keep it a secret, so no one knows that I have it.”

“What does this have to do with him being missing?” Kratos was not at all happy that his son had gone behind his back and tried to obtain a cell phone. He had disallowed his son from having one because it was bound to be nothing but a distraction. In addition, he had heard too many horror stories of children being lured out to places by strangers they met online - something that would be much too easy to do if Atreus had unsupervised access to the internet via a cell phone. 

She prompted Freya to open it. “My grandfather is the police captain.” She said. “And everything on that phone is…it really makes him look bad.”

Freya looked through the phone, starting with the photos and then the messages and finally the notes. “He’s been dealing in human trafficking.” She turned to look at Kratos. “These are ages and descriptions of victims…and where to find them. Odin’s name is everywhere on this phone.” She went to the settings. “Old bastard even registered it under his name.”

“You are Odin’s granddaughter?” She nodded. “You were not aware of this?” He asked Freya.

She frowned. “I knew. Thrúd’s father is Thor, one of his sons from his marriage before me, but I knew - I thought - she had nothing to do with this. Thor has always been far removed from his children. That man spends all of his life trying to get his father to love him.”

“I didn’t have time to mess with the phone until today,” Thrúd began. “So I had no idea that it was all connected, but it is. We need to find Atreus before grandfather does something bad.”

Kratos couldn’t agree more. “Your grandfather, where does he live?”

ᚷᛟᛞ ᛟᚠ ᚹᚨᚱ

When the door opened this time, Atreus didn’t even move. Hands grabbed at his arms and he allowed them to pull him up and to his feet. His bare heels dragged against the ground and he was pulled out of the room and then dumped to the ground again. A foot connected with his back, hard enough to cause pain but not too hard to knock the wind out of him. “Get up.”

It was Baldur. Atreus raised his arms to cover his head. Baldur kicked him again.

“I said, get up .” When Atreus just lay there, Baldur reached down to grab at his arms again. “Get up, it’s time.”

Eventually, the man grew agitated enough at Atreus’ noncompliance that he picked him up and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of flour. He carried him up a flight of steel stairs and out into a luxurious home. It was the middle of the night, but the moonlight that filtered through the windows afforded Atreus enough to pick out the details of the home.

The home itself was made of wood and iron and when Atreus took a breath in he could smell the remnants of an old fire. There were a few family photos hanging up on the walls, all with at least fifteen people. Big family , he thought. A big family, a big home, a big life from the way it seemed. Why did these people who were wealthy in so many ways want to ruin his life? What did that phone have on it that was damn important that Atreus deserved to die because of it?

Baldur unceremoniously dropped him into the trunk of a car. “This could’ve ended differently for you,” his tone made it sound like he couldn’t care either way. “But then you got Thor’s little brat involved and well, as much as I hate the guy, family comes first. And we can’t have you go and run that mouth of yours, can we?” Baldur sighed. “I hate killing kids, it’s always so messy.” And shut the trunk.

ᚷᛟᛞ ᛟᚠ ᚹᚨᚱ

Heimdall stuffed his phone back into his pocket. “Baldur just texted, he’s taking the kid away now.” He couldn’t help the smile that graced his face. He was so ready to be done with that damn kid, his case, and most importantly the kid’s father. It had taken some convincing on his part, but eventually Odin agreed that with Thor and his daughter’s involvement in the whole ordeal it was better to just kill the kid now rather than wait and release him later. Less fuss, Heimdall had said, less twerps to keep silent . 

Thrúd could be controlled easily enough, just a few meetings with her grandfather and father would certainly do the trick, but the snot-nosed kid in his father’s basement was a different story. Thor had just wanted to threaten the kid, make him aware of what they would and could do if he were to ever speak about the situation. But, Heimdall knew how kids like him were, eventually he would say something to someone. Odin had known too, but the old man had been less willing to kill him.

It’s more mess, Heimdall. More mess, more blood, more evidence . And I’ve never particularly taken pleasure killing children.

Heimdall had just had to convince his father that they could pin it all on Baldur if things went south and then Odin was mostly on board. Baldur was a valuable asset, yes, but he was so fiercely loyal that Heimdall doubted he would ever say anything to incriminate anyone else in the family.

“Tell him I want the body burned. Not just buried in a shallow grave like he’s some amateur serial killer.”

Heimdall pulled his phone back out and relayed the message. 

“And tell him not to come back here when he’s done, I just had the hardwood floors professionally shined and the last thing I need is muddy footprints on them.”

Another text came in as he was typing that one. “Thor says Thrúd isn’t at home.”

Odin’s eyes snap to his. His father looks uncharacteristically worried. “Tell him to find her.”

“He says he’s looking.”

“Go help him.” Heimdall tries to argue. “Go help him! She’s got the damn phone you idiot! If I go down we all go down, do you not understand that?”

He swallows. “Right. Of course. I’ll go help him.”

“Good - oh, and Heimdall?” He nodded to indicate that he was listening. “Keep Thor in line, would you?”

ᚷᛟᛞ ᛟᚠ ᚹᚨᚱ

"Burn the body, he says," Baldur muttered to himself. "If he wanted the body burned he should've done this him damn self." He scoffed and pushed his shovel further into the ground. "Like I have time to burn a body." Baldur wiped sweat from his forehead and squared his shoulders. "Fuck him. I'm doing this my way."

It’s his grave, Atreus realizes. Baldur is digging his grave . He wondered if anyone would ever find him - if he could eventually be reunited with his mother and reburied by her side.

Atreus was so tired he couldn't even bring himself to cry in the face of his mortality. The man knew he was exhausted as well, only having rested Atreus against a tree while he dug away. His hands were taped together, but his feet weren’t. Atreus pushed his toes into the dirt and pine needles of the forest floor, glad to be able to feel something other than concrete.

His father wasn’t coming, he realized. His father hadn’t been able to save him. Atreus wished he had been better . Wished he had not been so angry, that he had treated others with more respect, that he told his father that he loved him more often than he had.

Dirt flings up into the air and lands nearby him. He reaches out with his bound hands and pushes it around. Another clump of dirt flies out, this time landing on his jeans. He pushes the dirt around, then stops. In the clumps of dirt there’s a single shard shaped rock. His hand shakes as he grabs it.

Baldur is whistling to himself as he digs, focused completely on the hole. Atreus clenches the rock and then presses it to the tape around his wrists. When he pulls on the rock it slightly cuts at the tape. When he pulls harder, the rock cuts into his skin, but it also breaks the last bit of the tape. His heart pounds behind his ribcage. 

Another scoop of dirt lands near him. Baldur isn’t that far from him, if he started to run he’d be caught quickly, no doubt. So, he couldn’t just run. 

Atreus gripped the rock as hard as he could, feeling the edges cut into his palm and the hot blood seep into his hand. When Baldur leaned down to scoop another pile of dirt out, Atreus lunged.

He leans over the grave just far enough to reach Baldur, but not too far so that he falls in. In a flash he stabs the rock into Baldur’s neck as hard as he could. The rock doesn’t enter his flesh like a knife would, but it does open a nasty wound.

The man screamed, dropping the shovel in his hands and reaching up to grab at the rock. Atreus pushed at the man’s shoulders, shoving him farther into the grave. Before Baldur can recover, Atreus takes off running.

The ground is covered in rocks and pine needles and various other sharp and uncomfortable things, but Atreus keeps running.

ᚷᛟᛞ ᛟᚠ ᚹᚨᚱ

Odin’s home is not as magnificent as Kratos imagined it to be. It’s large, but plain. It appears more like a cabin than a home if not for its size. There’s a single light on in the living room. Kratos doesn’t knock, instead he just slams his shoulder against the door to open it.

He’s met with a gun. “Breaking and entering, Mr. Sparta? Not a good look for a man suspected of murder.”

Kratos snarled. “Murder?”

“Of your son.” The man explained. Kratos knows this must be Odin. He’s missing an eye and looks to be older than Kratos himself. When he moves, he does so fluidly as though he were floating, and when he speaks Kratos sees the suffering of hundreds of people. “Such a shame, for a boy so young to go at the hands of his own grieving father. Did you blame him for your wife’s death, is that it? Or could you just not fathom a life where you had to be a single father?”

“Where is he?”

“Or did he make you so angry one day you snapped? Is that what happened? I read your file, Mr. Sparta, you’ve been known to snap.”

Kratos looked around the home. He didn’t think Atreus was there. “Where is my son?”

“His body will be found in the woods near your home, where you buried him after you so coldly took his life. Really ‘not cool’ of you, as the kids say.” Odin laughed. “Did you really think that you could come here and your boy would be here and you’d get to have your tearful-,”

Odin tensed.

“What is this?”

“Put the gun down.”

Odin shook his head. “ Sweetheart , you don’t want to do this.”

Freya pushed the barrel of her rifle further into Odin’s hair. “Oh, I do, trust me.” She looked at Kratos. “Go. I’ve got him.”

Kratos didn’t wait. He gave her a thankful nod then headed back out to the car. Mimir threw a barrage of questions at him while Thrúd in the back just asked if her grandfather was there. “Drive.” Kratos said. “To my home.”

Chapter Text

“Drive faster.”

“I’m giving her all she’s got.” Mimir said, but pressed the gas pedal harder anyways. It was late enough that there were few cars on the road, so he was able to safely run through a few redlights. Even so, Mimir didn’t think getting into a car accident would be what’s best for Kratos or Atreus at that moment. “Just a few more minutes, we’ll get there in time.”

Gods, I hope we get there in time .

ᚷᛟᛞ ᛟᚠ ᚹᚨᚱ

He didn’t recognize this part of the forest. He couldn’t recall that rock or that tree or even that stream, but he kept running. When his mother had been still alive she had painted a few of the trees in the woods surrounding their home, just in case Atreus ever wandered and got lost. She had explained how to use them as well, since they were all simple yellow handprints with a few extra orange lines painted onto the palms.

Atreus remembers seeing one of those trees when Baldur had hauled him into the woods. If he could just find that tree again he’d know how to get home. 

He leaped over a fallen log, bare feet slamming into the ground. He yelped when a pinecone dug into his skin, but didn’t stop running. The lower branches of the trees slapped him as he sped past, each more stinging than the last, but he just kept running . 

The stab to Baldur’s neck had done nothing to deter the man. Atreus heard him only a minute after he had pushed him into the empty grave, Baldur had cursed and shouted his name and continued to do so as he pursued him. Baldur’s shouts made it easy to pinpoint where the man was, but all that did was confirm that he was hot on Atreus’ heels.

“Little boy!” Baldur screamed. “Get back here or I won’t make it quick!” 

Atreus turned around and tried to see if he could see the man. He smacked into a tree for his efforts.

Now on the ground, Atreus writhed in pain. The connection his left shoulder had made to the tree would no doubt leave him a nasty bruise and when he tried to sit up he had to stifle the cries the pain pulled out of him. Getting back to his feet, he cradled his arm with his other and began to run again.

Just a little farther, he kept telling himself. Just a little more and then I’ll be able to see mother’s trees again .

ᚷᛟᛞ ᛟᚠ ᚹᚨᚱ

Kratos didn’t wait for the car to come to a stop when they finally arrived at his home. He broke through the fence to the backyard with Mimir hot on his heels. “The dogs,” Mimir said. “Can they track?” Kratos was not sure if they could, but they were wolfdogs, so he supposed it was possible.

He approached Speki and Svanna’s doghouse. “Dogs.” He commanded. “Find Atreus.”

Speki and Svanna stared at him for a moment, sniffed around at the ground, then took off into the forest that Kratos’ house backed up to. Kratos took off after them.

“Thrúd and I will stay here and call for an ambulance!” Mimir shouted, pulling out his phone. “Good luck, brother!”

ᚷᛟᛞ ᛟᚠ ᚹᚨᚱ

“What’s your plan, Frigg? You gonna shoot me? Gonna mess up your perfect prim little hands for once?”

Freya pushed Odin down into one of his dining room chairs. “You have no right to call me that anymore.”

Odin smirked, tilted his head to the side as he observed her. “You really are so beautiful when you’re angry. Reminds me why I married you.” She pressed the barrel of her gun to his chest. “Would you rather I tell you you’re ugly?”

“I would rather you shut up.”

He shook his head. “Where would be the fun in that, Frigg - oh sorry, Freya . I keep forgetting you changed your name back.”

Her hands trembled in fury as she held her weapon. “I changed my name when I married you because you convinced me that it was what I wanted. I was young and stupid back then.”

“And now you’re just old and stupid. Some things never change.”

“I should kill you for what you’ve done to our son, for making him into a monster.”

Odin’s face morphed from smug amusement to rage. “I never wanted him to kill anyone. He ,” he pointed off into space as though Baldur were there with them. “Wanted to get his hands dirty. None of my other children are as fucked up as he is. All I did was play into his strengths.”

“You ruined my boy!”

“I gave him something to live for!” Odin took a deep breath. “I gave him what he asked for,” he said more calmly. “Something to make him feel alive.”

ᚷᛟᛞ ᛟᚠ ᚹᚨᚱ

The trail he left in his wake must've been easy to follow, even in the dark. He didn’t try to walk softly or to not break branches or push rocks, and with every step he left a bloody footprint. That must be why Baldur catches up to him eventually.

Or maybe it was because he fell. Or because Baldur is so much older than him. Or maybe it’s because this is it for him. Whatever the reason, Baldur managed to catch him and if Atreus had been able to predict the man’s change in mood he’s not sure if he would’ve tried to escape his death.

The hand in his hair tugged him to the ground painfully, ripping out clumps from his scalp. Atreus shrieked, but it mostly came out silent, his throat already raw from all of his previous screaming. “You little shit!” Baldur lifted his head only to smack it into the ground. Atreus thought about how lucky he was that Baldur is doing this on a softer part of the forest floor. “I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

Atreus limply tried to get Baldur’s hand out of his hair.

A dog howled.

ᚷᛟᛞ ᛟᚠ ᚹᚨᚱ

Speki leads, her nose pressed to the ground as Kratos trails behind her. Svanna has taken up a more defensive position, staying off to the side to ensure nothing tries to come after them. Speki’s nose eventually takes them past where his late wife stopped marking trees and into what Faye had once told Atreus was the ‘no-no’ zone.

The trees were thick, so the sky was barely visible, and he could no longer see any lights from any nearby streets. It was a dead zone for human civilization - it would be difficult for Atreus to find his way home out here.

Speki stopped sniffing and then howled. Svanna howled in response and then the two took off. Kratos charged after them.

ᚷᛟᛞ ᛟᚠ ᚹᚨᚱ

“Is life and prison really worth killing me, Frigg?”

Freya was sat a few feet away from Odin, gun still trained on him. Her brother had finally arrived and with his help she was able to get Odin tied to his chair. “No, your life isn’t worth mine.”

The older man laughed, an unpleasant sound to anyone who knew him longer than a few moments. “Then what’s this show all about? Are you trying to scare me?”

“I’m just keeping you busy.”

“When I get out of these restraints I’m going to charge you and your deadbeat brother with false imprisonment. Then , I’m going to go find that asshole and charge him with his son’s murder.” When Freya didn’t respond, he kept talking. “I’m not the bad guy here, Frigg. Had that kid minded his own fucking business none of this would have happened. Like I said, I didn’t want to kill anyone, but that’s just the way things played out. Can I really be blamed for doing what had to be done? For protecting my family? For protecting our son ?”

Freya adjusted the gun from one shoulder to the other. “You can be blamed for kidnapping a child.”

“Kidnapping? I never even touched that boy. No one is going to want to pursue charges on me. You really think that any judge will want to scrap with me in the legal ring?”

“I’m sure one of them will.”

“Oh? And what makes you so sure of that?”

Freya, still holding her gun with one hand, pulled her phone out of her pocket and waved it at Odin. “Ever heard of Voice Memos?” Odin did his best to conceal his surprise. “You’re done.” Freya said. “Your hold over everyone is gone.”

ᚷᛟᛞ ᛟᚠ ᚹᚨᚱ

The same time he sees one of his dogs is the same time he sees his father. When Baldur also notices his father, he lifts Atreus up to his feet by his hair and then wraps one of his arms around his neck. Atreus squirms as the man pushes his arm up and into his neck and chin, beginning to cut off some of his air. “Stay back!” Baldur pulled Atreus backwards.

“Father,” Atreus scratched at Baldur’s arm when he tightened his grip. 

“Let go of my son!”

Baldur, to his credit, seemed conflicted. He could release the boy and all would come crashing down, or he could kill the boy then and then kill the father - which would almost certainly ruin his own father’s plan. They needed Mr. Sparta to live, without him there would be no fall guy. 

Baldur took another step away from Kratos. Then again, Murder/Suicide was always believable…

He figured it’d be easiest to start with the father.

Atreus is thrown to the ground with a whip of Baldur’s arm. The man rushed past him, barreling into Kratos as though he were invincible.

Kratos met him head on, grabbing at the smaller man’s arms as Baldur tried to hit him. Off instinct, he bashed his face into Baldurs, disorienting both of them. Kratos recovered first, twisting Baldur’s arms until the man was turned around. He pushed him to the ground with his knee. Before he could get another hit in, Baldur managed to flip them both to their sides.

Kratos had fought many people in his time. He had seen the way people fought when desperate or angry or hateful. But, he had never seen someone fight as though it were all a game. Baldur seemed to fight simply because he enjoyed the fight, nothing more. And while the man was smaller than Kratos (although that wasn’t to say he was weak by any means) he had other advantages. He was fast, nimble, bloodthirsty.

But Kratos was too. He wanted this man to pay for what he and all the Odinsons had done to his son.

When Baldur struck out a fist to punch Kratos in the face, he caught it and delivered a punch of his own. Baldur was quick, however, and managed to bum rush Kratos to the ground. The man lifted his arms, hands clasped together, and struck down as hard as he could. 

Dodging to the side, Kratos reacted by reaching up and grabbing the man’s throat. A rock flung through the air and smacked into Baldur’s cheek. He looked at his son. Atreus had a handful of rocks of all different shapes and sizes at the ready.

Baldur grabbed him by his shoulder and rolled them over, trying to wrap his legs around Kratos’ in an attempt to keep him stationary. Kratos punched him as hard as he could in the face, wincing when the man delivered his own punches back. He threw Baldur off of him at the same time Atreus flung a few more rocks at the man’s face.

He managed to stop one of the rocks and fling it back in Atreus’ direction. The boy dove out of the way and threw another. “Stop it you little shit!”

Kratos tackled him to the ground. Atreus dropped the rocks in his hands and grabbed a large stick. Baldur rolled out of his grab and leaped to his feet. Kratos met him first with a fist to his chin.

Atreus swung his stick, smacking Baldur on the other side of his face. Blood splattered out of his mouth, but Baldur still tried to fight back. Kratos kicked him in the chest, causing the man to double over. Atreus swung his stick again, breaking it against the man’s back. Kratos grabbed Baldur by the hair at the base of his neck and tossed him to the ground.

Baldur lifted his arms. “Stop - stop,”

Kratos stared down at the man. Everything in him told him to kill him. 

“He’s beaten father, not a threat.”

Kratos looked at his son. He cataloged the bruises, the scrapes, the cuts, the blood that seeped from him and onto the ground and he closed his eyes. If he were a lesser man, he would kill Baldur. He grunted.

Atreus watched as his father walked away from Baldur and over to him. Kratos collapsed to his knees. His son ran into his chest so hard that he managed to knock a little bit of breath out of him, but Kratos didn’t pay this any mind and hugged his son as hard as he could. Atreus hugged him back, squeezing his father extra tight to make sure that he was real. 

Kratos stood, holding Atreus in his arms as he did so. Speki and Svanna came to their sides, each sniffing and whining at them. Kratos followed them home.

Chapter Text

A month passed. Freya got the recordings of Odin to a judge and managed to get the man put behind bars. When an outside police department takes over the case they search the homes of Odin and all of his sons. Heimdall was the first to be arrested, only because they couldn’t find Baldur for a few days. Said man ends up being found trying to hide in the forest. Kratos remembered when Freya called him, her voice strained as she explained that they found her son and that she would be unreachable for a few days while she went to be by his side.

Kratos had to take those days separating Freya, the woman he knew and respected, and Freya, the mother of a monster. 

Eventually, things at home start to get better. With so much having happened in just a few months, Kratos is not delusional enough to think things will go back to normal so quickly. He had lost his wife, lost his son, and found his son in such a short period of time that he was struggling on how to deal with it all. Thankfully, Mimir had become a close friend and confidant to him and his son.

Atreus was still wary of strangers - something Kratos knows is best, but he knows that it means his son has changed fundamentally. His son used to always see the good in everyone and now his world view had been tainted by the most evil of humans. Atreus' physical wounds had healed in just over a week, but Kratos knew that his mental wounds would take much longer to heal.

When the time came for school to start, Kratos told Atreus that he'd understand if he didn’t want to go. It was hard enough for Atreus to try and assimilate into regular life, but to go to a school where everyone knew that he was the boy that got kidnapped could be bad for his psyche. Mimir had echoed his worries and handed Kratos a pamphlet for a nearby private school.

“It’s a good school, brother.” Mimir said. “I can speak with the principal, if ya’d like. I’m sure they’d be understanding of your situation.”

Kratos grunted.

“I hear some of his friends go there as well, Thrúd and - oh, Hel, what was her name?”

Atreus popped up beside the dining room table where his father and Mimir were sitting. He had been eavesdropping from the stairs. “Is it Angrboda?”

“Yes! That’s her name, thank ya lad!”

“Boy, were you listening in on our conversation?”

Atreus looked sheepish.

“Don’t be so hard on the little lad, Kratos,” Mimir said. “This is his future we’re talking about.”

Kratos grunted. “Fine. Sit, boy.” Atreus took a seat in one of the other chairs. “This school,” he pushed the pamphlet in Atreus’ direction. “Do you want to go?”

They enrolled him for the next school year that afternoon. Mimir proved himself a valuable ally when he made a few phone calls and got Atreus into the school with a zero upfront cost. “Perks of being everyone’s psychologist.” He said with a smirk. “Lots‘a secrets people don’t want to get out.”

As school started, Atreus began to revert to who he had been before everything. He smiled more, spoke more, invited friends over - began to act like a kid again. Kratos swallowed his usual stoic attitude and officially thanked Mimir for his efforts to help Atreus recover. The man shook Kratos off and told him he doesn’t do what he does for praise. Even so, Kratos takes some advice from Freya and buys the man a gift card.

Life never really goes back to normal. Things just change into a new, better normal.

Every Sunday Kratos finds himself hosting a potluck with more people than he’d normally feel comfortable around. He finally does what Atreus wanted him to - makes friends. Freyr is not all that bad, despite his annoying charismatic attitude, and it helps that Freya is his sister, so Kratos accepts him fairly easily. Sif, while once married to one of the men involved in Atreus’ disappearance, is stern and motherly and in a way she reminds Kratos of himself. Her daughter he finds is determined in a way that encourages those around her to fight hard for what they want as well. Skjoldr is a boy he barely speaks to, but he can see the way the boy treats his son, so he’s good as far as Kratos is concerned.

Angrboda is possibly his favorite of the youngsters that come to the potluck. She is wild and energetic and brings out the child in Atreus. And every Sunday she brings a different dish from her culture that makes Kratos appreciate food even more.

Atreus loved his new life, even if he had to go through so much to get it. He loved spending so much time with his friends and getting to learn alongside them. He loved that he could wake up everyday and spend time with Jormungandr or Speki and Svanna or his father. He loved that when he visited his mom’s grave he always had some new story to tell her or a new friend to describe to her.

He liked the potlucks as well, even if he had been worried when Mimir first suggested them. He would get to spend his Sundays running around with his friends or playing some new video game Freyr brought over or get to freak Sif and Thrúd out with Jormungandr.

He liked that on the weekends sometimes he and Angrboda would hang out in the woods behind his home (never going past his mother’s tree markers) and create fantasy worlds where they’re both champions of some great war. He liked that when he and Angrboda ran across a wild wolf that they were able to bring it back home and convince his father to keep it. Atreus helps the wolf adjust and - despite his father’s warnings - he names it Fenrir.

Nearly a year passed and Atreus went with his father to his mother’s grave. He speaks to her about Fenrir and school and Freya and all the other things that had happened since the last time he spoke with her. His father doesn’t say anything, just rests his hand on her gravestone.

“Let’s go home,” Kratos said. “Before the rain comes.”

Atreus hopped to his feet. “Okay,” he allowed his father to lead him away with a firm hand on his back. “Bye mother, love you.”