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Chapter Text

Muse, sweet Muse, namesake of mine!

Always you have been with me, but now, no words of yours

Can reach me here in the golden fields, the sparkling waters –

This realm of Elysium, encased by walls

That cannot be crossed by the blessed souls.

Here, on this little island, far from the others, I sit –

Chained I am, unable to leave and find company

Among the other souls. But even then, they would turn me away.

They despise me, I know, but how it hurts my heart,

To be alone! To have lost all who are dear to me:

My glowing mother, stout and strong,

Who took charge of our good house in Sparta,

And my friends, eager for war and conquest though they were,

And oftentimes ridiculed me for my weakness –

To have them fill the silence here would be a true blessing.

But the last one, whom I loved dearly and still think of in these timeless halls,

Has brought me the greatest pain –

My father, that fierce and mighty captain of Sparta!

It seems only a little while ago that he abandoned me,

Leaving with a trail of bloodshed in his wake.

I called for him, but my cries fell on deaf ears,

And now there is no one.

Oh! Wait a moment – 

I hear something approaching!

Soft footsteps, padded on the soil, and the panting of a dog,

He appears now from around an immortal tree, tongue lolling

And a friendly light in his red eyes. A hound of hell,

Yet one who has become a dear friend in my loneliness.

He speaks to me now, yipping and snorting –

How I wish I understood him! He might bring me news

Of what passes beyond Elysium’s gates

In the darkened caverns of Hades. Even if I am trapped here,

Alone and unwanted by all,

I should dearly wish to hear of the lands beyond,

Of my fair Greece, and the conquering nation of Rome – 

Not from the gods of death, who lie and spit poison through their teeth,

But from one who is trusted and honest with me.

My dear friend,

It appears to be another endless day in this realm.

Please, sit with me a while –

No, I will not play my flute now, no matter how much you prod.

I have not the heart for it anymore.

***

The sun beat down mercilessly upon the city of Athens. Atreus had long since forgone his hunting garments with the fur lining, opting instead for Greece’s linen and sandals. His skin had browned somewhat during his journey across the country, and sometimes, when he managed to catch his own reflection, he wondered if his father had ever been this tanned.

Not to mention the freckles. There was a whole splash of them across Atreus’ cheeks now.

Hel, he shouldn’t even be complaining! Just now, he stood among the gaggling spectators overlooking a display of athletic games. The large stretch of land was grassy and green, with multiple stations spread out for each event, and there were no small number of players taking part. Wrestling, spear- and disc-throwing, archery … Well, Atreus wouldn’t mind trying that one. 

There was a sizable crowd watching the spear-throwing. Atreus eyed the handful of contestants, his gaze falling immediately on their red capes and gleaming bronze armour.

Roman soldiers.

“Go on, Crispus,” one of them said, clapping his fellow on the shoulder and hanging him a spear. “Let’s see if the gods have their eyes on you today!”

The curly-haired soldier, Crispus, huffed a laugh. “Are you doubting me already, Felix? Am I not last year’s champion?”

“Last year has no bearing on this year,” Felix retorted. “Well, go on, then!”

Crispus rolled his shoulders and held up his spear. He was aiming for the hundred-foot target.

To a mortal, the spear would’ve been a blur of movement, but Atreus saw it in painful clarity: the spear shooting forward, as though it had a will of its own. It sped across the grounds and lodged deftly into its target, right in the centre.

A cheer went up among the crowds as Crispus spread his arms wide, beaming proudly. “Another win, I say!” he declared, receiving claps on the shoulders from his fellows. “Well, Felix? Have I proven you wrong?”

“Aye,“ Felix agreed. He appeared begrudging, but there was a twinkle of good nature in his eyes. “You will undoubtedly be this year’s champion!”

“Yes, yes,” Crispus said, taking up a goblet his servant offered. “No need to tell me what I already know, Felix.”

Atreus applauded along with the other spectators. It was a very impressive throw, after all, though Kratos would undoubtedly be able to throw it farther.

Could Atreus ever manage a throw like that? He’d picked up some skills with a spear during his travels, but he never once thought to ask his father for lessons … 

Something curious nudged his mind, scrambling his thoughts. You are not from here.

Atreus paused. He knew that feeling, though there was something strange about it, like another cook’s twist to a familiar meal. He turned and spotted a hound staring at him, several feet away. Its eyes shone red in the noon sun.

“I’m not,” Atreus murmured, keeping a careful eye on the hound. Despite the festive noise around the gaming grounds, he had no doubt that the animal heard him clearly.

The hound came over to him at a leisurely pace. Atreus crouched down, reaching out with a kindly hand, as he always did when befriending dogs and wolves. He was relieved when the hound nuzzled his palm.

“You’re a handsome one,” Atreus said, eyeing the hound’s sleek, dark fur. “Your owner must take excellent care of you.”

The hound snorted, raising his head tall and proud. Better than the care you give to your stench.

“Hey! I don’t smell that bad; I washed yesterday!”

Not your man-stench. The scent of a god.

Atreus stiffened. “Look, I’m not here for any trouble.”

Neither am I. The hound regarded Atreus. I am Dulius. Name yourself, foreigner.

“I’m Atreus.”

How does a foreigner carry a name of this land?

“I have my ties here.” Atreus paused, frowning. “Are you really a hound?”

Dulius sniffed with amusement. Are you really a human?

“I mean – you sound different from the other animals I’ve listened to.”

There was a shout of laughter from where the Romans stood. Atreus glanced up just as Felix said, “Be wary, Crispus! You may make the gods envious of your skills.”

“Ha! Let them be. I have no godly powers to boast of, nor do I need them to hit a mark from such distances.”

Dulius growled low in his throat. Atreus winced. “Hey, he didn’t mean it like that –”

Then he should not have said it. He has insulted the gods. He thinks they do not care for a mortal’s whims, but they are not deaf.

“What are you going to do, then? Bite him?”

Dulius’ red eyes fixed on Atreus. No. I cannot do anything to him.

A woman’s voice entered the fold of Roman soldiers. Atreus couldn’t quite see her; her head bobbed over the soldiers’ shoulders, but he caught a glimpse of the dark purple silk she wore. After a moment of discussion, Crispus disappeared with the woman, and the rest of the soldiers began their turns at spear-throwing.

Dulius cocked an ear. My mistress calls. I must go.

“Oh. I’ll let you go, then,” Atreus said, somewhat reluctant. It wasn’t every day he got to speak to an odd – perhaps magical – hound.

Dulius huffed in what could be a chuckle. You cannot let me do anything, god though you are.

Atreus half-smiled. “Right. Sorry. It was nice meeting you, Dulius.”

He stood up, dusting off his trousers. The hound made no move to leave; he simply watched Atreus with those deep red eyes. Uncertainty coiled around his mind, but that was as much as Atreus could sense.

Then, to Atreus’ surprise, Dulius snorted and nudged his hand. Wait a moment, Atreus. Join me.

“What? But – what about your mistress?”

We will follow a ways behind. Now, walk with me. Unless you cannot keep up with this hound’s stride.

Atreus set his hands on his hips. “My legs are longer than yours, you know. And that’s not an insult, it’s a fact.”

Ah, but do you know how to use such gangly legs?

Chortling, Dulius took off at a brisk stride. Atreus hurried to catch up, and very soon they were no longer in sight of the gaming grounds. If anyone spared a glance at them, they would simply see a foreign traveller walking with his trusty beast.

For some time, neither Atreus nor Dulius said anything. Atreus took the chance to absorb his surroundings. This was Athens, the great city of Greece, rebuilt after his father’s – rampage, for lack of a better word. Atreus once overheard a conversation between an elder and his grandchild about the glory days of the old city, and how it had fallen to floods and storms. The gleaming temple pillars! The magnificent statues painted in dazzling colours! 

It was hard to imagine Athens looking even more beautiful than this, honestly. Kratos had never described what Greece looked like before it fell. Atreus had already made a mental note to ask the next time he returned home; it was just a question of whether his father would answer.

So, the hound said eventually, what brings you to Greece, young Atreus?

“I’m just travelling,” Atreus replied. “I’ve always wanted to see more of the world. Now that I’m older, it seemed the perfect time to do it.”

Not to mention Ragnarök had ended and Odin was gone for good, allowing the Giants to come out of hiding. Over the past four years, Atreus and Angrboda had worked to bring their people back. The Ironwood now held a thriving community, with its residents literally coming in all shapes and sizes.

Atreus was still searching for Giants. There were some legends about them in Greece, but to be completely honest, that wasn’t the only thing that drew him here.

When did you arrive in the city?

Atreus shook himself from his thoughts. “Oh, a few days ago. But I’ve been in Greece for a few weeks, at most.”

You speak our tongue well for someone so new.

“I’m a quick learner. Er, I was hoping to stay here for a little while. To practice, you know?” And search for more Giants, if there were any here at all.

The hound glanced up at him. Hmm. Keep yourself out of trouble, and I believe you shall not be bothered. I can do nothing for your god-stench, though it may help to bathe in some strong oils.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Dulius took a turn into a garden. The path wound leisurely around tall pillars, and it seemed like the perfect place for one to go when they needed to think. Up ahead was a circular courtyard; faint voices caught Atreus’ ears, but before he could say anything to the hound, Dulius led him behind one of the stone pillars.

My mistress is up ahead, he explained.

“Is there a reason we’re hiding?” Atreus asked, keeping his voice low as he crouched next to the hound.

Would you rather we interrupted her dispute with her beloved? Dulius asked dryly.

Atreus blinked and peered out from behind the pillar. Two figures stood in the courtyard. One of them was the woman who had led Crispus away from the games, and the other was Crispus himself. Sure enough, they seemed to be having a hushed argument.

What surprised Atreus more was the sight of four hounds, identical to Dulius, prowling around the courtyard. They didn’t bother with the couple’s talk. Rather, they seemed to be on the lookout for threats.

“... very foolish of you to say,” the woman was saying. “How could you do that? Insulting the gods in such a manner!”

“But it is the truth,” Crispus said, crossing his arms. “Are they so insecure in their own abilities that they would take the truth as some great slight?”

The woman made an exasperated sound. “You are infuriating, Crispus. Your arrogance will be your downfall!”

“Not as long as you are here to catch me,” Crispus said, taking the woman’s hand in his and kissing her fingers. “Must you defend them so, Proserpina? Don’t tell me they would punish you for such remarks!”

“They would,” Proserpina said darkly. “Revered though I am, they are still greater than me. That is why we must be careful. You must be careful! Make no more comments such as these. Give me your word!”

Crispus gazed back at her earnest face. For a moment, Atreus fully believed he would swear to it, and they’d make up.

Suddenly, the air grew cold so quickly that Atreus saw his breath mist before his face. Even the sky seemed to grow darker. He was instantly on guard. What was going on?

Be still! Dulius growled softly. My lord arrives.

“Your lord?” Atreus hissed. “Who –?”

“So this is the mortal you’ve been hiding from me, my queen,” a new voice said, just as cold as the air. Atreus shivered involuntarily.

A third figure entered the courtyard from the opposite end: a man dressed in a dark robe and matching toga. Atreus knew instantly who it was. No longer a Greek god, no, but the Romans had long since filled the void that Hades left behind.

This newcomer was Pluto, lord of the Underworld.

And the long-dead Persephone was now Proserpina.

You’re a hound of hell, Atreus thought, glancing at Dulius. The words never left his mouth. His eyes turned back to Pluto as though unable to look away from the god.

Proserpina now stood between Pluto and Crispus. “Leave him be, my lord,” she said. “He is innocent.”

Atreus couldn’t tell if she was pleading or commanding. Probably a mix of both.

“Innocent, you say? And yet he mocked me and my kindred not a short moment before.” As calm as Pluto appeared, cold rage simmered around his form. “And now I find him conspiring with my wife! You call that innocent, Proserpina?”

“It was by my doing that he did so. You must hold him blameless in that, husband! Please, I rarely ask you for anything. Allow this one thing!”

Pluto narrowed his eyes. Then he glanced at Crispus. Crispus stared back defiantly, though his clenched fists trembled.

Atreus didn’t dare move. He could stay still for long periods of time on a hunt, but for some reason, when it came to life-and-death situations, his muscles decided to start burning faster than usual. And his nose started itching, too.

Then Pluto barked, “Mortal! Admit to your wrongdoing and swear on the River Styx that you shall never insult the gods again. Then I shall consider you worthy of forgiveness.”

“And what of Queen Proserpina?” Crispus asked warily.

“You will never see her again, but you shall keep your life. And that is more than you deserve.”

Proserpina turned to Crispus. “My good champion,” she began softly.

“No!” Crispus burst out, and Atreus’ heart dropped into his stomach. “This is unjust. You should not have to stay in those dark halls as a prisoner. If I must leave you to that, then my life is nothing!”

At Atreus’ side, Dulius growled low in his throat. Foolish mortal. He would have done better to take my lord’s generous offer.

“Can’t we do something to help?” Atreus whispered. “We can’t just sit around!”

What will you do, young one? Fight a god? This is not your province.

“I –”

“Very well,” Pluto said in a low voice. “You have forfeited your life for an eternity of damnation.”

“No!” Proserpina cried.

A rumbling tremor passed through the ground. Atreus gasped, pressing a hand against the pillar for support. A crack split the courtyard in two, growing bigger and wider, and howling winds erupted from it, ripping at Atreus’ braid and clothes, pulling him towards the yawning abyss –

In the blink of an eye, Pluto grabbed Crispus and dragged into down into the darkness. Proserpina screamed and leapt down after them, swallowed whole by the earth. Her hounds followed after, barking and howling.

Dulius stood up to follow. Of course he would. And yet, Atreus couldn’t help but reach out to him. “Dulius –!”

He wasn’t expecting the hound to turn, grasp the end of Atreus’ red sash - the one that once belonged to his father - and pull him into the chasm.

As Atreus fell down into the dark, a part of him admitted that the violent winds likely would’ve dragged him in anyway.

Shadows, rushing winds, and one incredibly rough landing later, Atreus lay splat on the ground.

He ached everywhere. The ground was rocky and cold, which didn’t help at all. As he pushed himself up, he did a quick review of his body for injuries. Nothing bleeding, just a few bruises. No need to spend his healing magic. Yet.

Darkness greeted him upon looking up. A reddish glow emanated beyond the rocky cliffs, as though a great forest was burning. Was this … the Greek Underworld? Gods, it was so different from Helheim! No freezing cold, no Hel walkers – yet. He shouldn’t let his guard down lest some Underworld creature came running at him.

Atreus stood up with a groan. Damn it. How was he going to get out of this one?

Rapid footsteps had him instantly drawing his bow and notching an arrow. A familiar shape appeared from the dark, followed by a bark. Wait, Atreus! It is me.

Atreus relaxed a little. “Dulius?” he said hoarsely. 

The hound trotted over and leaned apologetically against his legs. Atreus’ trousers went to the knees; the hound’s fur was rougher than he expected. Forgive me. There was not enough time to tell you of my intentions.

“Why did you pull me in?” Atreus demanded. “This – this is the Underworld, isn’t it? I shouldn’t be here! I have to get back.”

I will help you. But first, I need your help.

Atreus flexed his grip on his bow. “Tell me what you need first, and I’ll think about it.”

The hound huffed. There is someone I want you to see, he said. A soul in the Elysian Fields. She died an unjust death, and I believe she will benefit greatly from your help.

Atreus resisted the urge to sigh in exasperation. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help – he did. He liked helping people. He went out of his way to help others whenever he was able.

But that was in the land of the living. He was in the realm of the dead! It wasn’t his business to get involved with how souls were treated. Best he left it to whoever was in charge, right? It was just like in Helheim back home – as long as Hraesvelgr was left to her work, she didn’t bother anyone else, and everything kept going smoothly.

And Atreus didn’t want to somehow catch Pluto’s attention, of all things. Especially with the god in such a sour mood.

Atreus took a deep breath. “Look. What exactly do you want me to do? How can I help her – whoever she is?”

Dulius shifted impatiently on his paws. It would take too long to explain in full, so I will tell you this: I am certain she is connected to you by blood.

Well … That wasn’t much of a surprise, not really. Kratos hailed from Greece. He’d had a family before Faye and Atreus. Of course Atreus would have relatives here.

Well, dead ones. But those still counted.

“Okay,” Atreus said slowly. “Let’s say you’re right. How do you expect me to help her?”

I do not know, Dulius admitted. I only know that she is lonely. I had hoped that you might talk to her. Lift her spirits. That is all I ask, Atreus.

Atreus moistened his dry lips. It wasn’t a hefty request. Just keep a soul company. “And you’ll help get me out of here after?” he pushed. 

Yes, the hound agreed. The shorter you stay, the better. We should hurry. Come!

“Wait a second,” Atreus said. Calling on the magic within him, he willed himself to change shape. His hair turned dark, his hands and feet turned to paws, and his teeth grew sharp. His blue eyes rippled into blood-red.

Dulius was unshakable. "Excellent! Now you look like one of my brothers. Quickly now, follow me!"

The hound took off at a dash, and Atreus followed. He managed to keep up with Dulius’ stride, but gods, this one was fast!

Despite the darkness around them, Atreus’ hound-senses were incredibly sharp, allowing him to follow Dulius’ scent as though it were a brightly-lit path in front of him. There wasn’t much else to sense around here, but Atreus felt that there was more going on beyond this rocky terrain. More activity, more minds with their thoughts. Souls?

He shook his head and kept close to Dulius. He must stay focused if he was to get out of here in one piece.

“There,” Dulius said, pointing with his nose.

They perched at the top of a cliff overlooking the vastness of the Underworld. The reddish glow emanated from the right, but on the left (and close to their position, to Atreus’ relief), was a temple gleaming in gold. Through its pillars, Atreus saw beams of sunlight.

“Within that temple lies the portal to Elysium,” Dulius explained. “That is where we must go.”

“What’s that red area over there?” Atreus asked.

Dulius grunted. “A land for punished souls. Do not trouble yourself with that place.”

They made their way down the cliff and landed on a gravelly terrain. “Keep alert here,” Dulius warned. “The River Lethe runs nearby.”

“Is that bad?”

“Not if you touch or drink it.”

“What’ll happen if I do?”

“To touch its waters means to lose some memories. To drink it means to forget who you are entirely. And that cannot be reversed.”

Atreus managed not to shiver. He liked this place less and less with each passing moment.

“We will follow the river until it is narrow enough to cross safely. Then we will be able to reach the temple,” Dulius continued.

Sure enough, they soon reached the river. It flowed out from a large cave in the cliffside and went in the direction of Elysium. And speaking of that cave …

Small, red flowers dotted the banks at the cave’s entrance. The colour was so vibrant, a splash of bright red in the gloomy blacks and greys, that Atreus couldn’t look away.

“Atreus!” Dulius nipped at Atreus’ ear, and he leaped back with a start. “Focus. We must continue on.”

Atreus shook himself and, after one last glance at the red flowers, followed after the hound. “What are those?”

“The poppies of Somnus, god of sleep. Their pollen will put you into a deep slumber.”

Ice settled in Atreus’ gut. “Is Somnus here, somewhere?”

“He sleeps in that cave. Fear not; he rarely wakes up unless the gods have summoned him.”

“Let’s hope they don’t choose now to do it,” Atreus muttered.

They followed the River Lethe, getting steadily closer to the temple on the far bank. Dulius kept within viewing distance of the river, which Atreus was glad for. He didn’t want to risk accidentally splashing his paws and losing some memories.

Eventually, the river grew narrow enough that they’d be able to leap over safely. Dulius and Atreus carefully approached the edge of the bank. The water looked oddly milky, like one of Freya’s potions back home. There was something faintly sweet in the air around it … Like a cloying or muffling feel … 

“Atreus!” Dulius barked.

He blinked. Were his eyes about to close? He looked up and found Dulius already on the opposite bank. “Mind your footing!”

Atreus backed up a bit to get a running start. Here went nothing!

He took off and leaped swiftly over the lazy water. As he arced through the air, the sweetness of the river tugged at him. He could almost imagine it whispering to him with promises of rest and relaxation after a long journey.

He landed hard on the opposite bank, then stumbled a little. Dulius nudged his shoulder. “You are well? Good. Let us leave this place behind.”

Atreus was all too happy to oblige. As they hurried away from the river, the air returned to its cold clamminess, which was considerably better. It certainly helped to clear Atreus’ head and remind him of where they were.

Gods, what would Kratos think if he could see his son now? What would he say?

Have I taught you nothing, boy? No, that didn’t sound quite right. Maybe … All that matters is that you are safe, Atreus! Yeah, that sounded more like it. 

As if to disagree, a rumble echoed in the distance, like rolling thunder. The ground shook slightly, rattling Atreus with it. “What was that?”

Dulius looked towards the red glow in the distance. “I expect my lord and my mistress are more angry with each other than usual.”

“Huh.” The hound didn’t sound too concerned. How many times had he watched his owners fight like this?

“Aren’t you worried that they’ll find us?” Atreus asked.

“With them so occupied at present?” Dulius snorted. “I think not.”

Atreus winced inwardly. He didn’t know whether to be grateful for the gods’ distraction or upset on behalf of Crispus. If only the man hadn’t been so damned arrogant and stubborn!

Dulius glanced at him. “You are displeased on behalf of that mortal? He chose his own path.”

Now that was a familiar saying. “What’s going to happen to him?” Atreus asked.

“He may be given a special punishment. Or cast into the pits of Tartarus. I cannot say for sure. But this is not the first time my mistress took chances with a mortal lover.”

“And Pluto?” Atreus asked flatly. “He’s never run about with someone else, has he?”

“He has,” Dulius said simply. “And my mistress punished his lovers just as severely. They have done so for many years. This is nothing new, young Atreus.”

They padded up to the doors of the temple. Dulius paused and glanced around. “The guards are not here.”

“Er, are there supposed to be?” Atreus asked.

“Yes. Hmm. Well, at least I will not have to sneak you in.”

The doors swung open as Dulius approached, and Atreus followed after him. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t the illusion of entering an entirely different realm. The inside of the temple was built like a pillared pavilion, with golden fields stretching out beyond. The sky shone blue outside. Were they still in the Underworld?

A shimmering, golden portal stood off to the side. Dulius went over to it, sniffed with satisfaction, then turned back to Atreus.

“Now then,” the hound said, “you must become worthy of Elysium. Cast your weapons at the foot of the Forsaken Tree.”

Atreus glanced at the fruit tree at the far end of the pavilion. Leave his weapons here, unattended, for anybody to knick if they were passing by? “I’m not sure about that.”

“Elysium will not allow you inside while you carry sins and evildoings,” Dulius insisted. “It will only be for a short while. Your weapons will still be here when you return.”

Atreus shifted on his paws uncertainly. “Are you sure there’s no other way?”

“You can approach the portal if you think yourself so worthy. If Elysium deems it otherwise, it will not be pleasant for you.”

Atreus scowled. He’d rather take his chances with the portal than give up his weapons, even if it was only temporary.

He went over to the portal and sniffed at it. Nothing odd about it, apparently. It was just a magic doorway. The fresh scent of summer and pine trees reached out to him, mingling with the leather of his father’s gear, and the floral smells of Angrboda’s garden. Atreus’ heart ached for home.

He pressed closer to the portal, letting its light rush over him in curling wisps. For a heartbeat – or perhaps an age – everything else fell to the background. All that he knew was the golden light of Elysium shining over him, piercing through him, reading his soul.

A voice whispered to him from beyond. Who art thou? it seemed to say. Young boy. Young god. Warrior. Protector. Lover.

Trickster. Liar. Imposter.

But achieved good things. Earned forgiveness.

But hurt his loved ones. Brought them salvation.

Mighty giant. Goodness in thy heart.

We find you worthy.

Atreus fell through the portal and landed snout-first into tall grass.

Chapter Text

Atreus jumped to his paws and quickly scanned the area. There was … nothing. Nothing but golden fields, beautiful mountains and waterfalls, and luscious trees. He heard the buzzing of bees and caught the scent of honey. He heard the trickling of a nearby stream and the splash of leaping fish.

Everything was peacefully quiet. Calm. A paradise.

This was Elysium.

It reminded Atreus enough of Asgard that he couldn’t fully relax. Nor did he want to. This was still the Underworld.

“Atreus!” Dulius appeared at his side, barking excitedly. “You came through! Elysium must have found you worthy!”

“Hopefully it doesn’t change its mind before we get out,” Atreus said.

Dulius barked a hound’s laugh. “Come, let us go! We are close to where she lives.”

Despite Atreus’ eagerness to get back to Athens, anticipation squirmed in his stomach as he dashed after Dulius. Who was this soul? A relative of his, sure, but how close or distant? What was she like? What stories did she have to tell?

As they went onwards, they passed by an occasional soul. Atreus sensed them as clearly as sensing a live person. These ones didn’t look like the souls of Helheim, or even whispered souls like Fenrir and the Giants’. No, these ones looked as though they were made of white mist. Corporeal, with distinguishable features, but definitely not of flesh and blood. Most didn’t spare a second glance at two hellhounds sprinting across the field. 

Atreus and Dulius soon arrived at a shore that looked out over a large body of crystal-clear water. Just off the shore was an island. Atreus reached out with his senses, and … Yes, there was a single soul there. Young and … sad in a hollow way. As though it was weary of grief, but didn’t know what else to do without it. And it was lonely.

Uncertainty twisted in Atreus’ chest. Dulius expected him to help this soul, but what could Atreus say? He wasn’t like Kratos, giving brief words of assurance. Or Faye, who always had the right words at the right time. The last time Atreus tried to help someone who was grieving, he’d been told to get the fuck out of sight.

He hadn’t seen Sindri since then.

Reaching the island was no problem. After they shook themselves free of clinging water droplets, Dulius set off through the trees at a brisk trot. The soul’s mind was getting clearer and brighter. Atreus’ heart pounded against his ribs. What was going to happen?

They came to the edge of a sunlit clearing. There in the middle sat a small figure – a girl. Her dark curls were stark against the forest’s green and golden-brown. As Dulius and Atreus came closer, she looked up with dark-brown eyes. She was … young. Probably younger than Atreus was when he and Kratos left on their journey to Jötunheim together.

Atreus didn’t want to think about the implications of that.

“Calliope!” Dulius called, tongue lolling. “I have brought you a companion.”

Calliope smiled wanly and reached out to rub Dulius’ head. “Hello again,” she said quietly. Then she glanced at Atreus. “Oh, have you brought a friend? I collected some berries earlier, but I might have eaten them all …”

“She does not understand our tongue,” Dulius explained as Calliope searched for her berries. “But she has a keen sense for intent.”

“She …” Atreus cleared his throat, which came out as an odd hacking noise in his hound form. “She doesn’t look like the other souls.”

“Curious, is it not?” Dulius nipped him at the neck. “Well? Speak to her! This is why you are here!”

Right. Talk to her. Try to lift her spirits. Atreus drew in a deep breath and shifted into his human self.

Calliope’s mouth dropped open. Shock immediately froze into fear, and she shrunk back. “Wh-who are you? Please don’t hurt me! I haven’t left the island, I swear!”

“What –? No! I’m not going to hurt you,” Atreus said hastily. He kept to a crouch with his hands held up as though in surrender. “I-I’m a friend. Dulius brought me here.”

The girl blinked. “Dulius?”

“This hound.” Atreus nudged Dulius, and the hound yapped in affirmation.

Calliope stared at Atreus. She was all but coiled in on herself, strung taut with wariness.

“I’m not here to hurt you, I promise,” Atreus said gently. “Dulius thought you could, er, use some company. I’m Atreus, by the way.”

Recognition dawned on her round face. “Atreus,” she repeated. “The soldier Atreus?”

Atreus thought back to the story Kratos had told him of his namesake. “I’m not a soldier,” he said, “but I’ve heard of one. Atreus of Sparta.”

“I know him!” Calliope exclaimed. It was like watching a flower bloom as she unfurled from her guarded position and settled on her knees. Now they were at eye-level with each other. “He was good friends with my – my father.”

Were they even speaking of the same soldier? The name was common enough that Atreus had met three others during his travels in Greece. But that didn’t matter now. 

“Did you like him?” Atreus asked.

“From what I heard of him,” Calliope nodded. “I’ve never met him before. But my father told me stories about him.” She lowered her voice. “I heard that Atreus the soldier is here in the fields.”

“Really? That’s good to hear. Hey, why don’t we go look for him together?”

It was probably a dumb idea. Atreus didn’t want to risk staying here any longer than was necessary, but now that he was with this girl … He just couldn’t bring himself to leave her just yet.

Calliope hesitated. “I tried before. I couldn’t find him, or any of Father’s soldiers.”

“Well, a second try can’t hurt. Besides, you’ll have two hounds to help!”

Calliope bit her lip. “I – I can’t.”

Atreus’ brow furrowed. “Why not? Actually, why are you alone here? I saw plenty of souls over there. Lots of friends for you to make.”

Her chin trembled as she shook her head. “I can’t,” she said again. “Even if I could, they don’t want to come near me.”

“Why not?”

Calliope wrung her small hands together. Her eyes darted around the clearing; was she afraid of someone overhearing?

Dulius whined softly and nudged her arm. With an air of resignation, Calliope got to her feet and raised the hem of her peplos to her ankles. Atreus hadn’t noticed it before, but now he saw it: the translucent shape of a shackle around her right ankle, with its chain disappearing somewhere into the forest.

“I’m bound to this island,” Calliope whispered. “It’s my punishment. I’m not allowed to leave or talk to the other souls.”

Something burned in Atreus’ gut, twisting into – Hel, he didn’t know. All he knew was that this little girl was chained up. “For what?” he asked.

Calliope flinched at the harshness in his tone. Atreus cleared his throat. “Sorry. I just – I don’t understand –”

“My father did bad things,” Calliope said quietly. Tears shone in her eyes, but they hadn’t spilled over yet. “So they put me here.”

Atreus stared at the chain. What kind of magic did it involve? Could it be broken? Well, there was a first time for everything. And he carried something that might just do the trick.

He reached into his pack of tools and brought out a gleaming orange chisel. It used to be part of Kratos’ chisel, but during Atreus’ first return trip to Midgard, his father had sliced the tool in half and given him a piece. “For any time that comes when you should need it,” Kratos had said in his low, rumbling voice.

“What is that?” Calliope asked, staring wide-eyed at the tool.

“It’s a chisel. I’m going to try and break this chain. I just need a rock …”

Dulius leaped up, dashed further into the clearing, and returned with a flat, hand-sized stone in his jaws.

“Thanks, Dulius,” Atreus said, taking the stone and wiping it clean of dog slobber on the grass.

There is no end to the chain that you may find, Dulius said. It is connected to the island itself. No tools can break it.

“Not even magical tools?” Atreus asked with a crooked smile. “Alright, Calliope, stay as still as you can.”

He positioned the chisel’s tip over the chain. Then he gathered his focus, raised the stone, and brought it down hard. To his delighted surprise, the chisel lodged into the chain with several fiery sparks. Thank the gods!

In the end, it took four more strikes before the chisel broke through the links. No doubt Kratos would’ve done it in one big blow. All at once, the translucent chain dissolved, but the shimmering shackle remained around Calliope’s ankle. Atreus resisted the urge to take it by the hands and rip it in two. But he didn’t have his father’s strength.

“You – you broke it!” Calliope gasped. She flexed her foot, reaching down to touch the shackle. Then she looked up at Atreus with wide eyes. “Why did you do that?”

“You shouldn’t be trapped here,” Atreus said firmly. “Elysium is supposed to be a paradise. If you’re in here, it’s because you were judged worthy, right?”

“But the gods will get angry if they find out!”

“They’re a bit busy at the moment,” Atreus began.

He was cut off when a large tremor passed through the ground, shaking everything. Calliope stumbled back with a cry, but Atreus surged forward and caught her. Everything was trembling – an earthquake? But that was impossible! This was the Underworld!

Atreus planted a hand on the ground to keep his balance. It was like being inside a vibrating box. What the Hel was happening outside? 

A voice suddenly rang out, echoing throughout Elysium. “Watch me now, husband! You would throw my lover into Tartarus? Destroy his soul piece by piece with torment? Well, I – will destroy – every soul – in Paradise!”

Each word was punctured by a reverberating boom. Calliope covered her ears and buried her face into Atreus’ shoulder. Atreus wished he could do the same; before, everything had been calm and quiet, but now it was like Ragnarök all over again. The winds howled, tearing at the trees and grass. He could hear the waters sloshing around the island, as though Jörmungandr was about to rise up from a long sleep. And was that debris falling from above?

Atreus looked up just as a crack cut through Elysium’s blue sky. Oh no. Oh gods no.

“I thought you said they argued like this all the time?” he shouted at Dulius over the screaming winds.

No, not like this! Dulius howled back. My mistress must have had enough!

“But she said –”

The souls, Dulius said, suddenly urgent. The souls will perish if Elysium falls, and so will we!

Atreus’ blood just about froze in his veins. Damn it. “Let’s get going, then! Come on –”

He stood up, but small hands latched onto his arms. He looked down into Calliope’s fearful eyes.

“Don’t go,” she cried. “Don’t leave me!”

Atreus didn’t hesitate to scoop her up into his arms. She barely weighed anything at all. “Who said I’m leaving you? You’re coming with me!”

He had a split second to see the utter relief on her face before she flung her arms around his shoulders. And then he was running after Dulius as they hurried through the forest. The trees helped shield them from the winds, but branches and pebbles were flying all over the damn place.

Atreus halted at the edge of the island and tried not to let panic get to him at the sight of the restless waters. They weren’t completely violent yet, but swimming through this was bound to take a while.

Not for Dulius, apparently. I will swim, he barked. Hold tight to me!

Atreus crouched down and wrapped an arm over Dulius’ shoulders. With his other arm, he tightened his grip on Calliope.

With that, the hound jumped in and sped across the water to the far shore, faster than any normal dog could have managed. Water sprayed into Atreus’ face, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the stinging pain.

It was over in seconds. Atreus stumbled to his feet like a drunkard, trying to get a proper grip on Calliope as she clung to him. Their hold on each other was so awkward that Atreus nearly lost his footing as he hurried after Dulius, but he soon found his balance and was off at a sprint.

He could see the portal leading out into the temple, a short distance away. They were almost there!

But what about the other souls?

Another resounding crack went through Elysium’s sky. Souls ran in all directions, their cries of panic echoing everywhere. And Atreus –

He just couldn’t leave them.

“Dulius!” he shouted, skidding to a halt. The hound circled back, barking impatiently. “Here – take Calliope and get her through the portal. I have to help the souls.”

But how? Dulius demanded. You have no control over the dead! And neither do I. I cannot take her out of this realm – it is not in my nature!

“Where are you going?” Calliope said anxiously. Her fingers dug into Atreus’ shoulders. “Don’t leave!”

“I won’t. I’m right here.” Atreus swallowed and looked out over Elysium. This place was breaking apart. He had to move quickly.

He drew on his innermost magic. The words of the Jötnar flooded his mouth, settling on his tongue, and he spoke out of instinct in that moment.

Fylgja, fylgja

Komdu með mér

Farðu núna

Farðu með mér

As he spoke, the nearest souls shrunk into small orbs of light and flew over to him. More appeared from further down the fields, circling around him, their panicking thoughts overlapping into a muffled cacophony in Atreus’ ears.

A faint white light outlined Calliope’s form. “Atreus? What’s happening?”

“Don’t worry, we’re getting out now!” They’d lost precious time while Atreus gathered the souls. “I’m going to turn back to a hound; climb on my back and hold tight!”

In a second, he was back on four paws. Calliope clambered on and gripped fistfuls of his fur, but Atreus barely felt the pain as he and Dulius dashed for the portal. The souls followed close behind like little shooting stars, all clamouring for freedom.

Almost there, almost there … 

A third crack cut through Elysium. The sky shuddered and began to widen, opening up to reveal an upside-down abyss. Darkness from the Underworld seeped in, choking Elysium’s light. Debris crashed to the ground. Atreus launched himself through the air towards it, and time slowed around him. All he could hear was the roaring of waves and howling of winds, the earth rumbling and shaking as it tore itself apart. He could’ve sworn his life flashed before his eyes.

Mother and Father, Mimir, Freya …

Brok and Sindri. Fenrir. Angrboda, her fingers linking with his own.

Atreus passed through the portal into darkness …

… and landed hard on rocky ground. He skidded to a halt, legs collapsing under him. All the air had left his lungs, and he lay there for a moment, trying to get his breath back. His ears rang; where was he? Had Baldur just punched him in the chest again?

Another dog’s snout snuffled against his own. “Atreus, get up! My lord is nearly here!”

Small hands tugged at Atreus’ fur. Hands … Calliope!

Atreus shook himself and got to his feet. He was about to look over his shoulder, just to see if Calliope was still on his back, but Dulius snapped at him in warning. “She is with you, but you must not look back! Trust me, Atreus!”

There was no time to think. All Atreus could do was dash after Dulius into the darkness of the Underworld. The souls around him now rushed away, flying aimlessly into the void. Was the temple destroyed? He didn’t know. He didn’t try to look back; there was danger and death in the air, a fierce fury, and his hound instincts screamed at him to get away from it.

When they reached the River Lethe, Atreus leaped over it without a second thought. Its sweet air barely registered in his senses as adrenaline and fear pumped through him.

They were on the path heading back to the rocky cliffs. Wind and sound sped by, his lungs burned, and his paws ached. He could barely feel Calliope on his back. Was she still there?

The path they were on grew steeper and steeper, passing into a tunnel. After what felt like forever, Atreus saw a faint light ahead, and the sight of it sent a surge of hope through him. They were almost out! This had to be the end!

He all but leaped out from the tunnel’s mouth and soared through the hot, humid night air. He landed hard on the ground, stumbled, and fell onto his side, panting for breath. This earthy scent, that sound of buzzing insects, the small animal minds moving about nearby … 

Atreus opened his eyes and stared up at the moon. Yes, he was in the land of the living. He was back.

“We made it,” he gasped. “We got out! Calliope? Dulius?”

“I am here,” Dulius yapped, appearing at Atreus’ side.

“Atreus,” a small voice whispered.

Atreus rolled over and found himself face-to-face with Calliope. She lay trembling on the ground, but she looked very much alive.

Atreus smiled widely and shifted back to human, getting up on his knees. Calliope did the same, pressing both hands onto the firm ground beneath, and stared at it for a moment. Then she raised her hands and turned them over. “I … I’m alive,” she said slowly.

Atreus grinned. “Yeah, you are!”

Calliope looked at him. For a moment, she seemed torn on whether to smile or cry. Her gaze trailed around Atreus, and her eyes widened with fear.

Atreus spun around, his residual hound’s instincts demanding that he growl, and spotted a young man at the tunnel’s entrance. The tunnel itself was set in the side of a small cliff, just big enough that the stranger could stand upright in it. And speaking of the stranger …

As Atreus watched, the young man stepped out of the tunnel’s darkness and into the dim moonlight. He was barefooted, wearing only a linen undergarment. His dark curls spilled over his shoulders, with some strands falling into his heavy-lidded eyes. He was … beautiful, really. He blinked slowly, looking like he’d just woken up from a five-hour nap and was wondering where the time went.

Dulius’ ears pressed back against his head. Lord Somnus.

Atreus sucked in a small breath. So this was the sleep god. Calliope must have recognized that Somnus was someone important; she shrunk close to Atreus’ side and hooked her fingers into his sash.

Somnus smiled slightly. His half-closed eyes fixed on Atreus’ face. “You will forgive me for startling you,” he said. “I see it as repaying you in kind for startling me from my slumber.”

“What?” Atreus blurted. “How?”

“Your sharp eyes pierced through my dreams. Regrettable for you, but alas, it is done.” His voice was low and languid, smooth as honey. “I know you broke into Elysium, false hound. You are lucky my king and queen were occupied elsewhere. My brother would have more than just your head for this.”

“And what about you?” Atreus asked warily. “If you knew that I went in, why didn’t you stop me?”

“I thought it would be better to see how things played out. Especially after Dulius told me something most interesting.”

Atreus turned to Dulius. The hound had the grace to look somewhat abashed. I told him of your lineage just before following you into Elysium. Forgive me, Atreus. I cannot refuse him.

Atreus’ stomach dropped. “My lineage?”

You are the son of the Ghost of Sparta.

Oh gods. “How did you find out?” Atreus demanded. “You’re just a hound!”

A hound of hell, Dulius said bluntly. I am always surrounded by the dead. I can sniff blood-ties in any soul and scent out their ancestors.

Just like hunting for deer. “So you knew this whole time,” Atreus said, unable to keep the accusatory note from his voice.

Dulius bowed his head. I did. That is why I brought you to the child.

“Calliope?” Atreus glanced down at her. She met his eyes, uncomprehending, and that visibly worried her.

“What is it?” she whispered. “What is Dulius saying?”

Atreus shook his head and laid a hand on her shoulder, then turned back to Dulius. “You said she’s related to me. How –”

She is the first child of the Ghost of Sparta, Dulius said simply. His only daughter, and your half-sister by blood.

Words died in Atreus’ mouth. There was that same shock he’d felt when Ragnarök’s blade struck the heart of Asgard, sending bouts of white flame in all directions. Atreus had lost all sense of himself from the impact. He barely remembered Kratos carrying him to safety, calling his name over and over.

That was him now, but he was still standing. Still thinking and feeling. Nothing had changed in the night around him, yet everything was different now.

“Why didn’t you tell me right away?” he demanded.

The Ghost is not looked kindly upon, and nor is his daughter – not even by the Spartans. I feared you might turn away if you knew.

“What? I’d never –!”

“A touching reunion, to be sure,” Somnus said serenely. “I would hate to tear it apart. No need to look so alarmed, young man; I have no intention of taking the child from you. Unless, of course, she wishes to return?”

He looked to Calliope as he said this, extending a hand and putting on a kindly smile. With his half-lidded gaze, he looked like he’d taken all of Freya’s healing herbs. Those could make you feel drunker than anything.

Calliope apparently felt the same about Somnus’ off-putting look. She hid behind Atreus and turned her face away from the sleep god. Somnus sighed quietly.

“Ah well, I can understand. My brother was not the most pleasant of visitors, was he, child?”

“Pluto is your brother?” Atreus asked, brows furrowing.

“No, no. My brother is Mors.” At Atreus’ confusion, Somnus added, “The god of death? No? You might know him by his old name, then … Thanatos?”

Atreus frowned. “I don’t know that name.” He didn’t yet know all of the Greek gods. But what he did know was that the Roman gods were, in essence, the Greek ones reborn. And that brought up something else: did they have any memories of Kratos at all? There was no reason to think that they did; none of them had gone to Midgard to stir up trouble, and Atreus knew that for a fact. Kratos would have told him if that happened. 

“You do not know his name?” Somnus asked softly. “But Atreus, it was the Ghost of Sparta who killed him.”

Your father went unsaid, but the words hung heavily in the space between them. Atreus swallowed. Resisted the urge to take a step back. “You said your brother is Mors. Last I heard, he’s alive.”

“What difference does a change of name make?” Somnus abruptly snapped. His words struck Atreus like a blade, sharper than steel. “He hardly remembers that time of his life. All those who were killed by your father lost their memories of that time after they were reborn.”

Well, that answered Atreus’ question. But this wasn’t the time to be relieved.

“Yet, I did not lose all of mine,” Somnus continued. “Your father never crossed my path, and so I made my transition to the Roman world more smoothly than my brother did.

“And I have dreams, Atreus. They have made my hazy memories stronger. Can you imagine what it must be like to dream of your brother’s death over and over again? Killed by that beast you call father?”

“What do you want from me?” Atreus asked, somehow managing to keep the tremble from his voice.

It all happened in the blink of an eye, a flicker of shadow. Somnus was suddenly an inch away, milky eyes staring down at him. A slender hand wrapped around Atreus’ neck, fingers pressing at his jugular, just enough to be a warning. Atreus felt the god’s breath ghost over his skin.

“I want payment,” Somnus said, feather-soft. “Your death to repay my brother’s.”

Atreus desperately wanted to reach for his bow, but he suspected that would be the wrong move. He reached for Calliope instead, holding her close behind him. “You think my father will just let that slide?” he forced out.

Somnus tilted his head. “Of course not. I am not such a fool as that. I have seen enough in my dreams to know that your father takes his vengeance seriously. But tell me, if I were to kill you now, do you think he would hear of it?"

“Yes,” Atreus croaked. “He has his ways of finding out.”

“How soon?”

“Does it matter? He’ll find out and come after you. And your brother, and the king and queen of Hel.” He’d meant to say the Underworld, but Somnus’ fingers dug into his neck a little, and he’d settled for the shorter name. It was close enough to hell anyway. “You really want my father killing Mors again?”

“He is only one man against the whole of the Underworld. And by the time he reaches us, there will be no evidence left.”

“He’ll have friends,” Atreus managed. “My friends, too. Powerful ones. They’ve dealt with the dead before.”

Somnus glared at him, seeming to hesitate. The pressure against Atreus’ neck lessened.

“Perhaps I can afford to wait,” the sleep god said. “Besides, my Lord Pluto and his henchmen have more than enough on their hands thanks to Proserpina’s little tantrum. The last thing they need is a barbarian horde knocking at their door.”

“Tantrum?” Atreus sputtered, incredulous. “She destroyed Elysium!”

“It is not completely gone,” Somnus said airily. “But you are right; she has broken enough of its foundation that it cannot house any souls at present. So I will commend you for saving some of its inhabitants. And I will let you go just this once.”

Atreus stared at the sleep god. He couldn’t have heard that right, could he?

Somnus released Atreus and took a few slow steps back. Atreus rubbed his neck, still feeling an echo of the god’s fingers on his skin.

“But,” Somnus continued, voice low with warning, “if I ever see you again, I will not be so lenient. Know that I despise your father. Any who are related to him in some form will bear my hatred too.

“You may be killed on the road,” he added, quite softly. “But if not … If you are brought back to the Underworld, Atreus, then I will gladly petition Pluto for the honour of killing you myself.”

The sleep god then turned away and disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel.

Atreus exhaled a shaky breath. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

You should hurry, Dulius said urgently. I would advise you to return to Athens; we do not have much influence in that old city. You would be somewhat shielded, just enough that any pursuers will be thrown off the trail.

“Thanks,” Atreus said shortly. “Any other important stuff I should know about?”

Only that I am truly sorry, Atreus. I never meant to betray you, but I am a servant to the gods. Dulius turned his nose to the tunnel. I must hurry as well. Farewell, Atreus. Farewell, dear Calliope. I hope you will find safety and peace with your newfound kin.

Before Atreus could say anything, the hound disappeared into the tunnel. A slab of rock rolled across the entrance, sealing it perfectly so that it blended in with the cliffside. All that was left was silence and the thoughts flying through Atreus’ mind.

A small voice broke the fragile quiet. “Do you know the Ghost of Sparta?”

Atreus had heard stories. Not from his father, oh no. Kratos rarely spoke about his past, and when he did, it was the everyday stuff like his first time sailing, or his favourite tiganites recipe, or a time spent with his fellow Spartan soldiers that he looked on favourably. Mimir hadn’t said much either, other than the commonly known legends of Kratos’ homeland.

Much of what Atreus knew now had come from his recent travels in Greece. Folktales told around a hearth, or performed with a lyre. A painting of Kratos on a vase, wielding his Blades and shouting at the sky.

Atreus knew before that Kratos’ past was … difficult. An understatement, sure, but Atreus understood that he didn’t need to know all the gory details. It was his father’s business. If Kratos wanted to tell him someday, then he would.

He hadn’t actively gone out to learn more in Greece. He just … heard things. Gathered them up like stray puzzle pieces. The land had been destroyed at one point. People spoke of the Ghost of Sparta with more fear than awe. Most people were begrudging about the new Roman gods. These Romans couldn’t truly replace the old gods, but the Greek Pantheon was gone now, and whose fault was that?

The Greeks rebuilt this land with their own sweat and blood. Greece was a far better place without the Ghost of Sparta within it.

The worst part was that Atreus couldn’t fully bring himself to be mad at them. He could say, “He’s changed! He’s different now!” And what good would that do? No, it was better to let them heal on their own. Let the land continue on without interference.

Except he’d just interfered, hadn’t he? Looking down at Calliope, Atreus didn’t know what to say. Here was someone from out of the past, trapped in the Underworld for who knew how long. Time had gone on without her.

What had Atreus gotten them both into?

“Atreus?” Calliope prompted. Her voice was soft and small despite the eagerness burning in her eyes. Curious, but hesitant to push too far.

Best to just get it out now. Be honest with her – like he was with Kratos.

“Er, yes,” Atreus replied. “I know of him.”

Calliope’s eyes roved over his face, as though looking for a resemblance to his father. “Somnus said you have ties to him. He said –” She stopped upon seeing Atreus’ sash. The one that was his father’s.

“Calliope, listen,” Atreus said gently, kneeling down so that he wasn’t towering over her. Gods, how was she so small and slight? “I’m –”

“Do you know Kratos, my father?” Calliope blurted. “I – you said you weren’t his soldier from Sparta!”

“I’m not. I’m Kratos’ son. Your brother.”

Calliope stared at him. Her lips parted open, but no sound came out.

“This’ll be hard for you to hear,” Atreus went on, “but it’s been a long time since you, er, went to Elysium.”

“How long?” Calliope asked.

“Probably … a couple centuries? Or more?” Atreus said weakly. “Some things have changed … Well, maybe a lot, but don’t worry! It’s nothing to be afraid of –”

“You’re not my brother,” Calliope said, effectively shutting him up. Part of him was glad; he was rambling anyway. “You don’t look Greek. Father doesn’t have blue eyes.”

“My mother had blue eyes,” Atreus offered awkwardly. Oh gods, please let this not turn out badly.

“He doesn’t have bright hair,” Calliope pressed. Her hands shook slightly, and a note of uncertainty quivered in her words.

“Well, he’s bald,” Atreus pointed out. “But you’re right. His beard is dark. My mother had bright hair, though. Father – Kratos left Greece a long time ago. He went to the northern lands and met her there.”

“No, he didn’t,” Calliope insisted.

“Listen –”

“He was here. In Greece.” Atreus was pretty sure Calliope wasn’t talking to him anymore. She probably wasn’t even looking at him, not really. “He – Thanatos told me that Father was still here.”

Thanatos? “When did he tell you that?” Atreus asked carefully.

“I – I don’t know. Some time ago. There are no days or nights in Elysium.” Calliope looked up sharply at Atreus. “But this is his home! He wouldn’t leave!”

“Calliope –”

“No! You’re not my brother!” She suddenly hurled her small fist at him, catching Atreus off-guard. He quickly leaned over so that her fist bouched off his shoulder harmlessly. That didn’t deter Calliope; she simply tried to punch him again. And again. And again. All the while crying, “Father wouldn’t leave! He said he wouldn’t leave me! You’re not my brother!”

Atreus caught her wrists in a firm grip. She struggled for a moment, sobs wracking her shoulders. Then she slumped, exhausted, and Atreus caught her gently against his chest.

“He promised not to go,” she hiccupped against his tunic. “And then he left and killed everyone. And me, and Mother.”

Atreus patted her awkwardly on the back. He didn’t know what to do, much less say. His stomach had dropped at her words, and – first things first. Don’t get distracted.

What would his mother do?

“It’s okay,” Atreus murmured, repeating Faye’s words from when he was very young. “Shh. It’ll be alright.”

He waited for her to calm down, patting her gently on the back all the while. Eventually, her sobs quieted to sniffles, and he felt her hands grip his sash. “Are you going to leave, too?” she asked thickly.

“Of course not,” Atreus said immediately. He got the feeling she didn’t fully believe him.

“What’s going to happen now?” she asked.

“Well, we can’t stay here.” Atreus took Calliope by the shoulders and gently nudged her away so he could look at her. “I see a path there, though – you see it? We’ll walk along there and head over to Athens.”

Calliope perked up at that. “Athens …”

“Do you know it?” Of course she did; it was one of the major cities! But getting her to talk about something positive seemed like a good idea for now.

“I’ve never been there,” she said. “But Father – I heard about it. It’s very beautiful.”

“It really is. And you’ll get to see it for real! What do you say?”

Calliope wiped her nose with the back of her hand, and nodded. “Yes,” she said. “To Athens.”

Atreus smiled and got to his feet. As he turned towards the path, Calliope brushed her fingers against his wrist. “Atreus? I … I’m sorry.”

Everything about her was so earnest that Atreus couldn’t be mad even if he wanted to. “It’s alright. It’s not your fault.” And that was the truth.

As for whose fault it was, well … They’d likely get to that. Eventually.

After ten minutes of silently walking down the beaten path, it became apparent that they were nowhere near Athens at all. The tunnel from the Underworld had led out into a flat, grassy area dotted with hills. So Atreus made a plan and broke it up into small steps: find a settlement first, gather supplies, and get directions to Athens.

That seemed easy enough. They’d already started walking; now they just needed to keep an eye out for civilization.

Calliope remained quiet. She stayed at Atreus’ side, looking around as though she still couldn’t quite believe she was here. Atreus was kind of grateful for the silence, honestly. What do you say to the girl who was your dad’s first child, but somehow ended up in Elysium at such a young age?

He killed everyone. And me, and Mother.

Atreus hated to dwell on it. At the same time, he wanted to press for the full story. But he couldn’t. This wasn’t the right time for ripping off more scabs. What they needed right now was shelter.

Calliope stumbled with a small cry. “Ow!”

“What’s wrong?” Atreus asked, catching her arm.

She pressed her left foot against her other ankle, wincing. Atreus stared. Right – she was barefoot. How could he have forgotten?

“I’ll be alright,” Calliope said quickly. But she wasn’t alright. Atreus could see the weariness seeping through her face and under her eyes.

“Let’s take a break,” he decided. “There’s a tree over there. We can rest for a bit.”

“No!” Calliope said suddenly. Then she flinched. “I – I mean – can we keep going?” she asked, much quieter.

“Er, alright. If you want,” Atreus replied. “Here, let me bind your feet first.”

“No, it’s okay,” Calliope insisted. “I – I don’t need bindings.”

Atreus thought of the shackle. He couldn’t see it around her ankle anymore. Hopefully, that meant it was gone for good.

“Alright, then,” he said. “Let’s keep going.”

They got through another hour of walking before something went wrong.

Atreus heard the whistling of wind through feathers just seconds before a large bird landed on him, pinning his arms and legs to the ground. Calliope screamed nearby, but Atreus couldn’t see her. Large feathers stretched out from the creature on top of him, blocking his view.

“Get off!” he shouted, struggling.

Another heavy weight landed on his legs, holding him down. Sharp talons dug deep into his skin, and he gritted his teeth against the burning pain. Two large birds, each with a woman’s head and torso, were holding him down. The nearest one leered down at him, baring its teeth in a twisted grin. Her eyes were fully black with dots of yellow in the centre, reminding him of Hraesvelgr – except Hraesvelgr carried majesty and apathy.

All Atreus could sense from these creatures was malicious hunger.

Calliope screamed again. To Atreus’ dismay, two more bird-women were lifting her up into the sky by the arms. “Atreus! Help me!”

“Let her go!” Atreus shouted, thrashing against his captors’ talons. He could feel the blood rolling down his arms.

“Not so, not so!” one of them cackled. “The little soul is lost and must be returned! But fear not – you shall make a fine feast for us.”

“Yes, yes!” the other shrieked, flapping her great wings. “Come sister, let us feast!”

She lifted off his arm, beating her wings so fiercely that Atreus could barely lift his arm against the gale. She then landed on his torso, opening her mouth wide to reveal her sharp teeth, and in that moment Atreus drew out his knife and drove it through her leg.

Both creatures screamed, one in pain and the other in shock. The rest of their weight lifted from Atreus as they rose into the air, and he leaped up, bow and arrow already in hand, and took aim.

If he put his mind to it, he could imagine Kratos here, fighting alongside him.

“Skjálfa!”

Chapter Text

Calliope had always been afraid of heights. She still was, really. The streaming wind made her eyes water, blurring everything, so it was easy enough to not look down.

“Let me go!” she cried. “Please let me go!”

The red-plumed harpy on her right dug her talons deeper into Calliope’s arm. Calliope cried out in pain, feeling the hot blood roll down into her peplos. “Quiet, soul! You have no voice here!”

“Disobey, or we’ll drop you!” the dark-plumed harpy on her left snapped.

A sickening dread filled the space that her stomach had left behind. No, don’t drop me! Calliope wanted to beg, but she pressed her lips and eyes shut.

“Very good,” the red harpy cackled. “Fear not! You will return home underground, safe with your little soul-friends.”

A whimper escaped Calliope’s throat. The dark harpy shrieked with glee. “Your ugly man-friend will be with you soon, too! In pieces! You may feast with us before the long journey if you like. Haha!”

Calliope tried not to imagine Atreus in pieces, but she couldn’t help it. Tears streamed down her face. She didn’t know him, nor did she truly believe all that he’d said earlier. But – he broke Thanatos’ chain from her ankle. He rescued her from Elysium. He hadn’t left her on the road; they were going to Athens together.

Calliope didn’t want him to be eaten. But the other two harpies had taken him. And after they killed him, they’d take her back to the Underworld and chain her up, and she’d be all alone again –

The red harpy suddenly released her, causing her sister to squawk and drop Calliope as well. Calliope landed hard on rocky ground, rolling over and over until she finally came to a halt, trembling and aching painfully everywhere. Cuts and scrapes covered her arms and legs, oozing blood.

She pushed herself up just as the harpies landed, squabbling with each other. “The soul is too heavy! I am tired. Feast first!”

“Bah! You are always tired,” the dark harpy snapped. Then she turned to Calliope and grinned widely, showing off her pointy teeth. “Now, now, you just sit there! This is our mountain home. Very nice, is it not?”

Calliope brought her knees to her chest, shaking. She was on a mountain? That explained why the air was chillier than usual.

“Where are they?” the red harpy muttered, shuffling to the edge of the rocky platform and peering out into the night. “I am hungry!”

“That ugly man was big,” the dark harpy said. “Give them time! Unless you wish to go down and help carry the carcass.”

The red harpy waited for a moment longer, then stamped her talons and snarled. “Hungry! I must eat!” She turned to face her sister, and her eyes fell on Calliope. “What about the little soul? She is flesh and blood!”

Calliope shrunk back, breathing heavily. No!

“We must take her to the underground,” the dark harpy snapped. “All the lost souls must be found and returned!”

“Carrying her will take too long!” the red harpy insisted. “Let us eat her. The quicker to send her underground!”

Without waiting for her sister’s reply, the red harpy scurried towards Calliope. Fear erupted in Calliope’s gut, and she scrambled back as fast as she could. Gravel dug into the cuts in her palms, stinging painfully.

“Don’t run, little soul!” the red harpy opened her mouth wide. Saliva dripped down from her teeth and dark red tongue. “Give me just a little taste –”

An eagle’s scream cut through the sky. Both harpies paused and looked up.

From out of the darkness, a bald eagle flew into the red harpy like an arrow, landing right on her face with open talons. Amidst the red harpy’s shriek of agony, the eagle disappeared in a burst of fiery sparks, and in its place stood a tall man with a bow.

Joy and relief flooded Calliope like warmth. “Atreus!”

Atreus’ blue eyes gleamed. He notched an arrow to his bow. “Stay back, Calliope! I’ll deal with them.”

“Where are our sisters?” the dark harpy hissed.

Atreus pointed his arrow at her. “They fell behind,” he said simply.

From the dark splatters on his tunic, Calliope was certain that the others wouldn’t be coming. It seemed the harpies realized that too; they flew at Atreus with shrieks of fury, moving so fast that Calliope nearly missed what happened next.

In truth, what she remembered most from the fight was the fire in Atreus’ face. A glimpse of fierce rage that she had seen before, long ago, when Father thought she wasn’t looking. Atreus’ arrows glowed blue, then red, then green as he fired. He shouted out unfamiliar words each time, and no matter how many times the harpies struck him, Atreus always managed to slip away, unharmed. His bow gleamed with a golden light as he swung it, sword-like, and beat the harpies back.

With his red sash and surprising strength, he reminded Calliope so much of Father that she was left breathless.

Very soon, Atreus was the only one left standing. The harpies lay on the ground, unmoving, with their wings ripped away. Breathing heavily, Atreus slowly turned and faced Calliope. He was covered in dark blood, but she found that didn’t mind. What fear she still carried was pushed back, tucked away in her chest, and she ran to him without a second thought.

Atreus caught her with strong arms. Calliope pressed her face to his tunic, not even bothering to avoid the bloodstains. He was warm, and something shivered in the air around him, making the hairs stand up on Calliope’s arms and neck. Was that his magic?

“Are you alright?” Atreus asked. His hand rested lightly on her head for a moment. “Hey, your headband is gone! Did they take it?”

Calliope reached up to pat her head. Her tainia! She didn’t remember losing it; the harpies had grabbed her so harshly and lifted her up so fast that it was all a painful mess.

But – but at least she wasn’t missing anything really important, right? A tainia could be easily replaced one day. Arms and limbs, and people, couldn’t be.

Calliope looked up at Atreus. He was so tall that she had to tilt her head back. The worry in his face loosened something inside her chest, and she didn’t realize she was crying until Atreus lightly dabbed the tail-end of his sash against her cheek.

The feeling only deepened when Atreus took a few minutes to clean up her cuts and scrapes. “Lækna,” he intoned softly, passing a hand over her limbs. The air grew warm under his palm, and to Calliope’s surprise, her wounds sealed up, leaving only bruises and faint scars.

Atreus sighed. “Ég vildi að Freya væri hér,” he muttered to himself. Calliope didn’t understand his strange words, but they sounded beautiful.

Up close, she saw the faint splash of freckles across his cheeks, and the distinct scar over his left eye, reaching down to his chin. A gleam of green caught her attention: an oddly-shaped arrowhead hanging on a cord around his neck, flanked on either side with colourful beads.

“That should do the trick for now,” Atreus said in Greek. “Let’s get out of here. We’re quite high up, so we’ll have to do some climbing.”

He turned and guided her to the edge of the cliff. It was so dark that Calliope couldn’t see anything below. She shivered and held tight to Atreus’ waist, taking shelter under his arm just as she’d done with – with Father.

“I don’t know how to climb,” she said in a small voice.

“That’s alright. I didn’t know how either, when I was around your age. My – Kratos had to carry me. I’ll carry you.”

With Atreus’ help, Calliope soon found herself perched on his back, holding tightly to him with her arms and legs. She shut her eyes as he lowered himself over the edge and climbed down the cliff face.

After some time, once the butterflies in her stomach had settled, Calliope opened her eyes. Atreus’ little braid tickled her cheek each time he moved from hand- to foot-hold. Up close, his hair and skin smelled like trees and animal fur and sweat. It was different from what she was used to. Everyone back home always kept themselves clean when they could. Mother had impressed upon Calliope the importance of keeping clean. And Father, too – whenever he came home from war, there was never a speck of dirt or blood on him. He always smelled of bay laurel leaves from the hot-air baths.

Then again, Calliope wouldn’t have minded if he came home all smelly. She was just glad to know that he was safe and sound.

She swallowed back the lump in her throat. Something else mercifully caught her eye: black markings etched onto Atreus’ neck. Paint, maybe? Hopefully not burn marks! And what did the symbols mean?

“You doing alright?” Atreus asked quietly.

Calliope nodded, though he couldn’t see her.

“You can talk if you want.”

How did he know she wanted to say something? “I don’t want to distract you,” she admitted.

“You won’t,” he promised. “Climbing is like second nature to me. Hold on – I’m going to make a big jump here –”

Calliope was suddenly weightless as Atreus leaped down. He caught a ledge, stopping their fall, and Calliope exhaled a trembling breath.

“There we are,” Atreus said. “Though we still have a ways to go. If you need to rest, just let me know, alright?”

“Alright.” Calliope moistened her dry lips. “You … you killed all the harpies.”

Her voice came out quieter than a breath, but since her lips were at his ear, he heard her. “I did. I had to.”

“I know,” Calliope said quickly. She didn’t want him to think she was ungrateful. “But what if the gods find out? The harpies were after me. What if more come? I – I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I always get in trouble some way or another.” Calliope could hear the teasing smile in his words, and managed a small one herself. “Don’t worry about me, Calliope. I’ll be fine. And you will be, too.”

“You won’t leave me alone?”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

He sounded so genuine that the knot in Calliope’s stomach relaxed somewhat. “Thank you,” she whispered.

By the time they reached the foothills, Dawn’s rosy fingers were already lighting the sky. Calliope stumbled when Atreus set her down on the ground. All her aches and exhaustion were finally making themselves known.

Calliope didn’t expect Atreus to turn into a bear and carry her on his back. But he did just that, and she found it hard to protest. He moved swiftly on his four large paws, clambering down the foothills into the safety of the trees. He had a lumbering gait that was not too jarring. Combined with that and the morning’s warmth, it grew harder and harder to fight off the call of sleep.

Her eyes fluttered closed. She hastily forced them open, but it was like pushing open a heavy door. She didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want to see all the terrible things in her dreams, but –

Darkness overtook her, snuffing out her last thought like a candle flame.

The temple was dimly lit with candles. Worshippers huddled close to the shadows, murmuring prayers to Athena even as screams echoed outside. Calliope clutched at Mother’s skirt, wanting nothing more than to disappear under her shielding arms.

“Mother?” she whimpered. “What’s happening outside? The people, the fires!” One moment they’d been standing in the garden at home, and in the next, they were here. Athena’s statue stood behind them, cold and unmoving.

“Shh. Stay close, Calliope,” Mother said, always so steady and strong.

“Mother … I’m scared. Are they coming to get us?”

“Your father will protect us.”

Calliope believed it. She always had, ever since she was young enough to understand what believing meant. Even as she heard Father’s voice outside, giving orders to burn everything to the ground, Calliope still believed. He would protect them. He’d promised.

Sweat dripped down her temple as the fires grew hotter. The screams grew sharper in her ears, with Mother’s cry cutting the most deeply – and then she was gone from Calliope’s embrace.

“No –!” Calliope looked up and saw a giant figure amidst the flames, tall and hulking, and full of fury. Fear seized her, turning her to stone.

That wasn’t Father. It couldn’t be. He would never –

“No, Father, no!”

A blade on a chain soared from his hand, and she felt its sharp edge against her throat, cutting off her wail.

A flash of white-hot pain, and then … darkness.

Calliope startled awake with a gasp. Sunlight danced over her face, and she squinted against its blinding light. Fur under her hands and legs – the bear. Atreus!

She gripped fistfuls of his pelt, prompting a huff from him. “Sorry,” she said hurriedly, but despite her efforts, she couldn’t quite get her hands to relax.

What had woken her up? Not that she was upset about waking, but – Atreus was no longer moving. Why?

She quickly found her answer. They were at the forest’s edge; sprawling over hills a short distance away was a lively town. People strolled here and there, going about their duties. Living people. Nervous excitement stirred in Calliope’s chest at the sight of them. 

Atreus turned his head to look at her. He pointed his nose to the ground and huffed again. It took Calliope a moment to realize what he was trying to say. “Oh! Sorry …”

She slid to the ground. Atreus shifted back to his human form and stood up, dusting off his trousers. Then he yawned widely against the back of his hand. “Well, that walk wasn’t so bad. And look! Hopefully, we can find an inn and some food there.”

Calliope’s stomach chose that moment to rumble. Food. Yes, that sounded good.

Together, they left the cover of the trees and made their way into the town. Calliope stayed close to Atreus’ side as they passed by farm animals and gardens, stables and houses. It was like being back in Sparta again, with all the smells and sounds of everyday life. As they passed a house with its door open, Calliope breathed in the scent of baking bread.

As they made their way down a hill, Calliope spotted a particular house. “Atreus, there’s the inn! Come, let’s go!”

“Alright, I’m coming,” Atreus said jokingly. “In a hurry to get some rest and head out, huh?”

She gently tugged on his hand. “You need to rest more than I do.”

That was evident enough. Atreus was tired, though he hid it well behind cheery smiles and twinkling eyes. Something about the weariness in his face touched Calliope’s heart, and she prayed that there would be room for them.

As it was, they were both heavily disappointed. The inn was completely full. They weren’t the only travellers heading for Athens, apparently. So they turned to private lodgings, asking at a few houses if there were any rooms to spare. Only one resident had a room so far, but his daily fee was more than Atreus could afford, especially when Atreus pointed out that he needed some drachma left to buy food and supplies.

“It’s not so bad,” Calliope offered as they trudged through the town. “We can look for a lesche at the market.”

Atreus rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Hmm? What’s that?”

“A lesche.” How to explain it? “It’s a place where we can find a roof over our heads. Every clan in Sparta had one. Our elders spent a lot of time there, just talking. The poor could also seek shelter there for the night. My –” Calliope swallowed, but pressed on. “My mother usually brought them what food we could spare.”

“Oh.” Atreus’s voice grew very soft. “That was very kind of her.”

Calliope bit her lip to keep it from wobbling. “So I’m sure we’ll find a lesche here, somewhere. Then you can have a comfortable sleep. We won’t have to lie on the ground.”

Atreus patted her shoulder clumsily. “The ground’s not a comfy bed, that’s for sure.”

They came near another house with a small garden beside it. A middle-aged woman sat by the door, busily weaving a basket with long fibres. She glanced up as Atreus and Calliope approached her.

Atreus cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to bother you, but we’ve been travelling for some time and the inn is full –”

“So you’re looking for private lodging, then?” the woman said promptly. “How many days?”

“Just for today, I think.”

The woman looked at Calliope, then glanced back at Atreus. She sized him up. “Well, you’re in luck. I have one room left; my other spare was taken a half-hour ago.”

“And the fee?” Atreus asked.

“For the little one’s sake, I’ll take a few coins off,” the woman offered. “I’ll even throw in a bath for you both. By the gods, she looks as though she’s been pelted with stones! What roads have you two been travelling?”

“It’s been a rough journey,” Atreus said sheepishly.

“He is hurt too,” Calliope said quickly, patting Atreus’ arm.

The woman arched a brow. “Hmm. Well then, follow me.”

“Thank you,” Atreus said earnestly. “I’m Atreus, by the way. And this is Calliope.”

“Thank you,” Calliope echoed as they followed the woman inside.

“Call me Eirene,” their host said briskly. “Your room is here. Do you have any belongings? No? Did bandits steal them? Or those Roman brutes, perhaps?”

“Um, no,” Atreus replied. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, you can tell me later. Right now, we need to prepare that bath.”

A short while later, Calliope found herself inside a hot water tub. Eirene had decided to clean Calliope first – but Calliope agreed to it only if Atreus waited for her nearby. The thought of him stepping out the door of the house made her stomach flutter unpleasantly.

What if he was gone by the time her bath was done? What if he ran off, never to return?

Eirene’s helper, a young, strong girl named Agathe, entered the bathing room to collect Calliope’s dirty peplos. “The boy is fast asleep,” she reported, and Calliope exhaled quietly with relief.

Meanwhile, Eirene began to scrub Calliope down. “Look at you,” she tsked, holding Calliope’s arm in a firm grip to inspect the bruises. “What is that boy thinking? Has he been dragging you around all this way?”

“No,” Calliope replied meekly, feeling the urge to defend Atreus. Talking to a stranger after so long of being alone was very strange. But Eirene was helping them. She was kind. “Atreus protects me.”

“Well, he could do a better job of it,” Eirene huffed.

The steaming water was both familiar and alien to Calliope all at once. Memories of the hot-air baths in Sparta came rushing back to her, sending up a little whirlwind of feelings that she didn’t quite know what to do. So she simply sat and melted into the bath. Eirene had tossed some salts and bay laurel leaves into the bath, and it was already working wonders to relax Calliope’s muscles and soothe her aches away.

After Eirene finished washing Calliope’s curly hair, she lifted her out of the tepid water and massaged her with fragrant oils. By that time, Agathe had found a spare chiton for Calliope to wear until her own was fully dry from cleaning.

Calliope drew in a deep breath, savouring the feeling of being fully clean. Oh, what a joy to be alive again! 

She turned to Eirene and bowed. “Thank you so much!” she said earnestly.

“Say nothing of it,” Eirene said, though she smiled slightly. “Now let’s see if your companion will wake up for his turn.”

Atreus was asleep in their room, sprawled out on the thin pallet like a long-limbed doll. The room itself was dark, with only a few candles lit. Calliope knelt at his side and gently shook his shoulder. “Atreus? It’s time for your bath.”

Atreus grunted, which reminded Calliope of his bear form. He didn’t wake up. 

Eirene watched from the doorway. “Let him sleep then,” she said. “He can wash up later.”

Calliope nodded. Eirene gave her an odd look. “Aren’t you going to rest, girl?”

“I slept on the way here,” Calliope said.

“So you’re just going to sit there, staring at him? Can’t have that. Here – go to the tavern with Agathe and get something to eat. You can bring it back here and share it with the boy if you want.”

“No, I – I’ll be alright,” Calliope said quickly. “I’ll wait for Atreus to wake up.”

“Looks like he’ll be asleep for a while. Are you sure?”

Calliope nodded firmly. “I want to stay here.”

Once Eirene was gone, Calliope turned back to Atreus. She watched him for a time as he slept. It was rude of her, but she couldn’t help it. In this room, everything was quiet and peaceful for the first time since they’d escaped the Underworld. She now had a chance to properly dwell on the young man who had saved her. This stranger who called her his sister!

A brother … Calliope didn’t know what to think about that. Atreus looked nothing like her or Father, but – he carried a bit of rage in battle, like Father. He wore a sash that was very similar to Father’s, if Calliope remembered right. He couldn’t be her father’s son, and yet …

She didn’t hate Atreus, that much was certain. He had been kind to her from the start. He came for her when the harpies took her away. She didn’t hate him, but … Oh, it was all just so confusing!

Part of her didn’t want Atreus to be her brother. Because if he was telling the truth, if Father really left Greece, then that meant he’d moved on and found a new family. He must be happier now, far from his homeland where so many bad things had happened.

A life far away from Calliope. One that she might not be able to reach even if she tried.

Tears burned in her eyes. Father must have forgotten about her. But – but how could he? He promised to never –!

He broke that promise. He left you alone. He has a new family now, and a new son.

Maybe Father did hate her, deep down. Because she was so small and soft at heart, as their clan’s elders had said. Father wanted a strong warrior with Mother, but what he got was a little lamb.

He killed her in Athena’s temple. Dulius had said it was an accident, but … What if it hadn’t been? What if he truly despised her for being such a burden?

Grief twisted in Calliope’s chest, making it hard to breathe properly. She blinked, and her tears spilled over, falling onto her lap.

If only Mother was here! Calliope would at least have someone familiar, someone she fully trusted.

But even Mother had disappeared as well. Maybe she was happy to be gone from Calliope too after so many years of raising her while Father was away at war. Calliope never knew if Mother went to Elysium, or if she was sent elsewhere. Thanatos hadn’t said anything about that.

Maybe he took her away and tormented her for being Father’s wife – or Calliope’s mother. But Calliope would never know now.

She must have dozed off at some point. She woke suddenly and groped around for Atreus’ arm, only to realize her mistake too late.

Atreus snorted softly and cracked open an eye. “Mmph. Whatsgoinon?” he murmured sleepily.

Calliope hastily let him go and wiped her tears away. “Nothing,” she said thickly, trying to sound normal. “I had my bath. You’re supposed to have yours soon.”

Atreus sat up and dragged a hand over his face. “I must’ve been more tired than I thought. Have you – were you waiting here this whole time?”

She didn’t need to answer. Realization dawned on him. “Aww man, I’m sorry. You didn’t have to, y’know. You could’ve walked around a bit. I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“I know that,” Calliope said quietly.

Atreus rubbed the back of his neck. “Alright. Um. I’m going to go see about that bath now, okay? And then we’ll look for something to eat.”

“Eirene said that there’s a tavern nearby.”

In the candlelight, his eyes winked like stars … Or a wolf’s gaze in the night. “That’s great! I’m sure we’ll find something good.”

Yes, Calliope didn’t know how to feel about him just yet. But she did know this: she had no one else but him now. He was good to her, and she was grateful for it. For him.

Chapter Text

Atreus emerged from his bath smelling of lavender and fragrant oils. Gods, it felt amazing to be clean. And he’d gotten a good, deep sleep on top of it. He hadn’t planned on sleeping through half of the afternoon, but here he was. Now all that was left was finding some food.

To his surprise, Eirene invited them to share an early dinner with her. Thus, he and Calliope went to the tavern, bought a meal to share, and brought it back to Eirene’s house. She’d set out a space next to her garden, so they all sat down together to eat. Even Agathe joined them with a meal in hand.

The fare from the tavern wasn’t much to boast of. It consisted of a flagon of wine and a plate of sliced bread, cheese, and meat. Nevertheless, Atreus ate up what he could and savoured every bite. He was outdone only by Calliope, who proved to have a bigger appetite than himself.

Eirene shook her head as she watched them. “Wandering on the road without food. I swear, you two must be the most hapless travellers I’ve ever met.”

Atreus laughed awkwardly. “We’re usually more prepared than this.” He and Kratos sometimes went for long periods without eating, usually whenever they were on important missions. But when it really came down to it, his father always made sure that Atreus was well-fed and rested. As for Kratos, the man might as well be made of iron.

Atreus placed the last few slices of bread on Calliope’s plate. “By the way, which town is this? I forgot to ask earlier.”

“This is Aphnida,” Eirene replied. “I assume you’re heading to Athens? I thought so. You will find it a half-day’s journey southward, on foot.”

“That’s good to hear. We can make an early start in the morning.”

Eirene tilted her head as she regarded Atreus. He could feel that question hovering around her like a fly. That half-wary, half-curious look she wore was the same one everyone else had whenever Atreus passed by.

“You aren’t from around here, are you?” Eirene said.

Yep, there it was. “I’m not,” he said truthfully. “I’ve been travelling around for a while. Wanted to see more of the world.”

“So does every other young one. But you’re not from Rome?”

“Nope. I haven’t been there yet, either.”

The distaste she held for the empire was clear as day. “Count your blessings that you haven’t, then. And be wary when you take the road to Athens. Plenty of Roman soldiers patrol the city, or so I hear.”

Atreus nodded. “We will.”

Calliope nudged his arm and held out a couple slices of cheese. “You don’t want those?” Atreus asked.

She shook her head. “I think you like them better,” she said shyly.

He did like the strong taste, that was true. “Thanks,” he smiled.

Calliope’s eyes brightened, and she smiled back. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? Atreus was glad to see her doing better. She was a quiet one, but there was a hidden strength to her, the type that you could feel in moments of calm. Someday, she’d be able to tap into it. Atreus was certain of that. She was her father’s daughter, after all.

After the meal, they cleaned up and made their way to the town’s market in search of supplies. First off, sandals for Calliope. Atreus wasn’t about to have her go barefoot the whole way. “Are they comfy?” he asked as Calliope tested them out.

“Very much so!” she exclaimed. “Oh, thank you, Atreus!”

“We even match now, see?” He hadn’t realized it before, but their sandals were both painted a caramel colour, complete with pale, interwoven thongs. What were the chances? Calliope appeared surprised by the comparison, but pleasantly so.

Next up, food for the trip, and some water flasks too. As they passed by the stables, Atreus considered the horses settled there. There wasn’t any use in purchasing one; Atreus could shift into one if necessary. Or a bear, or wolf. Besides, he couldn’t afford to blow his drachma all at once.

When all his preparations were done, they returned to Eirene’s house for the night. Atreus was still awake from his earlier sleep, but the extra rest wouldn’t hurt. Especially for Calliope; he caught her yawning as they entered the house. No doubt she could use a full night’s sleep for the journey tomorrow.

In their room, Calliope knelt down on the pallet that Eirene had provided. A thought suddenly occurred to Atreus. Damn it, why hadn’t he thought of this earlier? “Er, Calliope … Is it okay with you if we sleep in the same room? I can go elsewhere if you want.”

Calliope gave a start as though he’d given her a shock. “No, no, you can sleep here! It’s okay.”

“Oh. Alright. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I understand.” Calliope hesitated, then pressed on. “Atreus, could we keep a few candles lit?”

“Sure.” Atreus lit them; their light cast dancing shadows across the walls. “Nothing like a little light, huh?”

“Yes.”

Her voice was soft in the darkness, but the one-word answer reminded Atreus so much of Kratos that he couldn’t help but smile to himself. He lay back on his own pallet, keeping a few feet between them, and Calliope did the same.

“Goodnight, Calliope.”

“Goodnight, Atreus.”

***

Calliope knelt in the golden fields of Elysium. She was doing … something. She couldn’t quite remember what it was; if she just thought about it hard enough, she could almost bring that memory to mind.

Her efforts were dashed when she heard Father calling her name. “Calliope!”

“Father?” Joy leaped in her heart. She saw him there, saw him run towards her, and she was suddenly weightless and free as he lifted her into the air. She threw her arms around him and hugged him as tightly as she could.

“My child,” he whispered against her hair.

She knew he wanted to hold her even tighter, but he always restrained himself because of his strength. She didn’t mind at all, really.

Father was here, and Elysium was truly a paradise now.

She pulled back eventually, though all she wanted to do was stay like that forever. “Why did you go?”

“I am here now, child,” Father said, cupping her cheek with a calloused hand. “And I will not leave you again.”

He smiled one of his rare smiles. And Calliope believed him.

But then Persephone arrived, and everything went wrong. Why? Calliope tried to remember, but her dreams told her nothing. Father had said things, and Persephone said things, and Father had gotten angry, and Persephone cast him aside like a fly …

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember why things had gone wrong. All she knew was that Father had suddenly turned cold. He pushed her away. He destroyed the souls around them and turned away from her, ignoring her cries.

Calliope couldn’t even run after him. She regretted it many times after. Things might have been different if she tried to hold him back! But he was always so strong, and deep down, she knew she could never keep him in one place.

Father always went wherever he wished. All Calliope could do was stay and wait for him to return.

He never did.

Calliope woke up with a cry. “Father!”

Someone shifted nearby. “What?” Atreus gasped. “What is it?”

Calliope squinted in the darkness, but she couldn’t see him. The candles had died down. Right. This was Eirene’s house. Father – he wasn’t here.

A whimper escaped her. She heard shuffling nearby, a snap of fingers, and a small flame burst to life on a fresh candle. The light illuminated Atreus’ face, casting into relief the line of scars on his left cheek. “You alright?”

Calliope swallowed hard, clenching her fists on her lap and trying not to cry again, but it was hopeless. She’d never been one for anger; she never knew what to do with it, so it just turned into tears. The children back home made fun of her because of it, calling her weak and helpless and soft. She was the daughter of Sparta’s greatest captain, but the gods hadn’t bothered to bless her with any of her father’s fierceness or her mother’s strength.

Some nasty boys once called her a mistake. Father had dealt with them, but their words stayed with Calliope. Even now, the thought crossed her mind: maybe she was a mistake. Maybe Thanatos was right. She was only a burden for other people.

“Hey,” Atreus said, sounding alarmed. “Calliope? What’s wrong?”

Calliope heaved a great breath and let it all loose. She cried into her hands, shoulders shaking with sobs. She didn’t know how Atreus would react – maybe he would make fun of her, or leave her – but for this short time, it felt very good to cry.

She felt a hesitant hand on her shoulder. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to lean into Atreus’ offered embrace, like before. Calliope couldn’t quite explain it; his hug just felt safe. Like he really cared about helping her feel better. And it was so very comforting to be held by somebody.

Father used to hug her before. His last one had been – No, she didn’t want to think about that. Instead, she listened to Atreus’ heartbeat through his tunic.

Steady and strong. Just like Mother and Father’s.

Atreus gently patted her on the back. “Shh, it’s alright. We had a stressful day, didn’t we? But you’re safe now, see?”

Calliope nodded, sniffling. After a moment, she lifted her head from his chest.

“Feeling better?” Atreus asked. She nodded, wiping her nose. “There we go. That’s good.”

“I’m s-s-sorry,” Calliope hiccupped.

“No, don’t be,” Atreus said gently. “It’s alright. I promise.”

Promise. His words pushed against the shame trickling through her. It frightened Calliope how quickly she believed him. But believe him she did.

Her breathing gradually settled. Looking up into his face, his scar’s shape was … oddly familiar.

“Want to try sleeping again?” Atreus offered.

Calliope shook her head. “I h-had a bad dream.”

“Ah. Those aren’t fun.”

“I don’t want to go back to sleep.”

“You’ll need your rest for the morning, Calliope. Just remember, your nightmares aren’t real.”

“But they are,” Calliope insisted. “They are things that I’ve already seen! If I fall asleep again, I’ll – I’ll be back there.” Her voice wavered. “I don’t want to go back, Atreus.”

“You won’t,” Atreus said firmly. “Look. I’m right here with you. I won’t let them take you away.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Atreus held out his hand. “I’ll sing you a lullaby if you want. One of my people’s songs.”

Calliope perked up at that. “Your people from the north?” What did they look like? Did they have Atreus’ fair hair? His blue eyes? She shifted closer and timidly laid her hand in his. “What is the lullaby?”

“It’s about their journey to another land. You comfy?”

Calliope rested her head against his shoulder and nodded. Atreus cleared his throat and, in a low, smooth voice, began to sing.

Jötnarnir miklu og máttku

Hraktir í útlegð heim

Jötnar ei guðir né dauðlegir

Til fjalla í Jötunheim

Jötnarnir miklu og máttku

Hraktir í útlegð heim

Jötnar ei guðir né dauðlegir

Til fjalla í Jötunheim

Upp til fjalla í Jötunheim

Ljóst hamri’ að himn til

Frásagnar ei

Neinn er við flýjum land

Tíminn oss felur

Steinmúrar standa hátt

Við glötumst brátt

Jötnarnir miklu og máttku

Hraktir í útlegð heim

Jötnar ei guðir né dauðlegir

Til fjalla í Jötunheim

Upp til fjalla í Jötunheim

Upp til fjalla í Jötunheim

Calliope’s eyes fluttered closed to the soothing melody. That night, her dreams were of golden mountains instead of fields, with tall figures walking across vast lands together, and walls upon walls of beautiful paintings.

***

They made an early start the following morning. Atreus made a final check over their supplies while Calliope retrieved her old peplos and changed into it. Eirene and Agathe bid them farewell outside the house; Eirene pressed a small package into Calliope’s hands. “A sweet treat for the road,” she said. “It might come in handy.”

Calliope smiled widely. Her eyes were slightly puffy, but from what Atreus could sense, she was well-rested. Atreus was glad that she’d been able to sleep soundly, if only for a little while. He was no stranger to nightmares; his came and went, taking on the form of what might’ve happened.

What if Ragnarök went badly? What if it was Kratos in his arms, like the prophecy said, and not Odin? What if more people died – what if everyone did, leaving Atreus on his own to face the end?

But none of that happened. That was the important thing. They won, Ragnarök was over, and everyone had worked together to rebuild.

“Luck be with you,” Eirene said.

“And to you,” Atreus replied. “Thanks for hosting us, Eirene. Agathe.”

“Thank you,” Calliope put in.

And with that, they were off. Dawn was halfway up the sky as they walked out of the town, taking the southward path. And the air was already warming up … Yep, another hot day.

Calliope didn’t seem to mind the heat. She’d grown up in Sparta, of course, which was further south from Athens. She walked with a small skip in her step, and her arms swung at her sides as she took in the bright morning.

“This is a fair day,” she said. “Perfect for walking!”

“You like walking?” Atreus asked, smiling.

“Father – he said that every soldier must walk long distances.”

“Oh? What else did he say about it?”

“It’s simply a way to get from one place to the other. So, you must always keep your legs in good condition. But Mother said that you can make walking fun by finding new places. Seeing new things.”

“That’s definitely true. Did that happen to you a lot, back home?”

Calliope’s step faltered. “Well … Not really. I’ve never left Sparta before.”

“Why not?”

Calliope glanced along the road as though to make sure nobody was listening in. “Will you laugh at me if I tell you?”

“Of course not!” Atreus exclaimed, surprised. “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Calliope considered it. Then she lowered her voice and said, “I wasn’t a very strong child when I was younger.”

She paused, waiting for his reaction. Atreus simply shrugged. “That’s alright. I wasn’t either.”

“You weren’t?”

“No. Actually, I was sick a lot. My mom would keep me in bed for days, sometimes. I could only drink light broth. My fever was that bad.”

Calliope stared up at him as though she couldn’t believe it. Or maybe she could; it seemed to give her courage. “I was sick too, when I was a babe. I got better, but I wasn’t as strong as the other children. I couldn’t throw a spear or swing a sword. I fell over easily if someone attacked me.”

“Oof. That sounds rougher than what I got. But you know it’s not a bad thing that you couldn’t do all that, right?”

Calliope bit her lip. “I suppose so,” she said quietly. “It was just …”

“Hard?” Atreus offered.

She nodded. “Very hard.” She looked up at him. “You got stronger though.”

“I did. It just takes practice. Like walking regularly to keep your legs in good shape.”

And also from learning that he was, in fact, a god. An idea struck him suddenly: Calliope was Kratos’ daughter. Surely that made her a god too?

“What were you sick from?” Atreus ventured.

“Mother said it was a plague,” Calliope replied. “But I was healed and got better.”

“I’m glad you did.” So her sickness wasn’t from not knowing that she was a god? Hmm. Calliope was perfectly healthy as far as he could tell. And he was perfectly satisfied with that.

Eventually, they were well out of sight of the town. The path was empty of other travellers, and the sun beat down on them both. Atreus was already starting to sweat despite the breathable linen of his clothes. Remembering the harpies didn’t help.

Calliope was indeed good at walking. She even went so far as to skip down the path, pushing Atreus to stride a little faster. They were making good time on their walk, but … It wouldn’t hurt for things to go a little faster.

“Have you ever gone horseback riding before?” he asked her.

“Yes,” Calliope replied. “Just a few times back home. But never by myself.”

“I’m thinking we can walk until noon, and then I’ll turn into a horse and we’ll gallop the rest of the way. We’ll likely reach Athens quicker that way. What do you think?”

Calliope stared at him in surprise. “A horse? That makes –” She counted with her fingers. “Four animals! That’s a lot!”

Atreus grinned. “There are lots of animals in the world, aren’t there? Who says I can’t turn into each as long as I know them?”

“That’s a lot of animals to know,” Calliope mused. “But if you turn into a horse, will you already have a saddle and reins?”

“Nope. I can’t make new gear magically appear, sadly. But I’ll go at a steady pace so you don’t fall.”

A slow smile spread across Calliope’s young face. Excitement. “Let’s keep walking, then,” she said. “Come on! Mother said that walking fast also helps to pass the time quicker.”

She took his hand and tugged. Atreus laughed as he followed her. “I heard that the sun is pulled by horses here, too. You think we can out-walk them?”

“Maybe!” Calliope paused. “Wait – what do you mean ‘too’?”

Atreus blinked, caught off-guard by yet another memory: Kratos catching a single word that revealed Sindri’s involvement in Atreus’ reckless searches. “In my homeland, the sun and moon are also pulled by chariots.”

“Ours are driven by Helios and Selene,” Calliope said promptly. “Aren’t yours the same?”

Atreus shook his head. “Sól and Mani drive the chariots. And they drive quickly ‘cause they’re always being chased by these giant wolves.”

Calliope’s eyes widened. “Wolves? Why?”

“Because they want to eat the sun and moon! Sköll and Hati are their names. I’ve met them before; they’re pretty nice.”

“They didn’t try to eat you?”

“Nope. If you don’t bother them, they won’t bother you. And I also helped them with a little problem about the moon …”

“Really? What happened?” Calliope pressed eagerly.

Atreus supposed it was about time that he started telling some stories. Kratos and Mimir were already experienced in the field, after all. As they continued walking, he told Calliope about how the moon was once stolen, leading him to retrieve it for the wolves. This was before Sól and Mani took up the job of driving the chariots; they’d been the only ones to volunteer so that there wouldn’t be any more attempts of celestial theft.

Sköll and Hati hadn’t been too happy at first. But, as it turned out, Sól and Mani had some fun in giving the wolves a challenge, and the wolves soon found the thrill of the chase even better than before.

At one point, Atreus glanced up at the sky. The sun was high, and it was time for lunch. They found a tree that provided a decent amount of shade from the strong heat and sat down. Calliope wasted no time in setting out their provisions.

They ate in silence for a time. Atreus looked out over the grassy land, dotted with trees and hills, and heavily warmed by the sun. He drew in a deep breath, taking in the peaceful quiet that had settled over them.

He couldn’t let his guard down too much, though. Somnus had said that they’d be shielded in the city. From the harpies? Or the gods? And how much, for how long? Damn it, he should’ve asked.

And there was something else, too. Getting to Athens was one thing, but what would happen once they got there? It wasn’t like Atreus could stay there forever, nor could he leave Calliope there on her own.

Was it even a good idea to keep her in Greece?

“Hey,” he began. Calliope looked up, watching him attentively. “I have something to ask you. You don’t need to answer right away; you may need to think it over a little. But I was wondering, what do you want to do now that you’re, um, alive?”

Calliope’s brow furrowed. “We’re going to Athens. Aren’t we?”

“Yes, we are. I mean after we get there. We could … go to Sparta. See if you have any extended family around.” They’d be descendants, given the time that had passed, but at least it was something. “Or we could look for somebody to take you in, if you want to stay in Athens.”

Calliope stared at Atreus. Her gaze grew distant, lowered to the ground. Atreus waited patiently.

When she spoke, her voice was small. “You’re not staying in Athens?”

“Not for too long, no. There are other places I was planning to visit.”

“You don’t want me to stay with you?”

Atreus blinked. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I – do you want to stay with me?”

Calliope fiddled with the edge of her peplos. She was looking everywhere but at him. “You said you wouldn’t leave me alone,” she mumbled.

Oh. She’d thought that – Oh.

“I did say that, and I meant it,” Atreus said seriously. “I won’t leave you until I know that you’ll be alright. I just want to know what you want.”

Calliope looked up at him then. Searched his face. “I don’t know,” she said at last. It twisted something in Atreus’ chest to see how lost she looked. “I don’t know what to do.”

“We could still visit Sparta, if you want,” Atreus offered. “Jump in, jump out, so to speak.”

Calliope shook her head. “I-I don’t think I should. You said it’s been a long time. Nobody would know me. And nobody likes my father. If they knew who I was … They wouldn’t like me, either.”

“That’s not true,” Atreus said, gently nudging her arm. “I like you.”

She managed a watery smile.

“We don’t have to go to Sparta, then,” he assured her. “And you don’t have to decide right away either. Just think about it, alright? And let me know what you decide.”

“Okay.” Calliope sniffled and wiped her nose. Atreus handed her a slice of bread, and she took it, nibbling on the stale corner. “Atreus? What were you going to do after Athens? Before you met me.”

“Ah. Well, my plan was to explore the city for a little, then continue south.”

“Have you travelled all over Greece?”

“Not all of it. I’ve mostly been on the eastern side. I was going to circle around after Sparta and go up along the western coast. Maybe sail to Italia.”

“What other lands have you been to?”

“Oh, a whole bunch of places, mostly up north. I came through Britannia to Germania, and then here! It’s been a long journey.”

“Where is your homeland?”

“Above Germania. The Romans call it Thule, but I’ve heard the Greeks call it Scandia.”

“What do your people call it?”

Oh dear. That was getting into the complicated stuff about realms. Best to keep it simple for now. “We call it Midgard,” Atreus replied.

“Meed-garrd,” Calliope repeated slowly. The name took on a delicacy through her accent. “It sounds funny.”

“Funnier than Scandia?” Atreus grinned. Then he sobered up. There was one more suggestion to make. “You know … You could come with me to Midgard. Father – Kratos is there now, and you could see him again. It’s not just him either; I have other friends there. They’re like my family even if we’re not blood-related. You can be their friend too.”

Calliope turned her last slice of bread over in her hands. Atreus didn’t blame her for her indecision. Greece was her home, but it might prove to be dangerous over time if the harpies were any indication. Midgard was far from the Roman Empire and its gods, but it was unfamiliar territory for Calliope.

And if she went there, a reunion with Kratos would likely be inevitable, even if they tried to avoid it. Like trying to fool a prophecy.

“We ought to keep moving,” Atreus said eventually. “I said we’d gallop the rest of the way, right?”

That did the trick of snapping Calliope out of her thoughts. She set to cleaning up their picnic spot, packing things away so quickly and neatly that Atreus was left floundering in his effort to help. “There we go,” she said, satisfied.

“Wow, you’re really good at that!” Atreus said weakly. 

Calliope puffed out her chest proudly. “Mother taught me how to be efficient.”

“Maybe you could teach me someday?”

Calliope seemed startled by the request. A timid smile appeared, and she nodded.

Atreus cleared his throat. “Alright, I’m going to shift now. You can slip the pack over my head once I’m a horse, and use it as the reins. And if I start going too fast, just let me know, alright?”

Calliope nodded, a little impatiently. “Yes, I understand!”

“Okay, good. Here I go …”

A burst of orange sparks, and he was on all fours, taller than Kratos. Calliope gasped in awe and clapped her hands excitedly. Atreus snorted proudly. His coat was a chestnut colour, gleaming reddish in the sunlight. A very fine coat if he said so himself!

He knelt down so Calliope could clamber onto his back. As he’d suggested, she slipped the pack’s long strap over his head, with the pack settling on his shoulders in front of her, much like the horn of a saddle. She weighed next to nothing, really. Oh gods, hopefully she wouldn’t fall off without him noticing!

He set off at a steady walk so she could get used to the rhythm. Then he quickened his stride into a light canter. Calliope whooped with glee, and Atreus whinnied in reply. After a time, he decided to take the chance, and went into a light gallop.

Calliope laughed delightedly. Atreus could feel her elation; it filled the space between them, heightening his own horse-joy as the wind streamed through his mane and tail. For this time, they were both free.

Chapter Text

The city of Athens sprawled before them like a land out of legend. Atreus had already been here before, but that didn’t make the sight any less magnificent.

Out of sight of the city gates, Atreus made a detour for a nearby cluster of trees. He knelt, allowing Calliope to slide off his back with the pack, then shifted back to a human. From there, they walked the rest of the way.

A massive wall surrounded the city, both as a way to keep out intruders and to mark the city’s boundaries. Two Roman soldiers stood guard at the open gateway. Atreus guessed that they’d been standing there for some time; their faces were blank with boredom. Poor fellows.

As they passed under the gateway, a slender arm wrapped around Atreus’ waist. He glanced down to find Calliope staring at their surroundings with awe and a bit of fear. A whole new land spread out before them, full of buildings and pavilions, white columns and painted statues, temples and markets. And an all-manner of people, also.

Atreus put an arm around her shoulder, keeping her close. “Let’s get to an inn,” he said. “I know which one to find.”

In fact, it was the one he’d stayed at when he first arrived in the city. Hopefully the owners hadn’t given away his room while he was stuck in the Underworld.

It wasn’t too far away either – just the right amount of distance that would allow Calliope some sightseeing. Gradually, her wariness melted away into childlike awe and delight, and she was soon tugging at Atreus’ hand as they went down the road. “It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. “Oh, you were right!”

The Acropolis rose up in the near distance, home to the many temples of Athena. Atreus hadn’t gone up there yet. Temples could be heavily charged with the presence of their gods, and he didn’t want to risk setting off an alarm. Athena was gone, sure. But her Roman counterpart still remained.

Thankfully, the agora lay between them and the Acropolis. Atreus could feel Calliope’s excitement growing as they entered the great market. It was more than just a market, really – it was a place for merchants and artisans, a site for assemblies however big or small, and full of workshops, bathhouses, temples, inns, and taverns. Athenians walked the streets, mingling with traders and travellers from other regions, and keeping a safe berth around the occasional patrol of Roman soldiers. Marble statues and reliefs decorated many buildings. It truly was a sight to behold.

“Look! They’re selling spanakopitas!” Calliope squealed, pointing to a nearby tavern. Sure enough, a patron had just exited with a wrapped spinach pie in hand. “And over there – that lady is selling ribbons! Can we go see? Please?”

She was really putting on those puppy eyes. Atreus huffed, defeated. “Oh, alright. But just a quick look!”

“Yayy!” Calliope pulled him over to the ribbon stall. There was an assortment of colours to pick from, ranging from rose to blue, alkanet to red, and saffron.

“I have many here,” the merchant woman said eagerly. “Look – a magnificent blue to go with your pretty curls!”

She held up a length of sky-blue ribbon. It matched the headband that Calliope had worn before. Sadly, the old one had come off in the harpies’ scuffle to carry her away.

Calliope gazed at it longingly. “It’s very pretty.”

“Do you want it?” Atreus asked her.

She looked at him in surprise. Atreus smiled. “I can spare a coin here and there.” He’d made it this far, after all. And he had his methods of earning more money.

“Are you sure?” Calliope asked uncertainly.

Atreus nodded. “Think of it as a gift.”

Her dark-brown gaze searched his face. Atreus wasn’t sure what she found, but her expression warmed with gratitude, and she nodded.

Drachma and ribbon exchanged hands. Atreus then wrapped the ribbon over Calliope’s head like a headband, tying it underneath her curls. “There you go! It looks just like your old one. Matches your dress, too.”

Calliope beamed. As they left the ribbon stall behind, she asked, “Don’t you want one too, Atreus?”

“Nah, I’m good. My braid is too thin to hold a ribbon. Besides, it looks much better on you.”

She blushed. “Why do you keep your hair short on the sides? If you grew it long, you could have many braids!”

“I could,” Atreus agreed. “But my mother always kept my hair like this, and it just stuck with me.”

“Do your people wear their hair like yours?”

Atreus laughed. “No, I’m the only one so far! Some have their hair short, others long.” Like Angrboda’s beautiful, dark locks.

Calliope reached up to touch her curls. She seemed lost in thought. The agora soon took up her attention again, so Atreus left it at that.

It was only a short time after when Calliope nudged Atreus’ hand. “Do you hear that?” she asked.

“Uh …” All Atreus heard was the cacophony of Athenians as they chatted with each other, haggled over prices, and argued about who could take the last spot on the sidestreet to set up their stall.

“Over there!” He let Calliope lead, weaving around the crowds and stragglers. Atreus soon heard it: a string of melody floating on the air, coming from one of the decorated buildings.

The doors were open. Atreus and Calliope stepped into the shade cast by one of the columns and peeked inside.

It appeared to be a performance of some kind. Spectators sat on lounges and cushions, arranged around a central platform where a single woman stood. She held a flute and slowly, almost meditatively, coaxed out the notes. A melancholy melody floated through the door. Something about it reminded Atreus of Faye’s song, and his heart ached with the memory of home.

“She has a good ear,” Calliope said quietly. “It’s very in tune.”

Atreus arched a brow. “You know how to play?”

Calliope went still, as though realized what she’d said aloud. “Oh, um – I used to play the flute.”

“Really? I wouldn’t mind hearing you play,” Atreus offered.

Calliope bit her lip. “I don’t have my flute anymore. I left it in Elysium.”

“Ah.” Had there been a flute on the island? Atreus couldn’t remember; he’d been too busy trying to free Calliope.

“Let’s go,” he said. A blunt way to cover the awkward silence, but better words escaped him. Calliope didn’t protest as they left the building of musicians.

The sun was setting as they finally reached the inn. Atreus hadn’t expected them to take so many detours, but that tended to happen when you were in a market full of as many interests and oddities as Athens’ agora. They’d also circled back to that tavern with the spinach pies. Atreus couldn’t help but wonder if Kratos had a favourite pie recipe. It couldn’t just be tiganites and black soup on his Greek menu, right?

Whichever god was in charge of lodgings, Atreus sent them a silent thought of thanks. The room he’d rented upon his first arrival in Athens was still his! The rest of his belongings were still in their hidden spot, as well. After apologizing to the innkeeper and paying him for the previous day, Atreus lit a candle, gathered his travelling pack, and checked the contents.

His journal and drawing tools, check. Change of clothes, check. Repair tools for his bow and arrows, check. You would think he’d carry those around with him at all times. But hey! He’d expected his trip in Athens to be relaxing, at the very least. How was he supposed to know he’d get dragged down into the Underworld?

His other things were in his personal pouch, hanging from his hip – chisel, realm key, and Angrboda’s marble. He wasn’t about to leave that lying around. 

The final item in his travel pack was heavily cushioned and neatly wrapped in cloth. Atreus carefully removed the wrappings to reveal a lyre, its wood and strings polished to perfection. He glanced at Calliope; her hand was outstretched toward the journal, but she paused upon seeing the instrument.

“You can play?” she asked in a hushed voice, as though to not disturb the shadows around them.

“Just a bit. It helps me make some money while I’m travelling. I’m not very good at it, though.”

“Discipline and practice will help you get better,” Calliope offered. “That’s what Father –”

She stumbled into silence. There was a brief pause, during which Atreus laid the lyre on the floor.

Calliope continued, “That’s what my father told me.”

“When you were playing the flute?”

She nodded. “He – he used to play the lyre too.” She twisted her hands together, gathering courage. Atreus waited, not daring to tip the sensitive scales between them.

“He carved my flute for me,” she said. “I played it all the time. He used to play the lyre with me, but then he went off to war so many times, and we couldn’t play together anymore.”

Atreus winced sympathetically. He was no stranger to Kratos leaving for long periods of time. “I’m sure he missed playing with you.”

Calliope lightly brushed her fingers against the lyre. “This looks like his,” she murmured.

“He carved it for me,” Atreus said softly. “And taught me how to play. But only after I bugged him about it enough times.”

A wobbly smile crossed Calliope’s face. In the candlelight, her eyes gleamed with wetness. 

“Tell you what,” Atreus said. “I’ll play this in the morning, and you can listen to my horrible music and make fun of me. How about that?”

A giggle escaped her. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll be that bad!”

“Just wait until tomorrow,” Atreus grinned. 

“Why don’t you sing instead, then?” Calliope asked as they settled down on their pallets. “Your voice is very lovely.”

“Oh. Um.” He hadn’t heard that before. He rarely sang to others back home, really. Unless the Giants asked him. And Angrboda. She liked to tease him about his singing, but he knew she really enjoyed it. The other Giants seemed to like it too, and occasionally gave him small lessons for improvement.

You have your mother’s voice, Hroðr, Týr’s mother, once said. If Faye was a male soprano, of course.

“Atreus?” Calliope said.

“Yeah?”

“If I have a bad dream …”

“I’ll be right here,” he promised. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He felt her fingers touch his arm and stay there.

The candlelight flickered in the quiet of the room, casting dancing shadows across the walls. Atreus closed his eyes and dreamed of home.

***

It was shortly after the death of Queen Persephone that Thanatos arrived. He appeared so vividly in Calliope’s dreams that she could easily believe she was back in Elysium, trapped and alone.

This isn’t real, she told herself. I’m not here. This isn’t real.

Her senses told her otherwise. Her eyes showed her Thanatos, and if she couldn’t trust her own sight, then what could she trust at all?

“He made his choice,” the god of death said coldly. “He will not be coming back for you.”

His words rattled in her chest. “But he promised to stay!” Calliope insisted, tears burning her eyes.

“Do you not know that your father has taken Ares’ place? He is an Olympian, and what good are their promises, child?”

The pain of losing Father again, of watching him walk away to war just as he’d done over years and years, was still fresh in Calliope’s heart. It made her foolish. After all, it wasn’t passion she carried from her Spartan heritage. It was foolishness and folly, because she was weak.

“Father would never break a promise!” she shouted. “If he is an Olympian now, he is the only one that is true. He will come back for me!”

Thanatos’ anger bled into the air around them, turning Elysium’s eternal morning into a winter day. “You speak blasphemy, child? And all for that monster of a man? Very well. You are his daughter; thus, you shall be treated as such.”

He rose above her, casting her in his bleak shadow. Calliope threw her arms over herself, and – she didn’t remember what happened then. Did he strike her? Grab her? She didn’t know. That was probably for the best.

In the next moment, she was shackled to the island with only her nightmares to keep her company. Dulius the hellhound wasn’t here in her dreams; she was all alone.

Time passed, or perhaps none went by at all. It was the waiting that hurt most. It set an ache in her chest as she hoped and prayed to no avail. She waited for Father, alone and afraid. At times she heard the souls whispering to each other on the far shore, speaking horrid words about Father, and about herself.

But Thanatos had the most horrid words of all. “You deserve to be alone, little beast that you are,” he said with utter disgust. “Only a monster like your father could sire one. Well, girl? You said he would come for you. Where is he now?”

Calliope said nothing. She couldn’t even bear to look at him. She didn’t want to look into those horrible dark eyes or see the thin lips curled in a sneer.

“Pathetic mouse. Your uncle had more fire in him at your age. You should not be here in Elysium. You should receive the judgement you so rightly deserve for being Kratos’ seed. I would see to it that you get more than what I gave to Deimos.”

He reached for her. Calliope screamed, and remembered nothing more from that meeting.

Thanatos’ visits were few and far between, yet Calliope dreaded his arrival with every passing hour. After he left, she could still feel the echo of his gaze on her, watching from the shadows behind the trees.

Father will come for me. It was the only thought that gave her some hope and comfort. She could only wait. And wait. And wait.

Calliope woke with a gasp. Her hand tightened on something firm – an arm? “Ah – Atreus!”

“Mmph?” he mumbled. “Uff … Five more minutes …”

Calliope crawled over to his side. There wasn’t much distance between them, but it felt like a yawning chasm. “Atreus?” she whispered.

“Ung … Calliope?” Atreus yawned. “Did you … dream again?”

Calliope tried to respond, but a lump formed in her throat, clogging up the words. Tendrils of fear from her dream still held her tight. She could only hold onto his arm as she waited for them to fall away.

Atreus shifted over a little. “Want to lie down?”

Calliope was all too eager to take the offer. It sounded far better than lying on a pallet by herself. And Atreus was very comfortable to lean against.

She settled herself against his side and laid her head on his shoulder. “Is this okay?” she whispered.

“Fine with me,” Atreus said, sounding a little more clear now that he was waking up.

Calliope tucked her face against him, feeling the ridge of his collarbone through the linen tunic. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, softer than a breath. Any tears she carried were soaked up by his clothes.

His arm curled around her awkwardly as he attempted to pat her shoulder. He settled for her arm instead. “It’s okay. Don’t worry. I have ‘em too.”

That was a surprise. How could someone as brave as Atreus have bad dreams? “What kind?” Calliope asked, unable to help her curiosity.

Atreus was quiet for a bit. “My family dying. Being left alone.”

His words tugged at something deep in Calliope’s heart. More tears leaked out as she wrapped her arm across his chest. “I don’t want to be alone either.”

“I know. You won’t be.”

“He promised me he wouldn’t leave again. Then he left and went away.”

It all came rushing out like a broken dam. Calliope didn’t know how she started, only that she was suddenly crying and telling Atreus about her dream. Father’s rampage, Thanatos chaining her to the island, and all the times Father returned to the Underworld but didn’t come back for her. 

“He hates me,” Calliope sobbed. “He never wanted me.”

Atreus gently encircled her in his arms. Calliope didn’t mind it; in fact, she wished he would hold her tighter.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” he said, quiet but firm.

“But he killed me and Mother. I –” She gulped for breath. Atreus rubbed soothing circles between her shoulder blades. “Dulius told me it was an accident. But Father still left.” It was so hard to get the words out. It hurt so much. She wished it would just stop.

“Kratos loves you,” Atreus said quietly. “I know he does. If he left, he must’ve been forced to.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s never left me when it mattered most.”

Of course - Father found a new family. Calliope was almost afraid of asking one of her big questions; after all, what if Atreus’ answer confirmed her fears?

Her curiosity won out. “Has he forgotten about me?”

“I’m sure he hasn’t,” Atreus said softly. “He never forgets those he cares about. Like Atreus the soldier. Remember him?”

Calliope nodded against his shoulder.

“Kratos named me after him. If he could remember one soldier out of many, he’d surely remember his firstborn.”

Calliope digested that for a moment. Father did have a very good memory, that was true. She still didn’t know why he left though, and that hole in her knowledge stuck her like an iron spike.

“Atreus?” she said after a moment, as her hiccups gradually settled. “Did he ever tell you about me?”

A pause. “No,” Atreus replied. There was something tight in his tone that Calliope didn’t quite like. “He hardly told me about his past. The things he did, and all that. He never told me about you, or your mother.”

“My mother is Lysandra,” Calliope offered.

“Lysandra,” Atreus repeated. He gave her a very gentle squeeze. “I’ll remember that.”

Calliope squeezed him back, as much as her trembling arms were able to manage. “What is your mother’s name?”

“Laufey.” She heard the smile in his voice. “But you can call her Faye.”

“Does she look like you?”

“She did. She mostly raised me when I was young, since Kratos went hunting a lot. She used to carry around an axe.”

“An axe?” Calliope repeated, startled. “Really?”

“Really. It’s called the Leviathan Axe, and it has ice powers. If you throw it far, you can call it back, and it’ll come flying to your hand.”

“A flying axe?” Calliope could hardly believe it. But Atreus had magic arrows that turned different colours when he fired them. And he could turn into animals. What other surprises did he have up his sleeve?

“She also sang to me when I was sick,” Atreus went on. “I’ll sing one of her songs for you if you want. To help you sleep.”

Calliope sniffled and snuggled closer to his side. “Okay.”

Atreus’ low voice soon filled the room, sweet and melancholic.

Fylg minni leið

Þig til sannleikans ber

Æskulok þín

Eini harmur minn er

Rými honum ljá

Brotinn andi hans er

Síðar munt sjá

Að hann treysta mun þér

Síðar munt sjá

Að hann treysta mun þér

Fylg minni leið

Þig til sannleikans ber

Æskulok þín

Eini harmur minn er

That night, Calliope dreamed of a tall woman with fair hair and blue eyes. With her mighty ice Axe, the woman chopped up all the bad dreams and tossed them away, then pranced toward the tall mountains in the distance, disappearing into the light. 

Chapter Text

Calliope nibbled on a slice of dried meat as she gazed at an open page of Atreus’ journal. The morning sunlight fell halfway across the paper. His writing was very neat. She couldn’t read the angular symbols, so she turned her eye to the lifelike sketches beside them.

“Are these the sun and moon wolves?” she asked.

Atreus leaned over to get a better look. “Nope, that’s Speki and Svanna. They’re normal wolves. Kratos and I saved them from Raiders who wanted to eat them. They live with us now and pull our sled.”

“Sled?” Calliope repeated. “What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s like … Like a wagon, but with no wheels. It slides over snow. Makes travelling faster when the ground is smooth.”

Calliope touched the sketch. “Are they nice wolves?”

“Very nice,” Atreus said through a mouthful of breakfast. “They’re super cuddly. You’d love ‘em.”

Calliope carefully turned the page. And then again. And again. There were so many entries and sketches. Some pages were full of writing, while others held drawings of people and landscapes from Atreus’ travels.

She finished her dried meat and reached for another slice. This morning was a calm one. Warm, bound to get hotter as the sun rose higher. They sat in a quieter spot of the agora, next to a fountain, and the murmur of city life was already growing.

The ache in her chest from last night was gone, too. Well, not completely gone. But it was soothed. Her eyes were puffy but dry. And that was good, wasn’t it?

She turned to the next page and stopped.

Looking back at her was Father, etched perfectly in charcoal. Calliope knew it was him. The marking over his eye was more than enough to tell her, but it was the intense glare of his eyes and downturn of his mouth that she knew best.

For a moment, the ache in her chest flared to life. She missed him, oh, she really missed him! She waited for the tears to burn her eyes, but … Well, it didn’t feel so bad. Looking at the portrait again, her father looked a bit different from how she remembered him. Older. More wrinkles on his face. If she put her mind to it, she could imagine herself looking at someone else. And he had a beard! A big, bushy one.

She glanced at Atreus to find him watching her intently.

“It – I mean, he – he looks funny,” she said awkwardly.

Atreus arched an amused brow. “Really? What did he look like before?”

“His beard was smaller. Like this.” Calliope touched the tip of her chin and wiggled her fingers.

Atreus chuckled. “Did he frown and grunt a lot too?”

“Yes! Well, not always. But sometimes.”

There was another portrait on the next page. Calliope took in the woman’s braided hair and bright eyes, the mischievous touch to her smile. She looked at Atreus, then back at the portrait. “Is this Laufey?”

Atreus nodded. “That’s her. From what I could remember, at least.”

“I like her face. She looks like you.”

Atreus ducked his head, but not before Calliope spotted his shy smile. As she turned to the next page, Atreus asked, “Did Lysandra look like you?”

Calliope hesitated. “I think so. That’s what all the women said.” She tried to bring her mother’s face to mind, but her memory was blurred at the edges. Long, dark hair. A blue tainia and peplos. If only Calliope could draw! Putting it down on paper would surely help her memory become clearer.

Other sketches showed a single head with horns, a woman with feathers in her hair, and two bearded men with heavy brows. There were so many others besides, and that was just the section devoted to Midgard, as Atreus said. These were the people he knew, his dear ones whom he called family.

Calliope tried to imagine herself among them. What were they like? Would they accept her? Let her stay with them? Would they be kind to her?

She’d only asked to see the journal after catching a peek at Atreus’ artwork. She hadn’t expected it to give her a glimpse into Atreus’ world. His earlier offer surfaced in her mind: You could come with me to Midgard. Kratos is there now, and you could see him again.

What was left for Calliope here, in Greece? She wouldn’t recognize anybody in Sparta. Her family was gone. And there was a danger here. Somnus said that Athens would shield them, but how much, and for how long? What if more harpies came for them? What if the gods themselves came?

Fear shivered up Calliope’s spine. Thanatos was gone, but Mors was still him, in a way. She didn’t want to go back, not there. Not to him.

She tightened her grip on the journal. Breathed in slowly, deeply. Atreus. He was here with her. He was good and kind, and his mother was named Laufey. He could turn into animals. He sang gentle songs when Calliope couldn’t sleep.

She was safe, for now. There was no need to worry yet.

Calliope refocused on the current page. This one was full of smaller sketches, studies of a young woman with markings on the sides of her face and neck. She had a lovely, toothy smile, and medallions in her hair. “Who is this?” Calliope asked.

A pink flush spread across Atreus’ cheeks. “Oh, that’s, um, Angrboda. She’s one of my people. Or I’m one of hers. Er, both, really.”

“Angrboda,” Calliope repeated slowly, turning the name over in her mind. “She has funny marks. They’re so swirly. Do all your people have big markings?”

“From what I’ve seen, yeah.”

“How come you have small ones, then?”

Atreus blinked, then looked down at his right arm. “They’re not too small,” he said, mock-grumbling.

Calliope giggled and reached out to take his hand. Approaching him like this was easier than she expected; it was a comfortable thing. Atreus didn’t seem bothered as she delicately turned his arm over to follow the trail of his markings.

His limb was lean, but heavy and taut with muscle. Calliope could almost feel his power all bunched up inside.

“What do they mean?” she asked.

Atreus touched the symbols at his neck. “Iogn hugr. It means ‘steady mind’. And this …” He tapped the ring of runes around his arm. “Happ skejtr. Lucky shot.”

“Oh! Because you shoot arrows. And this one?” Calliope pointed to the runes cutting through the circle.

“Stjrkrarmr. Strong arm.” Atreus’ lips quirked upward as he wiggled his fingers. “Can you guess this last one?”

Mind, arm, and … “Something to do with your hand?” Calliope said hopefully.

“That’s right! Hrada hond. It means 'quick hand'.”

Calliope gazed at the markings in awe. “That’s amazing! Do they help with your archery?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I like to think that they do, like a prayer to the gods. Mom gave me the tattoos when I first started learning.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Just a little bit. But it was over soon.”

“Oh. And what about your necklace? Is it also because you’re an archer?”

“This?” Atreus reached up to grasp the arrowhead. “Oh, it’s mistletoe. A memento of a past adventure. It reminds me to be better as a person. Helps me feel brave.”

Something to make you feel brave … Calliope would’ve liked to have something like that. She gently tapped the arrowhead; it felt smooth to the touch, gleaming bright green in the sunlight. Its point looked quite sharp, so she didn’t dare touch that part.

As they finished up their breakfast, Calliope kept looking back to Atreus’ markings. The language was odd to her ears, almost harsh compared to her mother tongue. His words clung fiercely to her mind, unable to be shaken off, and she soon found herself trying to repeat them under her breath. They tumbled over her tongue like stubborn stones. Oh, why did they have to be so tricky?

Once they were done cleaning up, Atreus brought out his lyre. “Alright. Ready to hear my bad playing?”

Calliope nodded, a little wary. What would his music sound like? Would it remind her of Father’s? “Will you sing, too?”

“Maaaybe not today,” Atreus said, grinning. Then he set the lyre on his lap and began to play.

Calliope recognized the melody immediately. It was a popular one about Orpheus and Eurydice, sweet and lilting, and quite melancholic too. Calliope half-expected Atreus to sing when he reached the part with lyrics, but true to his word, he remained silent.

At the very least, it didn’t remind Calliope of Father too much, and that helped a little. Father never played this song, as he believed it was too dour and full of folly. If Orpheus had been more disciplined, he wouldn’t have looked back too early.

You do not know that for certain, Mother had said while she worked at her loom.

Calliope shook herself. A few Athenians had paused nearby to listen. Atreus was quite good at the lyre; what was he going on about, calling his skills bad? His fingers weren’t very graceful, maybe, but they were strong and brought forth a clear sound.

The melody soon came to an end. The small gaggle of spectators applauded; some even left coins at Atreus’ feet. Atreus gathered the coins into his purse with a nod of thanks, then turned to Calliope with a rather embarrassed look. “Um, how did I do?”

“That was very good,” Calliope said earnestly. “A bit rough around the edges, but you have the makings of a musician!”

A bashful smile touched his face. “I’ll take your word for it. You’re the musical expert between us, aren’t you?”

It was Calliope’s turn to blush. “Well, I – it’s been a long time since I last played my flute.”

“We can find one for you, if you want,” Atreus offered. “Then we can play together!”

Calliope hesitated. Unease twisted in her gut, and she shook her head. “I don’t really want to. Not about you, I mean,” she added quickly. “I just don’t feel like playing the flute.” It reminded her too much of home, of Father sitting under the tree and carving it for her.

“That’s alright,” Atreus said kindly. “Maybe some other time, then?”

Was he disappointed in her? The thought caught in her chest, and before she could think twice, she blurted, “I know the lyrics to Orpheus’ hymn. I-I could sing it … while you play …”

She ducked her head, embarrassed. She wasn’t even good at singing! What would Atreus think?

“I’d love to hear you sing!” he exclaimed.

“I’m not very good,” she said hastily. “I never had proper lessons. My voice might sound weird.”

“Weird can be good! Don’t worry, Calliope. We can be fumbling amateurs together,” Atreus said with a wink.

Hearing him say that lifted Calliope’s spirits more than she expected. As he plucked the lyre’s strings, she began to sing. Quietly, at first, painfully aware of Athenians passing by on their way to the market. Her heart pounded in her chest as some people paused to listen; her hands started to tremble as a crowd slowly gathered around them. But when she met Atreus’ eyes, he smiled at her encouragingly, and she remembered that he wasn’t a master at the lyre.

And that was okay. It was … freeing, in a way. She wasn’t a master either. She never sang in front of Father out of worry that he might not like it as much as the flute. But with Atreus, it was easy. Just as he said, they were a pair of fumbling musicians.

As the song came to an end, their crowd of spectators applauded. More coins were tossed their way, which Atreus gathered up.

“I think we did pretty good,” he said, grinning. “What do you think?”

Calliope beamed back. “I think so, too.”

The crowd began to disperse. As it did, a single figure stepped forward and approached them. “Forgive me for intruding,” she began with a slight bow. “But I couldn’t help but be enamoured by your playing! I am speechless, I must admit.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Atreus said, looking as though he didn’t know how to handle a stranger’s speechlessness. Calliope didn’t know how to, either. Was their playing really that good? 

“Oh, please excuse my poor manners. I am Euterpe,” the woman said.

“I’m Atreus. This is Calliope.”

Euterpe raised her brows. “The Chief of the Muses herself? Ha, I jest! A pleasure to meet you both.”

Atreus snapped his fingers. “Hey, aren’t you that musician from yesterday?” he asked. “You were in that building with the others …”

“Ah! You must mean the Musicians’ Gathering. You saw my performance?”

“We did,” Atreus replied. “You sounded great!”

“Very beautiful,” Calliope offered.

Euterpe smiled slightly and inclined her head. “Thank you. I have often feared that there is something missing in my music. Something just out of reach. But how could I find it if I did not know what it was in the first place? But now,” he went on, extending his arms to them, “I have surely found it!”

Calliope exchanged a quick glance with Atreus. He was as bemused as she felt. That almost made her laugh.

Euterpe didn’t seem to notice. “Would you join me and my sister for the noon meal? You may come early, if you wish, and settle in. She will surely be pleased to meet two budding musicians so clearly blessed by the Muses.”

Calliope looked to Atreus. The idea intrigued her, but she didn’t know if it was a good idea or not. Atreus would know what to do, though. If he thought it was alright, then she’d follow.

Atreus shrugged. “I guess a small visit wouldn’t hurt.”

“Excellent!” Euterpe beamed. “Our abode is not too far from here.”

Atreus stood up, and so did Calliope. As they followed Euterpe down the street, Calliope reached up and took Atreus’ hand. He gave her fingers a light squeeze, and she squeezed back.

“So, what’s the Musicians’ Gathering about?” Atreus asked.

“My colleagues and I came up with the idea,” Euterpe explained. “We perform to each other every week and receive feedback! The young people of Athens are encouraged to join and improve their craft. And the older ones enjoy tearing each other down.”

“Does that mean we’ll have to play again?” Calliope asked Atreus.

“You don’t need to,” Euterpe said before Atreus could reply. “But I am sure we would all enjoy your music.”

Calliope honestly wasn’t sure what to make of all this. But even fumbling amateurs could be favoured by the gods once in a while, couldn’t they?

They soon arrived at the pillared building. Euterpe led them inside, and as Calliope stepped through, a breath of cool air washed over her face. Cool stone paved the floors. The spacious hall before her was decorated with furniture, including the small platform in the middle. Statues of the nine Muses lined the walls, each one holding an instrument or scroll of some sort.

“Here we are!” Euterpe announced. “You may make yourself at home. The others will not arrive for a little while.”

“Not so fast!” another woman’s voice boomed from the far end of the building. “I am here. What is all the fuss?”

“Ah, sister!” Euterpe held out her arms to the approaching woman. “Remember what we spoke of yesterday?”

“That certain something you were searching for in your music? What was it you said … ‘A taste of youth long gone, of roads not taken but kept in memory?’ Yes, I remember,” Euterpe’s sister said, mildly amused. “Why, what of it?”

“I believe I have found it in these two,” Euterpe announced, sweeping her hand toward Atreus and Calliope. “I heard them by the Nymph’s Fountain, playing the Hymn of Orpheus. Such a stroke of luck! I couldn’t pass up the chance to bring them here.”

“Well, it is always a pleasure to see the young artists at work,” Euterpe’s sister said. Her dark eyes were kind yet curious as she regarded Atreus and Calliope. Her slender brow arched slightly. She was slightly taller than Euterpe, with long, dark ringlets framing her face, and she wore chiton dyed with the lightest blue. Bracelets glimmered on her arms.

Calliope shifted closer to Atreus’ side, half-expecting her to say that Atreus surely wasn’t from around here – 

“Well then, will you oblige me with a show of your skills?” the woman asked. “I would be happy to give feedback if you desire it.”

Atreus half-shrugged. “Um, sure. Calliope, what do you think?”

Calliope glanced at the platform. “Will we have to stand there?”

“Hah! No, not at all,” the woman said. “Some of us like to put on a show sometimes. Like Erasmos, here.”

While Euterpe grumbled about how she was not so pompous as all that, her sister led Atreus and Calliope to one of the lounges. Atreus set his pack down and brought out the lyre. Once they were all seated, Atreus said, “Hymn of Orpheus again?”

Calliope looked around the room at the statues. The one standing solitary at the far end caught her attention. The Chief of the Muses. Her namesake. 

Inspiration bubbled up inside her. Calliope didn’t remember when she started singing, but she did remember Atreus joining in, improvising on his lyre. And it wasn’t the Hymn of Orpheus – it was one of Calliope’s old compositions that she’d made, long ago in Sparta, dedicated to the Muses. It was one of her favourite pieces, and though it was meant for the flute, she’d prepared lyrics in secret. Just in case she ever got the courage to sing in front of Father and Mother.

By the time she was finished, there were tears in Euterpe’s eyes. Her sister’s eyebrows had gone so far up her head that her brow was all wrinkly. Calliope might have giggled had it not been for her sudden embarrassment.

“Beautiful!” Euterpe exclaimed, applauding fiercely. “Oh, how wondrous!”

Calliope’s cheeks burned. Even Euterpe’s sister was clapping, though with more restraint. “Indeed, that was excellent! A little rough around the edges, perhaps, but that can be worked on in due time. Your voice is lovely, my dear.”

“Thank you,” Calliope mumbled. To Atreus, she could only give him an apologetic smile. She hadn’t told him at all what she was planning to do! She’d forced him to improvise!

Granted, his music had not sounded out of place in the slightest. But still!

Atreus simply rubbed her shoulder. He wasn’t mad at her. That helped to ease her heart a little.

“Oh goodness, I forgot to ask! What is your name, dear?” Euterpe’s sister asked.

“I … I’m Calliope,” Calliope said shyly. “And this is Atreus.”

“It’s not every day we find a duo like you two,” the woman said.

“And who can improvise so smoothly, at that,” Euterpe added.

Atreus half-grinned. “I tend to run better on chaos.”

“Where do you hail from?” Euterpe asked, leaning forward with interest. “Young Calliope sang in the dialect of Sparta. Are you from the south, little one? Yes, I thought so!

“Atreus, on the other hand …” Euterpe’s gaze swept over Atreus’ face and hair, lingering on his arm markings. “I confess myself stumped!”

“I’m just a traveller,” Atreus said. “I’ve never been to Greece, and I got curious enough to visit.”

Euterpe’s sister arched a slender brow. “I see. And how did you meet your companion?”

Something pushed Calliope to speak in that moment. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it seemed the right time to say it. To make it real before witnesses and in her mind.

She liked Atreus. She trusted him.

And so spoke the truth into being. “Atreus is my brother.”

It was hard to read the sisters’ expressions. Calliope found that she didn’t care. Atreus’ face was full of surprise, yet he masked it quickly and nodded, affirming her words. But not before Calliope saw the warmth in his gaze.

And there was something else … Relief? Gratitude?

“Ah, we seem to have lost the time,” Euterpe’s sister said suddenly. “May I ask, how long were you two planning to stay in Athens?”

“Oh, er, I’m not sure yet,” Atreus began. “And – hang on, I haven’t asked for your name yet!”

“Oh? Mine is a name that your sister should be very familiar with,” the woman said. “Though, if you did not recognize my sister’s, I suppose I cannot blame you.”

“I recognized hers,” Calliope protested, turning to Euterpe. “You’re named after the muse of flutes and music.”

Euterpe’s smile widened. Her eyes gleamed, and Calliope realized that it was a true gleam of otherworldly light. “I am the muse of flutes and music, child.”

Words died in Calliope’s throat. A muse? Right here in front of her!

“Uh – I –” She leaned closer to Atreus, and their shoulders bumped together as Atreus did the same. If that was truly Euterpe the muse, then her sister was …

“Calliope,” Atreus said, staring at the woman. “Chief of the Muses.”

Muse-Calliope inclined her head. “I am pleased to finally meet you, daughter of Lysandra,” she said to Calliope. “I am not so familiar with your brother, unfortunately.”

“But?” Atreus prompted warily.

“But we know of your shared parentage,” Euterpe put in. “Rest assured we mean you no harm!”

“But if you know who we are,” Atreus began.

“We know that young Calliope is innocent of her father’s deeds,” Muse-Calliope said smoothly. “She was named after me as a gesture of respect. And she has honoured us today with her song for the Muses.”

“Nor did the Ghost of Sparta do any harm towards us when he was last here,” Euterpe added.

Calliope slowly relaxed. Hopefully they were telling the truth. They weren’t going to hurt her, or Atreus!

She hastily straightened her shoulders and bowed to them. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

Muse-Calliope nodded back. “You are very welcome, my dear.”

Calliope managed a weak smile, praying she hadn’t made too much a fool of herself. This was her first time meeting the Muses, and the last thing she wanted was to give them a reason to change their minds!

“That’s why you brought us here, then?” Atreus asked. “You knew who we were?”

“Not immediately,” Euterpe said. “I suspected you were someone powerful. I only figured it out after bringing you here.”

“Please be at ease, Atreus,” Muse-Calliope said. “I do not blame you for being cautious. I doubt being your father’s son has helped with that. But I assure you that we mean no ill will towards you or your sister.”

Calliope felt Atreus’ tension lessen. Not completely, but he did make the attempt.

“What do you want with us?” he asked.

The Muses exchanged glances. They seemed to share a silent conversation for a moment. Then Muse-Calliope said, “I think it would be in all of our best interests if you left Greece entirely. We heard of the trouble in the Underworld, but that is not our primary concern. We know of your father, you see, and we would prefer that our land be kept free of any … disturbances.”

“We wouldn’t mind that either,” Atreus pointed out. “We’re not trying to make a scene. Creatures have attacked us.”

“Like the harpies,” Calliope put in. “But I thought they only served Hades!”

“Though the Olympians are gone, many of those creatures from Greece still remain and have joined the service of the Roman gods. You may have gotten a head-start, but they will keep searching for you at Pluto’s command. They will not rest until they retrieve Calliope and return her to the Underworld.”

“Somnus said that Athens would shield us,” Atreus said.

“For a time,” Muse-Calliope agreed. “But the old power of Athens has dwindled under the Roman Empire. Alone, Atreus, you could have made your way through Greece unbothered. But now that Calliope is with you, she adds to your … presence, so to speak. And it will only grow over time.”

“Because I’m from the Underworld?” Calliope said in a small voice.

“And because you are Kratos’ daughter.”

“I – I don’t understand.”

“If I’m on the same page as them,” Atreus said carefully, “she’s saying it’s because you’re a goddess, Calliope.”

Calliope stared at him. “A goddess?” she repeated. “But I – I can’t be! I –”

“Kratos was the son of Zeus,” Euterpe said. “He was born a god, and so are you, dear girl.”

A goddess. The daughter of a god. The granddaughter of Zeus himself! Calliope could hardly believe it. A goddess!

She turned to Atreus. “Is that how you can turn into animals and shoot magic arrows?” she asked. “Are you a god too?”

Atreus nodded. The weight that had settled over Calliope’s shoulders suddenly lifted, and she leaned against his arm with relief.

“Look,” Atreus said to the Muses. “Thanks for the advice. Really. It’s just a lot to take in all at once. And where would we even go?”

“Back to wherever you came from,” Euterpe replied.

“Northwest,” Atreus muttered.

“Ah. So the quickest route to take would be through Rome!” Euterpe said cheerfully.

Both Atreus and Calliope stared at her. “Rome?” Atreus repeated. “But we’d be in the Roman gods’ territory! Shouldn’t we avoid that?”

“Call it ‘hiding right under the enemy’s nose’ if you must,” Muse-Calliope said. “We will do what we can to conceal you, but it will not be enough on its own. That is why I will not protest against going through Rome. There are many powers there that will help drown out your godly voices.”

“We need to think about this,” Atreus said. “Would you – I mean, is there enough time to …?”

“Of course,” Muse-Calliope said, surprisingly gentle. “You may take some time to think it over, if you must. Our house will shield you while you are in it. There is a garden out the back; you may go there for some fresh air.”

“Thanks.” Atreus nudged Calliope’s shoulder. “Hey, let’s go outside, okay?”

Calliope was too shaken by the revelations to make a proper reply. She gripped his hand, stood up from the lounge, and followed him as they walked across the hall.

And then … sunlight. The distant sounds of the agora. Birds chirping in the trees.

“Let’s sit over there,” Atreus said, pointing to a stone bench shaded by a nearby tree. Calliope sat next to him, still holding his hand.

“I know it’s a lot to think about,” Atreus said quietly. “If you want to talk it over …”

“I’m a goddess,” Calliope murmured. She turned her hands over on her lap, trying to feel for anything different. She still felt the same. No sudden strength, no power in her hands. That was a relief, truly. “Did you know?”

“I suspected it,” Atreus admitted.

Calliope looked up at him. He still looked the same, with his freckled face and faint scar. “You’re a god,” she said, more to herself than to him. “Did you always know?”

“No, actually. Father didn’t tell me until I was eleven. It was quite a surprise.”

Father. Kratos.

This was the first time Calliope called Atreus her brother. It felt like a new thing, and yet it wasn’t. She was technically his older sister, but at the same time, she wasn’t. He knew more about the world than she did. He had grown with time, while she remained stuck.

Back in Sparta, she’d sometimes imagined what it would be like to have a sibling. A little brother or sister who wouldn’t think badly of her because she didn’t have proper Spartan strength. Someone who would stand at her side against the other mean children. Or maybe Calliope would have to learn how to protect the little one from others. Maybe she could learn to be strong that way.

Atreus wasn’t a Spartan. If he was, he’d make an odd one. He was strong and brave, but also happy and good-natured. He spoke kindly, using gentle words instead of harsh ones. When Calliope regarded him, she saw a blend of Mother’s soothing temperament and Father’s unbending power.

Of all the people who might have saved her from Elysium – and there weren’t many she could think of, really – she was more than glad that it was her brother.

“Atreus?” she said timidly. “I’m sorry I said you weren’t my brother before.” Guilt needled her at the memory.

Atreus rubbed her arm reassuringly. “No need to apologize. You were upset. I understand.”

“I think I wouldn’t have yelled at you if I knew you were a god.”

Atreus chuckled. “I don’t really look godly, do I?”

“Not really. But I’m glad that you don’t,” Calliope said earnestly. “You’re not as scary as the other gods.”

“That’s good to hear,” Atreus smiled. She liked his smile very much. His eyes always scrunched up like a blinking dog’s, all innocent and sweet.

“By the way … Did you figure out what you wanted to do?” Atreus ventured. “Before meeting the Muses, I mean. I know there isn’t much choice now, but –”

“It’s alright,” Calliope said. “I want to go with you.”

“You sure?”

Calliope met his eyes and nodded. It was a scary prospect, going out into a new land. “I don’t care where we go. I just want to stay with you.” She bit her lip. “Is that … okay?”

Atreus wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Of course! We’ll go to Midgard. I know a good place where you can stay.”

“With Father?” she asked hesitantly.

Atreus paused, noticing her lack of enthusiasm. “You don’t want to stay with him?”

Calliope searched for an answer. Everything was still such a jumble inside. She wanted to see him, and at the same time, she didn’t want to. What if she went to Midgard and he found out she was there? The thought settled uncomfortably in her chest. “I don’t know.”

“Oh. Well, that’s all still a long way away. And I wasn’t talking about Father.”

“You weren’t?”

“Nope. There’s a warm place where my people live. I’ve made myself a home there, and you can stay there too, if you want.”

Calliope nodded. That sounded much better.

“And there’s lots to learn about Midgard. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

“Will I get to learn your language?” she asked hopefully.

“Of course! I can give you lessons along the way.”

“Will I get markings like yours, too?”

Atreus paused. “That’s a good question. Do you want some?”

“Well … Maybe I’ll wait,” Calliope said thoughtfully. “I want to see what other kinds of markings your people have. Then I’ll decide.”

Decide. There was no going back from these decisions now. Not that she could go back on them. She couldn’t stay in Greece anymore.

But that was alright. She was going to a new home. Atreus’ home.

The Muses were waiting for them when they returned inside. “Everything has been settled, then?” Muse-Calliope said. “Good. We saw fit to prepare the noon meal, in the meantime. You will need your strength for the journey ahead.”

“And we can speak further of your plans,” Euterpe added.

Sure enough, a table was already set with four terracotta bowls, slices of flatbread, cooked lentils, goat’s cheese, honey, and a small bowl of figs and grapes. A pitcher of wine sat in the centre of the table.

Calliope’s stomach rumbled at the sight. They took their seats around the table; Atreus was about to reach for the flatbread, but Calliope quickly laid a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “I would like to make a prayer first,” she said, more than a little embarrassed. It was one thing to give prayers and offerings to the gods, but when they were right in front of you?

But it was still the proper thing to do. She took the pitcher (gods, it was heavy!) and lifted it up as best as she could.

“I will first offer this wine to Lady Hestia,” Calliope began. “May she keep the hearth of the Muses burning always.”

She caught Muse-Calliope’s eye. Approval shone in the goddess’ eye, to Calliope’s relief. She had always offered a prayer to Hestia before and after meals back home. Hestia was the goddess of hearth and family, after all. If there was one Olympian who could ensure that Father came home, it was surely Hestia.

Calliope lowered the pitcher and trotted over to Muse-Calliope’s side. “I now thank you, Lady Calliope and Lady Euterpe, for your aid to myself and my brother. I offer you the first cups of our meal. May the power of your words never dwindle …” She poured the wine into Muse-Calliope’s cup, “… and may the beauty of your music never fade.” She finished filling Euterpe’s cup, then returned to her seat.

“Thank you, my dear,” Muse-Calliope said. “That was very good of you. Alright, let us eat!”

Several bites of flatbread and lentils later, Calliope felt more energized than ever before. The flavours all but burst over her tongue. After the last few days of eating travel food, this meal was like a banquet. How delicious!

“Now then,” Muse-Calliope said, setting down her cup. “After this meal, you will gather your things and return here. We will prepare a shortcut to Piraeus, the port city of Athens, where a boat will await to take you west through Saronikos Bay. From there is the Gulf of Corinth, and then you will be in open waters. After that, our boat can take you no further. You will need to seek passage on a ship from one of the cities there.”

“To Italia,” Atreus said. “I’m guessing we’ll be on our own once we get there?”

“Of course!” Euterpe said. “An artist’s creativity and wits is all they have to work wonders.”

“And inspiration from others,” Calliope offered.

“Ah! Speaking of inspiration, I have something for you.” Euterpe held up a package wrapped in cloth, and handed it to Calliope. The object inside was light. Long and thin. It felt oddly familiar.

Calliope unwrapped the cloth. Inside was a bamboo flute.

She stared at it for a moment, then looked up at Euterpe, who beamed back at her. “Um. It’s – beautiful, my lady.”

It really was. The surface was polished and engraved with laurel leaf patterns. Seeing it just made the ache in her chest all the more heavy. What was she supposed to do with this? She didn’t want to play the flute anymore!

“A musician such as yourself ought to have an instrument,” Euterpe said, oblivious to Calliope’s inner war. “And it is my hope that it will help you explore your godly powers. As they appear, of course.”

Calliope could only nod. She didn’t know what to say. The flute was light in her hands, but it was also heavy. 

“Thank you,” Atreus said. “And thanks for the lunch. It’s really good.”

Calliope reached for his hand under the table. His fingers engulfed hers as he gently brushed his thumb over her knuckles. As though he was trying to say, It’ll be alright.

Calliope hoped it would be.

Chapter Text

After lunch, Atreus and Calliope went back to the inn to get the rest of his things. A trip to the agora was also in order; Atreus bought fresh travel food, ointment, and cloth for bandages, a change of clothes for Calliope, and a bar of soap. You know. Just in case they happened across a bath on their journey.

He kept an eye on Calliope as they hurried around, hand-in-hand. She held the flute tight in her other hand, evidently unsure of what to do with it.

“You alright?” Atreus asked.

Calliope sighed heavily. “I didn’t want to play the flute anymore. I don’t know what to do with this.”

“You don’t have to use it,” Atreus said.

“But Lady Euterpe gave it to me! I can’t just toss it away!”

Some artifacts defy destruction. “Maybe you don’t need to play it. You could hit monsters with it, instead.”

Her frown deepened. Well, there went his attempt at humour. “How come you don’t want to play anymore?” Atreus asked instead. “Is it because of Father?”

“I don’t want to talk about Father.” The sudden force in her tone startled Atreus into silence. Right. It wasn’t his business. He kept his eyes on the path ahead. They had all the supplies they needed; it was time to get back to the Muses’ house.

Calliope shifted closer to him as they went. So close that she bumped into his leg. Atreus ignored it at first, but after a few times of nearly tripping over her feet, he came to a halt. “Calliope, can you move over a bit? I can’t move around like this.”

“Why don’t you move over?” Calliope snapped.

Atreus looked at her. Her face turned red under his gaze, and she turned her face away, lip wobbling. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the flute.

He sensed the conflicted swirl of emotions in her mind. But it wasn’t necessarily the flute that was the problem.

Kratos once hated the Blades of Chaos, not for them, but for what they represented. What they reminded him of.

“Look,” he said. “You don’t have to talk about it, alright? But don’t turn your anger on me. If I don't know what's wrong, I won't know what to do with it.”

“I don’t know either,” Calliope burst out, tears welling in her eyes.

At the very least, Atreus was glad that she wasn’t afraid to cry in front of him. There was a time when he’d constantly tried to hide his tears from Kratos. It was their journey to Jötunheim that got them both opening up and becoming more comfortable in each other’s company.

For Calliope to be this open for him meant that she trusted him enough for it. He didn’t want to mess that up.

“Give it to me, then,” he said, holding out his hand.

Calliope hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yep. I can hold on to it for now. I have the pack, after all.”

She set the flute in his hand with a firm finality. It felt like any other instrument. Atreus tucked it into his pack, snug against the lyre, then met Calliope’s eyes and nodded. She nodded back, visibly more at ease than before.

They made it back within the hour. Muse-Calliope was nowhere to be seen, but Euterpe sat by the far door to the garden. “Come here!” she called. “The shortcut is ready. Please excuse my sister’s absence; she has been called to Olympus on urgent business. But she wishes you all the best for your journey.”

“Er, should we be worried about this urgent business?” Atreus asked.

“Not for yourselves, no. Juno can be quite –” Euterpe cleared her throat. “Unpleasant, I should say, when Jupiter leaves her to her own devices.”

“Huh.” Jupiter was … Zeus. Right? So that meant Juno was Hera? Atreus still didn’t know all the names of all the Greek gods, much less the Roman ones. But he hoped he’d never cross paths with them, not after all the strange stories and legends he’d heard about Olympus’ rulers.

Euterpe brought out her flute and played a short melody. It hovered over Atreus and Calliope, and for a moment he swore he could see it shimmering in the air. The hairs on his neck and arms stood up.

“There,” Euterpe declared, satisfied. “That should help dampen your presence to the gods. Calliope’s especially.”

“Thanks,” Atreus said.

“Thank you, my lady,” Calliope echoed quietly.

Euterpe waved her hand across the doorway. Light ripped over it, and the garden beyond changed into a city street. “There lies Piraeus,” Euterpe said. “Listen for the boat, and you will find it.”

Listen for the boat? Atreus wondered. Did it have a soul?

Before he could ask, Euterpe tilted her head as though listening for something. Her eyes widened. All of a sudden she was pushing Atreus and Calliope through the doorway. “My sister is calling me. Farewell!”

“Hey!” Atreus stumbled onto the street. The smell of brine and seawater filled his nostrils.

Calliope bumped into his backside. “Oof!”

Atreus turned around, expecting to see the portal, but all he saw was a stone wall. They were in an alleyway.

“What happened?” Calliope asked, looking around. “Is this Piraeus?”

“I think so. Come on.”

Calliope took his hand as they left the alley. “Will Lady Euterpe be alright?”

“I’m sure she will.” Juno’s mood was probably worse than Euterpe thought. Atreus swallowed down his nerves and tried to gather his bearings. People strode by as they went about their daily business. Gulls squawked as they flew overhead.

Which way were the docks? How was he supposed to “listen for the boat”?

“Atreus,” Calliope said suddenly. “I hear something!”

“What is it?”

“This way!” She took the lead, tugging him by the hand, and Atreus followed after her as she trotted down the street. The further they went, the more Atreus heard a soft shushing of waves. They were getting closer to the waters.

Calliope paused at a crossroads, listening. Then she went left, turned the corner around a large building, and the docks appeared before them with an entire line of ships. Gods, there were so many! Some were being loaded with wares, while others simply sat in the waters, gently swaying with the wind.

“It’s getting clearer!” Calliope exclaimed. “Over there, I think.”

“What are you hearing? I can’t hear anything with all this ruckus,” Atreus said, bewildered.

“It’s like … Like music. But not really.” Calliope’s brow scrunched up as she thought it over. “It’s telling me to go there.”

“The boat’s talking to you?” Atreus thought of Ingrid, Freyr’s sentient sword. Or how he could hear the thoughts and feelings of animals.

Calliope huffed with impatience. “No, not talking. It’s – oh, I don’t know!”

Atreus decided to leave it for now. Just let Calliope do her thing first, and then they could get back to it later. 

Calliope hurried along the docks, eventually stopping at the far end of the line of ships. “Um. I think it’s … that one.” She bit her lip. “I think.”

It was a boat. Quite similar to the one he and Kratos used to row around, if not bigger and longer. Two paddles lay on the benches inside. Atreus sighed. Well, exercising his arms was never a bad idea. He still didn’t have muscles as big as his father’s, but a little work went a long way, right?

“Let’s get going, then.” He stepped easily into the boat, then helped Calliope in. She sat on the bench and gripped the edge, staring out at the bay with wide eyes. Atreus sat down across from her. Immediately, a tremor of magic passed through the boat, and it lurched away from the docks, heading out into the bay.

This was it, then. They were on their way to Rome. Muse-Calliope meant it literally when she said the boat would take them there.

“It’s a magic boat!” Calliope exclaimed. “Look! It’s moving!”

That explained how she could “hear” it. Music without words … No doubt the Muses’ doing. But why didn’t Atreus hear it too?

The boat picked up speed once they were at a safe distance from the docks. Calliope gradually loosened up, keeping one hand on the edge of the boat and peering out at the expansive waters with awe. “It’s so wide!”

“Ever gone sailing before?” Atreus asked lightly.

Calliope shook her head. “I – I know how to swim, though,” she said hopefully.

“That’s good! If we fall in, you can catch me.”

As he’d hoped, she laughed at his joke, albeit a little nervously. “Will we fall?”

“I doubt it. This boat seems pretty sturdy.”

“What if we get knocked over?”

“Then we swim back to the boat. But I don’t think there’s anything in this bay that’ll knock us over.”

“There could be hippocampi,” Calliope pointed out, peering over the edge of the boat. “Or the Sea God’s soldiers!”

“Hmm. What’s the Sea God’s name, again?”

“Poseidon.”

“His Roman name, I mean.”

“Oh.” Calliope thought for a moment. “Neptune!”

Atreus shook his head. “Gods, there’s so many names to remember.”

“Dulius told me about them,” Calliope said. “He also said that there are some gods who are only Roman. I don’t know them, though.”

“I wonder what they’re like.” Not that Atreus wanted to cross paths with them if he could help it. He was content with just wondering. 

“Do you have a Sea God in Midgard?” Calliope asked.

“Yep. I’ve never met him, though. His name’s Njörd. He’s a Vanir god.”

Calliope frowned, confused. “Vah-neer? What’s that?”

So many things popped into Atreus’ head at once, the biggest thing being just how much he had to teach his sister. Was this what it felt like to be Mimir, full of stories and legends, and finally with an audience to share them with?

Atreus cleared his throat. “There are two types of gods in Midgard. The Vanir deal with fertility and nature. Y’know, just growing stuff. Then there’s the Aesir. They’re the high and mighty ones.”

“Aesir,” Calliope murmured, tasting the word. “Vanir. Which one are you?”

“Oh, I’m neither. I’m a Jötunn. A Giant.”

“A Giant? Like the Gigantes? Gaia’s children?”

Atreus shook his head even as he latched on to the word. “I don’t think so. I haven’t heard a lot about Greece’s Giants, actually. Who are they?”

“The Gigantes were born from Uranus’ blood, long ago,” Calliope explained. “They fought the Olympians in the Gigantomachy. You don’t know it?”

“I haven’t been in Greece for long enough to hear about it, I think.”

“Oh, right! Well, the battle is said to take place on the plain of Phlegra. No one’s sure why they started fighting, but I think it’s because Gaia was upset about the Titans. Anyways, the Olympians beat them in the end, and now the remaining Gigantes are stuck under volcanoes. The elders say that that’s what causes the eruptions and earthquakes.”

So they weren’t involved with the Jötnar, then. It didn’t sound like it, at least, unless a group of Jötnar left Jötunheim and settled in Greece long, long ago. Once this whole journey was over, Atreus could check for details. For now, he had to focus on getting them to their destination.

“You’re really not one of them?” Calliope asked.

Atreus couldn’t help but laugh. “Do you think I am?”

“You said you’re a Giant!”

“I’m not stuck under a volcano, am I?” Atreus caught his breath. “No, I’m not one of those. The Giants of Midgard are something else. They’re my people. The Jötnar, in my tongue.”

“Jötnar … They wrote the lullaby?”

“That’s right. My mother was a Giant, too. A warrior.”

“And she had a magic axe,” Calliope nodded. “I remember. So … The Jötnar aren’t gods. Is it because of – of Father that you’re a god?”

Atreus nodded. “But my magic comes from the Jötnar. Giant stuff.”

“Jötnar,” Calliope said again. “I like the sound of it.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Atreus said, smiling. “Speaking of, I was going to teach you the Midgardian language, wasn’t I? Why don’t we start now?”

Calliope perked up. “Okay. But what if I’m too slow?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. People learn at different speeds.”

“How long did it take you to learn Greek?”

“Oh … A few days, I’d say?”

“A few days?” Calliope squeaked.

“I mean, I couldn’t get rid of my accent for a week –”

“A few days! How did you learn so fast?”

Atreus shrugged. “It’s one of my godly abilities,” he said, grinning slightly. “All languages are connected one way or another, so I can just feel my way through them, y’know?”

“So you can learn any language?” Calliope’s eyes were wide. “That’s amazing!”

“I’ve also taught others. Speaking, reading, and writing, that sort of thing.”

Teaching Kratos how to read Midgardian runes remained Atreus’ most notable experience. His father had picked it up quickly, not because he shared Atreus’ skill of learning fast, but because of his diligence and constant practice. He really put his back into it, so to speak, just like every other task he set his mind to. By the end of the first month, his reading was comprehensive if not entirely fluent.

When it came to Atreus’ efforts to teach others, there were different ways he could go about it. It all boiled down to how his student learned best. Kratos did well with a blunt and straightforward approach. Faye had taught Atreus by bringing him out into the forest, allowing him to interact with everything. Some of the Giants whom he and Angrboda brought back needed an entire refresher because they’d been gone for so long.

As for how Calliope learned best, that remained to be seen.

Since the boat did all of its own sailing, that left Atreus and Calliope with plenty of time on their hands. Atreus started off with the basics by teaching her simple words in Midgardian. She could pronounce them well enough, but when it came to remembering what they meant, she started mixing them up. Frustration flitted across her face, growing stronger as she began to slip on the pronunciation.

“We can take a break,” Atreus offered. “You’re not going to learn everything right away. It’ll take time.”

“But I need to learn it soon, don’t I?” Calliope protested. “What if we get there, and I still don’t know how to speak it? I won’t be able to understand anyone!”

“I’ll be there to help.”

“But what if you’re not?”

Atreus made to respond, then paused. What if he wasn’t there? He didn’t know where he’d be, but he couldn’t be with Calliope at all times forever. He hadn’t planned on it.

“Alright,” he said aloud. “We can keep going if you feel like it.”

Calliope nodded. “Um. Maybe … Could you teach me the Jötnar lullaby?”

That sounded like a good change of pace. “Sure! Do you want to start with the melody first, or the meaning?”

“Both!” Calliope giggled, leaning forward eagerly.

Atreus laughed. “Alright, let’s give it a try.”

In the end, he went through each line in the lullaby, first the melody and then the meaning. To his delight, Calliope caught on quickly and was soon quietly singing to herself.

Jötnarnir miklu og máttku

Hraktir í útlegð heim

Jötnar ei guðir né dauðlegir

Til fjalla í Jötunheim

Her pronunciation was considerably better than before. And she was evidently enjoying herself more. That was good. A musical sort, then? Not surprising, given that Euterpe gave her a flute to help with exploring her powers.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Atreus said. “Wow, the sun’s already setting!” Where had the time gone? They were out in the open water of the bay now, with Attica on their right and Peloponnese coming up on their left, though still far off in the distance.

“Already?” Calliope sounded disappointed, though she didn’t hide her yawn fast enough.

After eating a light dinner, Atreus made a makeshift pillow with his pack and set it on the floor. There was enough space in the boat to lie down side by side, and with Calliope being so small, they fit together quite snugly.

“Atreus?” she asked sleepily, tucking her head against his shoulder. “Will you teach me more Jötnar songs tomorrow?”

“Sure, if you want. I’ll throw in some Midgardian songs, too.”

A serene smile appeared on her face. “Okay.”

She didn’t fall asleep immediately. Atreus listened as Calliope hummed the lullaby’s tune under her breath. When his eyes eventually closed, it was with his people’s words in his ears.

Til fjalla í Jötunheim

Upp til fjalla í Jötunheim

That night, Atreus dreamed of the Utangard. The vast realm of golden sand was a welcome sight after so much time spent travelling. Last time he came here was a few months ago, at least.

Angrboda’s marble pulsed against his hip; he took it from his pouch and turned it over in his fingers. It was warm.

Atreus shut his eyes for a moment, then looked up. Sitting on a nearby block of stone, clearly waiting for him, was Angrboda. The sight of her sent a wave of warmth through his chest, a tingle down his spine, and a tap-dance in his stomach. It hadn’t been too long since they last met up, but it somehow felt like ages.

“Loki!” She leaped up and came to his side on nimble feet. Atreus reached out instinctively, and as their fingers intertwined, Angrboda leaned forward to kiss his eyes.

Heat flushed Atreus’ face. He tried not to focus on how soft her lips were. She was half a head taller than him, and from what the Giants said, there’d come a certain point when she could choose how big to grow, or how small to stay. Some had that ability; Angrboda’s father received it from Grýla, and he passed it on to Angrboda.

As for Atreus? Well, he was only part Giant. He might surpass his father, but he definitely wouldn’t get to be as big as Thamur, let alone as tall as Angrboda. Faye never got that ability (and Atreus was honestly kind of glad about that).

Angrboda smiled teasingly as she pulled back. “I heard you calling,” she said, nodding to the marble in Atreus’ other hand. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah.” It always just happened like this. The marbles were so attuned to them that they’d react when either he or she wanted to reach the other. “I have something to tell you. It’s nothing bad. At least, not yet. But first, how’re things going with you? How is everyone?”

Angrboda’s eyes gleamed. “They’re all doing great. Well, mostly. I have some not-yet-bad news too … But you go first.”

“Is it about the Aesir in Vanaheim?”

“Yes, but it’s nothing super serious yet.” She playfully wiggled her fingers against his. “Come on, Loki. You first!”

Atreus took a deep breath. “Okay. Me first. Um …” Gods, how was he supposed to start? How would Kratos say it?

Just be straightforward and simple. Nothing complicated. “Long story short, it turns out I have a sister. My father had a daughter when he was in Greece. She was stuck in the Underworld, but I got her out, and now we’re heading back to Midgard.”

Angrboda stared at him. Atreus couldn’t blame her. Dropping this piece of info probably felt like one of her pigment explosions – beautiful but shocking, leaving you stunned for a while.

“Loki, that’s – wow,” she finally said. “Wait, you’re in Greece now?”

“I know it wasn’t exactly part of the plan,” Atreus said hastily. “But they do have stories about Giants here, and I thought it’d be best to investigate.”

“And you wanted to explore your heritage,” Angrboda added softly. “I get it.”

“I won’t be able to look into it now,” Atreus went on. “But later, after I’ve gotten my sister to safety, I can go back. You can come too. It’s really warm in Greece. Like Jötunheim.”

Angrboda smiled. “I’d like that. So …” She leaned forward a little. “Is she your big sister?”

“Technically, yeah. But she didn’t change in the Underworld, so she’s pretty much a little sister now.” Atreus returned Angrboda’s marble to his pouch and took her other hand. “Listen, Boda … She can’t stay in Greece. It’s complicated, honestly. But once we’re out of Roman territory, she should be safe. And, um, I was hoping she could stay in Jötunheim.”

“With us?” Angrboda said. She didn’t seem bothered, which Atreus took as a good sign. “Why not with Kratos?”

“That’s also complicated. It’s a long story, and I’m not sure how long I should stay here.”

“Is she with you right now?”

Atreus nodded.

Angrboda tilted her head in thought. “Hmm. That explains the vision.”

“What? Which vision?”

“I had one a couple weeks ago. I was rolling out a blanket for a new bed. I thought it was going to be for another Giant, but … Well, it was a pretty small blanket. And blue.” She refocused on Atreus. “Alright. Bring her to Midgard. You’ll have to go the long way since she can’t come through the Utangard.”

“I figured,” Atreus said, somewhat disappointed. “We’re on our way right now.”

“Good. I hope you both get here safely. And remember, if you get in a tight spot, I’ll come right after you.”

“Thanks, Boda. I think we’ll be alright.” He hoped, at least.

Excitement tugged her smile wider. “A little sister. Wow! And you didn’t even know about her until now?”

“Nope,” Atreus said. “Father never told me about her.”

It settled strangely in his chest. Why didn’t Kratos tell him? Was he ever going to tell him about his long-lost Grecian family? Or was he just going to keep it to himself forever?

It was Kratos’ business. Atreus knew that. But now that Calliope was here … The thought of not knowing who she was felt wrong. It somehow felt like Atreus’ business now, too.

But he’d deal with that later. He gently squeezed Angrboda’s fingers. “I’ll tell you more about her later. What’s going on with Father and the others?”

“He’s helping Freya and Sif in Vanaheim. The Aesir and Vanir are just getting into some trouble again. Like I said, it’s not super serious. Yet.”

Atreus sighed. There was always somebody who wasn’t satisfied and wanted to take it out on other people. This wasn’t anything new – even after the Asgardians got all settled in Vanaheim, some remained hostile to the Vanir, and vice versa. But overall, the majority of them just wanted to live peacefully.

“Other than that, they’re all doing well. Fenrir’s having fun helping the Giants when they need to hunt or gather materials. Skjöldr’s city is getting bigger; he’s finally come up with a name for it, too! Danmǫrk. Isn’t it nice?”

“Very,” Atreus agreed. “I can’t wait to see it again. And all of you guys. I really miss home.”

Angrboda grew solemn. “We miss you, too. Your father most of all, I think. I keep telling him you’re alright, and he believes it, but he still worries sometimes.”

Well, there wasn’t much Atreus could do about that. His father loved him. He wouldn’t be able to not worry, no matter how much he trusted his son.

“I’ll tell him you’re still doing well,” Angrboda promised.

“Thanks,” Atreus said earnestly. “Also – don’t tell him about my sister, okay? He’s got enough to deal with right now.” And if Atreus and Calliope didn’t make it … Well, he just didn’t want to give Kratos false hope.

“Of course. It’s on you to tell him,” Angrboda agreed. She made it sound so simple and easy, like she knew he’d find a way to do it. He wished he had her confidence.

“I should get back,” Atreus said. “Wish me luck?”

Angrboda smiled. She lifted his hand and kissed the back of it. “Good luck.”

If Atreus’ face was warm before, it was seriously burning now. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one doing the “wooing,” as Kratos put it? Mimir hadn’t said anything about the other one taking charge!

The gleaming sands swirled around his feet. Atreus set his jaw and, without a second thought, pressed his lips to Angrboda’s cheek. Her skin was soft as linen, and warm from her own blushing.

“You too,” he murmured.

Chapter Text

The boat never stopped, even as they passed through the narrow strait between Attica and the Peloponnese. At one point, they docked at Korinthos, a coastal city on the Peloponnese’s shore, and found a bathhouse. Calliope savoured the feeling of scrubbing dirt and grime from her skin, not to mention being on solid land again.

And then they were off once again, heading west through the Gulf of Corinth. Mountains rose on either side of them in the near distance, looking like walls of jagged teeth. Giant teeth.

What if a Giant came up from the depths and swallowed them whole?

That was a silly thought. The Gigantes were gone. Atreus’ Jötnar remained, and they weren’t interested in war. They only fought when absolutely necessary. That’s what Atreus told her as they sailed through the second day.

“They prefer to live in peace. They’re artisans, seers, philosophers, builders … I’ve been trying to get better at painting, myself.”

A community of artists. Calliope liked the sound of that, just like the sound of their language. Many in Sparta pursued art alongside combat; they all took craftsmanship and poetry seriously. Knowing the classics was necessary to become a well-rounded warrior. 

Calliope pushed those memories aside. Raising her face to the gentle sea wind, she practiced the lullaby that Atreus had taught her. Singing the words was much easier than simply speaking them. And their meanings stuck closer to her, also.

The Jötnar, fierce and mighty

Exiled to their realm

The Jötnar, not gods nor mortals

To mountains in Jötunheim

The Jötnar, fierce and mighty

Exiled to their realm

The Jötnar, not gods nor mortals

To mountains in Jötunheim

Up to mountains in Jötunheim

Hammer strikes to the sky – to tell the tale ain’t

Anyone whilst we flee this land

Time hides us

Stone walls stand tall

We perish …

Soon

The Jötnar, fierce and mighty

Driven to exile rime

The Jötnar, not gods nor mortals

To mountains in Jötunheim

Up to mountains in Jötunheim

Up to mountains in Jötunheim

Knowing the meaning made the song all the sadder, but Calliope couldn’t let go of it. She imagined a large company of Giants marching from one land to the other – Midgard to Jötunheim, Atreus said.

“Realm of the Giants,” Calliope translated without thinking.

Atreus raised his brows in surprise. “That’s right. Good job!”

She was certain it wasn’t just because Atreus told her what the words meant. There was something about putting the language to a melody. It all just became … clearer, somehow. Like it was the key to unlocking a box.

Atreus must have caught that as well. He now taught her simple nursery rhymes and folk songs. The words turned to butter on Calliope’s tongue, melting with ease and flowing down the river of music. And the music! She hadn’t felt this inspired since she was a young girl in Sparta, trying to play the melodies in her mind on her flute. Or scribbling the words of half-formed poetry on small papyrus sheets.

Now the songs of Atreus’ land whirled in her mind. She put together different notes and tunes, and it seemed to her that each new composition carried more hidden words to unlock.

She shut her eyes in concentration. “Brod … Bróðir,” she murmured, singing under her breath. “Bróðir minn … Sterr … sterkur og … stöðugur.”

“What’s that?” Atreus asked.

Calliope motioned impatiently for him to be quiet. Everything was coming together, she could feel it! She sang the words to herself, and, gradually, the song came into form.

Brother mine

Steady and stable

May your aim stay true

And heart be brave

She opened her eyes. Atreus was watching her intently. “Um, did I say it right?” she asked uncertainly.

“Yeah,” Atreus said. “I understood what you said.” He didn’t sound as surprised as she thought he’d be. Then again, he learned Greek in a few days! 

“Does that mean I can learn fast, like you?” she asked hopefully.

Atreus rubbed his chin. “I think it means that you learn better with music. It’s probably part of your godly abilities.” He paused. “I’d say that’s why Euterpe gave you the flute.”

Something clenched in Calliope’s chest. “I don’t want to play it,” she said. “If I do, I’ll think about him.”

“And it hurts,” Atreus said quietly.

A lump formed in Calliope’s throat. Not trusting herself to speak, she simply nodded. It did hurt. A lot.

Atreus slid off his bench to kneel before her. He held out his hand, and she took it, feeling the callouses on his palm.

“This flute isn’t your old one,” he said solemnly. “You can make this one mean something different. A new start.”

“What good will that do?” Calliope said stubbornly.

Atreus didn’t budge. “I know you don’t want to be hurt. I don’t want you to be, either. You’ve been wounded. I want to help you stop the bleeding.”

“I am stopping it,” she protested.

“No. You’re just trying not to think about it. You’re going to bleed out.”

A small, sad smile formed on his lips. “Did I ever tell you about a time when he broke a promise to me?”

Calliope’s heart leaped in her chest. “What happened?”

“I was only eleven at the time. It was right after my mother died. A strange god came to our house and fought with Father, and I honestly thought Father had died.”

“But he didn’t,” Calliope guessed.

“He didn’t. But I was so afraid of the possibility that I made him promise not to leave me alone again.”

“And he broke it?” Anger flared in Calliope’s gut. In her mind’s eye, she saw Father in Elysium, walking away from her after promising never to leave her again.

“Yep. Hold on, I’m getting to that.” Atreus cleared his throat. “Later on our journey, there was a darkness blocking our path, so we went off to get this special light that would chase it away. The light of Alfheim, Realm of the Elves.”

“Elves?”

“They’re people like us. They just look different. Very beautiful, but deadly. They attacked us the whole way as we tried to reach the light.”

“What is the light?” Calliope kept imagining the sun and moon orbiting around each other.

“Think of it as a marble pillar, but made of white light. Father had to step into it while I waited for him outside.” Atreus’ eyes turned distant. “I ended up waiting for days. I thought he left me.”

“Why didn’t he come out?” Calliope asked in a hushed voice.

“The Light of Alfheim is addictive stuff. I had to pull him out, and when I did, he got angry at me. So I got angry and yelled at him.”

“You … you did?” It was almost unthinkable. She understood getting mad at Father, but standing up to him? No one she knew had ever yelled at Father. No one dared. Only Mother dared to face him, though he didn’t always listen to her.

“Yep. Felt pretty good, too. While I was waiting out there, I had to fend off the elves all by myself. I was scared. I thought he didn’t care about me.”

Calliope gripped his hand. “I care about you,” she said earnestly.

Atreus smiled, but the sadness of memory didn't leave his face. “Turns out he thought only moments went by while he was in the light. Once he realized that, he couldn’t be angry at me anymore.”

“Did he say he was sorry?”

“Nope. Not that I expected him to. He never said sorry to me when I was young. But, looking back, he tended to apologize in other ways.”

“How did he do it, then? For leaving you alone?”

“He gave me the light. Put it into my bow. Not that it made me feel better, of course. But … it helped to know what it was like on his end. He never wanted to leave me for so long. For him, it was only a short while.”

Again, that gaping hole in her memory. Why did Father leave her after arguing with Persephone? And why didn’t he stay to explain what was happening?

“I don’t know why he left me,” she said aloud. “I don’t know why he killed me. Only that it was an accident.” She swallowed hard. “But it doesn’t feel like it was.”

“What makes you say that?” Atreus asked.

“I told you before, I was never a strong child,” Calliope said. Tears thickened her words, but they didn't fall yet. “The elders were going to have me killed when I was a babe.”

“Because you caught a plague?” Atreus said incredulously. “That wasn’t your fault!”

“Spartans only accept the strong,” Calliope explained. “If we cannot fight and defend Sparta, then there is no use for us. The other children made fun of me all the time when Father was away." Tears leaked from her eyes as she began to weep in earnest. "They said I wasn’t what he wanted. He was a mighty captain. He should have gotten a strong child. A warrior.”

“They’re wrong. You are a warrior, just in a different way,” Atreus said firmly. “Listen. You survived the plague, didn't you?”

“But not on my own. Mother said that someone healed me –”

“Who healed you?”

Calliope’s lip wobbled. “Father. He went on a long journey.”

“To find a cure? Would he have gone through all that if he didn’t care about you?”

She didn't know what to say.

“And you're still a warrior. Babies don’t often survive plagues. You fought it long enough for him to get back. You got through Elysium. You may not have physical strength, but that’s not the only thing that matters. You’re a brave girl, Calliope. Resilient. And y’know … You’ve been through quite a lot of hardship. To be kind and gentle despite that takes a lot of power. I’ve seen strong adults who gave in to the weight of it all.” He gently rubbed her hand. “But I wouldn’t blame you if you gave in to it, either. You have every right to be upset.”

Tears slipped down Calliope’s cheeks. She held out her arms to him, and he leaned forward to hug her, wrapping her up tight. His fingers gently carded through her curly hair. With her head tucked against his neck, she saw the inscription etched in black, stark against his skin.

Iogn hugr. Steady mind.

“Do you really think it was an accident?” Calliope hiccupped.

“Only one way to find out,” Atreus replied. “You can ask Father once we get to Midgard. I’ll be with you if you want.”

Calliope said nothing. What was the right thing to do? Deep down, she knew she ought to talk with Father, but the idea made her want to curl up into a ball and hide. She didn’t know what to do.

But she did know one thing: she trusted Atreus. Having him with her made the thought of facing Father a little less frightening.

It rained on the third day. They docked at another town along the coast to take shelter, then continued onward once the rain lessened to a drizzle. Calliope practiced more Midgardian and Jötnar songs with Atreus, offered up prayers of thanks during meals, and looked through Atreus’ sketches again while he told her stories of his homeland.

“Jörmungandr is the World Serpent. He’s said to be so big that he can wrap around the entire world and still bite his tail. I’ve met him a few times, and I can promise you he’s really big.”

“You’ve met him?” Calliope exclaimed. “Did he try to eat you?”

“Nope! He’s really friendly, actually. He’s an old Giant, and he only speaks the Ancient Tongue of the Jötnar. One time, Father and I sailed into his mouth to look for a statue he’d eaten …”

Calliope listened in awe of the mighty Jörmungandr, and how he had saved Atreus and Father from danger. “What about you?” Atreus asked once he was finished. “Know any sea monsters like that?”

“Hmm … There’s the hydra,” Calliope said. “And Scylla! That beast is horrible –  she has several heads, each with a long neck, and she hides in a cave high in the cliffs. She waits for ships to pass underneath so she can snap up the sailors. Do you think she could beat Jörmungandr?”

Atreus shrugged. “Depends on how big she is. But still, Jörmungandr’s huge. I’ll bet he can snap her up in one bite!”

He playfully ruffled her hair as he said this. Calliope giggled and reached up to do the same to him, but he easily tilted his head out of the way. He was so tall! No matter how much Calliope stretched, she couldn’t reach his silly little braid.

So she settled for tapping him on the nose. “Boop! I got you!”

“Oh noooo, I’ve been hit!” Atreus pretended to flail backward, and Calliope fell with him, laughing.

The strait gradually widened throughout the afternoon and into the evening. They were getting closer to the sea! Calliope had only ever seen it from land, usually on horseback with Mother and Father. Anticipation churned inside her as the coastlines gradually fell away on either side. The expansive sea lay before them, its surface gleaming under the light of the moon.

“It’s so … blank,” she said.

Atreus chuckled. “For now. I’ll bet we’ll see some things once we’re really out there. Merchant ships, fish, that sort of stuff.”

The boat curved to the left, now following the Peloponnese coastline. “Are we going to look for a big ship now?” Calliope asked.

“Once we dock, yeah. I hope they’re not too expensive.”

And then they’d be off to Italia. Something new fluttered in her stomach. Excitement? Fear? Neither of them knew what they would find in Rome. But Calliope could guess that they’d see plenty of Roman soldiers.

Weariness tugged at her, and she rubbed her eyes. “Could we find a place to sleep first?” she asked.

Atreus smiled. “Sure thing. I could use a bath.”

Calliope hid a yawn behind her hand. Water sloshed against the hull of the boat, as soothing as any lullaby. Whatever city they came upon, she hoped they had hot-air baths. And spanakopitas. And maybe a view of the sea –

A low rumbling caught her attention. The boat vibrated; water sloshed higher against the hull, spilling inside. She hastily gripped the edge of the hull. “Atreus? What is happening?”

“I don’t know –” The boat suddenly lurched as waves rose up around them, tossing them this way and that. Calliope lost her grip on the boat and tumbled backward with a cry, but an iron hand caught her wrist just before she could fall overboard. Atreus pulled her down to the boat’s floor, keeping a hand on her shoulder.

“Hold on,” he ordered, raising his voice over the crashing of turbulent waves.

Calliope held onto the nearest seat, unable to speak for the fear in her gut. The waters beat against the boat like fists, knocking her and Atreus against the sides. Atreus kept his arm over her; when the waves finally drew back, he leaned down and said, “There’s something below us. A lot of things.”

“What kind of things?” Calliope whispered.

“I don’t know. They sound … territorial.”

“Hippocampi? A hydra? Sirens?”

Atreus slowly straightened up just enough to peer over the edge of the boat. Calliope swallowed hard, still gripping the bench. They were both drenched all over; the night air wasn’t particularly cool at this time of year, but she still shivered.

A sudden rush of water crashed over them from the side. Calliope screamed. Atreus shouted out, but his voice was lost to the waves.

“Atreus? Atreus!” Calliope scrambled to the edge and looked out into the churning waters.

Atreus’ head popped up from the surface, several feet away. He coughed and sputtered, arms flailing as he tried to swim back.

Suddenly, a great burst of water erupted behind him, taking the shape of a rearing horse. The creature’s hooves came down upon Atreus’ head, shoving him under.

Ice spread through Calliope’s chest. “Atreus!” she screamed. “Atreus!”

The horse snorted and looked up at her with gleaming white eyes. Calliope trembled under its gaze. A hippocampus!

She gripped the boat’s edge. Be brave. “H-hello? We mean you no harm. We’re just travelling! Please, release my brother!”

The hippocampus stepped forward, seemingly unbothered by the shifting waters around them.

“Can you understand me?” Calliope cried. “Let him go! He’ll die!”

The hippocampus reared again with a whinny. Others took up the call – more hippocampi. They were everywhere.

Calliope fell back onto the boat’s floor. Something hit her arm. Atreus’ pack! 

All thought left her in that moment. She dug into the pack, searching, searching, half-blinded from the sea spray. Her fingers felt the thin body of the flute, and she pulled it out none too gracefully.

Be brave. Be resilient. Calliope got to her feet as best she could; the boat wasn’t terribly steady, but it was enough for her to stand upright. She faced the hippocampus before her and took a deep breath.

They were going to kill Atreus. Her brother. And she’d be all alone again. Anger sparked inside her, and for once, they did not turn into more tears.

Never again!

She raised the flute to her lips and began to play.

It was not a famous melody or hymn, or even one of her old compositions. She made this one up as she went, following the cry of the waves and roar of the deeper waters. Something thrummed inside her, turning the song into a call to the hippocampi. They all turned towards her, listening intently, and even the sea itself calmed a little.

Listen to me, Calliope thought, pouring it into her flute’s melody. Listen!

The nearest hippocampus snorted curiously. Its nose was close enough for Calliope to reach out and touch. Her heart pounded fast in her chest as she brought the song to its end and lowered her flute.

She met the creature’s white gaze. “My brother,” she said, as firmly as she could. “Bring him to me!”

The hippocampus tossed its head, sea-spray mane flying, and something burst up from the surface nearby.

Calliope half-gasped, half-sobbed. “Atreus!”

He coughed and gasped for air as he reached the boat. Calliope grabbed his arms and tried to haul him up, never mind how heavy he was. He fell into the boat like a pile of wet rags, sputtering and shaking.

Calliope stepped between him and the hippocampus, and threw her arms around him protectively. The creature peered at her, as did the others.

She swallowed back her fear. Atreus was here. He was still alive.

“We mean you no harm,” she repeated, as clearly as she could. Was it her imagination, or did her words echo for a bit before fading away? “We are trying to reach Rome. Please let us through!”

The hippocampus huffed, stamping its hooves on the water.

Atreus lifted his head. “He doesn’t like me,” he murmured, rather dryly. “He knows I’m a foreigner, and that you’re … special. He thought I was trying to kidnap you.”

“What?” Calliope turned to the hippocampus in disbelief. “Your concern is – appreciated.” No, it wasn’t. Not really. “But this is my brother! He has blood ties to Sparta, just as I do! He is a friend to all animals, both on land and in the sea!”

It was an exaggeration, but Calliope didn’t care. If the World Serpent could truly span the world, and Atreus was his friend, then that was enough! The hippocampus lowered his head with what sounded like an apologetic huff.

“He didn’t mean to upset you,” Atreus said.

“You can understand him?”

“I can hear his thoughts and feelings. It’s easier with animals than people. They’re more open.”

Calliope got to her feet, still keeping a hand on Atreus’ shoulder. “I am upset,” she said steadily, facing the hippocampus, “but I am willing to forgive you if you let us go through.”

There were a few whinnies from the other hippocampi, whether in agreement or not, Calliope couldn’t tell. The one standing before them lifted his head, then trotted back a few steps, flicking his foamy tail.

“They’re willing to let us through,” Atreus translated. “Actually, he’s alright with helping us get to Italia.”

“Really?” Calliope said, surprised. “Are they going to pull the boat?”

“No … I think they mean to carry us.”

“Carry us? How –”

Atreus reached out and pulled Calliope to his chest. She looked up as a sudden wave crested high over their heads. She tightened her grip on Atreus and the flute just as it crashed down on them, casting everything in darkness.

Chapter Text

Upon my days,

How much has changed in such short time!

In Elysium I thought myself bound for ever and always,

But it was not so; I once prayed for my father to find me,

Stalwart and strong as he was to have passed through Hades many times,

And though my kin did come to retrieve me, 

It was not one I expected.

Atreus is he, steady of mind and strong of arm

With eyes that Selene herself, fair carrier of the moon, would envy,

So silver-blue and gleaming are they. And hair to match the flaming clay

That make our terracotta pots,

Or Helios’ own flame when the sun god’s chariot rises high in the heavens.

My brother hails from the frosty north, a land far from the heat of Greece,

With no olives and grapes to boast of,

But with raw beauty in the earth and lakes and mountains.

Many gods and creatures dwell there –  some my brother deems as his allies,

While others still are his enemies. It cannot be helped, I suppose,

For a god to go about his days without gathering a few foes.

But I may say with certainty

That Atreus may add one more ally to his list: I, Calliope of Sparta!

Though I know not what I am a goddess of, what my title is yet –

Greece and Rome combined have plenty gods to fill the ranks,

So perhaps I will find myself in Atreus’ house, discover my place and purpose,

Even as I learn more of his homeland, kith, and kin.

An eventful journey

It has been since Atreus the Giant brought me out of Elysium.

From there, we went to Aphnida, a peaceful town with kindly folk;

And then to Athens, that ancient city beloved to Athena, the wisdom goddess,

Once a great treasure of Greece, now held under the eye of the Romans.

There we met the lustrous Muses,

Eloquent Calliope, greatest of the nine, who inspires poets with godly words,

And the fair Euterpe, whose voice holds the beauty of such music

That has only been played on Olympus.

Thusly we sailed, between prosperous Attica and mighty Peloponnese,

Until we reached the open waters where the water steeds of Poseidon,

Master of seas and earthquakes, halted us in our path.

They sought to take my brother from me, and I from him,

But with a newfound strength I never imagined I could hold,

I communed with them and saw Atreus returned,

With the fire of life still in him, and his blue eyes still ablaze.

The hippocampi, seeking to make amends, now steal us away

From our little boat, gifted to us by the Muses.

But where will they truly take us? And what shall become of us?

***

Sunlight blinded Atreus as he broke through the water’s surface with a gasp. He instinctively started to kick his feet, but something held his legs steady and straight. The hippocampi.

Calliope held tight to him, looking around wildly. Her wet curls smacked against Atreus’ cheek as she turned her head. “Where are we? What’s going on?”

“We’re somewhere,” Atreus said. He caught sight of a shoreline a short distance away, complete with ships and their high sails.

Below in the water, the hippocampus’ thoughts rippled through Atreus’ mind. Here is the red-cloaks’ shore. 

Something popped out of the water and landed against Atreus’ chest. His pack! Calliope hastily raised it above the water; so far it looked pretty dry, probably thanks to the hippocampi. Hopefully, all its contents were still inside!

Tread carefully here, the hippocampus said. We shall leave you now.

“Wait, can’t you bring us a little closer –” Atreus began, but the hippocampi sped away, releasing his legs at the same time. He dipped considerably in the water and started kicking furiously. Calliope’s legs bumped against him; she was doing the same.

“What happened?” she asked. “Where are the hippocampi?”

“They’ve gone back to Greece,” Atreus replied. Sea water slipped into his mouth and he spat it out. “We gotta swim to that shore. You hold onto me and keep the pack away from the water, alright?”

Calliope shifted around to hold on to his back, freeing both his arms for swimming. “Alright, I’m ready!”

A few minutes in, Atreus felt as though he’d barely made any progress. As he paddled forward, something fibrous brushed against his wrist. When he pulled his arm out of the water, he found a net hanging from it.

“Where did that come from?” Calliope wondered.

“Salve!” a voice called. “Hoc est rete meum!”

Atreus and Calliope looked around to see a fishing boat nearby. The sailor inside waved, calling to them again in a foreign language.

“What?” Atreus shouted back. The words were already clicking in his mind, but not fast enough. “I don’t understand –” Another bout of seawater sprayed into his mouth. He sputtered and spat it out.

“Graeca? ” the sailor said. “Expectate paulisper – Ah, hello! Hold on, I’ll come over to you.”

It was hardly a long wait. Atreus and Calliope kept afloat as the boat came alongside them. The sailor held out his hand. “Come on up!”

“Here,” Atreus said, nudging Calliope forward. “Get her up first.”

The sailor gripped Calliope’s outstretched arms and lifted her up easily. Once she was in the boat, he turned back to Atreus. His grip was strong. And apparently, Atreus weighed next to nothing for him. He lifted him up as though he were a bag of candies and set him on the boat’s floor.

Atreus gripped the edge of the hull. “Thanks a lot,” he said breathlessly. “Really. Oh, here’s your net.”

The sailor took it with a slight bow. “My thanks to you. Either I caught a very large fish and it escaped, or the current is stronger than I thought.”

Probably an effect of the hippocampi leaving. “I hope it’s not damaged,” Atreus said.

“It appears not,” the sailor said. “But never mind that, now. You two obviously require more care than the net! Come, sit here. I will find you a towel.”

While he bustled off to the far end of the boat, Atreus sat down on the floor. Calliope settled herself on his lap. Thanks to the morning’s warmth, neither of them was shivering, but they weren’t about to dry quickly in this humidity.

The sailor returned promptly with a towel. Atreus took it with a nod of thanks and wrapped Calliope up in it. She wiped her face and hair, then quickly threw the towel around Atreus. “Your turn!”

Atreus undid his braid (it was already coming apart anyway) and ruffled his hair dry. When he looked up, he found the sailor watching them curiously.

“Forgive me for staring. I am just – surprised. How did you come to be out here? Surely not for a light swim!”

“Um, it’s a long story,” Atreus said.

“I will gladly listen. But first, let me bring you to my home. You will be able to properly dry off there, and then you may tell me your tale.”

“Thank you, sir,” Atreus said fervently.

The sailor chuckled as he turned his boat toward the docks. “No need to address me so, young man. You may call me Portunus.”

He was a well-built sailor, middle-aged, with broad shoulders and blocky hands. His face was weathered, yet rosy and kind. His curly hair and beard were both short, shining dark-brown in the sun. He wore only a tunic and sandals.

“I’m Calliope,” Calliope offered quietly. “This is Atreus, my brother.”

“We come from Sparta,” Atreus added. It was half-true.

“Ah, in the Peloponnese? That is quite far, indeed! The town ahead is Sipontum, and my house is not far within.”

A few minutes later, they were at the docks. Portunus tied his boat to a post, then let Atreus and Calliope get out first before following. He led them into town, past the bustling market to a quieter area dotted with fruit trees. A modest house lay under the shade of one; inside lay a comfortably furnished entry with doorways leading off to other rooms.

“Please sit here, my guests. I will see if I can find a change of garments for you.” Portunus then bustled off and returned shortly with some dry clothes. He stepped outside while Atreus and Calliope changed. It felt great to get out of his damp shirt and trousers. His new garment was a cross between a tunic and a knee-length chiton, dyed a cream colour and without any embellishments. He had no new trousers, though. His thighs felt oddly exposed despite being covered by the linen. What would Angrboda say if she could see him now?

“All done,” Calliope announced from behind. Atreus turned around to find her wearing a chiton like his, except it was oversized and therefore reached her ankles. She’d adjusted the shoulder straps and cord around her waist so that it fit more snugly to her frame.

“You look great!” Atreus said. “You wear them better than I do.” He glanced mournfully at the tan line below his knees. The hem wasn’t quite long enough to cover it.

Calliope giggled. Then her smile faded, and she trotted up to him. “Are you alright?”

“As well as I can be. And you?”

She nodded. “You’re not hurt anywhere?”

“Other than a little waterlogged, I feel fine. The hippocampi didn’t give me too much trouble.”

At the mention of them, Calliope bit her lip. She threw her arms around Atreus’ waist and hugged him tightly. Her shoulders shook as Atreus returned the hug. “I thought you were going to drown,” she said, muffled against his chiton.

Atreus gently ruffled her hair. “I wouldn’t leave you like that, Calliope. I was going to put up a fight – though it’s hard to speak spells underwater.” He cradled her face in his hands and raised her head to look at him. “You were incredible. You saved me and faced them down. You are strong.”

Calliope managed a timid smile. “I – I didn’t fight them, though.”

“Nothing wrong with that. In fact, I’d say it worked in our favour. Negotiating a truce is almost always better than having a battle.”

Her smile widened. She hugged him again; when she withdrew, her hand held the flute that Euterpe had given her.

“How did it feel?” Atreus ventured.

Calliope tilted her head as she regarded the instrument. “Odd,” she said. “But not in a bad way. I wanted to save you.”

Atreus smiled. “And you did.”

When Portunus returned, he brought a bowl of apples likely picked from the neighbouring tree.

“Thank you,” Atreus said weakly, taking the bowl. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, really –”

“But I did. Nor do I regret it. It is no trouble at all,” Portunus said. There was a kindly twinkle in his eye. “You are my guests and will be treated as such.” He sat down across from them. “Now, we have some time before the noon meal. Will you tell me your tale?”

Atreus gave him the sanitized version. He was a traveller from the north with family in Greece, so he decided to connect with them – and found Calliope, his little sister, who lost her home in Sparta. Since then, they’d gone to Athens and thus made their way here, to Italia’s coast, with plans to return north and bring Calliope into Atreus’ family.

“We were planning to take a ship to Italia, but we ran into some, uh, trouble,” Atreus went on.

“Do you know about the hippocampi?” Calliope piped up.

Portunus arched a thick brow. “Of course! Every sailor in this town has at least heard of them. The storms they create are fearsome indeed, such as the one from last night, but I am fortunate enough to have never come across one.”

“There was a storm last night?” Atreus asked.

Portunus nodded. “Is that how you ended up in the sea?”

“The hippocampi brought us here!” Calliope explained. “They must have protected us from the storm.”

“Ah, I see. Well, it looks to be fair weather for the rest of the day. If you would like to stay until morning, you may.”

“We wouldn’t want to be a bother,” Atreus said hastily. “Your help is really appreciated. But we can’t stay too long.”

“We’re going to Rome!” Calliope offered. “Do you know the way?”

“Here, we have a saying: all roads lead to Rome. But they are dangerous, often infested with bandits. You would do well to find a company to travel with.”

“Are there any in town that are heading to Rome?” Atreus asked.

“Very few, I must say. The season is not yet ripe for trading – nor is Rome close by.”

The last thing Atreus wanted was more trouble on the road. “I can handle bandits,” he said. “We can’t really wait around until somebody else is ready to go.”

Portunus eyed Atreus’ bow and dagger. He looked a bit doubting but sighed and inclined his head. “Very well. I will offer prayers for your safety. But before you go, would you at least join me for the noon meal?”

Atreus hesitated. He glanced at Calliope, and she looked up at him with hopeful eyes. They did need to eat. And get their bearings. Nor did Portunus give off any bad feelings; he genuinely wanted to be a proper host to them. Did all Romans share the same hospitality rules as the Greeks?

“We’d be happy to,” Atreus finally said. “Thank you. Really.”

Portunus smiled. “You are most welcome.”

He then went on to hang up their damp clothes outside but relented and allowed them to help at their insistence. As they stood outside, Atreus observed the town. He could hear the distant chatter of market-goers, the soft rush of waves, and the quiet creaking of ships at the docks. Everything was serene here. He breathed in the sweet air deeply.

Once their clothes were hanging from the branches of a nearby apple tree, Portunus prepped their lunch – with Atreus’ help, because he felt bad that they’d interrupted the sailor’s fishing trip earlier.

“Don’t worry over it,” Portunus assured him. “I hardly caught much, in any case. Those hippocampi you saw must have eaten them up. Hopefully, that will appease them for a time.”

Lunch consisted of preserved fish from previous catches, picked free of bones and salted considerably to prevent rotting. There was also a plate of steamed shellfish, some greens, a few loaves of flatbread, a jar of honey, and a flagon of wine. Just like with the Muses, Calliope offered up a prayer to the gods, most notably to Hestia, and poured Portunus’ cup first. “And thank you as well for helping my brother and me,” she said earnestly.

Portunus inclined his head to her in thanks. “May the gods look favourably upon you both,” he said warmly. “Now then, eat!”

Atreus ate until he was stuffed full. “This is delicious,” he said. “I’ve never had fish like this back home!”

“Oh? What do you eat in the north?”

“Deer, mostly. And rabbits. I think the type of fish you’d find there is different, too.”

“And different kinds of spices,” Portunus added with a nod. He turned to Calliope. “Have you never been to the north, child?”

“Never,” she replied, mopping up the last bit of honey and fish with her flatbread. “But I am eager to see what it looks like! Atreus has told me many stories about it, already.”

“And to get there, you must pass through Rome?” Portunus said.

“That’s the quickest way we know of,” Atreus said. “Is it a long walk from here?”

“At least four to five days on foot, heading west. If you will not go with a company, I will advise you to take a horse.”

Atreus caught Calliope’s knowing eye. She hastily stuffed the last of her flatbread into her mouth. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said aloud.

After lunch, Atreus and Calliope helped Portunus clean up, then got to work in preparation for the journey to Rome. Portunus accompanied them to the market and advised them on the best provisions to purchase. By the end of it, Atreus couldn’t have purchased a horse even if he wanted to. When Portunus offered to lend a bit of money to Atreus’ pockets, Atreus refused as politely as he could manage, hoping that the sailor wouldn’t take offense.

“Do a lot of Greeks come here?” Calliope asked. “Some of the merchants were speaking Greek.”

“Yes, we do get a lot of overseas merchants at prime times of the year,” Portunus replied. “Not to mention that Sipontum started as a Greek colony, founded by Diomedes. But now it belongs to Rome.”

The language that Portunus had spoken to some of the merchants – Latin, he called it – slowly but steadily grew clearer in Atreus’ mind. Compared to Greek, Latin sounded rather … formal. Like something you’d expect to hear in a chant or ritual. But maybe he just needed to try it out himself, first. There was beauty to be found in every language, and he was definitely interested in learning more about Latin.

By the time they returned to Portunus’ house, it was early in the afternoon. “If you start now, you will reach a small village before midnight,” the sailor said. “Is there anything more I can aid you with?”

“No, we’re all good,” Atreus replied. “You’ve done so much for us already. Thank you. Um, is there something we can give you in return? I don’t know what the fee here is, but –”

“No, no, you don’t need to pay me! You were not planning to lodge overnight, were you?”

“What about a song?” Calliope offered. “I can play the flute. Atreus has a lyre.”

Portunus’ eyes twinkled. “Indeed? Well … I have no qualms about receiving a song, if you would do me the honours.”

Thank goodness for Calliope’s quick thinking! Atreus hadn’t wanted to just leave without offering something in return for Portunus’ kindness. Honestly, these hospitality customs were a bit stressful sometimes.

The three of them sat in the main room. Atreus glanced at Calliope as she readied her flute. She didn’t seem too bothered to be playing it. That encounter with the hippocampi must’ve shaken up something inside her – not just Atreus nearly dying, but maybe being forced to use the flute had helped push her over her old hurdles. 

When Calliope began to play, it was a fun little jig, kind of like a sea shanty that the Midgardian sailors would sing. Atreus improvised a harmony as best as he could. The added bit of chaos was fun! And once he got a hang of Calliope’s melody, well, everything just took off from there.

Portunus clapped his hands in delight once the song was over. “Beautiful! You did not mention that you were bards as well as travellers.”

“We’re amateurs,” Calliope offered, turning to Atreus with a toothy smile. Atreus grinned back and ruffled her curls.

It was now time to leave. Portunus got up and beckoned them over to the door. “I will walk with you to the edge of town. It is not far. Come!”

Just as he said, it wasn’t a far walk at all. Once they reached the edge of Sipontum, standing on the beaten road leading west, Atreus turned to Portunus. “Thank you again for helping us.”

Portunus held out his arm, and Atreus clasped it in his. “I hope your journey will end well,” the sailor said. “May the wind blow at your backs as you go, and send you speedily to the gates of Rome.”

Atreus inclined his head. “And may you, um, never lose your net in the sea …?”

“And may it catch lots of fish!” Calliope added.

Portunus laughed heartily. “I hope so too! On your way, then.”

Hand-in-hand, Atreus and Calliope set off down the path. He looked back at one point to see Sipontum getting smaller and smaller in the distance. Portunus had already turned back to the town. Atreus faced forward again, but the feeling of Portunus’ kindly gaze on him didn’t disappear for quite some time.

***

Calliope was certain that their walk to the next village would be a long one. Oh, Portunus said it would take days, but no doubt it’d feel like weeks! And as prepared as she was to go walking, she was glad when Atreus offered to turn into a horse again. They galloped all the way to the village and managed to find lodging for the night – and without meeting any bandits! Portunus’ prayers must have worked.

After a bath and a warm meal, Calliope was all but ready for some sleep. It had been quite an eventful day, and the previous night even more so. Violent waves and darkening skies … and the hippocampi themselves. She shivered and threw an arm across her brother’s midriff.

“Are you cold?” Atreus asked, lying on the pallet beside her.

“No,” she replied. The night air was comfortably cool. And Atreus was also quite warm on his own.

After a moment, she said, “Atreus? Were you afraid of the hippocampi?”

There was a pause before he spoke. “Yeah, I was. They held me underwater, and that’s not fun.”

“You didn’t try changing into a sea creature?” Calliope asked.

“It must’ve slipped my mind in the chaos of the moment.” Atreus sounded sheepish. “If it ever happens again, I’ll be sure to change into a fish.”

“Will it happen again?” Calliope asked, trying to tamp down her unease. “What if you’re taken away and I can’t get to you?”

“I won’t go without a fight,” Atreus said. “I’ll come looking for you. I’m a pretty good tracker, y’know. And you have your flute; maybe you can use it to find things.”

“But what if it doesn’t work?” she pressed.

“Who’s to say it won’t? A goddess gifted it to you. You used it against the hippocampi, and it worked, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” Calliope said, albeit a little begrudging. She didn’t know everything that the instrument could do, yet. But she’d find out over time, wouldn’t she? Interestingly, that thought didn’t bother her as much as it did before. She played her flute to save Atreus, to do something good. And it didn’t hurt at all. She didn’t even think of Father when she played it.

Now that she knew how easy it was, the prospect of experimenting with her flute was … exciting.

This wasn’t her old instrument. This was a new one. A new start.

“Atreus?” she said. “Has your magic ever failed you before?”

“Never. I doubt it ever leaves you. You just gotta have some faith in yourself.” He smiled at her. “Don’t you think so?”

She nodded, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Here, I’ll sing to you before you sleep.”

She perked up. “Really? Um, could you sing Laufey’s song again?”

“Of course.”

His low voice travelled throughout the dimly lit room. The candle flames danced as though a breeze ruffled them from beyond the walls. As Atreus sang, Calliope’s eyelids fluttered to a close, and the words opened up to her as they rode on the river of melody.

Follow my path

Guiding you to the truth

A sad end to your youth

My one regret

Give him some space

He is broken inside

In time you’ll see

It, in you he’ll confide

In time you’ll see

It’s you he’ll confide

Follow my path

Guiding you to the truth

A sad end to your youth

My one regret

The next morning, they ate a filling breakfast, thanked the innkeeper, and set out on the westward road. At noon, they all stopped to eat a small noon meal; Atreus sketched in his journal with a piece of charcoal, bringing the surrounding lands to life on the page.

“Can I look at it?” she asked after Atreus finished his drawing.

He nodded and handed her the journal, and she flipped through the older sketches and portraits. Father and Laufey, the wolves, the feather-woman – Freya, Atreus said – the two men with heavy brows – Brok and Sindri – and Angrboda, with the medallions in her hair.

Calliope turned back to the page with Laufey’s portrait. She always lingered on this one, taking in the high cheekbones, mischievous smile, and little braids. Laufey sometimes appeared in her dreams, just like that night when Atreus first sang his mother’s song – she wielded her magical ice Axe and chopped up the nightmares like a sun chasing away shadows.

Sometimes Laufey rode in a golden chariot. Calliope liked to imagine her in a chariot, waving her Axe around like a spear. One time, she dreamed that Laufey sat with Mother, as though they were old friends, simply talking over wine and flatbread with cheese. But no matter how close Calliope tried to get, Laufey was always several feet away, haloed against a cold morning light, facing the golden mountains in the distance.

“Atreus,” she said, “what was Laufey like?”

Atreus looked up, startled by the question. “Oh, uh … She was great! She raised me for most of my childhood. We did lots of stuff together. She could hunt any kind of animal, and tame any of them, too. She sang songs and told lots of stories.”

“Was she very kind?”

“Very. I remember she had a soft voice.”

“And gentle, too?”

“Yeah, always. Whenever I hurt myself, she always knew how to make it all better. And she always had this smile on her face, even when she wasn’t smiling. Uh, if that makes sense.”

“I think it does.” Calliope touched Laufey’s cheek on the paper, then carefully turned the page over.

A few pages later, she found herself looking into a mirror. A portrait of her exact likeness was etched on the page, complete with curls and a tainia and dark eyes. She looked up at Atreus, then back at the portrait.

“I drew it a while back when we were sailing,” Atreus explained. “Er, if you don’t like it, I can –”

“I like it!” Calliope blurted. “It looks just like me.”

Atreus smiled widely. “It is you, silly.”

Calliope beamed. An idea came to her, and the warm feeling in her chest faltered a little. “Atreus?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you, um …” She held out the journal to him. “Could you draw my mother?”

He blinked in surprise. His voice was soft as he said, “I’d be happy to. But I don’t know what she looks like … Oh, I know!” He handed her the piece of charcoal. “How about you try drawing her? So I have a better idea.”

Calliope bit her lip as she turned to a blank page. She balanced the tip of the charcoal on it, trying to bring Mother’s face to mind. Thick, dark hair. A tainia. And a smile.

Try as she might, Calliope couldn’t bring her mother’s exact features to mind. Frustration bubbled inside her. Why couldn’t she remember? What kind of daughter was she? 

She stared at the sketch. It was a horrible drawing. She just wanted to scribble all over it and never look at it again.

But she couldn’t ruin Atreus’ journal like that.

“I … I can’t remember,” she said at last, unable to look at her brother. Tears welled in her eyes as her words hung in the air.

Atreus’ hands came into view. He gently turned the journal around so he could see the sketch. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “It’s not your fault. Here, let me try.”

Calliope handed him the charcoal. As Atreus drew, making scritch-scratch sounds over the page, he asked, “Do you remember anything else about Lysandra?”

Calliope moistened her dry lips. “Good or bad?”

“Whatever you think is best.”

Calliope thought back to her home. Several memories came and went, but one in particular stuck out to her. An unpleasant memory. Calliope wasn’t sure why, but she felt the urge to share it.

“Father came home from battle one day,” she began. “Mother was always happy to see him when he came back, but this time she was not. I remember … She was angry at Father. He was always going to war, and she didn’t like it. She wanted it to be over.”

She heard Mother’s voice clearly in her mind, sharp and demanding. How much is enough, Kratos? When will it end?

Calliope clung to Mother’s skirts, glad to be shielded under her strong arms. She remembered how frightening Father had looked – a giant silhouette in the doorway, eyes bright and challenging.

When the glory of Sparta is known throughout the world, Father replied.

The glory of Sparta? Calliope wanted to shrink back at the disgust in her mother’s voice, even when it wasn’t aimed at her. You did this for yourself!

Mother’s words cracked like a whip. Father scowled; he must have said more, but Calliope wasn’t quite certain on what came next. Had the argument lasted into the night? Or had Father gone outside to see to his soldiers’ wellbeing?

“She stood up to Father, then?” Atreus said. “She must’ve been really brave.”

Calliope nodded. “They hardly fought, though,” she went on. “I only remember that one fight. Before, Father would bring her gifts and kiss her. He always brought her gifts when he came home. And they would sit together at night and talk. Oh! One time, I snuck out of bed to listen.”

Atreus raised his brows in awe. “Wow! Sneaky, aren’t you?”

Calliope couldn’t help but smile back. Just thinking about it made her feel all giddy inside. “Neither of them noticed! I think I got bored though, so I went back to bed.”

“Heh. I don’t blame you. Adult talk can get pretty boring.”

Calliope nodded sagely. “Mother also cooked our meals. She made wonderful spanakopitas. And – she knew how to use a bow, like you!” She sighed wistfully. “I know she was very pretty.”

“Something like this, maybe?” Atreus said, offering the journal to her.

Calliope took it, heart thudding fast, and looked down at a woman’s portrait. The way Atreus drew it made it look as though the woman was looking off into the distance, with the sun so bright upon her face that some of her features were simply hinted at with charcoal smudges. Her hair was a mane of thick curls, falling over her shoulders and down her back.

A smaller sketch in the corner showed the same woman in a different pose: she looked away, with only her cheek and ear visible.

Calliope swallowed. It looked almost like her mother, and yet it wasn’t fully her. But … It was something. Better than the fuzzy memories in her mind.

“How did you do it?” she asked.

“I used you as a model,” Atreus replied. “My Muse, so to speak.”

Calliope managed a small smile at that. “Thank you.”

For the next two days, they walked down the road, getting closer and closer to Rome. At least, that was what Calliope hoped. Portunus said it would only take four or five days (hopefully not more!), but it felt like forever. The sun wasn’t as hot here as it was in Greece, but after a while, beads of sweat popped up on Calliope’s brow.

She alternated between walking at Atreus’ side and riding on his horse-self’s back. At times, she practiced with her flute, playing odd little tunes and experimenting with compositions. A song was forming in her mind, and she needed to bring it to life! Were the Muses speaking through her, inspiring her to compose again? Or was it just the thrill of being in the open air, travelling alone with Atreus, heading through unknown territory?

It was frightening, in a way. But also exhilarating! They were on an adventure!

“What song is that?” Atreus asked as they approached another town under evening light.

“I can’t tell you yet,” Calliope said, grinning. “It’s a surprise!”

A surprise for him, specifically. She couldn’t let him hear her new composition until it was finished. It needed to be the best that she could create!

That night, in the coziness of an inn, Atreus taught her another Midgardian song. It was about the runes that they used for writing, and as he softly chanted the names, Calliope felt his magic shiver in the air over them. 

Fehu, uruz, thurisaz

Ansuz, raido, kenaz

Gebo, wunjo, hagalaz, naudhiz

Isa, jera, heiwaz

Pertho, algiz, sowilo, tiwaz

Berkano, ehwas

Mannaz, laguz, ingwas, othalaz

Dagaz, fehu

Afterward, he taught her the meanings. She fell asleep halfway through, but his words continued to dance in her ears and over her head long after.

Wealth, rain, giant

God, journey, torch

Gift, joy, hail, hardship

Ice, harvest, yew

Cup, elk, sun, Týr

Birch, horse

Man, water, seed, heritage

Dawn, wealth

That night, Calliope dreamed of ancient forests lightly touched by frost, the branches turned golden by the rising sun, and ice-cold water rushing over cliffs and down into the white pools below.

Chapter Text

The following morning caught Atreus by surprise. He’d expected another quiet journey to the next settlement with his sister, not the dozen or so Roman soldiers who halted them just outside the town. All of them wore dusty armour and mud-speckled red cloaks. Half of them carried spears, and each wore a gladius at their hip.

“Hail,” one of them said in Latin. Atreus singled him out as the leader, given that he had a considerably larger red plume coming from his helmet compared to the others’. “Are you taking this road alone?”

Atreus searched for the right words. The language got clearer in his mind the more he listened to it, but he had yet to try it himself. “Er, yes. Just us.”

The leader arched a brow. He sized Atreus up, then glanced at Calliope. “You might as well travel with us. We are heading to the next town, and there are reports of many bandits near that area.” He eyed Atreus’ bow and dagger. “Can you fight?”

Atreus nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“You can thank me after we have reached the next town without incident.”

“What did he say?” Calliope whispered as the soldiers strode by.

Right. She didn’t understand Latin yet. Atreus relayed the short conversation to her. “I think they’re just a patrol force. We should be fine.”

As it turned out, he and Calliope fell a few paces behind the Roman company. They moved at a brisk march, which didn’t bother Atreus all that much, but he worried about Calliope. She was strong, but what if she tired out early?

The answer came to him easily: he’d just carry her when the time came.

At noon, the company halted for a short break and meal, then continued along the western road. They reached another little village at night, found shelter there … And then it all happened again the next day. Their road gradually turned northwest; by midafternoon, they came across a forest, and Atreus overheard the soldiers making plans to camp for the night, given that their destination was still some distance away.

“We might be sleeping out here tonight,” he murmured to Calliope.

She squeezed his hand. “Is that safe?” she whispered back. “What about the bandits?”

“We haven’t seen any so far. Besides, we have the soldiers here. The bandits are probably scared of them.”

They could also be hiding in the forest. Atreus tried not to let his unease show on his face. “Just stay close,” he said.

Calliope wrapped an arm around his waist as she trotted along at his side. “I will.”

Despite his hope that any bandits wouldn’t try to fight soldiers, Atreus kept half his attention on the forest just in case. What he didn’t expect to see was the quick glimpse of a sleek white wolf prowling through the trees.

Atreus blinked. The wolf disappeared. He didn’t even hear a whisper of its mind. Had it been a trick of his own?

That night, the company’s leader called a halt and declared they’d be setting up camp just outside the trees. Half the company would keep watch until past midnight, then the other half would take over. Atreus’ nerves lessened a little. Six soldiers on guard at once? If there were any bandits nearby, they likely wouldn’t want to risk that!

The soldiers soon got a little campfire going to heat up their dried meat. As Atreus prepared the “bed,” (and Calliope insisted on helping by squishing the pack into a suitable pillow), one of the soldiers approached. “You there, boy.”

Atreus paused. He hadn’t been called that for years, but it still rankled something deep down inside him. He set his jaw and looked up at the soldier. “Yes?”

The soldier nodded to the lyre at Atreus’ side. “Are you a bard?”

“Of sorts.”

“Can you play for us?”

Atreus turned to Calliope. “Feel like making some music for a bit?”

Calliope glanced at the soldier warily, then back to Atreus. She shook her head.

Nevertheless, she went with him and sat by his side among the circle of soldiers. The campfire crackled merrily in the centre, just close enough that Atreus could feel a brush of heat.

As he took up his lyre, he caught the Roman leader’s eye. The older man’s helmet sat on the ground beside him. “Where do you come from, bard?” the older man asked.

“Thule,” Atreus replied.

“That far, eh? And the girl?”

“My sister is from Sparta.”

“What business have you here?”

“We are going to Rome. To seek shelter in the great city.” Gods, Latin sounded so stiff and formal when he spoke it.

“An excellent choice. You will find it well-fortified,” the older man said, a hint of pride in his voice. “What is your name?”

“Atreus. This is Calliope. And you?”

“Watch yourself, boy,” the soldier beside him warned.

“At ease, Naevius.” The leader held Atreus’ gaze, sizing him up again. “I am Priscus, captain of this company.” He smiled slightly. “You think it a small company to traverse these dangerous roads, eh? But you were about to travel with a small girl! If you are truly so skilled with that bow, we should have no trouble with any vermin on the road.” He leaned back. “Now, will you play for us?”

Atreus readied his lyre, then paused. “Which song?”

“The legend of Remus and Romulus!” a soldier said.

“No – a tale of mighty Jupiter!” another exclaimed.

“Hah! Look at him,” a third said disdainfully. “He clearly knows nothing of our history!”

“Is that so, boy? Sing anything, then,” Priscus commanded. “As long as it isn’t dour.”

Atreus reigned in his irritation at their boasting words. Most of the non-dour songs he knew had been indirectly taught to him by Mimir, usually when the latter was singing to himself. Atreus had a feeling the soldiers wouldn’t appreciate those, though. Nor did he feel comfortable with singing them while Calliope was present.

The Greek classics seemed like the best bet. He ended up playing a hymn to Helios and Selene. It wasn’t a short one, but once it was over, the soldiers handed him some dried meat as thanks and demanded another song.

Atreus’ fingers prickled by the time the company was satisfied. Calliope nibbled on a bit of meat he’d shared with her. On his other side sat Naevius, the one who’d called him over to play in the first place. He was also one of those taking the night shift, it seemed.

Naevius said nothing, sparing merely an impassive glance, as Atreus brought Calliope back to their makeshift bed and settled her in. Atreus sat beside her, and Calliope frowned when he didn’t lie down as well. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ll stay up for a bit. Keep watch too,” he replied. “You go ahead and sleep.”

Calliope’s gaze flitted to his bow, resting close to his hand. She nodded and shut her eyes but reached out to grip his knee. Atreus gently patted her hand.

Then he turned his attention to the darkness of the forest.

Atreus jerked awake when shouting erupted all around him. Damn it!

He leaped up, bow in hand, and quickly assessed the situation. Several men in ratty clothes were fighting the soldiers. They must’ve come from the forest – and caught the night shift at unawares, by the looks of it. The campfire had died down to embers. A soldier fell back, bleeding, even as Atreus fired several arrows in quick succession.

He could almost hear Sindri shouting at him to just fucking shoot.

Five bandits fell to the ground with arrows sticking out of their necks and torsos. Amidst the shouts and clashing of blades, a small voice cried out, “Atreus!”

“Stay behind me!” Atreus barked, reaching back with his firing hand without looking. He felt Calliope’s shoulder as she flattened herself against him.

A bandit lunged at him with a snarl. Atreus swung his bow – gleaming with a golden sheen from magical fortifications – and knocked the man over so hard that his head snapped back.

Another came at Atreus, ducked under the swing of his bow, and made to grab Calliope. She shrieked and brought the pack down on his head, distracting him just long enough for Atreus to draw his dagger and stab the bandit in the neck.

Hot blood gushed from the wound, spattering over Atreus’ fingers where he gripped the hilt. The bandit fell, dead.

More bandits emerged from between the trees like ants. Two large men went for Atreus, forcing him to back up, away from the soldiers.

“Run!” Atreus shouted. “I’ll hold them off!”

He didn’t look back to see if Calliope followed his order or not. He just kept fighting, blocking the onslaught of attacks as quickly as he could manage. These bandits weren’t as sloppy as he’d half-hoped; they reminded him of the Raiders back home with their unrelenting fury and surprising strength. They’d been prepared to fight Roman soldiers.

One of his attackers slashed upward. Atreus bit back a cry; his side burned, and he could feel the blood trickling down his side, soaking into his chiton.

He tried to heal. His magic moved sluggishly, and his wound stung, distantly reminding him of something …

Poison.

Atreus gritted his teeth. He had to end this quickly. He had to get back to Calliope. And Father.

When he next drew his bow, the arrow glowed bright with magic.

***

Calliope stumbled through the shadows of the forest. Trees rose up around her like obsidian columns, threatening to shut her in and block her path. And behind her – the snapping of twigs, shouts both distant and close by. They were after her.

Her breath came out in short gasps as she ran. She wasn’t moving fast enough. She cradled Atreus’ pack to her chest; it weighed her down, but she refused to let it go. All she needed to do was run. Run, and find a place to hide until Atreus could find her.

Tears burned her eyes, but she kept running, half-tripping across the forest floor. Behind her, a man shouted, “Non currunt, puella!”

Fear pushed her on. She could barely see where she was going, but Atreus’ voice echoed in her ears. Run, run! 

Something sharp stubbed her toe. She cried out and fell to the ground, scraping her hands and knees. The pack’s strap was still held tight in her fist; she quickly picked it up and scrambled around the nearest tree. The brambles of a bush stabbed her bare arm. A big bush.

Calliope dropped down and got under the bush as best as she could. Prickly brambles scraped her arms and caught in her hair, but she bit her lip to keep quiet, and stayed still.

Be brave. Be resilient.

Footsteps came crashing through the undergrowth. Calliope couldn’t see in the darkness of her hiding spot, but she tried to track where the bandit was with her ears. He sounded close by, breathing heavily. He spat a few words under his breath, like curses. Then he moved, his footsteps crunching over leaves and debris, getting fainter. He was going away!

Calliope trembled under the bush. Was it safe to come out yet? How long had she been hiding? Was Atreus looking for her, or was he –

She couldn’t bear to finish that thought. Memories flashed across her mind: the darkness of the Judges’ chamber in the Underworld. She could almost see the three of them, stark against the back of her eyelids. Her shoulders shook.

She wasn’t back there anymore. She was in Italia. She was going to Rome. With Atreus. She was here with Atreus –

Except he wasn’t here. She was alone.

No. No!

Calliope scrambled out from under the bush. She barely felt the stinging of the scrapes over her bare skin. She could barely breathe. The stench of warm earth and trees choked her.

She had to find him. He promised he wouldn’t leave her. But if he was – gone – then she had to find him.

She stood up and looked around. It was dark. She couldn’t see the forest line at all, or hear any sounds of fighting. Trees and shadows surrounded her like bars of a cage.

No, she – she was still free! She wasn’t in the Underworld anymore. She was in the open air. Everything would be alright. It would.

The bandit was probably far away by now. Calliope licked her dry lips and timidly called out, “Atreus?”

There was no reply. She was being silly. What if he was –?

“Atreus?” she tried again, a little louder. “Atreus!”

Something rustled behind her. Calliope turned just as a large figure appeared, cast in shadow, but she had no trouble in recognizing him from his heavy breathing.

“Inveni te,” he sneered, stepping forward. “Veni huc!”

He advanced on her. Calliope briefly saw his outstretched, grasping hand before the fear burst in her chest and her mind flickered.

Thanatos, shrouded in darkness, reaching out with clawed hands –

Calliope screamed, and everything went black for a moment … or perhaps an age.

When she came to, she was kneeling on the ground, still clutching Atreus’ pack. The bandit lay unconscious a few feet away. She didn’t know if he was dead. But even if she wanted to find out, she couldn’t have made any move to do so, because a white wolf sat beside him.

Calliope blinked. “Ah-Atreus?” she whispered hoarsely. Her throat felt raw and achy, as though it were suffering from soreness.

The wolf made no sound as it watched her with golden eyes. There was a silvery sheen around it, as though silver dust finely coated its white fur. Calliope frowned, drawing the pack closer like a shield. “No … You are not him.”

The wolf tilted its head. Then it opened its jaw and said, “I am not.”

Calliope gave a start. The wolf spoke in accented Greek with a woman’s voice, low and smooth. Gooseflesh prickled over her skin despite the warm night air. “Wh-who are you?”

“I am Lupa. State your name, child-goddess; I have no knowledge of you.”

“I’m C-Calliope,” Calliope said. “Not the Muse, I mean – I’m just – me. Of Sparta.”

Lupa regarded her in silence.

“Um, is that man … dead?” Calliope asked. Her aching throat twinged unhappily.

“No,” Lupa replied. “You have left him unconscious for now.”

“I –?”

“Your scream. Do you not remember?”

Her scream did that? She stared at the bandit, expecting him to jump up and try to grab her at any second, but he didn’t move.

“You ought to leave quickly,” Lupa said. “Find your people.”

“I – I was with them before, but I d-don’t know where they are now.” Calliope wrung her hands anxiously. “My brother, he was outside the forest –”

“He was injured, but he lives.”

Hope swelled in Calliope’s chest. Atreus was alive! “Can you lead me to him?” she asked.

“No.” Before Calliope could even think to reply, Lupa continued, “I rarely concern myself with the business of gods. You clearly have powers of your own; use them to find him. It is your duty, not mine.”

“But I – I’ve never –”

“What hinders you from making the effort?”

Calliope tried not to shrink back at the wolf’s tone. She could almost imagine that it was Mother reprimanding her instead of Lupa.

She swallowed, then got to her feet a little unsteadily. Neither Lupa nor the bandit moved; Lupa merely watched with unblinking eyes as Calliope drew her flute from the pack. From what she could tell, the instrument was undamaged. That was good.

She could do this. Atreus was alive. She’d find him, and everything would be alright.

Calliope hung the pack from her shoulder, then turned away from Lupa and held the flute to her lips.

She decided not to play the Jötnar lullaby or Laufey’s song. Both were only a part of Atreus. She thought of her brother, holding a sunlit memory of him in her mind, and began to play.

Halfway through the song, she realized that it was the composition she’d been working on for Atreus. It was still unfinished, but … The music tugged her forward. Nothing changed in the darkness around her, but she could almost see it: a golden thread leading onward through the trees, a path for her to follow.

She took a step forward, and then another, and another. All the while playing Atreus’ song on her flute. She let it guide her on through the trees and vegetation and darkness. Golden wolf-eyes peered at her from the shadows but made no move to stop her.

After some time, a warm shiver passed through her flute. Calliope stopped, heart pounding. There, from out of the shadows before her, emerged a large wolf with fur the colour of flames, and eyes so blue that they pierced the night. He was at least half a head taller than her, if not more.

Calliope swallowed hard and said, “Atreus?”

The wolf fixed his gaze on her. He whined softly.

Calliope knew nothing else in that moment, only that she was hurrying towards him and throwing her arms around his furry neck. He was somewhat rough like wool, but she was happy to call it the softest she’d ever felt. Atreus rumbled low in his throat and nuzzled the side of her head.

Her brother was here with her. He was alive! Calliope hugged him tightly and let the tears soak into his warm, fiery fur.

When he shifted back to human and wrapped his arms around her, the dam in her chest broke, and she began to cry in earnest.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he murmured. “You’re not alone now.”

She pulled back a little, still keeping her hands on his shoulders. “You’re alright?" she hiccupped. “You’re not hurt?”

“I was earlier, but not anymore. C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

He lifted her up easily and turned around, heading back the way he’d come. “Priscus and the others went looking for the rest of the bandits. They’ve probably regrouped by now.”

Calliope held tight to Atreus’ shoulders as he went. She clumsily tried to wipe her face, but she doubted she was making it better. Smudges of dirt stuck to her hands.

“We’ll get you cleaned up soon,” Atreus promised. “Did that man – hurt you?”

Calliope shook her head. She didn’t want to think about it.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”

Her old fears twisted sharply in her chest. “I thought you were killed.”

“Me? From bandits? They won’t be able to kill me that easily.” He adjusted his hold on her and gently kissed her temple. Something pleasant fluttered in Calliope’s stomach. “You don’t have to worry about me, sis. I can be pretty stubborn sometimes.”

Calliope didn’t know what came over her, only that she wanted to kiss him back. So she did just that, planting a sound kiss on his cheek. Only to realize that her face was still smudged with dirt. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “S-sorry …”

“It’s okay,” Atreus assured her. “Look, we’re almost out of the forest. I think I see Naevius there …”

Calliope tucked her head into the crook of his neck, more than glad to be away from this place. She could almost imagine that it was Father carrying her, bringing her to bed after she fell asleep listening to his lyre. He’d kiss her brow and softly say goodnight in his rumbling voice.

But Atreus was here now, with the words Iogn hugr printed on the side of his neck.

Steady mind, she spelled out in her head. Steady mind.

***

When Atreus emerged from the forest, he joined Naevius and a few other soldiers on the road. Naevius turned to him, his eyes immediately falling on Calliope, and nodded. Atreus nodded back.

The others soon arrived with Priscus in the lead. He spotted Atreus and Calliope; it could’ve been Atreus’ imagination, but the captain seemed relieved. “Fateful timing, boy! The rest of the bandits have been dealt with. Nevertheless, we should keep moving.”

The soldiers immediately fell into formation. Atreus fell in step at Naevius’ side and matched their brisk pace. Calliope occasionally shifted in his arms, rubbing her eyes and stifling yawns behind her hand.

“You can sleep, if you want,” Atreus said quietly.

“I don’t want to,” she whispered. Her voice sounded uncomfortably hoarse. “What if they attack us again?”

“They won’t. Priscus and his men killed them all.”

A pause. “You killed them, too,” Calliope murmured.

Atreus resisted the urge to flex his hand. He could still feel the bandit’s blood on his fingers. It had been a while since he last killed another human; not Draugr, or Einherjar, or some other Midgardian creature. Just a normal human who was also trying to survive.

Open your heart to it, Father’s voice rumbled in his mind, his memory. But remember that you acted in self-defence.

“I did what I had to,” he said quietly. “Like with the harpies. But I didn’t like it any more than you did.”

“I know that. I don’t blame you.” Calliope paused. “Father and his soldiers killed people. I never saw it. But I heard of their battles.” She burrowed her head against his shoulder. “It was very scary.”

“It always is,” Atreus agreed. “I’m sorry you had to see the fight back there.”

“Have you … killed people before?”

“Yes. The first time I killed, I was slightly older than you. It was all in defence. But it still shook me up.”

Calliope pulled back a little to look at him. Worry creased her young face. “You won’t get angry like Father did, will you?”

Angry? Atreus’ first thought was of his father’s Spartan Rage, but he had a feeling that wasn’t what she meant.

Her earlier words came back to him: Kratos’ argument with Lysandra. Was Calliope worried that Atreus would share their father’s bloodlust? That he’d tear lands apart in the name of vengeance?

“I won’t,” Atreus promised. “I will be better.”

Calliope’s shoulders sagged with relief and she settled against him again.

Chapter Text

They reached the next town halfway through the morning. Exhaustion nudged Atreus like a nagging fly, but he pushed it away. The sight of houses and people helped to lift his spirits. The night had dragged on for so long that it felt like an age, and now he could finally let his guard down … hopefully.

The only thing to dampen his mood was saying goodbye to the Roman soldiers. He had to admit that walking alongside them had taken a weight off his shoulders when it came to keeping an eye out for danger. Not to mention having their fighting skills handy if danger ever came up. Like with the bandits.

“Thank you for letting us walk with your company,” Atreus said to Priscus. “Your men fought bravely.”

The captain nodded. “As did you. I have never seen one wield a bow like that.” He regarded Atreus for a moment. “Will you continue on your journey, then? You might wait for the next patrol to head out. They are taking the same road towards the city.”

Atreus thought of Calliope. They needed to keep moving, but … The idea of having more travelling companions was very attractive. “We will wait for them.”

“Good. In the meantime, you can rest at the soldiers’ barracks, if you wish.”

Atreus politely declined and found an inn instead. The last thing he wanted was someone overhearing in case he and Calliope decided to talk more about what happened. After the both of them got a good bath, they retreated to their new room and lay down on the pallet. Exhaustion dragged at Atreus’ eyes and limbs now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Calliope shuffled closer and laid her arm across his midriff. Atreus couldn’t see her face, but he could tell from her short breathing that she was wide awake.

“You wanna talk about what happened?” he asked softly.

Calliope was silent for a moment. Then she said, “One of the bad men chased me. I hid from him, but – he found me, and –”

Atreus’ heart thudded heavily against his ribs. “And?” he said, quieter than a breath.

“I screamed at him,” Calliope said. “He fell down. Lupa said he was unconscious.”

“Lupa?”

“She’s a talking wolf. She told me to look for you.”

A talking wolf … The white one from earlier? Atreus wasn’t too surprised about the talking part. He’d had plenty of experiences with extraordinary animals.

“So I played my flute,” his sister continued, snuggling closer to him. “That’s how I found you.”

A scream and flute-playing … Defence and tracking … Those must be part of Calliope’s powers, all musically inclined so far.

“You did great,” Atreus said. “I heard your scream and thought something awful happened …” His heart had seized in his throat. He’d half-expected to find Calliope mauled to death. Was this what Kratos had felt like at all those times when Atreus went off recklessly and got in trouble? “And then I heard your flute. It led me right to you." His voice softened. “You were really brave to face that bandit.”

She squirmed a little. “I wasn’t, really. I was very scared.” Her voice broke on the word.

Atreus gently rubbed her back. “That’s what makes somebody brave. When you do something even though you’re afraid of it.”

“I thought he was going to k-kill me.”

Or worse. Atreus held her a little tighter. “I shouldn’t have let you go on your own. I’m sorry, Calliope.”

For a few heartbeats, all he heard was her shaky breathing. Eventually, she asked, very quietly, “Could you sing the Jötnar lullaby?”

“Sure thing.”

The song stuck with him even after he finished singing and fell asleep. In his dreams, he stood on the Giant’s Fingers with Kratos, overlooking the decoy corpses the Giants had left behind.

It was now the fourth day (or afternoon, more accurately) of their journey to Rome. Atreus blinked blearily at the lands stretching out before them. He’d travelled before, but something about walking for nearly a week straight was beginning to take its toll. His feet started aching in earnest. And having companions nearby meant he couldn’t turn into a horse to make things easier on his limbs and faster for the journey.

At this point, he was more than ready to see a full-blown city with buildings, markets, and lots of people. And a bathhouse. And some hot, fresh food. Man, Athens must’ve rubbed off on him.

From what he’d gathered from the townspeople, Rome was only a day or two’s journey away, depending on how fast you went. Getting close, he told himself. Slowly but surely.

Calliope sighed heavily when he told her. “I’ve never walked this much before,” she said. “I think I’ve had enough adventures for a lifetime.”

“I know the feeling,” he replied. “But we’re getting there. You’re doing really well.”

“The soldiers are walking too fast.”

“Didn’t you say walking fast helps make time go by faster?”

Calliope sighed again.

She was still a little subdued from last night’s fight. Atreus kept his eye on her as they trudged along the road, with the soldiers a few paces ahead of them. “Hey, why don’t we sing about the runes? Let’s see how much you remember.”

Calliope shook her head. “I don’t feel like it,” she mumbled.

“Alright.”

They continued on until noon. The Roman company stopped to eat a small meal, sitting apart from Atreus and Calliope. That was fine with him. He sketched the surrounding lands in his journal, then added a small note in the corner of the date and time.

Calliope sat next to him, leaning in close to watch. After a moment, she timidly reached out and pointed to the first rune in his note. “Which one is that?”

Thus began the writing lessons. Once Atreus had written them all out on a fresh page, he got her to practice writing them underneath. Calliope hummed to herself as she worked, chanting the runes’ names under her breath.

“What is Týr?” she asked, pointing to tiwaz.

“He’s an Aesir god,” Atreus explained. “The god of war in Midgard. But he’s not like what Father used to be. He fights for peace, like an ambassador, or maybe a negotiator.”

“What are you the god of?”

The question took him off-guard. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out, actually. I’m not sure yet. But I’m not in a rush to find out anymore.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “I am who I am, and that’s enough for me. But if it ever comes up … Well, I’ll take it as a bonus.”

“But what about your Giant-ness? Are there Giants of something in Midgard?”

Atreus hadn’t thought of that before. “Um … Well, there are frost giants and fire giants, and probably some other kinds that I don't know of.”

“You’re not frosty or fiery.”

“Heh, true. The only thing about my Giant-ness is that I have a different name. Loki. My mother wanted that one for me, but Father insisted on Atreus.”

“Loki.” Calliope pursed her lips. “It sounds funny. But it rhymes with mine!”

“That’s true,” Atreus smiled, ruffling her hair. “What do you think I’m the god of?”

His sister took on a thoughtful look. “I think … You’re a very good god. And strong. Maybe … The god of animals? Hmm …”

“Tricky, isn’t it,” Atreus chuckled.

“Hmph! I’ll figure it out eventually!” Calliope flipped to a new page. With careful strokes, she wrote out rune after rune, pronouncing each sound as she went. “Ahh … Trrey … Ahhs. Atreus!” She held out the journal. “How does it look?”

“Great, as usual! You’re really catching on quick.”

Calliope beamed. “Do you think I’ll learn even faster than you one day?”

Atreus snorted with mock haughtiness. “Hah! You’ll never beat me.”

“Yes I will!” Calliope giggled as she reached out, trying to ruffle his hair again. She settled for tickling him at the neck. Atreus sputtered under the attack. “Ack! Help!”

A sudden thump of a spear on the ground froze them both. Atreus straightened up and turned to see the soldiers getting ready to leave. One soldier stood a few feet away, looking at Atreus and Calliope with slight impatience.

“Right,” Atreus muttered. “C’mon, sis. Time to keep walking.”

They didn’t come by any settlements that day, but they did happen across a burbling stream that emerged out of the forest a short distance away. They stopped there for a short rest before continuing on.

Atreus kept half his attention on the forest for any ambushers. He was still watching the forest when the Roman captain called a halt for the night. He picked a little hill to camp on, several yards from the trees while keeping it in sight. No campfires, either. He probably spoke to Priscus about the bandits before departing. Atreus was glad for the extra precautions.

“I don’t want to go near the trees,” Calliope said anxiously.

“You won’t,” Atreus said. “See? We’re pretty far away. The soldiers will keep watch.”

“But what if we’re attacked again? What if the bad men stab you?”

“Then I’ll heal and whack them over the head.”

Calliope still refused to go to sleep, resolutely keeping her eyes fixed on the forest, until Atreus handed her his knife and sang her two songs. She eventually drifted off, clutching the knife in both hands.

Atreus turned his attention back to the surrounding lands, taking up first watch with the others. An hour passed, then a second, and a third. Nothing moved in the night, save for soldiers occasionally shifting around, murmuring to each other or tending to their weapons.

Something flashed in the corner of his eye. At the bottom of the hill sat a white wolf, caught in the hill’s shadow. At this angle, Atreus was the only one who could see her easily.

Her thoughts reached out to him. Come, godling. Let us talk.

He hesitated. Was this a trap? But if it was the same wolf who spoke to Calliope …

My wolves have eyes on the men. They will let no harm come to the child.

Atreus got to his feet. “I’m just gonna … relieve myself,” he said awkwardly. The nearest soldiers exchanged glances but said nothing.

Atreus silently made his way down the hill. Sure enough, he couldn’t see the soldiers from this side. Upon reaching the white wolf, he knelt to meet her golden gaze, then whispered. “Are you the one who helped Calliope?”

“I am,” Lupa replied aloud, though she kept her voice low. “And you are the girl’s brother.”

“Yeah, about that – thank you so much for –”

“I did nothing but watch her find her way to you.”

“Still,” Atreus pressed on. “You didn’t have to do that, but I’m glad you did.”

Lupa chuckled softly. “Do you think ill of every god you meet, young man?”

“No! I mean, there are all sorts of gods here, and I don’t know them well enough.”

“I understand. You are wise to be cautious.”

“Calliope told me you don’t like getting involved with gods. Why did you come to her, then?”

“I am a mother in my own right. Not just to wolves; I cared for Romulus and Remus when they were yet babes, abandoned at a river. Your child-goddess is not a babe, but nor is she a woman. She still has much to learn, and you to teach.”

“I know. I’m trying.” There was just so much to teach in what felt like so little time. Atreus sighed, then said again, “Thank you.”

Lupa snapped lightly at him. “Enough of thanks, young man. Speak to me of the child-goddess, now.”

“Calliope?” Atreus said, startled. “What about her?”

“I know there is something strange about you two. The stench of death clings to her.”

Atreus’ heart leapt into his throat. “You know about –?”

“My wolves hear and tell me much. I know of the conflict in the Underworld, and I am not the only one who does.”

“Who else knows?” Atreus asked, already dreading the answer.

“Pluto tried to keep it from reaching Olympus, but the gods have their own informants, and now Jupiter is displeased. He has tasked Mors with recovering all the lost souls.”

“And you think Calliope is one of them?”

“As I said, she still carries the stench of death. Did you not smell it when you were a wolf?”

Atreus thought back to his wolf-self. Calliope smelled like … Calliope. He wasn't sure how else to describe it. But she sure as hell didn’t smell dead. She was fully alive, with hot blood in her body and the mixed smells of life exuding from her. He had enough experience to know that with certainty.

“Hmm. Perhaps you cannot tell the difference,” Lupa mused. “You are not a god of this land, after all. And you are still young. You are at a disadvantage.”

He clenched his fists. “We’ve gotten this far. Once we leave this land, we’ll be safe.”

“Are you so certain of that?”

Her calm tone grated on him, made him want to stand up and move around. Take Calliope away from here, and find Father. “Look, I don’t want a fight. I just want to help my sister. She deserves to live and be with her family again.”

“A noble intention. Which may prove to be difficult in the long run. The gods of the Underworld are already angered, even if they do not know about you specifically.”

“I don’t want to fight them,” Atreus said firmly. “I – I’m not a god-killer.”

Lupa snorted. “You have the blood of a god-killer in your veins, young man. So tell me: how far will you go for your sister? You may succeed in smuggling her out from under the gods’ noses, but what if you do not? And who is to say that others won’t try to follow you to your homeland?”

The unease in his chest grew larger, coiling uncomfortably. The open area suddenly felt too open, leaving him vulnerable to all eyes and ears. The rustling grass under his feet seemed to echo Lupa’s words. What if, what if?

Atreus looked back over his shoulder to the top of the hill, where Calliope lay. He remembered how she’d appeared to him in the forest, with dirt smearing her chiton in patches, her dark curls unkempt, and her arms covered in scrapes. Tear trails cut through the dirt on her face.

She was alone and afraid, brought into a world both familiar and not. She was his sister and Kratos’ long-lost daughter. Atreus wasn’t going to leave her. 

He turned back to Lupa. “If they follow, then fine. It’s all on me. But I won’t let them drag her back to the Underworld.”

Lupa rumbled softly in her throat. “I see. I shall leave you to reap what you have sown, then. Farewell, godling.”

With that, Lupa turned and dashed off towards the forest, moving so quickly that she was only a pale grey blur in the dim moonlight. Other blurs followed as her wolves rejoined her.

Atreus made his way back up the hill to find everything unchanged. Calliope still slept; she stirred a little as Atreus sat down, and alarm flickered across her face.

“Atreus?” she mumbled.

“I’m here,” he said softly, gently squeezing her shoulder. She sighed, relaxed, and settled back into sleep.

Atreus gazed at her for a little while. She somehow looked smaller and more innocent when asleep. It tugged at something inside him, something familiar. He hadn’t felt so anxious about protecting someone since he thought Kratos was going to die at Ragnarök.

But Ragnarök had been inevitable. As far as Atreus knew, there weren’t any prophecies about Calliope and her fate. He hoped it’d stay that way. They were going to make their own destiny, one that included getting to Midgard safely.

He carefully tucked a strand of Calliope’s hair behind her ear and kissed her temple. She smiled softly in her sleep.

Chapter Text

The fifth day dawned with the sight of another town. The Roman company halted there for a short rest. The next place they planned to stop at, according to the captain, was the barracks within Rome.

“See? We’re almost there,” Atreus said to Calliope, trying to sound upbeat despite his weariness. “Once we get there, we’ll see if they have any spinach pies for you.”

Calliope brightened up at that. “Can I have two?”

“You can have as many as you want,” Atreus said, though he doubted he’d have the money for it. But he had his amateur skills as a bard – and his skill at drawing. He could offer portraits in exchange for coins, maybe …

There were more people on the open road this morning than Atreus expected. More soldiers patrolling, too. Occasionally, a wagon rolled by, pulled by horses and carrying wares. Some travellers and merchants trudged in the opposite direction, but more headed toward the city. All of them kept their distance from the soldiers as they passed by.

Somehow, Atreus and Calliope found themselves moving farther away from the soldiers, too. Perhaps it was the boost of confidence from having others on the road. The land was also mostly flat, so there weren’t many hiding spots for bandits. Close to noon, Atreus found a copse of trees beside a stream, just off the road, where a few others were resting and letting their horses drink. He led Calliope over to it, and they sat down to rest their feet.

The water was warm from the sun but clear and rejuvenating. While Atreus refilled their waterskins, Calliope stretched her legs, then leaned against his arm and reached for the journal.

“You doing alright?” Atreus asked her.

She nodded, already flipping through the pages. “I think I can read some of these now,” she said, pointing to one of his written entries. “Heh-rrass … vveh … vell-gerr.”

“You got it!” Atreus said encouragingly. “Hraesvelgr. She’s the eagle who rules Helheim – er, our Underworld.”

Calliope froze. “Is she … I mean, will she know …?”

Shit, he never considered that. “I don’t know,” Atreus admitted. “But I don’t think she’ll notice. You’re from a different land, and she’s in an entirely different realm. She can’t exactly leave it.”

“A different realm?”

“In my land, there are nine,” Atreus explained. He flipped to a fresh page and began to draw. “This is Yggdrasil, the World Tree. You can reach different realms by travelling along its branches.” He drew nine circles, from roots to treetop. “Midgard is one of the nine … And Asgard, the realm of the Aesir gods, was destroyed years ago …” He drew an X through the topmost circle.

Calliope’s eyes were huge by the time he finished his sketch. “Jötunheim!” she said suddenly. “Is it one of the nine? It’s the Realm of the Giants, right?”

“Sure is,” Atreus grinned.

“And – and that other one you mentioned … Um, the Elv realm?”

“Elves, yeah. Alfheim is right here … Vanaheim is the realm of the Vanir gods …”

He spent a good portion of their morning break describing a bit about each of the realms, just so Calliope had enough to imagine them in her head. “Have you been to all of them?” she asked. “Even the Un – I mean, Helheim?”

“Yeah, even that one. It’s super cold there. Niflheim is pretty frosty, too. You don’t have to go there.”

“Will I get to see Jötunheim?” she asked hopefully.

“Definitely! Actually, I was thinking that you could stay there for a bit, if you want. It’s the warm place I was telling you about.”

“Do you live there too, since you’re a Giant?”

“Yeah. I switch sometimes between there and Midgard, since Father still lives in Midgard.”

Calliope grew considerably more subdued. “Does he go to Jötunheim a lot?”

“No,” Atreus said carefully. “He visits once in a while. But he’s been busy with other stuff, and he likes Midgard best, anyway.”

That seemed to satisfy her for now. “We ought to get going,” Atreus said.

Calliope pouted. “Already?”

“Hey, the sooner we leave, the sooner we’ll reach Rome! C’mon sis, let’s get a move on.”

As they stood up, Atreus noticed a traveller nearby, just a little way down the stream, who was also getting to his feet – except that he’d stuck the butt of his walking stick deep in the water, and, on top of struggling to stand, was now trying to free his stick. When the man’s face turned to the sunlight, Atreus caught sight of a weathered face, curly white beard, and a pair of milky, unseeing eyes.

“Hold on a bit,” Atreus murmured to Calliope. “I think he could use some help.”

She glanced at the blind man, then fixed Atreus with a beady eye. “What was that about leaving soon?”

“Oh, quiet,” Atreus huffed, shaking his head. Then he approached the old man and switched to Latin, just in case. “Hey, there. Need some help with that?”

The old man tensed. “No need,” he said tersely. “I’ll get this blasted thing out soon.”

“You sure? Here, let me –” Atreus knelt, reached into the stream, and cleared away the mud and rocks from around the walking stick. The old man tugged hard, and the stick came free rather suddenly, throwing him off balance.

Calliope caught his arm to steady him. “Are you alright?” she asked timidly in Greek.

The old man gripped Calliope’s shoulder as he regained his balance. Then he let go and hastily took a step back. “Who goes there? I have nothing for you to steal!”

“What? We’re not thieves!” Atreus exclaimed.

The old man lifted his walking stick in defence. Atreus decided not to come closer. “I saw you were a bit stuck and wanted to help out. That’s all.”

“Hmph. I did not ask for your help, young man. I am fully capable of dealing with my own troubles.”

If Atreus was in wolf form, his ears would’ve pressed against the sides of his head. “I – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any offence.”

The old man’s mouth twisted. He set the butt of his walking stick on the ground, holding it like a spear. “Where is the little one with the strong grip?”

“Er, my sister’s right here. Beside me.” Atreus put his arm around Calliope who shifted closer to his side.

“Your sister? The thieves get younger and younger,” the old man muttered.

Irritation itched in Atreus’ chest. “We’re not thieves,” he insisted. “We’re travellers from Greece on our way to Rome.”

“Rome?” The old man narrowed his eyes as he stared over Atreus’ shoulder. “Just the two of you? On your own?”

“What about it?”

“You sound rather young yourself. Your sister even more so to be taking these roads.”

“Wouldn’t you say it’s more dangerous for a blind man to travel alone?” Atreus pointed out.

“Who says I’m alone?”

Atreus glanced around. The other travellers who rested at the stream had already moved on. “It’s just us here. If you had a companion, they’ve already left.”

The old man grumbled to himself. For a heartbeat, Atreus thought of Kratos, but only about the grunting. Despite the old man’s bite, he looked as though a gust of wind could knock him over easily.

“If you’re going to Rome, you could walk with us,” Atreus offered. As quickly as he wanted to reach the city, the thought of leaving a blind elder to navigate the roads alone didn’t sit right with him.

The old man wrinkled his nose. “I know how to reach the city and navigate my way through it, young man. So save your help. I have had enough ‘help’ for a lifetime.”

From robbers? Or others who simply couldn’t care less about a blind man on the streets? “Alright,” Atreus said aloud. “We’ll leave you alone, then. I’m sorry for troubling you.”

The old man sniffed. Then he lifted his stick and, turning around, used it to guide himself back onto the road. How he knew which direction to take, Atreus didn’t know, but it wasn’t any of his business.

“Is he angry at us?” Calliope asked in a small voice.

“More at me than you,” Atreus said. “He must’ve had a rough life. C’mon, let’s go.”

They took to the road once again. The old man kept several paces ahead of them, moving at a brisk pace. Other travellers moved around him; when a wagon approached, the old man shuffled out of the way, no doubt trusting his ears to pick up the horse’s hooves.

“I don’t think we should leave him,” Calliope whispered. “What if he trips and falls over?”

“His stick will hit any rocks in his way. That’s how he’ll avoid them.”

“But what if –?”

“We’ll keep an eye on him until we reach the city,” Atreus assured her. Calliope nodded in agreement, satisfied.

“Maybe he fought in a war,” she mused as they continued onward.

“I didn’t see any scars around his eyes,” Atreus said. “Maybe he was just born with it.”

“That must be scary,” Calliope said. She shivered a little. “His eyes were all white, too.”

“Didn’t you see any blind people in Sparta?” Atreus asked.

“No. The elders would have, um …”

“Thrown them out?”

She nodded quietly.

Right. Just like they nearly killed Calliope because of something she couldn’t control. Atreus felt a flash of anger at the Spartans. They were a part of his heritage – Hel, he hadn’t even seen Sparta yet! – but he was already doubting whether he still wanted to go there or not. It was his father’s homeland, wasn’t it? He’d always been curious about that piece of his history, but the more he learned about it, the more he understood about, well, Kratos. How he could’ve turned out the way he did.

He didn’t know everything yet, of course. But he hoped to learn what he could. And that included going to Sparta one day, whether he liked the idea or not.

The sun slowly crept across the sky. As it lowered toward mid-afternoon, the old man halted up ahead and settled himself at the edge of the road, likely to rest his feet. Atreus and Calliope paused as well to take a snack break. It might’ve been Atreus’ imagination, but the old man glanced over his shoulder in their direction, scowled, and turned away.

Atreus looked back down the road. Just a wagon or two rolling by, a cluster of travellers on foot, nothing out of the ordinary.

The old man got to his feet and set off at a kind of marching pace. Atreus waited for a few moments before he and Calliope got up to continue their journey. For some reason, Atreus couldn’t shake the feeling that the old man was watching them. It was a silly thought; his back was turned to them, and they were out of his earshot. But still.

“He’s quite fast,” Calliope commented.

“He is,” Atreus agreed. “Probably has to be, if he’s had robbers coming after him.”

Calliope pressed closer to him suddenly. “You don’t think any bandits are hiding nearby, do you?” she whispered.

“I don’t think so,” Atreus replied. “This road is pretty busy. But stick close to me, alright?”

Calliope nodded and wrapped her arm around his waist, sheltering under his arm.

As it turned out, they did not reach the city before nightfall. The old man seemed fine with walking straight on into the night, but Calliope was getting tired, and so was Atreus. So he decided to stop and rest, setting up camp under a copse of trees near the road.

“But what about the elder?” Calliope asked, stifling a yawn behind her hand.

“He went through the whole day without tripping. I’m sure he’ll be just as fine at night.”

“Oh. That’s true.” Calliope yawned widely this time as she lay down on their makeshift pallet. “Do you think being blind is like being under an eternal night?”

“A very dark night, yeah. You wouldn’t be able to see anything, not even your own hands.”

“Is there a cure?”

Atreus thought about that. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s something only the gods can give.”

“I heard someone say that it’s a curse,” Calliope murmured. “But someone else said it means the gods gave you foresight, and the payment was to give your own sight away.”

“Is that so?” Atreus had been born with his foresight. It was an ability passed down through the Giants. If having that ability meant he’d have to be blind as “payment,” well … He couldn’t imagine it.

“Let’s get some sleep,” he said, lying down beside Calliope. She snuggled against him, eyes already closed. Atreus followed her example but kept a hand on the hilt of his dagger. Just in case.

Soft, murmuring voices gently drew Atreus to the surface. Was this a dream? He couldn’t lift his eyelids; they were weighed down heavily with sleep.

One of the voices sounded close to him, just a few feet away, but the words were hard to make out. Low and gravelly, almost like a grumble. Like Kratos. “… am here with them now.”

The second voice was even fainter. Atreus strained his ears to listen, but lost his grip on the words in his weariness.

“The boy is … considerate,” the grumbling voice murmured. “And the little one is only beginning to discover her strength. She has come a long way from the fields of Elysium.”

His companion asked something. The grumbling voice sighed. “I do not like this, my friend. They have come all this way under the open sky. If Jupiter were to find them –”

He stopped as his companion cut in firmly. Then he went on, “Lupa spoke to me. A few of those bandits were Mors’ hounds in disguise. They have been searching tirelessly for all the lost souls.”

The second voice sounded surprised.

“He does not know of the boy, I believe,” the grumbling voice continued. “Of the girl, he must feel something familiar, though I know not what. I saw her beginning; she was there when the Greek pantheon still ruled.”

The second voice spoke insistently, but the grumbling voice cut in again with a stern finality. “No. Not unless you wish to start another debacle like the one that brought down Greece –”

Atreus managed to crack his eyes open a little. Everything looked slightly fuzzed, even in the dim moonlight, as though it really was a dream.

Sitting nearby, with his back to Atreus and Calliope, was the old man.

The elder paused, lifting his head. Then he turned slightly as though to look over his shoulder at Atreus … But he didn’t.

Distantly, Atreus felt that he ought to say something. But he was just so damn tired. His eyes slid to a close, and he fell back to sleep.

Early morning sunlight fell onto Atreus’ face. He opened his eyes and saw the leafy green canopy above him.

Calliope’s face appeared over him. “You’re awake!” she exclaimed. “Look, Atreus! The old man came back!”

“What – the old man –?”

Atreus hurriedly sat up to find the old man from yesterday sitting across from him. “What are you doing here?”

“It occurred to me that I had run out of food the day before,” the old man replied, rather dryly. “No other travellers on the road saw fit to offer me alms. So I thought to look for you.”

“But … you’re blind,” Atreus said lamely.

“How astute of you, boy.”

“Sorry,” Atreus said sheepishly. “You just caught me off-guard.” The events of last night suddenly hit him. “Wait – you were here last night! Weren’t you?”

The old man’s face betrayed nothing. “You must be mistaken. The little one saw me arrive just a short while ago.”

“No, I’m pretty sure …” Atreus rubbed his eyes. “I remember your voice. You were talking to someone. Something about Mors …”

Calliope stiffened. “Mors?”

Too late, Atreus remembered the connection with Thanatos. Calliope shifted closer to him, now staring at the old man with wariness and distrust. “He isn’t Mors, is he?”

Atreus glanced at the elder. “She wants to know if you’re the god of death. I don’t think you are … but I’d rather leave you to answer that,” he said pointedly. “If you would oblige us.”

The old man’s brows furrowed. Then he shook his head slightly. “Nothing escapes you, does it?”

“Except when it does,” Atreus said. “It wasn’t a dream, then? You’re not just some random old man.”

“I am not,” the elder replied. “And you may tell the child that I am not from the Underworld.”

Atreus relayed the message to Calliope. She relaxed a little but still eyed the old man carefully. “Who is he, then?”

“I am Janus,” the old man replied after Atreus translated.

The name didn’t click. Janus frowned when neither of them said anything. “You have not heard of me?”

“Um, we don’t know all the Roman gods yet,” Atreus said. “Sorry.”

Janus huffed a sigh. “You will find out in time. Now, will you humour my request for food? Or must I beg you for alms?”

As he and Calliope set out their meagre breakfast, Atreus watched Janus out of the corner of his eye. The old man – or old god? – stared unseeingly into the distance, yet he always seemed to know when they were going to hand him something. Was he truly blind? Did he have foresight, like Calliope suggested, that helped him figure out what would happen and where to go? Or was it like Atreus’ visions, terribly obscure at worst and mildly confusing at best?

“You have questions,” Janus commented as Atreus passed him a clay cup for wine.

“Uh, yeah,” Atreus replied, a little taken aback by the elder’s perceptiveness.

Janus’ lips quirked in a smile under his white beard. “Let us eat first. Then we shall talk.”

Atreus caught Calliope’s eye. “My sister would like to offer a prayer, first.”

Interest flickered across Janus’ face, and he inclined his head. Atreus nodded to Calliope, and she began, “I offer this wine to Hestia. May she see all travellers home safely to the hearth.” Keeping her eye on Janus, she leaned over carefully to pour his cup first. “I wish you many days full of peace and good things.”

Janus nodded approvingly as Atreus translated. “You have my thanks, dear child.”

Their breakfast was quiet and quick. Once he was done, Atreus asked, “Why did you come back for us?”

Janus took a sip from his cup. “I know you were following me yesterday.”

“We weren’t really following you,” Atreus protested. “We just happened to be going in the same direction and –”

“And you wanted to ensure I did not trip and fall,” Janus put in. “I know. I heard you speaking together.”

“How –? Oh. Nevermind.” Different gods had their own unique abilities. Maybe Janus’ powers included super-hearing.

When Atreus translated for Calliope, her eyes widened. “Is he angry with us?” she asked in a small voice.

The old god’s expression softened a little once Atreus relayed the question. “No, child, I am not. I was only … wary. Perhaps overly so.”

“We didn’t know you were a god,” Calliope said earnestly. “We thought you were human like everyone else.”

“That was my intention.”

Atreus frowned. “You mean, you were testing us?”

“Yes. You think it unjust, young man, that I would be suspicious of the Ghost of Sparta’s children?”

“No, I – that’s not what I –”

Janus sighed, suddenly looking far older than he already did. “At ease. Yes, Atreus, I know who you and Calliope are.”

“How …?”

“I know all beginnings and endings, and the space in between. From the moment I heard your voice, I knew who and what you are.”

All Atreus could think to say was, “Were you, um, waiting for us that whole time?”

“I was told you would be on this road.”

“Who told you? Was it the same person you were talking to last night?”

“Perhaps.”

Atreus waited, but Janus said nothing more on that topic.

“Lord Janus,” Calliope began hesitantly, after Atreus relayed the conversation to her, “can I ask you something?”

Atreus translated. Janus nodded. “Of course, child. Though I may not always answer, as your brother has learned,” he added dryly.

Atreus resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“You said you can see all beginnings and endings,” Calliope said. “Does that mean you can see the future?”

Curiosity fluttered in Atreus’ stomach as he waited for the god’s reply. After a few heartbeats, Janus said, “I see all possibilities for the future. And at the same time, I see the past, locked in its ways.”

“Can you see ours?” Calliope asked, leaning forward.

Janus arched a brow. “Is that what you desire, child? To see every road you might take, and where it might lead you?”

Calliope hunched her shoulders a little. “I just want to know if – if we will be alright.” She looked at Atreus with bright eyes, and he gently wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

Janus was silent for a moment. Then he said, “It does not always help to know the future, dear child. Your brother knows that well.”

Calliope’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Atreus?”

Atreus glanced at Janus, but it was clear the god wasn’t going to explain it himself. “My people can see the future,” Atreus began. “They’ve made many prophecies that way. It’s passed down through families. My mother had it, and so do I.”

“You can see what will happen? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because I can’t control it. They’re like dreams. Visions. Sometimes they’re really confusing, and sometimes, if they’re clear enough, they can … mess you up. Make you afraid.”

“Did that ever happen to you?” Calliope asked quietly.

Atreus nodded. He still remembered the fear and icy dread that had taken him over upon learning that Kratos might die at Ragnarök. But he wasn’t about to mention that in front of Janus, even if the god probably already knew.

“The future alters with every little change in our paths and ourselves,” Janus said. “That makes it difficult to keep track of the threads. And even if I could give you a straight answer, child, I would not. It is my burden to bear. All I can tell you is to continue on your way. That said, we should get moving. We are not too far from the city.”

“You’re going to help us?” Atreus said, surprised. “I thought you didn’t trust us!”

“I never said that, did I? I was wary, yes. And I still have my concerns. I rarely involve myself with the lives of mortals; I prefer to watch from afar. But leaving you alone on this road will not change anything for the better … And I do like it when things are made better.”

Walking with a god? Well, Atreus should be used to that by now. “Alright. Better sounds good to me, too.”

“And me,” Calliope added, once Atreus translated everything.

Janus’ milky eyes twinkled. “Very good. I shall see you both to the gates of Rome, the heart of the Roman Empire itself!”

Chapter Text

Walking with Janus was just like how yesterday’s walk had gone. The only difference was that he now walked beside them instead of in front.

Janus was quiet at first, focusing solely on heading straight and avoiding oncoming traffic. At times, Atreus noticed some travellers casting curious glances in their direction – mostly at the elder. The look in their eyes put Atreus on edge.

“Mind them not, young man,” Janus murmured.

“They’re looking at you strangely. Do they know …?”

“No. They only see a beggar who might have some coin for them to rob.”

“Are they going to try it?”

Janus smiled dryly. “Not on this road, and not while you are with me.”

Calliope lightly tugged on Atreus’ hand and gave him a questioning look, so he translated their conversation for her.

“Maybe they are afraid of you, brother!” she said thoughtfully. “Because of your bow. They see that you’re a warrior.”

Atreus rubbed his neck. “I don’t look much like one, though.”

“You do to me,” Calliope said simply.

That surprised him. All he wore was a dusty, knee-length chiton, his bow and quiver, and the travel pack. How in the world did he look like a warrior?

His confusion must’ve been plain on his face for Calliope to see. “I grew up around warriors, you know,” she said. “Sparta is made of them.”

“I’ll take your word for it, then,” Atreus smiled, ruffling her curls.

It wasn’t too long before city walls appeared in the distance, growing bigger and taller as they approached. Atreus’ heart skipped a beat at the sight. They were finally at the city! And hopefully, hopefully they’d be safe there, at least for a little while. Rome was the heart of the Empire, the homeland of the Roman gods. If the Muses were right, that mix of power and energy in the city should be enough to shield Atreus and Calliope’s presence.

That didn’t stop the gooseflesh from popping up all over his bare skin. He repressed a shiver despite the warmth of the day, and reached up to hold the mistletoe arrowhead at his chest. He’d gone through more nerve-wracking situations than this.

“Lord Janus, I can see walls!” Calliope exclaimed, pointing ahead. Atreus withheld a smile; she’d forgotten in her excitement that Janus couldn’t see the walls or understand Greek.

He translated for the old god, and Janus nodded. “Those are the Aurelian Walls. Magnificent, are they not?”

“Aurelian,” Calliope repeated when Atreus relayed it to her. “That’s a pretty name.”

Aside from travellers, most of those on the road appeared to be farmers and merchants, all heading toward the city. Some rode on donkeys, others on wagons, and they all gradually merged into single-file.

“Stay close, now,” Janus said as they fell in line with the others. “We will enter through the Porta Asinaria. This road you are on, Via Tuscolana, will take you all the way to the city’s centre, which is the Roman Forum. You will find the Baths of Titus on the way.”

Was that a hint? Atreus took a discreet sniff of himself. Okay, maybe he did smell a bit. He’d gotten so used to travelling throughout his life that he honestly didn’t mind the stench.

There were several Roman guards on either side of the gateway, standing at attention. The line came to a halt as the soldiers halted each person to state their business. As for the gate itself, it was … Pretty small. “That’s the gate?” he muttered in Greek.

Janus arched his brow. “What is it, young man?”

Atreus quickly switched to Latin. “The gate. I thought it’d be bigger.”

“What gate? I can’t see!” Calliope whined, leaning as much as she could around the others ahead of them to look.

Atreus lifted her up and settled her on his hip. She craned her neck and gasped delightedly. “I see the gate!”

“The Porta Asinaria is a relatively minor gate,” Janus explained, “more widely known as the Gate of Donkeys among the commonfolk. If my ears do not deceive me, you should be able to see why.”

Atreus didn’t even have to look, really. The donkeys in the line all had thoughts that ranged from tired, indifferent, hungry, and impatient. Atreus closed off his senses to it after a moment, reducing the animals’ minds to background noise.

As they shuffled closer and closer to the gate, Janus said, “I will leave you once we are inside.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Atreus blurted before he could stop himself.

“I did say I would see you to the city gates. Nothing more than that.”

Unease twisted in Atreus’ gut. “I-I know, but …” He’d hoped that Janus would go further in with them, give Atreus more instruction, something. But Janus was a god with his own duties. He’d done as he promised. Now it was up to Atreus to keep on leading.

The line ahead of them paused. Atreus could see a farmer and his wagon at the gate, arguing with the inspecting soldiers. His heart thudded heavily against his ribs; the gate suddenly felt too close, and he found himself hoping that the farmer would keep the line stuck for a while.

A gnarled hand cupped his jaw from the side, firm but not ungentle. Janus turned Atreus’ head to look at him. His own milky eyes were almost in line with Atreus’ gaze, but not quite. The old god’s hand was cool against his skin.

“If I could stay with you, I would,” Janus said in his stern, grumbling voice. Once again, Atreus thought of Kratos. “I’d gladly see you safely to the edge of the empire. But I have more of a presence than you might expect. The gods keep an eye out for me, and if I am with you, you will find yourself caught.”

Atreus couldn’t argue with that. Getting caught by the gods of Olympus was what he wanted to avoid.

“Rest assured I wouldn’t leave you so soon if I didn’t think you could handle the city,” Janus added, releasing Atreus’ jaw. “And I will keep an eye on you.”

“That’s reassuring,” Atreus said. “I just …”

Janus somehow found his shoulder and offered a firm squeeze. “You are a god, Atreus. The gods have always found their own ways, have they not?”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t know what’ll happen in there! I know what I’m supposed to do – or at least achieve, but I don’t know which way is the best to take.”

He stared into the old god’s pale gaze as if he might catch a glimpse of an answer. A flicker of images in his eyes, maybe, like one of Atreus’ Giant visions. He was tempted to ask Janus if things would go alright, if Atreus would find a way, but … he didn’t. He had enough experience with prophecy to know that it was better not to know one’s fate.

Nevertheless, his anxiety must’ve slipped through for Janus to catch. “No doubt you wish to know how it will all end,” the god said.

“I thought about it,” Atreus admitted. “But I don’t think I should know.”

Janus sighed heavily. “That is wise of you, child. In any case, I wouldn’t answer if you asked. I do not wish to make you any more uneasy than you already are.”

“That bad, huh?”

“That is not what I meant. I spoke truly when I said I cannot give you a straight answer. In all the futures where you and your sister succeed, there are just as many futures where you fail … And others you might call bittersweet. I do not want to give you false hope.”

“Sometimes it feels better than nothing,” Atreus muttered.

“Hmph. As I said before, all I can tell you is to go on your way. Rest and regain your strength in the city. But do not stay for longer than is necessary.”

“But where do we go once we’re inside? I don’t even have a map!”

“Atreus?” Calliope asked worriedly. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Atreus blinked and looked at her. Her face was closer to his than he’d expected, and he could see the flecks of amber in her dark brown eyes, ringing around her pupils like glittering sunbeams escaping an eclipse. He never noticed that little detail before.

It was the same kind of amber as Kratos’ eyes.

He put on a reassuring smile. “Nothing’s wrong, sis. Really. I’m just a little nervous, that’s all.”

Calliope immediately hugged him tight. His cheek smushed against her sun-browned arm. “Don’t be nervous!” she said. “We will be alright, won’t we?”

That’s what he hoped. The line shuffled forward, bringing them closer to the gate. Just a couple more farmers to go, one of them with a large wagon, and soon it would be their turn.

“They will demand to know your business,” Janus put in. “Do you have a story ready?”

“Er, kinda, but – Couldn’t you just, I dunno, wave your hand so that they’ll let us in?”

Janus barked a dry laugh. “Use your silver tongue, young man. Or has it already turned to lead from disuse?”

Atreus scowled. Unbidden, another voice echoed in his mind, sneering at him. I watch your mouth move and I see cities burning.

He shook that memory off and gently set Calliope on the ground. “Alright, we’re almost there,” he said to her.

Janus nudged his arm. “Out of curiosity, do you have markings on your skin?”

“You mean my tattoos? Yeah, what about them?”

“You might find more similarities between the Greeks and Romans than just their gods, young man.”

His words clicked in Atreus’ mind. “Oh. Shit.”

“Indeed.”

Did the Romans really agree with the Greeks that tattoos were meant for criminals and outcasts? Damn it. Atreus had gotten away with it in Greece, though he’d attracted plenty of attention at first.

“Alright. I have an idea. Stand on my right – er, please,” Atreus said quickly. Janus obeyed, shuffling around Atreus so that he stood right behind Calliope.

Atreus switched to Greek, “Sis, can you stand over here?”

Calliope looked confused, but didn’t question him. She hurried over to his left side and gripped his hand tightly.

“And I’ll just, er, hold your arm,” Atreus continued in Latin. He slipped his right arm through Janus’, and, to his relief, the old god didn’t complain. In fact, he slumped a bit to play up the poor beggar act. Was he actually amused by this? Atreus just stared at him incredulously before looking away to the gate.

The farmer in front of them approached the soldiers, exchanged some words, and was let through on his donkey.

“Come forward!” one of the soldiers ordered.

Atreus drew in a deep breath, then went forward with Calliope and Janus.

“Er, hello –” he began.

“State your business … traveller,” the soldier said, looking Atreus up and down. He didn’t see Atreus’ arm tattoo, given that it was hidden in the folds of Janus’ sleeve, but when the soldier’s gaze landed on his neck, Atreus cursed inwardly. 

“I am here with my sister. This is a fellow traveller, a friend we made along the way,” Atreus said. Best to stick as close to the truth as possible with just a few necessary edits. “My sister and I came from Greece and are seeking shelter in the city.”

“Is that so? What of the markings on your neck?”

“I’m not a criminal if that’s what you’re thinking,” Atreus said, as calmly as he could. “I was born in the northlands. It is a custom there to have their warriors tattooed with prayers.” In all honesty, he’d never asked what the meanings behind Freya and Thrúd’s tattoos were, but his explanation seemed plausible enough. “I came to Greece to find my distant kin, only to find my sister recently orphaned.”

“Then why did you come here? There are plenty of cities in Greece to find shelter in,” the soldier barked.

“This old man, here,” Atreus said, nodding to Janus. “He offered us hospitality. He was once a Roman merchant but lost his sight in Greece, and he was stuck there for many years. I promised to return him to his homeland, hopefully to find any of his kin that might be left.”

Janus mumbled something, gripping both Atreus’ arm and his walking stick for support. What an actor. If Atreus didn’t know him at all, he would’ve expected the old god to collapse from exhaustion at any moment. “Please, I must find shelter for him, and for ourselves. We’ve all come very far.”

The soldier scowled at Janus, then turned it on Atreus. “Hmph. Fine, then. Go in, but if you cause any kind of trouble, you will face the consequences. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Atreus said. He'd had enough practice saying those words to make them convincing. The soldier sized him up and nodded.

Atreus hardly dared to breathe as he, Calliope, and Janus walked past the guards and through the Porta Asinaria. He waited for something to happen – a tingle up his spine from the presence of the city, or a lightning bolt to his face, or whatever. But nothing happened. Except maybe the volume of city life getting louder now that he was within the Aurelian Walls.

That last part repeated itself back to him. He was inside the city’s wall. He was in Rome!

Janus tugged on his arm and led them further down the road. Buildings stood on either side, and Roman citizens moved freely about on their morning business. The old god’s walking stick tapped on the paving stones beneath, and he soon took them away from the road into a shaded alley.

“That was well done, Atreus,” he said, smiling slightly under his beard.

“Thanks,” Atreus said, not sure whether to be pleased with himself or disgruntled by the fact that Janus left him to talk his way out of it. “You, um, did pretty good too.”

Janus grunted with amusement. He reached out and gently squeezed Calliope’s shoulder. “I must speak to your brother for a moment, child. Have patience. He will tell you all after.”

Atreus translated for him. Calliope nodded and said, “I can wait, Lord Janus.”

That done, the old god leaned on his walking stick and looked straight at Atreus’ forehead. “This is where I shall leave you. You may take this road to the centre of the city, where you will find many kinds of shelter, bathhouses, and food markets. I trust you brought some coin with you?”

“Yeah.” Atreus brought out his leather coin pouch to find what little drachma he had left. “Um, can I still use Greek money here?”

Janus looked slightly exasperated as he waved his hand over Atreus’ pouch. “There. You will find a good number of them converted to Roman currency. That should tide you over for a little while.”

Until I can earn more. “Thank you so much, sir. Not just for this, but for walking with us.”

“For not acting against you, you mean?”

“Yeah, that too,” Atreus said, a little awkwardly. “But really, you didn’t have to do all this. Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

Janus grunted softly. He reached up to lay a hand on Atreus’ shoulder. “Just this. Succeed. Return to your homeland in one piece.”

“That’s what I’m planning to do. But why?” Atreus thought back to Janus’ conversation with his unseen companion. “Is it because of my father? One of the futures you’ve seen?”

Janus’ grip tightened momentarily. “I do not wish for the Ghost’s wrath to fall upon this land.”

“I know. But he’s not that kind of person, anymore. He’s changed.”

Janus’ expression didn’t change. “Has his heart changed as well?”

“What do you mean?”

“You are his son.” Janus tilted his head in Calliope’s direction. “She is his daughter. Has his heart changed towards you?”

Atreus began to see what he was getting at. “Um, not that I know of. But that doesn’t mean he’d go on a rampage again just because of us. I’m sure of it.”

Well, not entirely sure. They’d made a promise to keep each other’s voices in their heads to guide them. But there was always that nagging doubt. What if Atreus made the wrong call despite Kratos’ guidance? What if he was pushed too far and got reckless again?

Did Kratos have the same worries?

Janus sighed heavily. “We shall see with time,” he said. “For now, you should find yourself a place to rest. And so must I.”

“Right,” Atreus nodded, clearing his throat – and his mind. “Centre of the city. Got it.”

“You will likely pass by a few temples on the way. You might pay them a visit if you can, and learn more about the gods.”

“Good idea. Thanks.”

Janus looked at Atreus for a few heartbeats longer. Then he set his palm against Atreus’ cheek, and the gesture brought such a strong image of Kratos to mind that Atreus felt homesick for a moment. Was this Janus’ way of giving his blessing?

Janus dropped his hand after a moment and nodded once to Calliope. “I shall take my leave. Fare thee well, Atreus and Calliope.”

“Wait!” Atreus said quickly, just as Janus made to turn around. “I forgot – can I ask you something? Er, who were you talking to last night?”

Janus arched a brow at him. “A good friend of mine. He was worried for you both.”

“Who is he?”

“I think I will leave you to guess for yourself,” Janus said, a slight twinkle in his eye.

Atreus huffed. Then he turned to Calliope and said, “He’s leaving now. Want to say goodbye?”

Calliope quickly turned to Janus and thanked him profusely for accompanying them, and for being so kind. Janus softened considerably and gently patted her on the head. Then he nodded to them both, turned, and departed from the alley with his walking stick tapping the ground before him.

Atreus watched him go. Once again, he had the unshakable feeling that Janus still watched them even while his back was turned. Oddly, Atreus was certain he’d had that feeling before. But when?

Calliope tugged on his hand. “Are you going to tell me what you talked about?” she asked, pouting a little.

“Oh, right! Yeah, um, so …” Atreus crouched down and began the tale. The feeling of Janus’ eyes on him gradually disappeared as he told her of the conversation.

Chapter Text

The stone-paved road took them deeper into the city, just as Janus said it would. Calliope stayed closer to Atreus’ side as they wove their way around citizens, horses, and wagons alike. She couldn’t help but stare at their surroundings as they went. They were in Rome! After all she had heard about the great city, it was … Well, it wasn’t so bad, really. 

Voices travelled over them, most spoken in Latin, with only a few other languages in the background. There were houses on either side of the road, built with brick and stone, and tiled clay rooftops. The further they went, the more people seemed to appear, coming from side streets and alleys. Flower petals fluttered through the air overhead at one point; looking up, Calliope saw a Roman woman on her balcony, arranging flowers in a pot. Several buildings down revealed a smithy, and Calliope heard the rhythmic clang-clang-clanging of a hammer on the anvil. Atreus, oddly enough, winced and looked away from the smithy.

The road continued straight for many blocks. Atreus occasionally stopped at a building that looked like a space for lodgings. He spoke in Latin to whoever owned the building, only to leave with disappointment. “The inn’s full,” he said. “Let’s keep looking.”

Music trickled into the cacophony of city noise as they went onward. Someone was playing on the edge of the street for coin. There were so many people now, all dressed in long waves of cloth like a chiton or peplos, but it was hard to focus on one citizen before another came along. Calliope shut her eyes and pressed herself against Atreus’ side. Her feet ached. She could almost feel the hard stone through her flimsy sandals. She wanted to go somewhere quiet, sit down, and not have to move.

“Atreus, I’m tired.” She hadn’t meant for it to come out in a whine; she barely even heard herself above the noise.

“I know,” he said shortly, not looking at her. “Help me look for an inn.”

“I can’t see!” Frustration churned inside her. He was much taller; why couldn’t he look? Everyone here was tall, and they all blocked the end of the road from her sight.

Atreus sighed forcefully but didn’t say anything. Calliope settled into a moody silence. She decided she didn’t like Rome very much. It was too noisy, too crowded, and everyone was far too tall.

After what felt like forever, with several full inns behind them, Atreus stopped at another and spoke to the plump innkeeper. Calliope rubbed her eyes and pressed her face against Atreus' hip, trying to block out the busy sounds from outside.

“Etiam, cubiculum habemus,” the innkeeper said. “Estne tibi duo tantum?”

“Iuste nobis,” Atreus replied. “Gratias tibi valde!”

Calliope blinked wearily and looked up. Atreus smiled widely at her. “We have a spot! We’ll get some rest soon.”

Calliope barely remembered passing through the common room where patrons ate and talked, heading up the stairs with sunlight flickering over her face through the windows, and entering into a small, dim room. A little window overlooked the busy road below. Calliope felt a little better now that they were alone. It wasn’t so noisy here.

Atreus set his pack down and knelt beside the square mattress in the corner. “Hreint,” he murmured, passing his hand over it. “Hreinsa upp.”

She understood the words easily. A cleaning spell? “What are you cleaning it for?” Calliope asked. 

“Thought I saw a bug. Just checking for more,” he replied. “We can rest here for a bit, then go look for those baths that Janus mentioned. What do you think?”

Calliope just nodded and flopped down on the mattress. She watched as Atreus took a moment to reposition his pack on the floor, then shifted over so he could lie down next to her. She lay her arm across his midriff and settled her head on his shoulder with a sigh. Her eyes slid shut.

Things were much better already now that they were lying down. Maybe Rome wasn’t so bad after all.

Calliope woke to the faint sound of singing. She blinked and glanced around the room. No sunlight came through the window, but a dim silver light streamed through. Was it night already?

She glanced up at Atreus. He softly snored on, oblivious to the fact that it was no longer day. So much for those baths.

The singing still went on outside. It was soft and sweet, and as Calliope listened intently, the music washed over her and filled her ears with words.

O Venus regina Cnidi Paphique,

Sperne dilectam Cypron et vocantis

Ture te multo Glycerae decoram

Transfer in aedem.

Fervidus tecum puer et solutis

Gratiae zonis properentque Nymphae

Et parum comis sine te Iuventas

Mercuriusque.

The meanings slowly appeared in her mind as though dredged up from a swamp. Venus, the queen … Cnidus and Paphos … Graces and nymphs, and … Oh, why couldn’t she just know what it all meant right away!

In any case, she didn’t know what a Cupid was, or Mercury. Ah well. Sleep tugged at her; she could listen to more songs in the morning. There were bound to be people singing in the temples, and Janus had suggested that they visit the temples anyway, so that worked perfectly!

With that plan in mind, Calliope settled back into sleep. She dreamed that night of a heartachingly beautiful woman who was doted upon by young servants, and a youthful man with a turtle-shell lyre. With it, he sang a song in lovely soprano, and Calliope somehow understood every word.

Quit Paphos; Cnidos, Cyprus quit,

O Venus! Glycera calls thee, come;

The incense fire is duly lit,

And fair her home.

With thee, loose-girdled Graces come

And Nymphs, and Cupid glowing warm,

And Mercury, and Youth, to whom

Thou lend’st his charm.

When Calliope woke up again, the night sky was already lightening to grey. She looked up at Atreus to find him awake. His blue eyes glinted softly in the dark.

“Morning,” he murmured. She heard the smile in his voice. “I guess we really needed that sleep, huh?”

“Yes,” Calliope replied, snuggling against him.

“Did you sleep alright?”

She nodded and stretched. Her stomach chose that moment to gurgle unhappily, and Atreus chuckled.

“I’m getting hungry, too. We completely forgot about lunch and dinner!”

With that, they dug out the last of their travel food and finished it all rather quickly.

“Time for the baths!” Calliope piped. She could feel the layers of sweat and grime stuck to her skin, and it made her feel rather icky. What would Mother say if she could see Calliope now?

In the light of early dawn, the two of them stepped out from the inn onto the road. It wasn’t as busy now as it was yesterday, thankfully. Atreus got directions to the Baths of Titus from the innkeeper; they just needed to take the side street directly across from them, and they would soon find the baths.

Calliope bounced along, wide awake and eager to finally be clean. As they took this new road, the path began to slope upwards a little. She kept her eyes open for any buildings that might resemble a bathhouse – and soon spotted a tall, circular building settled just at the base of the hill they were going up. A few other citizens had already entered the main doors when Atreus and Calliope approached.

“Do you think we’ll be alright in there?” Calliope asked nervously.

“I think so. It’s just a place to wash up, right? Haven’t you been to them in Greece?”

Calliope shook her head. “Not the public ones. I was never allowed to go to them. Mother told me it was only for adults.”

“How come? Wouldn’t you just be with your parents?”

“No, we would be with everyone else,” Calliope said. Her brow furrowed. “Don’t your people bathe together, too?”

“Er, not really. We usually do it in private,” Atreus said, his cheeks flushing slightly.

“Have you ever been to a bathhouse before?” Calliope asked.

“No, uh …  This is my first time going to a public bath.”

A round-faced woman with dark brown curls greeted them kindly at the doors. As she spoke with Atreus, Calliope found that she could catch a few words here and there. “Greetings … Baths … A fee … Allowed …”

Both she and Atreus glanced down at Calliope. Calliope’s heart sank. She wasn’t allowed in the bathhouse, was she? She was too young for it.

Then Atreus said something, bringing out two coins from his pouch. “Nowhere … Stay … Very grateful,” she heard him say.

The round-faced woman eyed the coins, then took them and nodded. “Servant … help,” she replied, and gestured behind her. A younger woman appeared, maybe around Atreus’ age, and introduced herself as Aelia.

Calliope gripped Atreus’ hand as Aelia led them into the bathhouse. “Why is she with us?” she whispered.

“She works in the baths. She’ll help you wash up,” Atreus explained. “I told the woman outside that we’re new here, and I don’t know another place that allows kids inside. I paid her a little extra to let you in.”

Calliope wasn’t sure if that was allowed or not, but she was just relieved to go with him. Past the main doors was a beautiful garden terrace full of lush greenery, decorative trees, and a fountain. On the far side was another set of doors into the bathhouse proper, welcoming them in with a gust of cool air.

“Hoc est apodyteria,” Aelia said.

“Changing room,” Atreus told Calliope. “Um, I guess we should take our clothes off. Er, I’ll just …” He turned away from the girls.

Aelia was instantly at Calliope’s side. Calliope let her help take off the dirty chiton and tainia while Atreus removed his clothes. His neck flushed red, but he said nothing once they were both fully naked, simply keeping his eyes ahead as Aelia led them out of the room.

“Haven’t you ever been naked before?” Calliope asked, swinging his hand.

“Of course,” he said, still not looking at her. He hadn’t taken off his arrowhead necklace. “I’ve just, er, never gone to a bath with other people before.”

“Not even with Father? Or Laufey?”

“I’ve washed up with my mother. But Father, um … We kinda washed separately.”

“Hoc est tepidarium,” Aelia announced as she opened the door.

“She says this is the warm room,” Atreus began, then gave a start as warm air blew into his face.

The same happened to Calliope, warming her face and ruffling her curls. She stared at the large hall before them. It was very, very beautiful. Mosaics and marble decorated the walls, and a barrel-vaulted ceiling with bas-reliefs arced overhead. Sunlight streamed in through the narrow windows on every wall. There were no baths here, but the room was lined with square niches for citizens to sit and rest. Telamones separated each niche, displaying statues of gods, nymphs, and satyrs.

Aelia let them move around for a little while as they grew accustomed to the warm temperature. It wasn’t much different from outside, Calliope mused. She and Atreus looked at the mosaics depicting flowers, birds, and people that Calliope didn’t recognize, though she guessed they were figures from Roman legends. Atreus stood directly behind her in the meantime. She soon realized that he was trying to block her from the view of other citizens nearby.

Warmth filled her chest at the thought. She peeked around him at the other niches, but no one was really looking at them. Atreus glanced down at her questioningly, but she simply shook her head and turned back to the frescoes.

After a few moments, Aelia took them through the large doors on the right of the tepidarium. They were immediately met with a gust of hot, steamy air. A large, circular bath filled the centre of the hall, sunk into the floor, with citizens already lounging inside it. There were other smaller baths in the four corners of the hall. There were two small doorways to the left and right, and by the look of the steam escaping from under those doors, they likely led to hot-air baths.

“Hoc est caldarium,” Aelia announced.

“The hot room?” Atreus repeated in Greek, startled. A delighted grin spread over Calliope’s face.

“Vis frigidarium?” Aelia asked Atreus.

He turned to Calliope. “What kind of baths did you have in Sparta?”

“Hot air!” she said immediately. “They are very steamy and warm.” She pointed excitedly to the side doors. “Are those hot-air baths? Can we go there first?”

Atreus looked like he didn’t know whether to freeze or flee, but he nodded and turned to Aelia with the question. Aelia gestured for them to follow and moved to the left, passing by the hot pools and entering one of the side rooms.

It was empty, thank goodness. Steam rose up from a coal fire built into the centre of the floor, in turn heating the basin of water on top, releasing steam. Calliope hurried over to the stone benches that lined the walls, and sat down, swinging her feet. “Sit, Atreus!”

He sat down beside her. Aelia inclined her head to them and said something. Atreus replied, “Gratias tibi,” and Aelia departed from the room.

“She’ll be back in a quarter hour,” he said to Calliope. “We’re supposed to wait until we start sweating before going out to the water baths.”

“Yes,” Calliope agreed. “Then we can cool down after.”

Atreus leaned back against the frescoed wall. His skin was already starting to flush pink, and not from his earlier embarrassment. He reached up to undo his braid. “So … this is a hot-air bath, huh?”

“Do you like it?” Calliope asked eagerly. “Mother brought me to these all the time. It is very common in Sparta. Father told me he would go with his soldiers to the hot-air baths.”

“Really?” Atreus said, surprised. “All of them together?”

“Yes!” Calliope peered closer at Atreus’ red face. She giggled. “Are you shy?”

“What? No! It’s just, um, not what I’m used to. It’s pretty hot here, too.”

“Do you use hot water in your homeland?”

“Yeah. We have to heat it manually since it’s usually cold to start with. But it’s never this hot, I think. Y’know, I’ve also taken some very cold baths.”

“How cold?”

“Like getting into a frozen lake.”

“No!”

“Yep! Felt like knives all over me. Father just stood on the banks and grunted.”

Calliope shivered at the thought despite the heat of the room. “Aelia mentioned a cold room,” she remembered. “Maybe you will like those more?”

Atreus laughed lightly. “I mean, I don’t like being too cold or too hot. It’s just something I had to do when we didn’t have time to heat up the water.” Then he frowned, took on a thoughtful expression, and turned to Calliope. “Wait, you heard her say that there was a cold room?”

Calliope nodded. “She said … frigi … frigi-something?”

“Frigidarium.” A bead of sweat appeared on his temple. “How’d you know that?”

“I heard someone singing last night, in Latin,” Calliope said. “So I listened to some of it. It was about Queen Venus, and how somebody wanted her to go somewhere. I think.”

“Hey, that’s great!” Atreus said. “With some more songs, you’ll be speaking Latin better than me in no time!”

Aelia came to check on them a short time later. Atreus and Calliope were already sweating a little, so she opened the door to let some of the steam out and proceeded to explain the next steps. Calliope listened carefully and caught a few words. “Wash … oil … scrape.”

Just like in Sparta! Calliope took up the oil jar, but Atreus hesitated. “What do I do with it?”

“You put it on,” Calliope explained. “Rub it all over your skin. Then we will scrape it off, and it’ll carry away all the dirt!”

With her and Aelia’s instruction, Atreus got started on rubbing his legs with oil. Aelia then turned to Calliope and rubbed oil all over her body, arms, legs, and feet. It was as though Calliope was back in Sparta, with Mother helping her apply the oil that would collect all the sweat and grime, and other nasty things.

When Aelia turned to Atreus, offering to help, Atreus hastily declined. Calliope stifled a giggle behind her hand. “You won’t be able to reach your back! I can help you, if you want.”

She nodded to Aelia, who left the room. Then she took the oil jar and tugged on Atreus’ arm so that he’d kneel. He obeyed, still looking uncertain. “You sure? I can do it myself …”

“I used to rub Mother and Father’s backs,” Calliope said, now applying the oil to Atreus’ shoulder blades. “I know how to do this.”

“Oh? How was it?”

“It was easier with Mother. You really have to massage the oils in, like this.” Calliope set both her hands on his shoulders and rub-rub-rubbed. “But with Father, he was so strong that I got tired very quickly.”

“Oh dear,” Atreus said sympathetically. “He has a lot of muscles, that’s for sure.”

Calliope kneaded the oils into Atreus’ waist. He flinched, then burst out laughing. “Ack! That tickles!”

Calliope laughed with him. “Haha! I got your weak spot! Take that! And that!”

Her brother’s back was strong with toned muscle, but still easy to massage, making him just the right mix between Mother and Father. He was slim like Mother, too, not big and bulky like Father. And he was pale. His clothes had hidden him from the sun, so now his tan lines were easy to spot.

Once she was done rubbing, Atreus flexed his back and glanced over his shoulder. “How does it feel?” Calliope asked.

“Um. Oily,” he said, trying and failing to hold back another laugh.

After another few moments of sweating it out, Aelia came back with the stirgil to help scrape off the oils. Calliope savoured the feeling of the blunt instrument sliding down her arms and legs and sides. Atreus meanwhile did his own limbs, then awkwardly allowed Aelia to remove the rest of the oils from his back.

Calliope was already feeling mighty refreshed and clean, but they weren't done yet, for Aelia brought them out into the caldarium to soak. At one of the corner pools, she first rinsed Calliope’s hair and combed out her curls, then indicated for her to step into the bath. This one was thankfully empty, but Calliope could tell it had just been used by another citizen. She hesitated, glancing up at Atreus.

He knelt at the edge and dipped his hand in the water. Calliope just barely heard him mutter, “Hreinst. Hreinsa upp.” Then he nodded, satisfied, and turned to her. “The temperature’s alright. Want to try?”

The water looked far clearer than it had a few seconds ago. Calliope dipped her toe in the water; it was hot, but the type of hot that she was used to. She stepped in, using the stone bench beneath the water like a stair, and splashed a bit as her feet hit the bottom.

Atreus got in after her. With both of them sitting on the bench, there wasn’t much else to do now but soak and wash up.

“Gratias tibi,” Atreus said to Aelia, who stood by.

“Gratias tibi,” Calliope echoed, the words rolling off her tongue.

Aelia smiled. “Tue es grata,” she replied.

Since it was only them in the corner pool, Calliope swam around a little, enjoying the freedom of the scented water. When she tilted her head up, she saw the vaulted ceiling with its reliefs and elaborate frescos. Some of the tiles gleamed and glittered in the streaming sunlight. Distantly, she could hear the commotion of city life outside, but it was all on the other side of these walls. She sighed contentedly and turned back to Atreus.

He stared at a mosaic on the wall, but Calliope got the impression he wasn’t really looking at it. She waded over to him. “Are you alright?”

He blinked, coming out of his thoughts. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, I’m alright. Why, what’s up? Getting too warm?”

“Not at all! I like these baths.” Calliope regarded him. “Are you thinking about something?”

His smile was only partly forced. “Yeah. Thinking about when we’ll be leaving.”

Calliope’s heart sank. “Leave? But we just got here!”

“No, not the bathhouse. I meant Rome. We just need to stay as long as is necessary, but Janus never said when that would be.”

“I thought he wanted us to rest and recover our strength?”

“Yeah.” Atreus sighed quietly. “I just wish he’d been a little more specific. That’s all.”

“Well, we just got here,” Calliope said, coming up beside her brother. “We can stay for a few more days, can’t we?” Now that she was all cleaned up and refreshed, she wanted to see more of the city. The excitement of an adventure was taking hold of her again. Surely a little exploring wouldn’t hurt!

Atreus’ smile widened a little. “Just a few days, then. I wouldn’t mind seeing more of Rome now that we’re already here. And I need to find directions on how to get out of the city, anyways.”

Calliope beamed. “Then can we look for spinach pies while you do that?”

He ruffled her wet hair, sending droplets flying. “Sure thing, sis.”

Chapter Text

After they finished washing in the hot bath, Aelia offered to show them the frigidarium. It looked very much like the caldarium, except that it was much larger. Atreus got into one of the pools and sucked in a sharp breath. “Yep. It’s cold alright.”

Calliope stepped onto the bench underwater, squeaked, and hurried out. “It’s too cold!”

“That’s the point, sis.”

Aelia said something, and Atreus seemed impressed. “It’s chilled with snow? Where’d they even get that around here?”

The visit to the frigidarium was therefore very short. Aelia brought them back to the tepidarium and up the rightmost staircase to the second floor, where the massage rooms were. Inside one such room, sunlight filtered through a square window that overlooked the city. Aelia scrubbed Calliope’s hair with more water, then dried it with a towel and applied some scented oils. Aelia then twisted her dark curls into ringlets, similar to the style she used to wear back home. Meanwhile, Atreus ruffled his hair dry and braided it down the back of his head.

Once finished, Aelia set her brush down and went over to the bench. A thin stack of clothes lay upon it, and she brought it over to them. “This is yours,” she said in Latin, and Calliope understood the words.

The stack of clothes was in fact theirs, having been washed and dried. Aelia helped Calliope into her chiton and tied the tainia around her head.

“You look great,” Atreus complimented.

Calliope grinned and twirled around once in delight, feeling cleaner than ever before. “Thank you! And thank you too, Aelia!”

With that, it was time to leave. Calliope pouted at having to leave the bathhouse, but as Atreus pointed out, it was nearly time for lunch. Her stomach rumbled insistently in agreement. Aelia led them down the stairs again and out into the garden terrace, where they passed through the main doors and ended up on the street. They thanked Aelia again, then turned and made their way in the direction of the inn.

Atreus once again asked for directions from the innkeeper. The man simply stared at Atreus when he mentioned the spanakopitas, but when Atreus attempted to translate it to Latin ( “Viridi folium pistorium” ), the innkeeper offered a few suggestions. Atreus thanked him, and then he and Calliope were on their way once again.

“What did you tell him?” Calliope asked as they wove their way around the crowds on the road.

“I said it’s a Greek pie. Called it a green leaf pastry.”

Calliope couldn’t help but laugh. “Green leaves! That could be anything!”

“Hey, I gave it my best shot!” Atreus mock-grumbled.

The road they were on was the same one as yesterday, bringing them towards Rome’s centre. Everything seemed more lively now that Calliope was fully awake. Music and laughter filtered into the everyday sounds of citizens going about their daily work. More flowers appeared on the balconies overhead. And whenever they passed a decorative statue, Calliope noticed how wreathes of flowers and laurel leaves decorated the heads, hands, and arms.

“Is it an important day today?” she asked.

“Not sure,” Atreus replied. “But I heard someone mention a festival, so it might be.”

The road gradually widened and the buildings fell away. Calliope soon saw why: the largest structure she’d ever seen stood at the end of the road, circular with four levels, and lined with columns at each level. Many citizens were heading towards it and going inside, while a few passed it by.

Lunch all but forgotten, Atreus and Calliope continued onward until they came within several feet of the main doorway to the building. It was so tall! Calliope had to crane her neck back to see the top.

“Salve!” someone shouted.

Calliope nearly jumped. One of the Roman soldiers guarding the door pointed at them with his spear. He said something more, and Atreus replied in a mollifying tone. He then tugged on Calliope’s hand and drew her back the way they’d come.

“What is it?” she asked worriedly.

“He doesn’t want us standing there and gawking if we’re not going inside,” Atreus replied. “He called it the Colosseum. I’ve never heard of it.”

“Colosseum,” Calliope repeated slowly. “I haven’t either. It’s so big, though. What is it for?”

“No idea.”

They found a side street that took them west past the Colosseum and onto another main road. From there, they continued onward, at times stopping by buildings that looked like taverns and shops so that Atreus could ask for directions.

As it was, they didn’t find any spanakopitas until they reached the Roman Forum. It was huge. There was a great hill nearby – the Capitoline Hill, a passing citizen informed them – upon which sat several large buildings, no doubt temples or palaces. There were other great buildings that Calliope couldn’t keep track of, but was awed by nonetheless. There were so many citizens here, too! Almost as many as she saw in Sparta, and in Athens.

Somehow, Atreus found a little tavern just on the edge of the Roman Forum. A tavern run by Greeks, no less – and they served spanakopitas! Calliope eagerly thanked them and started eating hers right away, completely forgetting about the flatbread and cooked greens that Atreus also bought. All in all, it was a very good lunch.

“Where should we go next?” Calliope asked as they left the Greek tavern.

“Well, we could explore,” Atreus said. “Look for some temples, learn more about the Roman gods.”

“I will keep my eye out for temples, then!” Calliope declared. Given how similar the architecture of Rome was to Greece (from what she’d seen so far), surely the temples couldn’t be too different, either.

As it were, the first temple they learned about (from another passing citizen) was the Temple of Jupiter on Capitoline Hill. “Should we go to that one?” Calliope asked uncertainly. 

Atreus shaded his eyes against the sun’s glare as he gazed at the temple. “You wanna climb up that hill?”

Calliope wrinkled her nose. It was a very high hill, and a large one. Quite rocky, too. And she had just had her bath. “Not really.”

“Maybe later, then.”

They wandered around the Forum, looking for temples, and gazing around at the Forum at large. It was then that a particular building caught Calliope’s eye: a small house sitting right in the open space between two long buildings. It was almost funny to see it there when it was surrounded by so many larger, grander buildings. “What about that one?”

“That one?” Atreus frowned at the little house. “Looks like a privy.”

Calliope giggled. They went over it and peered inside the open doors.

The opposite end of the house had another set of doors, also open. Inside was only a square slab of stone. Calliope wasn’t sure what to make of it. What was this little house for?

“Salve,” a new voice said. “Esne hic orandus?”

Atreus and Calliope turned to find a middle-aged woman beside them. Grey strands shot through her dark hair, and she wore a long red dress over a white tunic.

Atreus replied to her, and once again Calliope tried to make out the Latin words. “Looking … temple … house.”

The woman appeared somewhat offended for a moment, but when Atreus continued to explain, her expression softened. “Temple … Janus … doors,” she replied, and a chill passed over Calliope’s skin as she recognized the old god’s name.

Atreus said something more, then took a step back to let the woman inside. “She says that this is Janus’ temple,” Atreus murmured to Calliope. Excitement shone in his eyes. “She’s going to make a prayer.”

As they watched, the woman held up her hands over the stone slab and began to sing. Her music swirled around Calliope, and the meaning of her words opened like blooming flowers in Calliope’s mind.

Come forth with the cuckoo! Truly all things dost thou make open.

Thou art Janus Curiatius, the good creator art thou.

Good Janus is coming, the chief of the superior rulers.

The woman lowered her hands, bowed her head, then left the temple through the back doors. She came around the building to Atreus and Calliope, and when she spoke, Calliope could understand the language a little better than before, even if some of the words still escaped her.

“You want … make prayer?” the woman asked.

“Yes,” Atreus replied. “Though … know not much … Janus.”

“You are traveller?”

“From Greece, yes.”

The woman turned and pointed to one of the statues adorning the Roman Forum. It depicted a man in long robes and two faces. The face at the front was old, with a beard. The face on the back was younger, with a shorter beard.

“Two faces,” the woman explained. “Time and travel … Gateways … Beginnings and endings. Guards … gates of heaven.” She gestured back to Janus’ small temple. “Doors open … Empire at war. Closed … Empire at peace.”

“I see,” Atreus said. “Thank you.”

The woman inclined her head. After bidding farewell, she left them standing by the temple.

Atreus turned to Calliope. “Wow. I didn’t know Janus was so …”

“Important?” Calliope offered, a little dumbstruck herself. To think they met such a god on the dusty road, of all places! “I understood half of what she said. He is the god of beginnings and endings – maybe that’s why he is shown with two faces!”

“One looking at the past, the other at the future, huh?”

“Let’s make a prayer,” Calliope said. They went inside and stood by the stone slab. After thinking for a moment, she began, in very broken Latin, “Lord Janus, thank you for watching over us on the road, and for guiding our journey to Rome. We will do our best to get home safely so that you will not have to worry.”

A gentle breeze passed through the temple’s open doors, so soft on her skin that she might have imagined it. “Do you think we’ll see him again?” she asked Atreus.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’d be happy to, but he’d want us to keep moving.”

Calliope knew he was right. Nevertheless, she would miss the old god and how he spoke to Atreus, even if she hadn’t understood Latin at the time. Just watching their expressions, with Janus’ half-grumpy, half-amused face and Atreus’ bewildered responses, was quite funny.

They left Janus’ temple through the back doors, just as the woman had done. They wandered around the Forum for a little while longer, then left, having caught the mention of a river nearby. It felt like an adventure in itself just to find it, and by the time they did, the day was halfway through the afternoon.

They stood on a bridge overlooking the river as it cut through the city. The Tiber, Atreus heard it was called. Calliope gazed at it in awe. A large river flowing through the city! There was none of that where she lived; all the water was in the sea beyond Sparta.

Boats and barges slowly made their way up and down the Tiber. “They’re probably bringing goods and other things to other parts of the city,” Atreus said, leaning on the stone railing.

Calliope followed the curve of the river as it bent sharply nearby. Her gaze fell upon a pillared building standing near the bend, overlooking one of the ports. Citizens trickled in and out.

“Look, Atreus!” She pointed at the building. “That looks like another temple, doesn’t it?”

“Let’s go take a closer look,” he said, and thus began the ordeal of navigating their way through the afternoon crowds on the streets.

Up close, the temple was bigger than Janus’, but far smaller than Jupiter’s. There was writing engraved on the front of the stone mantle, but Calliope couldn’t read any of it.

Singing floated out from within the temple.

To Palaimon, heed my prayer!

O nursed with Dionysus, doomed to keep that dwelling in the widely spreading deep;

With joyful aspect to my prayer inclined, propitious come, and bless the rites divine;

The mystics through the earth and sea attend, and from old sea’s stormy waves defend: for ships their safety ever owe to thee, who wanderest with them through the raging sea.

Come, guardian power, whom mortal tribes desire, and far avert the deep’s destructive ire.

“Palaimon?” Calliope murmured. “But he isn’t a Roman god!”

“Who is he?” Atreus asked.

“He was a sea god who came to sailors in distress. He used to be mortal, but his parents made Queen Hera angry because they fostered Dionysus.”

“Who’s that?”

“The god of wine and revelry,” Calliope explained. “Hera drove Palaimon’s father mad, so his mother took Palaimon and together they leaped off the cliffs into the sea. They were both transformed into sea gods.”

“Fun story,” Atreus said dryly. “Though I’m glad he and his mom could get away.”

“Me too,” Calliope agreed. “But Palaimon is Greek! Why would he have a temple here?”

“Let’s go inside,” Atreus suggested.

Inside the temple, on the far wall, was a bas-relief carving of a bearded man with two faces, one looking forward and the other backward. He held a net in one hand and held up his other hand in blessing. A dolphin leaped at his feet, and an archway stood over him, carved in detail with foamy waves, fish, and little boats.

“Looks a lot like Janus,” Atreus commented, keeping his voice low given that the other citizens inside the temple hadn’t finished their prayers yet. “Hey, there’s more writing on the wall.” He squinted, trying to get a closer look. “Um … P-Portu … Portunus. Wait –”

The name dawned on Calliope at the same moment. “The man who helped us at Sipontum?” she said, a little too loudly. One of the nearer citizens scowled and hushed her.

She drew closer to Atreus. “Is it the same Portunus?” she whispered.

“I – I don’t know.”

But Atreus did know. Or he was quickly piecing it together. Calliope tried to do the same, but where to start?

Atreus had said that Janus was speaking to someone the night he returned to them. Janus had said that his friend was worried about them, and Atreus believed that this friend told Janus about their journey to Rome. Who else knew about Atreus and Calliope and where they were going?

They’d hardly spoken of going to Rome to other humans, so Calliope took Eirene and Agathe off the list. Somnus? He hated them. The Muses? They were all women, and hadn’t Janus referred to his friend as a “he”? All that was left was Portunus.

“Well, the statue does look like Portunus,” Atreus said weakly, nodding to the bas-relief. “And there’s more writing on the wall. Let’s see … Travel and ports … Heh, that figures. And gateways … Yeah, that is like Janus. He must be the friend that Janus was talking about.”

“I think so, too,” Calliope said. Then her brow furrowed as she realized something. “Wait – you can read Latin now? When did you learn that?”

“Er, here and there while we were walking around,” Atreus replied.

Something unpleasant tightened in Calliope’s chest. That was not fair! Her brother just kept learning and learning while she was stuck in one spot! Why couldn’t she catch on quickly like him? So much for being a goddess, she thought bitterly.

“I can teach you what I know,” Atreus offered.

“No,” Calliope said, crossing her arms petulantly. She hated how she had to keep her voice down in this temple. It only made the feeling in her chest worsen. “It will take forever! And I’m already learning your runes. I don’t want to have to learn another set of runes!”

“You learn quickly when we sing it, though –”

Calliope stomped her foot, frustrated. “I don’t want to!” she said in a hissed whisper.

Atreus huffed. “Fine, then.” He glanced at the carving of Portunus. “Want to make a prayer before we go?”

Calliope hesitated. She was in a bad mood now, but disrespecting a god by leaving without prayer was never good. And Portunus had been so kind to them. She sighed and hung her head.

“Want me to do it?” Atreus offered.

She shrugged, not saying anything.

Atreus crouched down so that he was at her eye level. Then, in fluent Latin, he began softly, “Thanks, Portunus, for helping us at Sipontum. I feel extra bad now, since I didn’t know who you were at the time. We won’t forget your kindness and hospitality. Um, we hope you’re doing alright. And, uh, give our regards to Janus if you happen to see him.”

A cool breeze passed through the temple as Atreus finished. Calliope didn’t care much for it; all she wanted to do was leave.

Thankfully, they left right after. Calliope hung her head as they strolled down the road, close to the Tiber. She heard some sailors singing a light tune as they passed by on their boats, and despite her sour mood, she listened to them. The words were drawn out at times like a chant, but they stuck with her nevertheless. Or, rather, she clung to them fiercely, willing them to unlock the language and all its secrets completely.

The sun was setting by the time they bought some dinner at a tavern. They now stopped on a large hill overlooking the valley where the Circus Maximus lay. From what Atreus gathered from the tavern’s cook, the Circus Maximus was a stadium for chariot racing and other games. It was currently full of people, so much so that Atreus and Calliope couldn’t go in to watch the races even if they tried. She could hear the distant rumbling of hooves and chariots, and the echoing cheers, even from this distance.

Atreus sat down and divided the food between them. Calliope remained standing at his side, shifting her weight from foot to foot, uncertain. The afternoon hadn’t felt as good as the morning did, and she didn’t want to end the day on a bad note. At times like these, Mother would tell her to speak plainly rather than sulk away. It was not the Spartan way to talk idly and run in circles.

But it was just so hard to find the right words sometimes. She could never think quick enough to defend herself against the other children’s taunts and insults. And if you had nothing purposeful to say? You were expected to not say anything at all, as a Spartan warrior would.

Calliope hadn’t said anything ever since they left Portunus’ temple. Shame twisted in her gut, blocking all words. Atreus must be angry with her for her behaviour. Or disappointed, at least. What could she say that would make things better? What if it didn’t work, and she only made things worse?

Father never had that trouble. He always knew what to say even when she asked the silliest of questions.

Atreus looked up at her. She was still standing, having made no move to sit. “Aren’t you gonna join?”

Calliope sat down beside him. She took her portion of the food with murmured thanks, offered a little prayer, but didn’t eat immediately. She took a deep breath. Be brave.

“Atreus?” she began. “I … Thank you for teaching me about your language and runes.”

Surprise flickered across his face. Then he smiled, eyes scrunching up in that sweet way, and wrapped his arm around her.

“I’ll teach you the Latin letters,” he promised, kissing the top of her head. “You’re already doing great with speaking it. That means you’re halfway there to reading.”

Calliope had to rise on her knees to reach his cheek and kiss it. The bad feeling in her chest faded away, replaced with the hunger in her stomach, and she ate eagerly.

Afterward, they watched as torches flickered to life around the Circus Maximus like orange stars. They appeared further in the city as the sky slowly darkened into evening. Calliope knew they ought to return to the inn soon, but she begged Atreus to let them stay a little longer. With the music playing in the nearby temple, and talk and laughter trailing in from the main road, it truly felt like a night of festival.

“I wonder what they’re singing in there,” Atreus mused, glancing over his shoulder at the temple.

Calliope strained her ears to listen and caught a couple phrases. “They are asking Mercury to speed messages on their way,” she reported.

“You heard all that from here?” Atreus said, impressed. “I could barely make out a few words!”

Calliope beamed. Then a thought struck her, and excitement bubbled in her stomach. “I nearly forgot – I have something for you!”

Atreus raised both eyebrows. “Oh? A surprise for me?”

Calliope rooted through his pack for her flute. It was cushioned snuggly between her blue peplos and Atreus’ old clothes. She ended up unearthing some of the clothes in order to get her flute out.

“I was working on a composition during our journey to the city,” she explained. “I only have the first part finished, but I will play it for you now since it’s a festival tonight!”

Atreus grinned and turned to face her, giving his full attention. Calliope raised the flute to her lips and, heart thudding in her chest, began to play.

It lasted only for a few minutes, but it felt far longer than that, somehow. Atreus closed his eyes halfway through as he swayed lightly to the music. Once Calliope finished, he opened his eyes and said, “That’s the song you played in the woods, isn’t it?”

Calliope blinked, surprised. “It is! I didn’t think you would remember it.”

“It’s beautiful, Calliope,” he said earnestly. “The kind that’s hard to forget, y’know? I love it!”

“I am glad you love it! It’s your song. I’m going to add more to it later,” Calliope went on giddily, “and then it will be a big song!”

“As big as our adventure, huh?” Atreus smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. “Thanks for sharing it with me, sis.”

As Calliope wrapped the flute up in her old peplos and packed it away, Atreus got to his feet and stretched. “We should get going now. Gotta find the inn. I have a feeling it’ll be a long walk back.”

Calliope sighed wistfully as she gazed out at the sparkling orange lights around the Circus Maximus. Sitting for a little while longer sounded much better than more walking.

“Calliope? C’mon, let’s go.”

She sighed again, got up, and handed Atreus the pack. He slung it over his shoulder, not looking at her. She furrowed her brow and followed his gaze towards the temple … Or, rather, its roof.

“Atreus? What is it?” she asked.

“Hmm … Nothing, I guess. Just thought I saw somebody up there.”

“Why would they stand on the roof? That is a rude thing to do to a temple.”

“I dunno. Maybe to get a better view of the city?”

Calliope shrugged. “Can we visit the temple before we go?” 

Together, they approached the building. Other citizens trickled in and out, but there seemed to be a little crowd inside already. Warm torchlight shone from within, warm and vibrant to match the singing. Prayers to Mercury, the god with winged feet, filled Calliope’s ears.

“He sounds like Hermes,” she mused.

Atreus’ hand tightened slightly around her own. “I think we should go.”

“What? Why?”

“I dunno. Something just feels off.”

“Like what?”

Atreus shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I just think we should leave.”

He was serious. Calliope didn’t like the idea of leaving without making a small prayer inside the temple, but she didn’t like her brother’s unease even more.

She wiggled his hand. “Alright, let’s go.”

They made their way down the hill and into the maze of buildings. The streets were just as crowded at night as in the afternoon. Calliope clung to Atreus’ side as they were jostled this way and that, occasionally stopping so that Atreus could ask directions to the Baths of Titus.

“Okay, we should be getting close –” Atreus began.

He suddenly lurched to the side, and Calliope went with him, yelping as she tripped over her feet and bumped into his back. He caught her against him with his tattooed arm.

Before she could ask what in the world happened, a smooth voice said, “Forgive me for pulling you aside. I thought it best to approach you here, away from the crowd.”

They stood in the shadows of a building, just around the corner from the crowded street. Calliope peeked out from around her brother to find a golden-haired young man standing before them. He was likely several years older than Atreus, if not more; it was hard to tell with his youthful, clean-shaven face and athletic frame.

He held Atreus’ upper arm in a firm grip. Calliope’s heart jumped into her throat, but Atreus spoke levelly. “You could’ve just tapped me on the shoulder.”

The young man offered a pinched smile. “Would you have heard me over the din? But no matter. I could not help but notice that you dropped this.”

He held up his other hand. Clenched in his fist was Atreus’ red sash.

Chapter Text

Calliope stared at the sash in the stranger’s hand. That was not right. They couldn’t have dropped it! She had been the one to pack it securely, right on top of her flute!

She watched the golden-haired man with no small amount of wariness. He was about the same height as Atreus, wore a white tunic with cream-coloured toga draped over one shoulder, and sandals with several gleaming laces up his calves. A laurel wreath sat on his head with both ends meeting at the front like wings.

It was his eyes that made Calliope uneasy most of all. Amidst the beauty of his face, his eyes were like iron, staring wide and unblinking at Atreus.

“Uh, thanks,” Atreus said. “I didn’t realize I’d dropped it.” The hint of confusion in his voice mirrored what Calliope felt.

“It is a common occurrence when one is in a crowd,” the man replied.

“Yeah. That’s true.” Atreus reached for the sash. The golden-haired man didn’t release it immediately, but after a heartbeat he opened his fist and let the red cloth slide from his palm.

“Um, thanks again,” Atreus said, handing the sash to Calliope. She hastily bundled it up and held it close.

“I heard you the first time.” The man’s eyes flickered to the sash, and then to Calliope. She shifted further behind Atreus, uneasy. “Despite its wear, I can see that it is a sturdy piece of fabric. No doubt it had high worth in its prime. Lovely red dye, too. May I ask where you got it?”

“It’s just a hand-me-down,” Atreus replied. “Never really found out where it was made.”

“Is that so?” The man tilted his head, regarding Atreus with a look that reminded Calliope of Thanatos whenever he spoke of keeping her. She shivered.

“Yeah. Sorry, we kinda have to go,” Atreus said, nudging Calliope back towards the busy road. “Getting past our bedtime and all. Have a good night, sir.”

“I daresay I will,” the man called after them. His smooth, almost charming voice did not match the piercing sharpness of his gaze. “Enjoy the Quinquatria, little ones.”

Calliope followed close at her brother’s side as he hurried through the crowds. She clutched the red sash to her chest all the while. Father’s old sash. Mother had woven it for him before Calliope’s time. Calliope could not remember ever seeing her father without the sash on. Except when they were in the hot-air baths, of course.

Neither of them said anything until they finally reached the inn and retreated to their room. Once inside, Atreus set the pack down, opened it, and brought out all its contents: their change of clothes; the tools for his weapons, and for camping; the orange chisel and blue crystal-like ball; the smooth marble with “Angrboda” engraved on it; the coin pouch; their lyre and flute; and that was all.

The red sash was not in the pack.

“I put it away tightly,” Calliope insisted, her fists bunching up in the fabric. “I promise I did! It was right on top, and I made sure the pack was shut well!”

“I know,” Atreus said firmly. “I saw you do it. And even if I hadn’t, I’d believe you anyway.”

Calliope relaxed, shoulders slumping with relief. But that only left the uneasy feeling in her chest. “Then how did it fall out? And who was that man?”

“No idea.”

“I do not like him,” Calliope declared. “He was looking at you strangely.”

Atreus half-smiled without humour. “Maybe he always looks like that.”

“No, that was a strange look. I know strange looks, brother.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Atreus took the sash and stored it away along with everything else. “C’mon, let’s get some sleep while we can.”

They lay down on the pallet. It was a little quieter in this part of the city, though some talk and music still carried in from outside. Calliope closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against Atreus’ shoulder. It took her a while to fall asleep; she couldn’t get the man’s sharp eyes out of her mind, and how he had gripped Atreus’ arm. From his clothes and laurel wreath, he must have been someone important. But who?

As sleep gradually pulled her under, she realized that the golden-haired man spoke in Latin, and she had understood nearly every word.

The next morning dawned bright and warm. Calliope awoke with no dreams to remember, only that it had been dark. She couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not.

Atreus planned to spend some time learning about the routes in and out of the city. He started by asking the innkeeper questions. There was Ostia, the innkeeper said, southwest of Rome that served as the city’s port. The River Tiber led directly to it and out into the sea. No doubt they could pay for passage on a ship to take them northwest to the larger lands.

Thus, they made a plan: spend a couple more days in the city to earn some extra coin, then replenish their travelling supplies and depart for Ostia. Calliope spent the morning practicing the songs she’d already heard – the prayers to Janus, Portunus, and the others. Singing them under her breath helped to refine what she already knew of the language, smoothing the way between word and sentence.

They made their way back to the Roman Forum and picked a spot outside a pillared building, close enough to the main road. It wasn’t terribly busy here, and not so loud to cover up their music, either. At least, Calliope hoped that was the case.

“I want to play the song for Janus,” she told Atreus. “I might make it longer, too.”

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, setting his lyre on his lap. “Ready?”

Calliope nodded and began to play the hymn on her flute. It was done entirely by ear and memory, but she found it wasn’t too difficult at all. She could play the hymn back in her mind as clearly as she heard it yesterday. She knew what the notes were. All she had to do was make sure her nerves didn’t make her fingers tremble.

Atreus did quite well with the harmony. They had tried practicing beforehand, but he claimed it didn't feel right to have it all set in stone. He liked to be free. In his words, he ran better on chaos.

Calliope suppressed a smile. A few citizens had paused to watch, while a couple others dropped a coin each in one of Atreus’ clay travelling cups. Calliope kept her eye on the coins as they came. A copper coin, and then another …

She moved on to Portunus’ hymn after finishing Janus’. More citizens came to watch, a few others dropping coins as they passed by. At noon, she and Atreus stopped to eat lunch, then moved to a different area on the other side of the Forum, and started playing all over again. They even attracted a larger crowd than before!

Calliope’s heart soared as her fingers danced across the flute. She had never played for such a large audience before. Seeing their smiles and impressed faces made her stomach flutter in a pleasant way.

And then she heard the faint plucking of strings. Not her from her brother, but from someone else.

She glanced around and found the source several feet down the street, sitting beneath a statue in the Forum. Something about him seemed familiar, but Calliope was too focused on her playing to look too closely.

But she could still listen. The song he played was one that she didn’t recognize, but that wasn’t what set her on edge. The music sounded … ethereal. Otherworldly. She tried to ignore it, but it kept tugging at her attention, and she wasn’t the only one bothered by it.

A few citizens peeled away from the audience, heading for the musician and stopping near him to listen.

As she watched, more and more citizens left to see the musician by the statue. Calliope was half tempted to call them back. Yes, his music was far smoother and lovelier and stranger than Atreus’, but – but Atreus was still very good! His music was clean and honest. And Calliope had spent a lot of time preparing her own craft, too!

When the musician began to sing, his voice heavenly and almost inhuman, it was like salt in a wound. Calliope stumbled over her notes as heat flushed her face. This wasn’t fair! Why could he not go somewhere else to play?

In what felt like no time at all, the musician had gathered a very large crowd. Atreus and Calliope’s side was completely barren of citizens. Calliope stopped playing, unable to keep going out her strong sense of unjustness.

“What’s wrong?” Atreus asked, fingers pausing over his lyre. “Why’d you stop?”

She turned to him and pointed at the musician – or the crowd hiding him – with her flute. “That man there, can’t you hear him playing? He stole our audience!”

Atreus frowned. He leaned to the side to look around her. “That’s where everybody went?”

“Yes!” Calliope insisted. “They all went to listen to him instead of us! They must be giving him all their money!”

“I mean, it’s their choice what they want to do with it,” Atreus said in a placating tone, though she could tell he was a little disappointed. “Besides, he probably needs the money –”

“But we need it too!”

“We did manage to get some.” Atreus picked up the cup and shook it slightly, rattling the coins inside. “Let’s see … Three dupondii and a quinarius. Uh …”

Calliope wrinkled her nose. “That is not much, is it?”

“Well, if we combine it with the other coins we got, then the number gets bigger.”

Calliope sighed in exasperation. “We’ll have to keep playing then, won’t we?”

“If you’re getting tired, I can do it on my own. I don’t mind.”

“It’s not that!” she said impatiently. “If that man hadn’t been here, everyone would have stayed to watch us!”

Applause erupted like thunder. The musician had stopped playing. No doubt he was raising his arms to catch all the coins and other gifts thrown his way.

“His music was odd, too,” Calliope went on. “It didn’t sound right.”

“What do you mean?”

“It sounded like … Like he wanted to draw everyone towards him.”

They both looked back at the crowd. Calliope blinked in surprise. Everyone was suddenly leaving, as though something had pushed them to disperse. Still sitting under the statue was the musician, absentmindedly plucking at the strings of a lyre. He must have felt them staring, for he looked up and raised his hand in greeting. Then he stood and made his way over to them with a small skip in his step.

Ice trickled down Calliope’s spine, chasing away the heat of her frustration. It was the golden-haired man from yesterday. The only thing different was the lack of a toga over his shoulder. And his lyre, now that Calliope could see it better, was made from a turtle shell.

“Ah, my friends,” he said, holding out both arms as though in welcome. “You truly made me work for my money. It was quite fun playing against you.”

Atreus stood, placing his arm around Calliope, and she moved close to his side. The golden-haired man pinned her in place with his wide-eyed gaze. “I heard your little outburst, girl. Disappointed that I am more skilled than yourself?”

Her face flushed, but all she could think to say was, “We needed that money.”

“Is that so? Planning for a long journey, I assume?”

Atreus lightly squeezed her shoulder. Calliope pressed her lips tight together, saying nothing. Her heart thudded fast against her ribs.

The golden-haired man glanced between her and Atreus. He settled on Atreus, then laughed lightly. “Oh dear, it seems I picked the wrong time to tease! Ah, but I cannot help it. My mother did say I would be the death of her someday …”

He drew out a full pouch that jingled with coins, tossed it high into the air, and caught it in one hand.

“This is all I stole from you, then? Now that I know your intention, I will admit it was unfair of me to take what you might have earned. Then again, you might have held more sway over the people if you played … better.” His eyes again fell on Calliope. She wanted so badly to look away, but she couldn’t bring herself to. He somehow held her in place without any effort at all.

“We’re still learning,” Atreus said shortly. “Maybe you could choose a different spot next time. Give us a chance.”

“Would that push you to improve any faster?” the golden-haired man asked, amused. “Perhaps … I could instruct you.”

“Thanks, but we’re fine on our own.” Atreus took a step back. “C’mon, sis. We’ll try again later.”

“Do you not want your money returned?” the man called after them as they walked away.

“No,” Atreus replied over his shoulder. “You can keep it.”

Suddenly, the golden-haired man was there, appearing at Calliope’s side. Before she could react, Atreus swiftly planted himself between her and the man.

“What do you want?” Atreus demanded.

“Where are your manners, boy?” the golden-haired man asked sweetly, as though he was speaking to a child. “Do you not know who I am?”

“If your shoes are anything to go by,” Atreus said, “I’d say Mercury.”

Calliope looked down. The man’s sandals gleamed golden in the sunlight. The laces were done up to his calves in such a way that they formed the outline of wings.

Hermes’ winged boots. Mercury, she remembered, from the prayers in the temple. He is a god!

Mercury smiled widely, showing all his white teeth. “Very good! You are not as simple as the usual northern barbarian.”

Atreus scowled, but he made no move to do anything. He remained still and sturdy. “What do you want?”

Mercury leaned in a little closer. “That sash you carry. Where did you get it?”

“Why do you want to know? It’s just a piece of cloth!”

“Now, now,” Mercury tsked. “That is not what I want to hear.”

“That’s all I got for you,” Atreus said stubbornly.

“Tell me, and I will pay you handsomely. With this.” Mercury held up the coin pouch in his other hand. “Surely that is not a tall order for you. Besides, if the little girl speaks truly, you do need it.”

Atreus was silent for a heartbeat. Then he sighed forcefully. “Fine. I’ve had that sash since I was born. My mother used to wrap me up in it when I was a baby. That answer your question?”

Mercury’s smile twisted with impatience. Calliope held tighter to Atreus’ waist, praying he knew what he was doing. “I will need more detail than that if you want to earn back your coin, boy.”

“Well, that’s all I have to say,” Atreus shot back. “Sorry it’s not enough for you.”

“You think I cannot tell that you are hiding something from me?” Mercury said, his voice rising.

Atreus turned away and Calliope immediately followed. At that moment, the god shoved Atreus to the side, and with Calliope behind her brother, she was pushed as well. She squeaked as her back hit a pillar, but she couldn’t move with Atreus pressing against her.

Mercury planted his hand to the stone pillar over Atreus’ shoulder, leaning in close. “You are a stubborn barbarian,” the god spat. “But the Greek girl should have some manners. Perhaps I will yield more results from asking her.”

Calliope barely saw what happened next. Mercury’s hand shot down towards her, then halted a few inches from her face. His wrist was trapped in Atreus’ white-knuckled grip.

“You may be a god,” Atreus growled, a hint of the wolf echoing in his voice, “but if you try to touch her –”

“You’ll what?” Mercury asked innocently. “Chop off my hand?”

“If that’s what you want, then fine. Thanks for the suggestion.” Atreus released him none too gently. “We’re leaving now. Please leave us alone.”

“And here I thought the barbarian would put up a better fight,” Mercury drawled.

Atreus ignored him and he and Calliope strode away at a quick pace. Calliope’s heart was stuck in her throat; Mercury almost grabbed her! But Atreus had stopped him, moving so quickly that the memory remained a blur in her mind.

A familiar sense of uselessness trickled through her. What would she do if Mercury did catch her? Or what if he hurt Atreus? She wasn’t strong enough to fight a god!

“Where are we going?” she whispered.

“Anywhere,” Atreus replied shortly. “Just stick close. And keep an eye out.”

They left their inn out of worry that Mercury knew where they stayed. Atreus took them in loops through the city, going for the busiest areas, and eventually found another inn that offered them space in the stables. Atreus took it, and when Calliope asked him about the stables, he replied, “It’s faster to get out of if Mercury comes looking for us.”

They ate a small, quiet dinner and lay down in a bed of straw. The horse in the neighbouring stall snorted softly and stomped his hoof.

“No, we’re fine,” Atreus murmured. “Don’t mind us.”

“What?” Calliope asked.

“The horse wanted to know if we’re alright.”

“Oh. How do you know?”

“I can hear the thoughts of animals.”

What! Calliope lifted her head from his shoulder. “Really? Any animal?”

He grinned. “Yep. Any animal.”

“Is that why you wanted to sleep here? So you can talk to the horses?”

“Mostly, yeah. Animals are more sensitive to the presence of gods. They’re already confused about us.”

The horse next door chose that moment to lower his head and exhale through his nostrils at Atreus. Calliope giggled as Atreus gently nudged the horse away. “So if Mercury comes near, they’ll likely sense it. Hopefully.”

Calliope’s smile slipped. She huddled closer to him. “Atreus? What will we do if he does come?”

“Then … I guess it’ll be time to leave the city. We’ll have to lose him first, and then we’ll dip.”

“What if he tries to kill you?”

“I don’t think he really wants that. Father’s sash bothered him.” Atreus paused. “You said he reminded you of Hermes?”

“He is the messenger god in Greece,” Calliope said.

“Maybe Father met him before.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Do you remember what Somnus said? The gods that Father killed don’t remember their Greek lives. But seeing him, or something related to him, might trigger them somehow. Like an old memory or feeling, maybe, but they don’t really get it.”

“So … Father killed Hermes?” Calliope said in a small voice.

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Atreus agreed. “And if the sash bothered Mercury –”

“Father always wore it,” Calliope said promptly. “Always.”

“Well, there we go.” Atreus sighed heavily. “I don’t want to fight him, or the other gods. But listen, if he does try to fight us, then you run. Alright?”

Calliope’s head shot up. “What? Why? I don’t want to leave you!”

Atreus turned his head to look at her. She stared back defiantly despite the panic pressing against her lungs. “I can help you,” she insisted. “I want to help! I can play songs, and – and scream at him!”

“It could be dangerous, Calliope. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt either! What if he kills you?”

“I won’t let that happen. I’ve fought with gods before. Father trained me, too. Got me to spend three whole years training all day, every day.”

“But … but still!” Why must he be so stubborn? Calliope wanted to cry, but she blinked furiously to keep the sting at bay. “Where will I run? I don’t know where to go!”

“Just run as far as you can. Take the pack with you. I’ll come looking for you after.”

And she could also search for him with her flute. “What if he comes after me, too?”

“I’ll keep him busy. Look, I know it’s scary, but I have a better chance of holding him off if I’m on my own.”

Calliope thumped her fist on his chest. Panic and frustration clashed together, pushing the tears to build. “I don’t want to go. I want us to stay together!”

“Well, we just can’t, alright?” Atreus said sharply. “You don’t know how to fight yet. I don’t want you getting in the way if he starts attacking.”

What little defiance she had left withered away. She fell silent, and so did he. Neither of them fell asleep for a while.

She didn’t know how to fight. She would only get in the way. Her tears spilled over and fell onto Atreus’ shoulder, soaking into the linen. She was truly useless, wasn’t she? She was no proper goddess, no Spartan at all. Atreus, for all his foreign features and tattoos, was more of a Spartan than her.

Calliope shut her eyes and waited for exhaustion to claim her.

She stood on the bank of the Tiber, the farthest she’d ever been from her brother. He stood all the way across the river, what felt like miles and miles, but she could still see him: the flashes of colourful magic as he fought monster after monster.

“Atreus!” Calliope cried. She played her flute, but Atreus’ song came out wrong, and the river grew wider. Each note took her farther and farther away.

She quickly gave up on it and ran up and down the bank, searching desperately for the bridge that Atreus had taken. She’d watched him go and waited too long to follow, and now the bridge was gone. She was alone, with nothing but empty flatland behind her.

“Looking to join your brother, little one?” a new voice drawled. “I can help you with that.”

Calliope froze. All her instincts told her not to turn around, but – she wanted to reach Atreus. If she did not, he would die!

She drew in a deep breath and turned around.

“Very good, girl.” The voice changed, and she found herself facing Thanatos. He sneered at her. “At least you are obedient. That is more than I can say for your kin. Your father, a beast; and your uncle, a coward. You are nothing but a pathetic mouse.”

He reached for her. Inky shadows stretched from his robe and coiled around her legs.

When she opened her mouth to scream, nothing came out. She was alone.

Calliope woke with a gasp. Linen bunched up in her fists – Atreus’ chiton. It was dark and quiet here … In the stables. She heard a soft snort nearby. Yes, they were here, with the horses. She forced herself to release Atreus and carefully sat up. His breathing was shallow and even.

Then she heard the faint sound of a lyre. It trailed in from the stable window, with such a soft and sweet melody that Calliope wanted to hear more. Oddly enough, it reminded her of Father’s playing.

She shook her head. She should be sleeping! But the music was very beautiful. It was all she could hear now, beckoning to her like a siren’s song. It dug deep into her mind and stayed there, so lovely and gentle.

If she went outside, would she see Father?

The horses didn’t seem bothered. Atreus was still asleep. Maybe Calliope could go investigate. It was probably some citizen making music late into the night, or another traveller trying to earn some coin. Calliope could just go to the door and peek outside, very quickly, and then come back to Atreus. That was all.

She carefully got to her feet, then paused to retrieve her flute from the pack. Then she crept to the stable door on silent feet and, as quietly as she could, cracked it open.

The music grew sharper to her ears, notes tripping over each other in an elegant dance. It called to her with a mother’s voice, or a bird’s guiding song. Calliope looked left and right, but she couldn’t see anybody nearby on the street. Where was this song coming from?

She was not sure what pushed her to leave the stables, only that she now followed the song away from it, keeping to the shadows as she crept down the street. She’d stop after a few houses, and if she saw nothing, then she would hurry back. Atreus wouldn’t notice her absence. She would be very quick. And besides, didn’t he say that he wanted her out of his way?

Thinking of his earlier words left a bitter taste on her tongue. She didn’t want to be useless. She wanted to help! But how?

The music grew louder, then abruptly stopped. Calliope blinked and stopped mid-step. Where was she? Panic simmered in her stomach as she looked around wildly. How far was she from the stables? She could have sworn she walked only a few houses down …

She drew in a deep breath. All she had to do was turn and head back the way she came. That was all. She knew what the stables looked like. And she had her flute.

Calliope turned around and nearly screamed. Standing before her was Mercury, with the toga over his shoulder and the turtle-shell lyre cradled in his arm.

“All lost and alone in the great city, little one?” he said, pity dripping from his lips. “Where is your barbarian?”

Calliope could only stare up at him, unable to speak. She gripped her flute tight in a trembling hand.

“What is it? Cat got your tongue?” Mercury smiled slightly. Calliope only heard Thanatos’ words in the back of her mind, snarling, Pathetic mouse.

She thought of Atreus. She suddenly missed him so fiercely. Sharp words or not, he was her brother, and she wanted to go back to him.

But Mercury blocked her way. She looked up into his expectant face, drew in a deep breath, and said, “I didn’t know it was your music. My lord.”

He was no lord to her, not after how he treated her and Atreus! But he was still a god, and she didn’t want to risk angering him before she could get back to the stables. In any case, the title seemed to please him.

“I knew you were more well-mannered than that crude boy. Well, my little bird, when you have an instrument as beautiful as mine, you just cannot help but play it.”

“It is very beautiful,” Calliope agreed, quickly glancing around the street for an opening. Maybe she could run! But Mercury had his winged boots; he’d catch her quicker than she could blink.

“Did you know,” Mercury said, leaning forward with a gleam in his eyes, “that mine was the first lyre to ever be created? I made it myself from the turtle shell you see here.”

Just like Hermes, she thought.

“Ah, I am getting ahead of myself, again,” Mercury chuckled, shaking his head. “I did not call you out here to boast of my accomplishments. I can tell that you are a smart girl. You know your companion is foolish to play games with me. What I am asking is not too much, is it? Tell me: who is he?”

Calliope scrambled for a reply. “He – he is a warrior from the north.”

“I know that, girl. I saw those hideous markings on his skin.”

“The sash has always belonged to him, my lord,” Calliope went on. “I have never seen him without it. I swear!”

Mercury narrowed his eyes. Calliope took a deep breath and called on what little courage she still had. “I have to get back now. Would you please excuse me, my lord?”

“No,” Mercury said simply. “I am not finished yet. Don’t be rude, girl.”

Calliope’s knees trembled. “But he’ll be looking for me. I don’t want him to worry –”

“Let him! After all the trouble he caused me, he should have some of his own.”

“But we have done nothing to you!” Calliope said before she could stop herself. “Please, my lord, won’t you leave us be? We’re only travellers!”

“Travellers from Greece, yes? No need to look so surprised, girl. I am the patron of travellers; it is not so hard for me to see where you came from.”

Calliope glanced past him at the darkened road. She had to get back soon. They needed to run! She needed to –

She ran.

Mercury caught her easily by the arm, yanking her back so hard that she yelped and tripped over her feet. He hauled her up easily. His grip was uncomfortably tight, bordering on painful.

“Let me go!” she cried, trying to pull away. Out of some madness, she raised her flute and tried to hit him, but he caught her by the wrist in another iron hold. His fingers dug into her skin.

“Did I not say to not be rude?” he quipped. “Or are you a little barbarian like that boy? Why are you with him at all?”

“Because she’s my sister, asshole.”

Several feet away stood Atreus. He held his bow up and pointed an arrow at Mercury’s face. “What did you say would happen if you touched her?”

Mercury bared his teeth in a wide grin. “I wondered when you would arrive, barbarian.”

“Get away from her,” Atreus snarled. His arrow glowed red with magic, waiting to be released.

“Careful, now,” Mercury said tauntingly. “You don’t want to make a mess, do you?”

When Calliope tried to twist away from him, he dug his fingers deeper into her wrists. She cried out in pain.

Atreus started forward, then stopped, not lowering his bow. He caught Calliope’s gaze, and in his arrow’s soft red glow, she saw the glint of fear in his eyes. It surprised her enough that she forgot the pain at her wrists for a heartbeat. She had never seen him afraid before.

He didn’t fear for himself, she realized with a jolt. He feared for her.

She turned to Mercury. He was laughing now, having such fun with his toys. Something burned in Calliope’s chest, pushing through the fear and pain. Something angry.

“Leave – us – alone,” she shouted. Then, before Mercury could react, she screamed with all her might.

The air rippled wildly, as though a boulder had been dropped into a pond. The force of her scream pushed them apart; Mercury released her wrists with a shout of pain and reached up to cover his ears. Calliope stumbled back, throat aching terribly, and turned to Atreus just as he emerged from orange sparks in wolf-form.

He dashed over to her side. She caught fistfuls of his fur and swung up awkwardly onto his back. He didn’t wait for her to get settled before taking off down the street. Calliope clung to him with all her strength, squeezing her knees against his flank so that she wouldn’t slide off.

Mercury’s furious scream all but turned her insides to ice. “I’ll find you!” his voice followed after them, growing distant the further they went. “You will pay for this! Let every door be closed to you, and every gate in the city prevent you passage! Let all eyes turn away from you, and all tongues spit in bitterness at your face! May your bodies rot here for all eternity as payment for your insolence against a god!”

The hairs on Calliope’s arms and neck stood on end. She felt the curse like a physical thing, a soft whisper of cloying air over her head and shoulders. A whimper escaped her aching throat as she held tighter to her brother. She got them into this, didn’t she?

Atreus made no sound as he continued onward through the maze of Rome, taking them deeper into the night’s shadows.

Chapter Text

“Leyna,” Atreus whispered against Calliope’s hair. He held her close to his chest as he marked the side of her neck with water from a nearby fountain. Then he marked his own neck, right above his tattoos. “Leyna.”

Conceal. “Will it work?” Calliope asked hoarsely. She winced as the air grated against her throat.

“I don’t have the right ointment,” Atreus replied. “But hopefully this’ll do. For now.”

They hid in an alcove of a large house, just several feet away from a circular temple that Calliope didn’t recognize. She only knew that they were somewhere in the Roman Forum, having gotten there after running in loops and circles to lose their pursuer. The night was dark enough that she could barely see the Forum, even with the torches glowing faintly throughout the area.

“What do we do now?” Calliope whispered, then broke into a cough.

Atreus rubbed her shoulder gently. “Try not to talk too much. How’s your throat feeling?”

Calliope shrugged her shoulders. It wasn’t feeling very good, but not very bad either.

Atreus hummed. “I left my pack in the stables. I have to get it back.”

“But he’s still out there!” Calliope rasped, grabbing his shoulders. “Don’t go!”

Atreus hesitated. She could see him thinking hard about it. It was selfish of her – he had all his tools and important trinkets in the pack. Things that they needed.

But Mercury was still out there! What if he found Atreus and attacked him? Or what if he found Calliope while Atreus was gone? 

Eventually, Atreus nodded. “Alright. We’ll wait it out for now.”

Relieved, Calliope pressed her face against his midriff.

Some of the gods must have been watching over them, for it was only a short time later when Calliope heard that horrid voice echoing throughout the Forum. “Tired of running already, barbarian? Did you truly think you could outrun me?”

Calliope stiffened, her heart racing. She couldn’t see the Forum from where they hid, but as Mercury continued to taunt them, his voice slowly drew closer and closer until he appeared around the temple.

Atreus drew them both deeper into the shadows of the alcove.

“I will find you eventually, barbarian!” Mercury promised. Calliope could easily imagine his wide-eyed gaze roving around the shadows of the Forum. “You and your little rat! If you come out now, I will –”

“What is the meaning of this?” a new voice spoke.

Calliope blinked. That was a woman’s voice!

A door closed softly somewhere, followed by light footsteps over stone. The woman herself appeared and made her way to the temple, holding a burning torch. “Mercury, dear nephew. What is the matter?”

“None of your business!” Mercury piped. “Go back to your little bed, Vesta. Mind me not.”

“It is hard not to mind when you are shouting to the heavens,” Vesta said, her voice soft and unassuming. She held out a placating hand. “You woke my priestesses. Are you sure nothing is the matter?”

Mercury snarled impatiently and swatted at Vesta’s hand. “Mind yourself and your girls! I search for someone who has wronged me.”

“Wronged you? How so?”

“He had the gall to disobey me! Now he runs rampant through the city, laughing at my distress.”

“I can see that you are very distressed,” Vesta said sympathetically. “Perhaps you would like to come inside? I will get you something warm to drink, and –”

“I do not need your help, woman! Get away,” Mercury snapped.

Vesta drew back. “Very well. But please, would you take your shouting elsewhere? My priestesses need their rest.”

Mercury scowled at her but made no move to fight. Instead, he turned and strode away from the temple. Away from Atreus and Calliope.

Calliope dared not move for fear of ruining the delicate peace. Vesta remained standing by the temple for a moment longer, likely watching Mercury go, then turned and made her way back to the house. She came within several feet of their hiding spot, then paused.

In the light of her torch, Vesta turned her head to look at them. Shock rippled across her oval face. She glanced back at the temple where Mercury had left, then beckoned for them to come forward.

Calliope couldn’t have said why, but she felt compelled to do so. Perhaps it was the gentleness of the woman’s face, or the aura of warmth about her, but Calliope felt she could tell Vesta anything and it would all be kept in confidence.

Atreus must have felt the same. He crawled out of the alcove, stood up, and helped Calliope to her feet. Then he turned to Vesta and bowed his head awkwardly.

“I-I know this looks bad,” Atreus said, “but we had good reason to hide there.”

“You are the one my nephew is after?” Vesta asked, regarding them both with a hint of curiosity in her warm eyes.

“Yeah,” Atreus said. “We were just minding our own business, I swear. He threatened my sister, and things just … got out of control.”

Vesta’s gaze was soft as linen when she looked at Calliope. Chestnut ringlets framed her face under the cream-coloured shawl draped over her head. Her dress was the same colour, falling past her feet and trailing on the ground.

“I understand,” she said gently. “Mercury hardly takes the time to breathe when he is angry. Nor does he hesitate to deal out harsh punishment when he thinks he has been slighted.” She half-turned towards the house. “Come with me. You will be safer inside than out.”

“But –”

“Would you allow your sensibilities to overshadow you own safety?” Vesta asked. “Or the young one’s?”

Atreus’ hand tightened slightly on Calliope’s shoulder. She was relieved when he nodded, and together they followed Vesta into her house. It was dark inside but pleasantly warm, and when Vesta waved her hand, a fire blossomed in the hearth across the hall.

Calliope stared at the fire, then at Vesta. “You’re a goddess?” she blurted.

Vesta smiled as she directed them to sit on a bench by the fire. “Goddess of the hearth, yes.”

Like Hestia? Before Calliope could ask, Atreus said, “Thanks for taking us in. I’m Atreus, by the way. And this is Calliope, my sister.”

Vesta smiled kindly at them. “It is good to meet you. Now, wait here, please. I will return shortly.” And with that, she disappeared into a side room.

Atreus sighed heavily. Then he turned to Calliope with a face set like steel. “Want to tell me why you left the stables?”

It was suddenly hard to look him in the eyes. Calliope wrung her hands. “I – I heard music playing, and I thought …” It all sounded so stupid now that she thought about it. “I thought it would be a normal person. I didn’t know it was him, I swear!”

“If you wanted to investigate it, why didn’t you wake me?” Atreus demanded.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Calliope admitted. “I’ve heard music and singing every night, so I thought this one was the same!”

“Still, you shouldn’t have –” Atreus buried his face in his hands with a frustrated sigh. Calliope could only sit there helplessly, feeling utterly stupid. Her eyes stung. Why had she gone out to follow the music? She put herself in danger, and Atreus too! He was surely more angry with her now than he’d been earlier.

Vesta reappeared at that moment with a pot of steaming liquid in hand. She set it on a nearby table and poured two cups. “Forgive me. I could not help but overhear your conversation,” she said softly. “Mercury is a master of music. If the little one is not prone to walking the streets at night alone, then it is likely he lured her to him. She would have been unable to resist his lyre’s temptation.”

“But Calliope – she has abilities with music, too,” Atreus said.

Vesta gave him a pointed look. “Would you compare her power to my nephew’s?” She handed them each a cup of the hot drink, then laid a light hand on Atreus’ arm. “Try not to blame your sister where it is not deserved,” she said quietly.

“But it was my fault,” Calliope burst out, unable to hold it in anymore. “If I hadn’t left the stables, we wouldn’t have gotten in trouble with Mercury!”

Vesta sat down on the bench across from them. “Something tells me you were already in trouble with him before now,” she mused.

Atreus simply nodded, sipping at his drink. Calliope followed his example. The hot drink instantly soothed the ache in her throat, and when she thanked Vesta, she no longer sounded so raspy. Just breathing in its herbal aroma made her feel better.

“If that is so, then something like this would have happened eventually,” Vesta went on. “But not all is lost. He will not find you here. Though … I do notice that there is a curse on you.”

“A curse?” Atreus repeated, dumbfounded. Calliope winced as she remembered Mercury’s shrill words.

“I believe I heard something of the sort earlier,” Vesta said thoughtfully. “He does have a loud shout. Did you hear what he said?”

“He said we won’t be able to leave the city or find shelter,” Calliope offered in a small voice. “And that we’d rot here.”

“Damn. I didn’t think it was an actual curse,” Atreus murmured.

“Yet, as you can see, you are in my household as guests,” Vesta said with a little smile. “No curse has a place beside my hearth. But, outside these walls, it will still have a hold on you. Hmm …” She gazed into the merry flames for a moment, then said, “We can speak more on this in the morning. You both have had a trying night.”

Calliope lowered her eyes to the floor. She didn’t look up when Atreus spoke. “I’ll pay you for your trouble, my lady. I have money, if you’ll take it. Or I can help out with other stuff if it’s within my power –” Atreus paused, then facepalmed. “Ah dammit, I forgot!”

“What is it?” Vesta asked.

“I left my pack behind! I need to get it back.”

Calliope moved to take his arm, but held herself back. Vesta raised her hand as Atreus began to stand up. “Where precisely did you leave it?”

Atreus gave her the location. Vesta nodded. “I will take care of it.”

“Are you sure?” Atreus said uncertainly.

“It is no trouble to me. Rest assured you will see it in the morning.”

Atreus’ shoulders sagged a little. “Thanks. And, um, about Mercury …”

“You need not worry about him,” Vesta said. Her eyes twinkled with the reflection of firelight. “None can enter my temple or house without my say.”

Calliope sighed in relief. They were safe here! The anxiety of the night was already fading away, and exhaustion took its place, though it didn’t push away the guilt. She was glad when Vesta brought them upstairs to the third floor and ushered them into an empty room. Except, it wasn’t completely empty. A fire burned lazily in the hearth, and there was a bed already made up.

“You may rest here,” Vesta said. “Tomorrow, we will speak further. For now, sleep.”

“Thank you,” Atreus said fervently. “Really. I’ll pay –”

Vesta laid her hand on his shoulder. “You can pay me for tonight by resting.” And with that, she left the room and closed the door behind her.

Atreus went over to the bed and sat down. When he saw that Calliope still stood by the door, he patted the space beside him. Calliope shuffled over, still looking down, and sat at his side. It was a mercy that the hearth’s crackling flames filled in the heavy silence over them.

“Calliope,” Atreus began, turning slightly to face her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get upset. I was just worried about you.”

Calliope remembered the fear in his face when he found her in Mercury’s grasp. “I know,” she said quietly. “It’s my fault –”

“No, it’s not,” Atreus said firmly. “Hey. Look at me.”

Calliope somehow managed to raise her head. His blue eyes gleamed warmly. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. And Mercury’s.”

“But we knew that he was out there,” Calliope protested.

“So? Vesta said he’s a powerful god, remember? You wouldn’t have been able to fight him. So it’s not your fault, alright?”

“I thought about waking you,” Calliope mumbled. “But I didn’t want to bother you.”

Atreus’ face softened. “If you ever feel off about something, you can tell me anytime. Doesn’t matter if it’s in the middle of the night. I’ll help however I can.”

Calliope’s throat seized up. “You’re not angry with me?” she said thickly.

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Do I look angry?”

She began to cry, overwhelmed with relief and the fact that they were safe now, and a whirlwind of other things. Atreus wrapped her up in a tight hug and rubbed circles into her back. Once she calmed down, he gently cradled her face and pressed his forehead to hers. His hands were calloused and rough, but not harsh against her cheeks.

After that, Calliope didn’t remember falling asleep. When she startled awake in the small hours of the morning, lying at Atreus’ side, she wondered if the previous events of the night had all been a dream.

She tilted her head up to look at Atreus through bleary eyes. He covered his face with the hand that wasn’t holding Calliope, and she heard him sniffling quietly. What’s wrong? she wanted to ask, but she was too tired to speak. So she settled for snuggling closer to him instead.

The soft glow of the hearthfire, and its soothing song of pops and sizzles, soon lulled her back to sleep.

Calliope woke up to find the sunlight on her face. She squinted and turned her face away, burrowing against Atreus’ neck, and fell back to sleep.

When she woke up again, the beams of sunlight had shifted a little and were no longer falling on her face. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, now fully awake. “Atreus?”

He didn’t respond. In sleep, he looked oddly peaceful and young, as though all his worries had lifted during the night. With a pang, Calliope realized that he hardly looked as serene as this during the day. Was he never truly relaxed?

She leaned down and kissed his cheek. He stirred and cracked his eyes open. “Mmmf … Morning.”

“Did you sleep well?” Calliope asked.

“I think so. As well as I could after getting chased around.” He sat up, yawned, and stretched. “Looks like we slept in. We better get going; Vesta wanted to talk with us.”

Then he paused. Surprise rippled across his face. “My pack!”

Calliope spun around to find the pack lying at the foot of their bed. Atreus hastily retrieved it and checked its contents. Everything was accounted for!

Calliope didn’t miss how Atreus pressed a quick kiss to the Angrboda marble before tucking it away. Before she could ask about it, there was a knock at the door, so she hopped off the bed and hurried over to answer it.

A young woman stood outside. She seemed to be around Atreus’ age, wearing a pale shawl and dress similar to Vesta’s. Wisps of yellow-coloured hair framed her face.

“Good morning,” she said. “I am Julia, Lady Vesta’s handmaiden. She asked that I lead you to the baths before your morning meal. She thought you might feel more refreshed afterward.”

Calliope was more than ready for a bath. Julia brought them downstairs to the ground floor and through a door to the back room. There, she showed them the pitchers of water, soap bars and oils, and a looking glass. Then she left them to their privacy.

They washed up quickly but thoroughly, then left the room after ensuring that everything was as they’d found it. Julia waited for them outside and brought them into the main room where the large hearth was, crackling happily. The table beside it was already laid out with the morning meal.

“Thanks, Julia,” Atreus said. “Will Lady Vesta join us?”

“Not yet,” Julia replied. “She is currently away, but she told me she will return before you finish your meal.”

Calliope’s stomach grumbled insistently as she sat next to Atreus at the table. After making a quick prayer to all the gods who had helped them thus far, she eagerly dug into the fresh food – flatbread and honey, cheese, olives, and some olive oil to dip their bread in. The earthy and sweet flavours burst over her tongue, and she savoured every bite.

Atreus ate like a starving wolf. It was a miracle that they didn’t make a mess on the table!

A little later, as Calliope sipped contentedly from a cup of mulled wine, the hearth’s fire suddenly flared outward, rising so high that she thought it would reach the ceiling and spill onto the floor like an ocean wave. Heat touched her face, but she somehow felt that the fire did not intend to hurt her.

The flames took on a humanoid form, then pulled back as Vesta stepped out from them. Tongues of flame trailed over her shawl and the hem of her dress, but no ash or scorch marks appeared on her. The fire died down to its usual merry self the moment she left the hearth.

She smiled widely at them. “Atreus, Calliope. I have arrived on time! You both are well-rested and fed, I see. Very good! I trust the bed was to your liking?”

“Very much so, my lady,” Atreus said.

“Thank you for getting our pack!” Calliope added.

“It was no trouble at all,” Vesta said, beaming. “And your hearth, was it too bright or hot?”

“Uh, I didn’t even notice it once I fell asleep,” Atreus admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Calliope tried to think back to that night. The hearth fire hadn’t died down at all, had it?

“I am glad to hear it,” the goddess said. “Forgive me for not meeting with you right away. I had some matters to attend to.”

She sat down across from them. Atreus immediately reached for the pitcher of mulled wine. “Er, would you like some –?”

Realizing his intention, Calliope quickly held out an empty cup. Atreus filled it with wine, and she handed the cup to Vesta. The goddess watched them, befuddled. “Oh! You have my thanks.”

She delicately took the cup, looking for a moment as though she didn’t quite know what to do with it. 

“Sorry,” Atreus said awkwardly. “Um, if you don’t want it –”

“No! All is well,” Vesta reassured him. “It is only … I am usually the one who pours for others. My kin, mostly.”

She took a few sips of wine, then said, “It is of them that we shall speak first. My nephew, Mercury.”

Calliope leaned forward a little in anticipation, and so did Atreus. Nerves fluttered in her stomach like buzzing flies.

“You need not worry about crossing his path in the city today. He retired late last night and was persuaded to share a few drinks with Bacchus. He was quite surly this morning when I met with him, but I was able to enlist his help with a few tasks. Namely, escorting a few of my priestesses to other regions of the empire. It will take him some time to return since he cannot be bothered to share his winged sandals with them.”

“Will your priestesses be alright?” Calliope asked. The feeling of Mercury’s fingers pressing against her wrists hadn’t fully gone away.

Vesta nodded, a knowing gleam in her warm eyes. “They are. They carry a piece of me with them in the fire of their torches. If he tries to mistreat them, I will know, and he will regret it. It also helps that they are under Jupiter’s protection, as well.

“Now, about the curse he placed on you, I can help you break it,” Vesta continued. “But you must also do your part.”

“What is it?” Atreus asked.

“Make an offering at Mercury’s temple.”

“An offering?” Atreus sputtered, mirroring Calliope’s incredulity. 

Vesta nodded. “Something that you think might appease him. I will do the rest.”

“But I don’t have anything to give him!” Atreus said.

“And Mercury hates us!” Calliope added.

Vesta nodded. “That is why you must appease him.”

“Appease him for attacking us?” Atreus demanded. His face was getting rather red.

“I heard him talking with Bacchus while he was drunk,” Vesta said. “He claims you refused to answer a simple question about … cloth?”

Atreus’ face flushed redder. “It’s a long story,” he muttered.

“I see. I will not push you for details,” Vesta said. “But he further claims that you lied to him. I have a feeling you did not do so out of malice.”

“It wasn’t really a lie,” Calliope protested. “It was, um …”

“Not the full truth,” Atreus said reluctantly.

“But it was for a good reason!” Calliope went on. “He mustn’t know the full truth. It would get us into more trouble!”

“I understand you only wanted to protect yourselves,” Vesta said. “Truly, I do. But if you wish to break his curse on you, you must shelve your present feelings and make an offering. The other option would be to fight and defeat him, which I feel you would rather not do. And even then, that may not be enough to break his words entirely.”

“Why not?” Atreus asked.

Vesta’s lips quirked upward in a humourless smile. “Do you know the Curse of the House of Atreus?”

Atreus said, “No,” just as Calliope said, “Yes.”

“Then you know that a curse from anybody, not just the gods, can last even after the caster – and the cursed – is dead.”

Atreus looked to Calliope questioningly. She patted his arm. “I’ll tell you later. I think we should listen to Lady Vesta about the offering.”

A muscle twitched in her brother’s jaw. “Alright,” he said. “But what can we even use for an offering?”

“You could make an animal sacrifice,” Vesta suggested. “He is very partial to those.” When Atreus remained stony-faced, the goddess sighed quietly. “It does not have to be that. Please, think it over for now. Once you have made your offering, you may explore the city some more, if you wish. Relax and enjoy the festivities. Visit the theatre, or the sporting grounds, or even the Colosseum.”

“Is that safe?” Calliope asked.

“Remember, Mercury is not here today. But, if you desire more assurance …”

Vesta stood, went over to the hearth, and dipped a hand into the fire. When she withdrew, lively flames danced across her palm. “Now, let’s see … Ah! Calliope dear, your headband will be suitable to hold this. If you are willing, of course.”

“Will it hurt?” Calliope asked, eyeing the flames uncertainly.

“Not at all. Bow your head, please.”

Calliope did so, and Vesta passed her fiery hand over Calliope’s head. Her tainia grew very warm, but not uncomfortably so, and it faded quickly. She was left with a headband that felt very normal.

“That ought to let any stray gods and spirits know that you have come from my house,” Vesta said. “Will that do?”

“Yeah. Thanks, my lady,” Atreus said. “I don’t mean to say that I don’t trust you. I just want to be careful, y’know?”

“I know. And I do not blame you,” Vesta said gently. “Now, you had best be heading off. Look for Mercury’s temple on Aventine Hill overlooking the Circus Maximus. Make your offering, and I will take care of the rest.”

“Thank you,” Calliope said earnestly.

“We’ll do what we can,” Atreus promised.

Chapter Text

The Roman Forum gleamed before them with pale stone and marble, already buzzing with citizens. Hand-in-hand, Atreus and Calliope made their way down into the Forum under the morning’s warm light. They didn’t talk much as they headed for Aventine Hill. Atreus moved briskly, staring off into the distance. Was he thinking about what kind of offering to make?

Calliope tried to think of ideas, but the more she considered it, the harder it got. What would appease Mercury? Atreus didn’t seem to like the idea of animal sacrifices; given what she knew of his connection to animals, Calliope could see why.

Maybe wine? The gods liked wine, didn’t they? And Vesta said that Mercury had been drinking with a god named Bacchus. But drink offerings were usually given at mealtimes. What good would a cup of wine do for a curse?

It must be something big. Calliope was certain of that. But what? Her flute? Atreus’ bow? She didn’t like either of those options at all!

Nor did she like the idea of trying to appease him. And after he tried to hurt them! It was infuriating, but that was the way of the gods, wasn’t it? They always got their way somehow, and if you try to work against them, they’d make your life a misery.

Well, not all of them were like that, Calliope corrected herself. Janus and Portunus, Lupa and Vesta, and the Muses – they were kind and helpful. They were good gods.

The shout of children startled her from her thoughts. Calliope looked up just as a ball came tumbling down the street, with a small group of children running after it. Calliope hurried over and caught the ball before it could be swept off into the crowds behind her.

The children approached her, led by a tall girl. They all looked to be around Calliope’s age, if not a little older. “Is this yours?” Calliope said to the girl, holding out the ball.

The girl snatched it out of her hands with a scowl. “You’ve ruined the game! Now we have to start all over again. Keep your grubby hands to yourself next time!”

Calliope blinked, startled. “I – I didn’t know!”

“You didn’t know?” The tall girl loomed over her while the other children circled around, scowling. “Don’t you know who we are?”

“Hey,” Atreus said sharply, coming up from behind Calliope. “Knock it off.”

The tall girl made to snap back, but she hesitated, craning her neck to look up at Atreus. The other children edged back, intimidated.

Then one of them pointed at Atreus and shrieked, “Barbarian! He’s a barbarian!”

“Run, run!” And they all rushed away from Atreus and Calliope, hooting and hollering.

“Looks like there’s wild kids in every city,” Atreus said mildly. He squeezed Calliope’s shoulder. “You alright?”

“I-I didn’t know,” Calliope stammered.

“It’s not your fault,” he assured her. “Don’t mind them, okay? C’mon, let’s keep walking.”

Calliope hoped that they wouldn’t come across those children again. As it turned out, they did not, but they did pass by others along their path who were just as mean. A woman sent a man flying from her house, cursing after him. When she spotted Atreus and Calliope, she scowled and slammed the door in their faces. A merchant on the street snapped at them for “gawking at his wares with a thief’s eye” rather than buying something. And when a big man bumped backwards against Atreus, he turned and demanded if Atreus was looking for a fight.

Atreus and Calliope eventually retreated into an alleyway. “Do you think it’s the curse?” Calliope asked worriedly. “Mercury said that everyone’s eyes would turn unfriendly, and their tongues would be bitter.”

“Forever, right?” Atreus said dryly. “Yeah, I’ll bet it’s the curse. We should be getting close to the hill now.”

“Atreus? What if we can’t break the curse?” Calliope asked. “What if it gets worse and worse?”

“Vesta’s going to help us, remember?”

“But what if –?”

“We’re gonna do it,” Atreus said firmly. “Don’t worry.”

Calliope sighed quietly. “Alright.”

They quickly went from one alley to another, then back onto another busy road. They met a few more mean citizens before escaping the road and passing through a quieter area. It was open here, more garden-like, with a green hedge lining one side of the path. Calliope breathed a sigh of relief as they left most of the citizens behind them.

“Hey, sis,” Atreus said after a moment. “What’s the Curse of the House of Atreus?”

“It’s a tragic story from Greece,” Calliope said. “Mother told it to me as a reminder to never disrespect the gods. Do you want me to tell you about it?”

“Yeah. I love stories.”

“This one is quite sad, though,” Calliope warned him. “It began long ago, with one of Zeus’ sons, Tantalus. He tried to test the gods by feeding them a meal made of his son, Pelops. He wanted to see if they would recognize him in the food.”

“That’s disgusting!” Atreus exclaimed.

“Yes, and the gods were horrified too! So they punished Tantalus by imprisoning him in the Underworld. Mother told me that he must stand in a pool of water, forever hungry and thirsty, with branches of fruit over his head that he can never reach.

“The gods brought Pelops back to life, and he made a sneaky plan to marry a king’s daughter, Hippodamia, which also led to her father’s death. One of the king’s servants helped Pelops, but Pelops betrayed that servant and had him killed. So the servant cursed him and his entire line.”

“So that’s technically where it started, then?”

“I believe so! Pelops went on to have many children. His twin sons, Atreus and Thyestes, are important in this story. They and their mother killed their half-brother Chrysippus because he was the king’s favourite.”

“They did that because of the curse?”

“Yes. The twins ran away to Mycenae afterward, and a lot of bad things happened between them. Thyestes seduced Atreus’ wife, so Atreus cut up Thyestes’ sons and fed them to their father. Then Thyestes, um, took his own daughter by force –”

“What?” Atreus exclaimed. “Why’d he do that?”

“Because an oracle told him to. She said Thyestes’ new son would grow up to kill Atreus.” Calliope didn’t fully understand what “taking by force” meant, but she let it be for now. “And then Atreus took Thyestes’ daughter as his new wife.”

“Damn.” Atreus looked slightly ill. “That really happened?”

“Yes! Thyestes’ daughter had a new son, Aegisthus, but Atreus raised him. When Aegisthus grew up and found out what happened, he killed Atreus and forced his other sons, Agamemnon and Menelaus, to go away.

“Then they came to Sparta!” Calliope knew this part very well; everyone back home knew it, and the boys had often reenacted the tale with sticks for spears. “Agamemnon and Menelaus became allies with King Tyndareus, and they married his daughters, Clytemnestra and Helen. Agamemnon returned to Mycenae with Sparta’s support and took over.

“And then Helen was stolen away by Paris of Troy!”

Atreus shook his head in disbelief. “Gods, just one thing after another, huh?”

“Yes! Agamemnon brought a hundred ships to attack Paris, but at one point he shot a deer sacred to Artemis and boasted that he was better than her. So Artemis stopped them at a harbour with winds.

“Agamemnon asked an oracle for help, and she told him to sacrifice his daughter, Iphigenia, to the goddess –”

“He didn’t,” Atreus said, aghast.

“He did,” Calliope nodded. “The winds lifted, and he sailed off! That led to the Trojan War. Have you heard of it?”

“Nope, this is my first time hearing it.”

“I’ll tell you about it later, then,” Calliope decided. “Ten years later, after winning the war, Agamemnon returned to Mycenae. Do you remember Clytemnestra, Agamemnon’s wife? She took Agamemnon’s cousin, Aegisthus, as her lover while her husband was away. They plotted to kill him as revenge for Iphigenia.”

“That’s not surprising,” Atreus muttered.

“Agamemnon had a son, Orestes, who had been raised elsewhere,” Calliope continued. “His sister Electra called him back and persuaded him to avenge their father’s murder. He asked Apollo for advice, and Apollo’s oracle insisted on revenge. So Orestes killed his mother. Afterwards, Electra learned that her betrothed had killed himself, so she killed herself in grief, leaving Orestes alone.

“Everyone shunned him. Not just because he killed a family member – which is a terrible crime to us – but killing his mother was seen as even worse. Orestes asked Apollo for help again, and Apollo suggested that they go to Athena for help.

“In the end, Athena took Orestes to Athens and put him on trial. I think Mother said that he was seen as both innocent and guilty, so Athena split the tie in his favour. That’s when the curse broke. Orestes had no children, so the House of Atreus died with him. And that’s the end of the story.”

There was a beat of silence. The sounds of the city came back to Calliope, and she blinked around, startled to see where they were. Aventine Hill rose up before them, dotted with trees and houses, and a winding path leading up to the top. Calliope could just make out the roof of Mercury’s temple over the treetops.

“Well, that’s … some story,” Atreus said. They began their walk up the hill’s gentle incline. “I’m glad Father didn’t name me after that Atreus.”

“Me too,” Calliope agreed. “Atreus the soldier is much better.”

“But man, the gods didn’t really offer much help until the very end,” Atreus mused. “Did the curse affect them too?”

“Maybe,” Calliope said thoughtfully. “There was one person who didn’t join the House of Atreus by marriage, and she wasn’t related to them either, but Mother says she was taken by the curse, too. She was a Trojan princess named Cassandra, and sort of an oracle?”

“How can you be ‘sort of’ an oracle? Did she make prophecies?”

“Yes, but nobody believed her. Before the Trojan War, Apollo fell in love with her and gave her the gift of prophecy, but she refused to be his lover afterwards, so he cursed her. Nobody would believe her prophecies, he said, even though all she predicted was true. Agamemnon took Cassandra as his slave after the war. Clytemnestra killed her, too.”

“Damn,” Atreus said quietly.

“Atreus? What if our offering doesn’t work?” Calliope pressed. “What will we do then?”

“We’ll keep trying,” Atreus said, as though it was obvious. “We won’t let Mercury bind us with a curse. We’ll write our own fate.”

Calliope still worried, but Atreus spoke so sincerely that she couldn’t help but believe him. They would figure something out.

They eventually reached the top of the hill and came to Mercury’s temple. Atreus did not hesitate to step inside this time. Inside was spacious and cool, with a statue of Mercury at the far end of the hall. Calliope wrinkled her nose at the statue. It didn’t look much like the god at all, and that was a good thing. She didn’t want to look at his horrid face ever again.

A brazier sat on either side of the statue. Several citizens were already kneeling before the statue, praying earnestly. Atreus and Calliope approached the left brazier. Some people burnt their offerings as part of the ritual, like the indelible portions of a sacrificed animal. If nothing else, one could offer up the very thing that angered the god in the first place. As Calliope stared at the flames, she thought about what had upset Mercury … And got an idea.

She turned to Atreus’ pack and fished through it. Atreus looked down at her in surprise. “What is it?” he whispered.

She found the red sash and drew it out. The moment Atreus saw it, understanding crossed his face. “No, I – we can’t use that.”

“Why not?” Calliope whispered back.

“You know who that belongs to!”

“So? It’s not his anymore, it’s yours!” She no longer thought of Father when she saw it. In truth, she’d forgotten about it for a while. Nor did she need it to think of Atreus; her brother was right here. And if Mercury felt something bad whenever he saw the sash, maybe the other Roman gods would feel bad too! It just felt right for Father’s sash to become their offering. “Please, Atreus!”

Different emotions warred on his face. He bit his lip, then drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

Calliope held out the sash to him, and he took the other end of it. Together, they stepped closer to the brazier, but before they could throw it in, Atreus knelt and briefly pressed his face into the red cloth.

Something twinged in Calliope’s chest. He really did love Father, didn’t he? She tried to push that thought aside as Atreus lifted his head and nodded to her.

They tossed the folded sash onto the brazier. It quickly went up in flames, and as it did, Calliope whispered a little prayer. “Lord Mercury, please be appeased by this offering.”

She watched as the red cloth turned to ash. Just like that, it was gone. Should she be upset? She wasn’t certain about that. But it was somehow satisfying to see the sash disappear.

Calliope wrinkled her nose as the smell of burnt cloth stuck in her nostrils. She was all too glad to leave the dour temple and step out into sunlight again.

Chapter Text

“Well, Vesta said we could explore a bit now,” Atreus said as they strode away from Mercury’s temple. “What do you want to do first?”

Calliope’s eye settled on the Circus Maximus in the valley below Aventine Hill. “I want to go there!”

“The circus? Looks like there are lots of people heading there.”

“I’ve never been to a circus before! Can we go?” Calliope asked hopefully.

Atreus smiled and held out his hand. “Alright, let’s go.”

Calliope was so excited that she skipped along next to him. Hopefully the curse was already broken; but if it wasn’t, then hopefully it would be soon! Vesta promised that she would take care of the rest, and Calliope trusted the goddess.

When she mentioned this to Atreus, he decided to perform a simple test: buy some food for the noon meal at a tavern. He said all the polite things to the tavern keeper, but was told off quite harshly that there was nothing for a barbarian.

Calliope was getting very tired of hearing that word. She imagined giving the tavern keeper a sound kick in the leg, but that would’ve gotten her into trouble. So she and Atreus left.

As they made their way to the Circus Maximus, they attempted to buy food from a few other taverns. The second one gave them some sharp words about being very busy with other patrons.

The third was run by a cook and his two helpers. He spoke bluntly in a way that reminded Calliope of Father, which annoyed her, but he did have some food for them to buy. Outside the tavern, Atreus checked the food and found that it didn’t look bad. Calliope tried a bit of roasted lamb. It didn’t taste off, and that was a good thing, wasn’t it? She ate the rest of her portion hungrily, glad to have something in her stomach.

The streets grew more crowded the closer they got to the Circus Maximus. A stone wall rose up in the near distance, looming over everyone. Calliope stayed close to Atreus as they, along with many other citizens, converged on the closest gateway into the circus.

A shrill laugh caught Calliope’s attention. Very close by was a group of two men and two women, looking close to Atreus in age. They were quite loud even amidst the noise of the city.

“Gods, I hope the seats you got us are close to the front!” one of the women said. “I dearly want to see that charioteer from Athens.”

“You always prefer the Greek contestants, don’t you, Claudia?” the second woman teased.

Claudia arched a challenging brow at her. “And you don’t, Lydia? Were you not swooning over that gladiator from Corinth last week?”

“They’re not much good compared to Rome’s men,” one of the men argued.

“Oh please, Marcus,” Claudia laughed. “Last time, that charioteer from Alexandria smote ours into the dust!”

“Thanks to the spikes on his chariot!” Marcus retorted.

“I wonder if there will be a spiked chariot this time!” Lydia said eagerly.

As Marcus began to reply, the other man sidestepped into Calliope, and she stumbled. “Oh!” he exclaimed, hastily reaching out to steady her. “Pardon me. I didn’t see you there!”

“What now, Faustus?” Claudia craned her neck to see. Embarrassed, Calliope half-hid behind Atreus.

“Ah, the little thing is shy,” she heard Lydia coo. “How sweet!”

“Is she with you?” Faustus asked Atreus. “Apologies. It’s busy here, isn’t it? Easy to get swept off to who knows where.”

“Definitely,” Atreus agreed, keeping a hand on Calliope’s shoulder. She peeked out at the others; they were tall, though not as much as Atreus. Claudia and Lydia both wore white dresses that reached their ankles, but Claudia’s dress was embroidered with gold while Lydia’s was in pink. Claudia’s light brown hair was tied up in a bun, with the rest falling over her shoulders in thick curls. Lydia had tied her dark hair back with pink and yellow ribbons.

As for Faustus and Marcus, they both wore white tunics, though Faustus wore a short toga draped over his shoulder. It was dyed dark blue and embroidered with silver.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Claudia asked Atreus. When Lydia whispered something to her, Claudia lightly swatted her friend’s arm. “Oh, hush!”

“I’m from the northlands,” Atreus offered. “But we arrived here from Greece many days ago.”

“Really?” Claudia peered at Atreus more intently, looking him up and down. Calliope suddenly wanted to pull her brother away, but she didn’t. There was nowhere to go in this big crowd, anyway.

“Is this your first time to see the chariot races?” Faustus asked.

“Yeah,” Atreus replied. “We were wondering what all the fuss is about.”

“You’re in for a treat, then!” Marcus declared. “The games of Rome are always a sight to behold, especially during the festivals.”

“There’s a festival happening now, right?” Atreus asked. “What’s it about?”

“You haven’t heard of the Quinquatria?” Marcus snorted. “This festival is in honour of Minerva, goddess of wisdom!”

Goddess of wisdom, Calliope mused. Like Athena?

“Have you been to the Colosseum yet?” Faustus asked.

Atreus shook his head. “We only got a look from the outside. What happens there?”

“The gladiator fights!” Claudia said. “We have so many types of gladiators taken from all over the empire. I daresay you would make a fine one, yourself.”

“Uh, thanks. Maybe we’ll visit the Colosseum some other time,” Atreus said.

As they got closer to the circus’ wall, Atreus lifted Calliope up so she could see over everyone else’s heads. Tables blocked the gateway like a barricade, with spaces between them for the citizens to pass through.

“Looks like we’ll have to pay to get in,” Atreus said to her.

“Do we have enough money?” Calliope asked worriedly. Oh, why didn’t she think of this before!

“We’ll have to wait and see,” he replied.

Red-cloaked guards stood between the crowds and the tables, allowing one citizen after another to go through. At the tables, more guards sat there with money boxes, and assistants standing beside them. From what Calliope could see, you paid to enter, and then an assistant stamped your hand. And then you went into the circus.

Atreus set Calliope down once it was their turn. The standing guards ushered them none too gently toward a table, and a shiver passed over Calliope’s skin as the yawning mouth of the gateway loomed directly over them.

The guard sitting at the table took one look at Atreus, furrowed his heavy brow, then glanced at his tattoos and scowled. “Your payment,” he said shortly.

“Uh, how much is it?” Atreus asked, bringing out his coin pouch.

“More than you can afford. Four denarii.”

“Four?” Atreus repeated incredulously. “That’s three more than what the person in front of us paid!”

“The cost goes up for barbarians, boy. If you will not pay, then leave.”

Calliope stomped up to the table before she could think twice. “Don’t call him that!”

The guard blinked as though she’d hit him. Calliope blinked too, then covered her mouth with her hands. She just shouted at him! Now they’d really get in trouble!

“Excuse me, sir –” Faustus was suddenly there, extending a hand to the guard and his assistants. “Forgive me, but it seems my friend got lost! He’s with me and my friends.”

“Is that so?” The guard reached out for the coins distractedly; when Faustus handed over the payment, that seemed to snap the guard out of his daze. “How many others are in your party?”

“Three,” Faustus replied. “My father, Tribune Drusus, wanted us to enjoy this day of festivities.” Marcus, Claudia, and Lydia all stepped up to pay the fee – which was less than one denarius. How unfair! “Will that do, sir?”

“Yes, but the barbarian –”

Atreus handed over the same payment that the others had given. “Here you go.”

The guard’s assistants promptly stamped their right hands. One of them held Calliope’s hand quite firmly as he pressed the stamp on her skin, but he let her go quickly, leaving an inky blot over her knuckles.

“Excellent! You see, sir, my friend is from Greece,” Faustus said jovially. He wrapped an arm around Atreus’ shoulders. “He has been staying in the city as a guest, and this is his first time at the circus. You want him to have an excellent experience that he will share with others, don’t you?”

“Well – yes, but –”

“Rest assured we will keep an eye on him,” Faustus said brightly. “Come, my friends! The games await!”

He drew Atreus along into the dim corridor beyond. Calliope hurried after them, only to feel a soft hand on her shoulder. It was dark-haired Lydia, who smiled kindly. “Shall us women go together?”

Claudia appeared on Lydia’s other side and linked their arms together. Calliope timidly took Lydia’s proffered hand, and together they went into the circus. Her heart thudded fast as they passed through the dim, wide corridor, hurried up a flight of stairs, and emerged onto a platform overlooking the largest racetrack Calliope had ever seen. There were no words to describe it! She could only stare at the immense length of the track and the vast number of seats.

“Isn’t it grand?” Lydia said beside her. “I never get tired of seeing it!”

“Yes, yes, we all know what it looks like,” Claudia said, slightly impatient. “Look, the boys have already found our seats! Prime spots, too – right at the very front! Faustus wasn’t exaggerating. We’ll be able to see all the handsome men who came to race today.”

“They are all men?” Calliope asked as they went down some stairs between the long sections of seats. “Are there no women?”

Claudia scoffed. “Why would women ride chariots? All that dust on our hair and clothes – ugh! It sounds like such dreadful business.”

“It is far better to watch the men at their games,” Lydia grinned mischievously. She and Claudia giggled together.

“But what about Selene, the moon goddess?” Calliope pressed. “And Sól? She pulls the sun chariot in –”

“Sol is a man, child,” Lydia said patiently, as though Calliope was dumb. “And Luna is the moon goddess, his sister. Now, we aren’t goddesses, are we? So we don’t ride chariots. Ah, here we are!”

They came to the very front row. Calliope peered over the stone wall at the track; the ground was completely smoothed over with sand, and on the far side of the track, citizens filed into their seats like ink spreading through water.

“How many people can sit in here?” Calliope asked.

“At least 250,000,” Lydia replied. “If not more.”

“That’s a lot of people!”

They soon found their male companions already seated. Lydia and Calliope settled between Faustus and Atreus, but, oddly enough, Claudia declined to sit next to Marcus on the far end and seated herself on Atreus’ other side. She offered him a charming smile, but Atreus seemed to make nothing of it and smiled back politely. Calliope narrowed her eyes.

“Now that we’re all here, we might as well introduce ourselves before the games begin!” Faustus announced. “As the host of today, I shall begin. I am Faustus, son of Tribune Drusus. And this is Marcus –”

“The son of two officials in the Senate, if you must know,” Marcus said airily, lounging back and checking his nails.

“A very important standing!” Faustus agreed. “As for our lady companions …”

“I am Lydia,” Lydia said. “I am an apprentice painter to one of the masters in this city.”

Calliope perked up at that. “Really? Do you like painting?”

“Yes, but I was not expecting the effort that goes into it,” Lydia admitted. “Who would have thought that art would be such hard work? It is one thing to see all the beautiful frescoes and murals, but once you start doing it yourself, gods, it takes up so much time!” She turned to Calliope. “Your turn! What is your name?”

Heat flushed Calliope’s face at having so many eyes on her. “I’m Calliope of Sparta,” she said timidly. 

“And I’m Atreus, her brother,” Atreus put in.

“Brother?” Claudia said, surprised. “I wouldn’t have guessed at all! You both look so different.”

“Atreus has a different mother,” Calliope explained.

“Ah, so your northern father found his way to Greece?” Marcus asked Atreus. There was a mean little gleam in his eye that set Calliope on edge. Was he making fun of them?

Before Atreus could respond, she said, “Our father is from Sparta. He was a mighty captain and killed thousands with his army. Now everyone back home fears his name.”

Marcus arched a brow as though he didn’t quite believe it, but to Calliope’s satisfaction, he at least left it alone. The others laughed awkwardly. Claudia gazed at Atreus with more interest than before, which was not what Calliope intended.

“The son of a military man, hmm? I like the sound of that,” Claudia said. “I am Claudia. My uncle is also a commander in Rome’s military. It’s good for any young warrior to gain his favour if they want to rise through the ranks.”

“Claudia hopes to invite today’s winner to the evening meal later,” Lydia said, grinning.

“Hush! Uncle will undoubtedly want to see him, of course,” Claudia said. “He is always eager to train fighting men into perfect warriors.” She leaned a little closer to Atreus. “Judging by your bow, you are a fighting man too, aren’t you?”

“Um, yeah,” Atreus said.

Fanfare abruptly blasted from both ends of the track, echoing over the seats. Calliope’s heart jumped into her throat, and she pointed excitedly. “Look! Look, Atreus, the chariots!”

Her voice was drowned out as cheers erupted from citizens. Eight chariots emerged on the far left of the circus, falling in side-by-side and making their way down the track at a canter. Each of them was brightly coloured and pulled by four horses.

“They will parade around the track once before starting,” Lydia shouted over the thunderous cheers.

That seemed like a very long way for the horses. The chariots soon passed the spot where Atreus and Calliope sat, and Calliope was so excited that she stood up on her toes and gripped the wall’s edge to peer down at them. The chariots made their slow and steady lap around the track until they halted at the starting line, a little further down the track to Calliope’s right.

It was then that she saw a raised pavilion among the seats, right where the starting line was. A large group of wealthy-looking Romans sat there, with guards standing at attention.

“That’s the presider of the games,” Lydia said as one of the Romans stood, wearing a deep red toga. He began to address the circus in a deep voice. Calliope and the others sat close enough to the pavilion that his words reached them, but she doubted everybody else could hear.

“They don’t know what he’s saying,” she said to Lydia.

“Of course they do!” Lydia laughed, as though it was obvious. “See? There are announcers at every section of seats. They all have a copy of his script.”

That did make sense. As the presider announced the cities that the charioteers hailed from, Claudia gasped and pointed. “That’s the man from Athens!”

A charioteer from her homeland! “Where? Which one?” Calliope asked eagerly. She scanned the chariots, but their bright colours dizzied her. She couldn’t remember all the cities that they came from.

A great call went up at the pavilion. “Hail Caesar!” the Romans shouted, and the circus followed suit. “Hail!”

Then a hush of silence fell over the entire circus. The horses stamped their hooves and snorted impatiently. Before Calliope could find the Athenian, a trumpet blared, and the chariots set off as fast as they could go, gaining speed on thundering horse hooves and wheels. A cloud of dust rose up in their wake.

The crowd was all but deafening. As the chariots made the first lap and passed by Calliope’s seat, the green chariot bypassed the blue.

“That’s the Athenian,” Atreus shouted over the cheers. “The one in green!”

“Yay!” Calliope cheered. “Go, Athens! Go, go!”

On the second lap, the yellow chariot collapsed. It happened so fast that Calliope couldn’t quite remember how it came about. The crowd screamed, and a small crew ran out to retrieve the charioteer, his chariot wreckage, and the horses.

“Will he be alright?” she asked Lydia, but Lydia didn’t hear her as another wave of cheers went up. The red Roman chariot was in the lead!

“Ha! Looks like our man will win this one!” Marcus shouted.

As the chariots turned around the corner, the red came close to the blue so that their wheels almost touched. It all passed by in a blink – and the blue chariot collapsed, its wheel coming apart like stale, crumbling bread.

“He has a spiked chariot!” Claudia exclaimed. “The devil!”

Faustus laughed. “You didn’t say that before when the Alexandrian brought four spikes with his!”

“Why does he have spikes?” Calliope asked, confused.

“To break the other chariots’ wheels!” Lydia replied. 

“But why?”

“So that he’ll have a better chance at winning. There are no rules in the circus, except that the one who crosses the finish line first is the victor.”

That didn’t feel right. It wasn’t fair! Calliope watched as the fallen charioteer, horses, and blue chariot were hastily taken away, and just in time, too! The other chariots soon came barrelling towards the space where the wreckage had been.

“Will that man be alright?” Calliope asked worriedly as the crew carried the charioteer away on a stretcher.

“Who cares!” Marcus said, watching the race with rapt attention and delight. “If he dies, that’s the price of his faulty steering!”

“But –”

Another roaring cheer went up. Calliope wanted to cover her ears and tell them to be quiet. She turned to Atreus to find him still and silent, staring after the chariots. When she leaned against his side, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

Calliope caught Claudia’s eye on Atreus’ other side. Claudia wrinkled her nose before turning back to watch the race. With no one’s attention on them, Calliope put her lips to Atreus’ ear. This close, she still had to raise her voice to be heard. “What is it? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m … The horses are afraid,” he replied, quietly enough that only she could hear him. “They know about the spikes.”

“Will they be okay?”

“They haven’t gotten hit yet. Some of them care more about their owners. Others just want to race and be done with it.”

When the yellow chariot fell shortly after to the red’s spikes, Atreus hastily covered Calliope’s eyes. A deafening cheer went up, blocking even her own voice from her ears as she cried, “What’s going on?”

Atreus held her face against his shoulder, keeping her from seeing the track. “How is that allowed?” she heard him yell over the din.

“Because it makes for a good show!” Marcus replied.

“A good show?” Atreus repeated incredulously. “The guy was run over! What if he dies?”

“You truly haven’t been to the Colosseum, I see,” Faustus said. “Relax! These men all chose to come here. They know the risks.”

Calliope managed to push away from Atreus, but it was too late. Whatever happened had been quickly cleaned up and the sand trampled over by the remaining chariots’ next lap.

“Was it very bad?” she asked her brother.

She barely heard Atreus’ answer. The Athenian was now in the lead, with the Roman not too far behind. Calliope had dearly wanted the Athenian to win, but now, as she watched them go into the next lap, she found that she didn’t want to know who won anymore. Dread constricted around her stomach with a firm, restraining grip.

“Atreus, I want to go home,” she said.

His face was pale and tense. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

“What! You want to leave already?” Claudia hooked her arm through Atreus’ to keep him seated. “The race is almost over! Just three more laps.”

Calliope suddenly hated her. She wanted to yell at Claudia to let her brother go, but her eye was drawn to the sea of spectators in the seats behind them, rising up and up. There were so many of them, all jumping up and waving their arms and cheering. How would she and Atreus get out? They were trapped!

“Claudia,” Atreus was saying, “could you please let go –”

“This is the last lap, don’t you want to know who wins –?”

The chariots appeared around the corner. Time slowed down, and yet everything continued at its breakneck pace. The Roman came in the lead – and then he wasn’t anymore as one of his wheels went flying. The sudden jolt of motion flung him away into the dust; his chariot tumbled to a halt, revealing a shining spike pointing upward.

The Athenian came close behind, having just broken away from the brown chariot. The turn was too sharp, and the axle of his chariot broke free. Everything fell apart: he was thrown to the side, and his horses scattered, neighing wildly, and one of them tripped –

– and fell on the waiting spike of the Roman chariot.

Calliope screamed. It lasted only for a second; Atreus clamped a hand over her mouth, and he roughly pulled her away from the horrid, bleeding sight. She buried her face into his shoulder. Amidst the crowds’ thunderous roars and footsteps, and the nearer voices complaining about their ears from her scream, she heard the horse shrieking in pain. She began to cry.

“Is she always like this?” Claudia said resentfully.

“It’s just a little blood,” Lydia said, patting Calliope’s shoulder. “It will be cleaned up soon. Look, the crew is already at it!”

“That’s not the problem!” Atreus said harshly.

“What is the problem, then?” Marcus demanded. “It seems you’re making a very big fuss about nothing!”

“Now, now,” Faustus said. “It’s a sorry scene with the horses, I agree. They’re expensive creatures to breed and maintain, especially for the games –”

“Games?” Atreus repeated, disgusted. Calliope could feel his arm trembling around her. “You call people and animals getting killed a game?”

“There is always some danger to the games,” Faustus said, unconcerned. “If you volunteer yourself to join, then you can hardly blame others for your own injuries, can you?”

“No, but you can still try to lessen the risk –”

“Besides, that one isn’t dead yet,” Faustus went on.

“I can hear that!” Atreus snapped. The horse was still screaming.

Calliope suddenly felt weightless as Atreus lifted her up. She clung to his shoulders and raised her head a little. Everyone poured onto the track, leaping over the wall and leaving from the entrances beneath. They all cheered as they ran after the winning charioteer. Calliope didn’t care who it was. The impaled horse was still on top of the red chariot, turning it an even deeper red.

“He’s going to die,” she cried.

“We’ll see about that,” Atreus said. Before the others could stop them, Atreus leaped over the stone wall and landed firmly on the sandy track. Somehow, he managed to push through the spectators rushing past, and before long, they reached the injured horse. Both the Athenian and the Roman were being helped to their feet by the cleaning crew. The Athenian bled from his temple. The Roman limped, wincing with pain.

Atreus set Calliope down and carefully approached the wounded horse. Calliope couldn’t hear what he said to it, but the horse quieted a little, and Atreus nodded.

“Alright – Calliope, listen,” he said urgently. “I’m going to lift him up. When I do, you have to push the chariot out of the way. Then I’ll lay him down and try to heal him.”

“Me?” Calliope squeaked. “But –”

“There’s no time! You gotta try.”

“But what if I can’t do it?”

“You can. I believe in you.” Atreus positioned himself by the horse and wrapped his arms under its torso. “Ready? I’m gonna count to three. One – two – three –!”

The horse screamed as he slowly lifted it off the glistening red spike. Bile churned in Calliope’s throat, but she was more in shock at how strong Atreus was.

“Go!” he grunted. “Hurry!”

Calliope dashed to the overturned chariot and pushed against it. It refused to budge at first, but she pushed harder, shoving all her weight against it. To her delight, something gave way, and the chariot began to slide through the sand. She kept going, arms and legs burning from the strain, and stopped only after she heard Atreus say, “Got it, sis!”

Calliope stumbled over to him. The horse lay on its side, and Atreus crouched between its front and hind legs, trying to staunch the bleeding. The noise of the crowd was a muffled blur to Calliope’s ears. “Is he going to die?”

“It didn’t hit his heart,” Atreus said. The horse’s blood gushed between his fingers. Calliope turned her face away as a wave of nausea passed over her. Faintly, she heard Atreus murmuring, “Lækna … Come on! Lækna!”

Calliope couldn’t tell if the bleeding stopped or not. Was it getting any better? Was the horse still alive at all? It had calmed by now, resting its head on the ground. Its nostrils flared rhythmically with each breath.

She crouched next to the horse’s head and began to hum softly. It was a song that Mother used to sing whenever Calliope was hurt, but Calliope couldn’t remember the lyrics at all. “Lækna,” she murmured instead, resting her hand on the horse’s sweaty neck. “Lækna …”

A wave of exhaustion fell upon her. She blinked slowly, oddly light-headed. Why was she so tired now?

“My horse!” someone shouted in Greek. “Don’t coddle me; save my damned horse!”

A strong hand squeezed Calliope’s shoulder. She looked up, squinting against the glare of the sun, and saw Atreus.

“Hey,” he said. “We gotta go.”

“But … what about the …?” Calliope asked, feeling around for the horse’s neck. It was gone. Where did the horse go?

“He’ll be alright now, I promise. C’mon –”

He lifted her up and hurried away. Calliope tried to focus on their surroundings. They were still in the circus, weren’t they? And there were a lot of people near the starting line. A great cheer suddenly went up, and Calliope buried her face against Atreus’ neck in an attempt to block out the deafening sound.

When she woke up, she found herself lying in bed with Atreus at her side. He slept soundly with an arm draped across her protectively. Relieved, Calliope reached over and hugged him. He smelled of forests and wolfy fur, just like always.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. Afternoon sunlight slanted through the window. This room was familiar – Vesta’s house! Atreus brought them back here? But what about the Circus Maximus? And the charioteers, and their horses? Faustus and Lydia, Marcus and Claudia …?

Very carefully, so as to not wake Atreus, Calliope climbed out of bed and tip-toed to the door. She heard the hearth fire crackling downstairs. Was there anybody else here?

She quietly made her way downstairs. Despite the sunlight streaming in through the windows, the hearth blazed as merrily as it had that morning. Vesta sat by it, tending to the coals, yet she looked over at Calliope and smiled kindly. “Good afternoon. Did you sleep well?”

“I think so.” Calliope approached shyly and, at Vesta’s beckoning, sat next to her on the bench. “Do you know what happened?”

“Your brother came here with you some hours ago. You both were exhausted from an overuse of power. He spoke to me of the Circus Maximus.”

“One of the horses was injured after the race, so Atreus healed it,” Calliope explained. She shivered at the memory of that loud place, and the poor, screaming horse.

“Yes, he told me so before I sent him to bed. You were already fast asleep.” Vesta gently tucked a stray curl behind Calliope’s ear. “You also healed that horse, if I’m not mistaken.”

Calliope blinked. “I did?”

“Atreus referred to both of you. And I could tell that your own weariness was from healing. You cannot heal if you have no energy of your own to share.”

“But all I did was –” Sing, and say lækna. Heal.

Vesta smiled and continued tending to the fire. Calliope watched her for a moment. Questions bubbled up her chest and into her throat, and she took the plunge. “My lady … Do you know Hestia?”

Vesta paused. “Yes,” she said quietly. “My past life in Greece.”

“Do you remember anything about Greece?” Calliope had always prayed to Hestia in the hopes that Father would return home safely from battle. But if Vesta remembered Greece, did she know what Father did? Hestia was still an Olympian even though she had no throne on Olympus. Surely she would have heard about –

Footsteps hurried down the stairs. “Calliope?” Atreus called, and he was suddenly there, standing at the foot of the steps and staring at them. He looked as though he half-leaped out of bed. His braid was undone and there was still a hint of sleep in his eyes, but he was quite alert.

“I am here!” Calliope ran over and hugged him around the waist. She heard him sigh quietly with relief as he ruffled her hair.

“Thought you ran off somewhere,” he scolded. Then he addressed the goddess. “Thanks again for letting us stay, my lady. And for breaking the curse.”

A shiver passed down Calliope’s spine. In all the excitement that had happened, she forgot about Mercury’s curse!

“You are most welcome,” Vesta said. “It was not as difficult as I expected. Whatever you chose for your offering was great indeed.”

Atreus’ jaw clenched, but he nodded and said nothing more. He still wanted his sash. Calliope wished he would let it go soon. Part of her missed it, but that was only because Mother wove it. It was only a piece of cloth, really. And besides, he surely had many other things to remember Father by, like the lyre.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t mind staying here for a bit,” Atreus admitted. 

Calliope nodded, more than happy to stay indoors. She’d had more than enough adventures for one day. 

“If that is what you’d like,” Vesta said, “then I have a small task that you can do for me. The payment you insisted upon.”

“What is it?” Atreus asked immediately.

“I must depart on a few errands. The end of the Quinquatria is tomorrow, so all the gods will converge on Olympus to celebrate. The two of you can tend to my hearth while I am gone. You need not sit by it at every hour; just make sure that it does not go out.”

“That’s it? You don’t want anything else?” Atreus asked, startled. “Money, songs – I can play my lyre for you.”

“And my flute, too!” Calliope offered.

Vesta laughed lightly. “If you will play for me, let it be for entertainment and revelry, not as payment. The hearth is enough for me, but I thank you nevertheless. For now, enjoy a quiet evening. Tomorrow, when I return, we will speak of your next path.”

Vesta left shortly after. Once she was gone, Atreus and Calliope seated themselves by the hearth, and they took turns tending to the merry flames with the poker.

“So you were down here this whole time?” Atreus asked into the quiet.

“Not too long. But … kind of,” Calliope said sheepishly. Her brother didn’t seem mad at her, but the lingering weariness in his face tugged at her. “I – I’m sorry if I worried you. But Lady Vesta was with me!”

“That’s fine. Just – let me know next time, okay?”

“Okay.” A terse silence fell over them, with only the crackling of the flames to fill it. When Calliope could no longer stand it, she asked, “Atreus? Are you alright?”

He nodded, gazing into the flames. “And you?”

“I’m alright.” Something else wiggled into her mind. “I’m sorry about the circus.”

“There’s no need to be sorry. What happened there wasn’t your fault.”

“But I wanted us to go there!”

“So? Neither of us knew that it’d be so bad.”

“I suppose so,” she mumbled. Then, “I’m glad you healed that horse.”

Atreus sighed heavily and lowered his head. Despite his earlier sleep, he looked very tired in the firelight. “I couldn’t just let him die.”

Did he hear the horse’s pain? Before Calliope could think of something reassuring to say, he turned to look at her with a little smile. “We did it together, y’know. Healing the horse. I heard you singing.”

“I didn’t think it would do anything,” Calliope said. “I just did it.”

“You were really brave.”

She clasped her hands together on her lap. “That was a very cruel place.”

“Yeah, it was,” Atreus agreed quietly. “We won’t go back there.”

Calliope nodded. In an effort to change the subject, she asked, “What happened to Lydia and the others?”

“I saw them in their seats. Probably easier to leave the circus that way. Everybody else was filling up the racetrack.”

Calliope thought of the four Romans. For that very short time, they had all been sort-of friends. She liked Lydia the most, but Lydia was okay with violent games, and that made Calliope uncomfortable. But she also wasn’t as off-putting as Claudia and the other boys …

“I think Claudia liked you a lot,” she said aloud.

“Huh? Oh, her.” Atreus prodded some coals with the poker. “The guys did say that she likes foreigners.”

Calliope thought of Claudia leaning close to Atreus’ side, slipping her arm through his, and smiling at him all the time.

“She was very pretty,” Calliope went on, watching her brother closely.

“I guess so, yeah,” Atreus shrugged.

“Did you like her?”

“Huh?”

“Claudia. Did you like her?”

“Um … I don’t know. I hardly know her. And I thought she was getting really clingy by the end.”

“Me too,” Calliope agreed. “What about Lydia? She is very pretty too.”

Atreus gave Calliope a blank look. “Are you asking about my tastes?”

Calliope blushed. “No!”

“I wasn’t interested in them, if that’s what you want to know.”

“Oh.” Calliope ought to stop asking, but her next question slipped out. “What about Faustus and Marcus?”

Atreus shrugged again. “Handsome guys, but not my type. Definitely not with those views they have. Why? Did you think I’d be into any of them?”

“No, I never thought you were. I just wanted to see if I was right.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“You love Angrboda, don’t you?”

Atreus sputtered like a choking fountain. “What –? How’d you know that?”

“You drew her a lot in your journal. And your wooden ball has her name on it. And your face gets all red when you talk about her.”

“What? My face doesn’t do that!” Atreus touched his cheek. “Does it?”

Calliope giggled. “You’re getting red right now!”

“No, I’m not! That’s just from the fire!”

Once they calmed down from laughing and tickling attacks, Calliope asked, “What is she like?”

“Angrboda? Oh, um, she’s pretty. Pretty great, I mean. Uh …” Atreus rubbed the back of his flushed neck. Calliope couldn’t remember ever seeing him so flustered. “She’s a Giant, like me. We met several years ago. She’s really friendly and sweet, and – she paints and takes care of animals. You’ll like her.”

“She lives in Jötunheim?” Calliope asked. “With you?”

“Uh, yeah. Kinda. I mean, we haven’t really moved in together as a …” Atreus cleared his throat. “Sometimes I hang out at her place. Okay, maybe a lot of the time. But we’re not, uh –”

“Married?”

If steam could come out of Atreus’ ears, it’d be whistling right now. “Yeah, it’s way too early for that,” he said with an awkward laugh.

Uncertainty twisted in Calliope’s stomach. Atreus cared about Angrboda very much even if he wasn’t yet bound to her in marriage. Would he eventually forget about Calliope once they returned to his home in Jötunheim?

Guilt bubbled in her chest, far stronger than when she’d wanted the world to fall just to be with Father. She didn’t want Atreus to be unhappy. She just – she didn’t want to be alone.

She also didn’t know what to feel about Angrboda yet. But a big part of her still wanted to know more. “Are you not happy with her, then?”

“Huh? No, I’m super happy with her! She’s …” Atreus huffed, now more red in the face than ever. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t be telling you all this.”

“Why? Because I’m too young?” Calliope stuck out her chin. “Many of the women back home talked about men and other women. I’m used to it.”

Atreus looked at a loss for words. “Oh. Um. That’s, uh, good to know. I think.”

“Mother told me about all the different kinds of love,” she went on. “We have many words for them.”

“Oh. So … you know what I mean when I say I, uh, love Angrboda?”

“Yes. You mean eros, right? It’s different from how I like you and you like me, which is storge.”  

“Yeah, I think – that’s right.”

“So why don’t you live with Angrboda?” Calliope pressed. “Why haven’t you married her yet?”

Atreus shrugged. “We’re just taking it slow.”

Taking it slow? Whatever did that mean? Oh – maybe they weren’t of the proper age yet! “How old are you two?”

“We’re both eighteen.”

“She is able to marry, then,” Calliope announced. “You’re still too young, but … I don’t think anybody would notice.” He certainly looked far older than eighteen!

“What? Wait – what do you mean?” Atreus said, bewildered.

“In Sparta, the men marry when they are twenty-five. The women marry at eighteen because their bodies are fully grown, which makes them more likely to have healthy children. That’s what Mother told me. Does Angrboda have a strong body?”

“Er, Calliope, I think we’re getting a little too far ahead,” Atreus said quickly. “Let’s leave it at that, alright?”

Calliope pouted but nodded. Atreus rubbed his face, then prodded the coals a little too hard. After a few moments, Calliope asked, “Will I get to live with you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“But Angrboda will also be there?”

Atreus paused. “Yeah, she will be. And the other Giants, too. Is that alright with you?”

Calliope nodded slowly. “You won’t leave me alone?”

Atreus stared at her. It could’ve been her imagination, but he seemed to realize what she truly meant. “No, of course not. C’mere.”

He held out his arm and she leaned into his embrace, now more at ease than before. “I’ll help you settle in, alright? You can explore and make new friends, and I’ll never be too far away if you need me. I’ll be right with you.” He kissed her head. “Okay?”

Calliope nodded again, now feeling a little better. “Okay.”

Chapter Text

The next morning dawned to find Atreus and Calliope in the enclosed back garden of Vesta’s house. Vesta hadn’t returned from Olympus yet. Atreus hoped that she was doing okay.

But he couldn’t focus on that now. After learning that Angrboda could fight with paint powders and other spells, his sister gained a newfound determination to learn combat too. Atreus wasn’t sure how this would turn out, but there was only one way to know, right?

Julia the handmaiden allowed them to use the backyard, given how spacious it was. Atreus found some stones and set them on a bench for targets. “Alright. Want to give your flute a try?”

Calliope held the instrument up to her lips, then paused. “What do I do?”

“I dunno. Try something. You healed by singing; maybe play a battle song to knock these over?”

Calliope straightened her shoulders, focused on the stones, and began to play. What came out was a quick tune with many rolling notes. It sounded like something Thrúd and Skjöldr would party to, drunk or not.

Atreus looked at the stones. They didn’t move. Calliope soon ended the song mid-note and said, “Nothing’s happening!”

“Huh. Are you feeling any magic?” Atreus asked. “Like, when I use my magic, I can feel it inside me.”

Calliope tilted her head in thought. “No, I don’t think so.”

“What did you feel when you sang the healing song?”

“I got tired.”

“What about when you played for the hippocampi?”

Calliope wrinkled her nose. “I was scared.”

“I mean, magic-wise. Did it feel any different from when you play normal music?”

“Um … When I played the song for you, it felt like it was tugging me somewhere,” Calliope offered timidly.

“Because you wanted to find me?”

Calliope nodded.

“And with the hippocampi, you wanted them to let me go?”

“I wanted them to listen to me. And when I sang to the horse, I wanted him to get better.”

“What about just now? What were you thinking of when you focused on the stones?”

“Um … nothing, really. I’m not sure what they should do.”

“Try knocking them over,” Atreus suggested. “Focus on that.”

Calliope licked her lips, then started playing again with a newfound focus. Within the first line of rolling notes, the stones began to tremble. One of them flipped over. Another vibrated, shifting along the bench.

“You’re doing it!” Atreus exclaimed, but Calliope didn’t seem satisfied. Her brow furrowed and she stomped her foot, and at the same blasted a high note at the song’s peak. A small force blasted in the midst of them, knocking all the stones off the bench, and also shoving Atreus in the chest. He stumbled back but didn’t fall. “Whoa!”

“Atreus!” Calliope squeaked. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Wasn’t expecting that, but it’s fine!” It felt like Calliope pushed him with her small hands. Not enough force behind it to really hurt. “You got those stones off the bench, though!”

“That’s what I wanted to do,” Calliope said, encouraged. “I played one of the dancing songs from Sparta. It’s supposed to be for a duel.”

Atreus chuckled at that. “Makes sense to me. Want to try again?”

They ended up doing a few different things. How far could Calliope throw the rocks off the bench? So far, just several feet. If Atreus threw a stone in her direction (but not directly at her, of course), could she deflect it with a well-timed note on her flute? Sort of, but she also needed to keep her eye on the stone as it flew; sometimes she overstepped it and let loose an invisible blast in midair.

At noon, they stopped to rest and eat. Calliope moved sluggishly as they returned inside the house. She leaned against Atreus’ side, wrapping an arm around his waist, and he squeezed her shoulder. Worry twisted in his chest. Did he push her too hard? Did her body hurt the way her throat did? Gods, he should’ve kept a closer eye on the time! Sure, Kratos had trained him non-stop throughout most of his youth, but he wasn’t Kratos, and Calliope wasn’t Atreus. “Hey, you alright?”

Calliope yawned and rubbed her eyes. “I’m not tired.”

“Let’s eat something first, and then you can take a nap, okay?”

She nodded slowly. “Okay. Did I do well?”

“Very well,” Atreus assured her. “You did awesome.”

A sleepy smile spread across her face.

After eating, Calliope was all too ready to take a nap upstairs. Atreus tended to the hearth fire in the meanwhile. Once he was satisfied, he stepped away from it and peered out a window at the front of the house. Today was the last day of the festival. It felt kinda strange, really. He didn’t remember many festivals in Midgard, other than the occasional parties in Vanaheim. There had been a celebratory feast between the Aesir and Vanir after they’d finished resettling everybody. And he’d heard from Lúnda about the dwarves’ full-week partying in Niðavellir after Odin died.

But in Midgard … there wasn’t much, even between himself and Kratos. Birthdays were spent in each other’s company, relatively peaceful and relaxing. Mother’s death day was spent in solemnity.

Festivals in Rome were crowded. He watched from the window as citizens came to Vesta’s temple, right across from her house, and prayed outside the door. It seemed every temple in the city was getting some attention. “And there is a great crowd to witness the consecration of Minerva’s, on Aventine Hill,” Julia put in. When Atreus frowned, she added, “You may know her as Athena, in Greece?”

Athena. Atreus didn’t know much about her, honestly, but he’d heard that she was a goddess of war as well as wisdom. Battle tactics and all that.

And she must’ve had some interaction with Kratos, right? They were both deities of war. Did Kratos end up killing her too?

“Will you visit her temple today?” Julia asked. “It is a marvelous ceremony, or so I hear. You will also get to see the Salii priests dancing through the streets.”

“Salii priests?” Atreus repeated.

“They serve Mars, the god of war. In Greece –”

“Ares,” Atreus put in. Kratos’ predecessor, from what he’d gathered during his travels. That name was about as well-known and well-disliked as his father’s was. “I haven’t seen any dancing priests since I got here.”

“I can’t say whether that is good or bad luck,” Julia said with a slight smile. “They take different paths during the day. Perhaps you just happened to go the opposite way.”

She left his side shortly after to see to her other duties. Atreus occupied his time by writing in his journal about all that had happened, then tended to his bow and knife, tuned his lyre, and held Angrboda’s marble. Her name gazed back at him in deep etches across the surface. How was she doing? How was Father, Mimir, and Freya? Thrúd and Skjöldr, Lúnda and the dwarves … And Sindri …?

Atreus leaned back against the wall with a sigh. His old longing for home settled over his shoulders like a blanket, stronger than ever. So much had happened in what felt like such little time that he wished he could just be back home again. He imagined striding through the door of Kratos’ cabin and finding his father there, sharpening the Axe by the firelight. Mimir would be on his cushioned perch, and he’d call to Atreus with a delighted, “Little Brother!” Kratos would set the Axe aside and stride over, drawing Atreus into a firm embrace, just like before.

Atreus brought his father’s deep, rumbling voice to mind. “Atreus. You have returned.”

Then they’d eat together while Atreus recounted his adventures, and afterward, Kratos would see him to bed. Atreus could really use his old bed right now. This was what Mimir meant about other kinds of tired, wasn’t it? Atreus was wide awake, yet all he wanted to do was lie down and rest without any excitement. He was ready to go home.

He’d tried to keep it from Calliope, but he suspected she knew. She could be pretty perceptive sometimes … And that reminded him of Faye, his mother, which only made his homesickness worse. Did Calliope miss her home, too? Even if she didn’t want to go back to Sparta, did some part of her still long for it?

Hopefully she’d be comfortable in Jötunheim. Even if she didn’t feel at home right away, she’d at least be safe. No gods would be able to find her there. Hopefully.

Atreus tried not to think about how Mercury had lured Calliope away. How Atreus woke up to the animals clamouring about a god nearby – and Calliope hadn’t been asleep at his side. He’d run out of the stables to find his sister trapped in Mercury’s hold. Fear froze Atreus in that moment, followed by doubts upon doubts.

Was he strong enough to stop Mercury in a fight? Was he strong enough to protect his sister all the way to Midgard? She’d almost been taken by the harpies. She’d almost been taken by the bandits, Mors’ hounds in disguise. And now Mercury. What was next?

Was this how Kratos felt when Atreus was young? No matter how experienced Kratos was, he’d lost his first child, and then here came his second child getting all reckless for adventure. Half the grey hairs in Kratos’ beard were definitely because of Atreus.

He rubbed his face wearily, brushing away a few tears before they could fall. All journeys eventually came to an end. He just hoped that this one would end well.

Late afternoon neared by the time Calliope hurried down the stairs, looking very refreshed. Atreus caught her in a tight hug and ruffled her hair. She giggled. “What do we do now? Can we go outside?” Then her face soured upon looking out the window. “It’s gotten so late!”

“There’s still time,” Atreus said. He glanced at Julia, who was busy dusting the hearth’s mantle. Vesta still hadn’t returned. “Do you think it’ll be alright if we walk around for a bit?”

Julia shrugged. “Your task is to keep the hearth fire ablaze. What you do between that time is up to you.”

“We’ll be back in a couple hours, then. What do you think, sis? A little walk around the Forum won’t hurt.”

Calliope eagerly agreed to an outing. Atreus checked on the hearth fire first, ensuring it was fully stocked with wood and blazing happily. Then he and Calliope departed, making their way into the Forum.

“Can we visit Janus’ temple again?” Calliope asked.

“Sure! Then we can visit Minerva’s after, if you want. It’s on Aventine Hill. Julia said there’s a ceremony going on.”

“Is it close to Mercury’s temple?”

Atreus frowned. “I’m not sure. Would you rather stay away from the hill, then?”

Calliope nodded. “I don’t want to go near his temple. And I don’t want to go to the circus again, either.”

“We won’t go back there,” Atreus promised. “We’ll just go to the foot of the hill and see what’s going on, okay? I’m kinda curious about this ceremony.” But not so curious that he was going to get close to the front door. Just a quick look from far away wouldn’t hurt, right?

“Okay.” Calliope gently swung their linked hands as they strode onward, waving around the crowds. “Atreus? When do we leave Rome?”

“Soon, I hope. Vesta was going to talk to us about our next move. Maybe she can help us get to Ostia.”

“And once we get there, we’ll find a boat?” Calliope asked.

“Yep. We’ll be on our way to Midgard. Are you excited?”

Calliope nodded. “The Roman gods won’t bother us there, right? I want to see Jötunheim. And the Giants!”

Warmth filled his chest. “That’s good to hear. I want to see them again, too.”

“When we get there, you can have a big sleep,” Calliope announced. “You won’t have to worry anymore.”

That surprised him. “What do you mean?”

She lightly squeezed his hand. “You look more tired these days. I think, once we’re away from Rome, things will be calmer and better.”

He managed a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, he felt. He hadn’t been able to hide his exhaustion from her. “I’ll bet it will. It’s been quite an adventure, hasn’t it?”

She nodded. After a moment, she asked, “Do you miss home?”

“Yeah,” Atreus admitted. “I’ve been gone for a while, now. What about you? Do you … miss Sparta?”

Calliope didn’t answer right away. She shifted closer to him to avoid a wagon rolling past. “Sometimes. I miss Mother and our house, and talking with the other women. Sometimes we’d go to the cliffs and look out at the sea.”

“That sounds nice. Tell you what: when we get to Midgard, I’ll take you to a good spot to watch the sunrise over the mountains. I can promise you it’s just as good as the sun over the sea.”

Calliope’s face brightened. “Really?”

“Really.”

The crowds grew thicker as they got closer to Aventine Hill. By the time they were a few yards away from the hill, they were caught in the thick of citizens, unable to get any closer. Atreus lifted Calliope up so she could see better. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“They must be here for the ceremony,” Atreus said. “Julia said that Minvera’s temple is being consecrated.”

“I don’t think we’ll be able to get up there.”

“Probably best if we don’t. But maybe we can find a different angle to see the temple …”

Atreus slowly made his way through the crowd, passing into an open area where a sea of citizens had gathered. No matter where he went, he couldn’t even see Minvera’s temple through the trees on Aventine Hill. At one point, he caught the roof of Mercury’s, and promptly kept moving.

“Maybe we should go,” he eventually said with a sigh. “I don’t think we’ll get to see the ceremony today.”

“That’s okay,” Calliope said. “It’s too busy here. Let’s go home.”

Atreus wasn’t even disappointed about not seeing the ceremony. It was getting pretty busy, and the sun was setting, too. His stomach grumbled. What he’d give to have a filling meal and a good night’s sleep tonight …

Somehow, he got them into a not-so-busy street and set Calliope down. They had taken several steps before Atreus caught the faint sound of marching and singing, getting louder as the source got closer. The citizens around them hastily moved to the side of the street, all but pressing themselves against the buildings, as a procession of twelve armoured men appeared up ahead. Each carried a shield and spear, and they danced down the street, chanting at the top of their lungs.

Atreus and Calliope moved to the side of the street as the procession approached. “They must be the Salii priests,” Atreus murmured. “Julia mentioned them.”

“What are they doing?” Calliope asked.

“Celebrating the festival, I guess?”

As the procession passed them, red cloaks flapping behind them, Atreus caught a few words of the song, but the priests’ voices clashed and clamoured against the buildings. Atreus shook his head against the sound as it thudded against the back of his head.

Calliope pressed her face against his side. The priests’ song grew quieter as they moved further down the street, to Atreus’ relief. He rubbed Calliope’s back. “What’s wrong?”

“My head hurts,” she said plaintively.

“C’mon, let’s get back,” he said, taking her hand. “You’ll feel better once we’re there.” He hoped the same would go for him, too. His head still pounded as though the Salii priests were banging their spears against his skull. Their voices echoed unpleasantly in his ears.

They hurried back to the Roman Forum. A shiver crawled over Atreus’ skin, but he couldn’t have said why – until he heard the blast of trumpets somewhere in the Forum. Calliope jumped, startled. Atreus shook his head, trying to rid himself of the ringing in his ears leftover from the trumpets, and quickly spotted Vesta’s temple, and a little further away, her house.

“See, we’re almost there!” he said. And then he stopped.

In the twilight that blanketed the city, he felt a strong, harsh mind near Vesta’s house. A powerful presence, hot like a furnace. Nothing like Vesta’s comforting hearth-heat. Atreus drew Calliope away and headed toward the temple, trying to keep out of sight of the house.

“Why are we going here?” Calliope asked.

Atreus put a finger to his lips. “Something doesn’t feel right,” he whispered.

Her eyes went wide. “Why? What’s wrong?” she whispered back.

“I don’t know.” There were a few straggling citizens at the front of the temple. Atreus drew himself and Calliope into the shadows as they avoided the front door, scurrying around the temple’s circular wall until the house’s garden wall was visible to them. “Okay. We’re going to get inside through the back door. Try to keep quiet, alright?”

Calliope nodded. She gripped his hand tight as they dashed across the space between Vesta’s temple and house. Once they were at the garden wall, Atreus lifted Calliope onto his back and climbed over. His feet hit the ground silently on the other side, and so did Calliope’s once he set her down.

The harsh presence was stronger, emanating at the front of the house. Wait – there were two of them. One felt more mellow than the other, but no less powerful. Atreus swallowed, his heart racing. Part of him wanted to run far away, but – he and Calliope were safe in Vesta’s home, weren’t they? The goddess wouldn’t let harm come to them here.

And if Vesta, or her priestesses and handmaidens, were in danger, Atreus couldn’t just leave them to face it on their own. Not after all that the goddess had done for him and Calliope.

But he couldn’t bring Calliope into the fray, either.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Calliope said, quieter than a breath.

“I’m feeling it too. Hide here,” Atreus whispered to her. “I’ll go in and see what’s up.”

“No!” Calliope breathed, gripping both his hands. “I want to go with you!”

“Calliope –”

“I’m coming!” she said stubbornly.

He forced out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Stay behind me.”

They silently went to the back door of the house and slipped inside. The room they entered was dark. He quietly left it, with Calliope hanging on to his waist behind him, and navigated his way through hall and room, eventually reaching the door that led to the entrance hall of the house. There, he knew, lay Vesta’s main hearth, waiting to greet anyone who came through the main door.

A hand grabbed Atreus’ arm and pulled him away from the closed door. He spun around to find Julia, with her other hand around Calliope’s mouth to keep her from shrieking. Another handmaiden nearby held a lit candle. The reflection of firelight flickered in her wide, fearful eyes.

Atreus wanted to ask what the Hel was going on, but Julia shook her head. Quiet.

On the other side of the door, voices came through, not muffled enough that Atreus couldn’t understand the words. He recognized Vesta’s voice; the others belonged to a man and another woman.

“You are certain there is nothing amiss?” the woman asked.

“I am,” Vesta replied. “If I felt anything, you know I would tell you.”

“Do we truly know that?” the man asked. Atreus’ gut clenched at the sound of his voice: a low, rumbling sound, like the grating of stone against stone, and no less rough on the ears. It could’ve been Kratos’ voice in another life.

“You do not trust me, nephew?” Vesta asked. “I have never once lied to you, have I? Nothing is amiss here, and that is the truth. The only disturbance I came across was Mercury shouting to the heavens two nights ago. My priestesses will tell you the same.”

“And you sensed nothing that night?” the woman pressed.

“Nothing,” Vesta replied. “Why, did you?”

“Not then. I assured Mercury I would patrol the city for anything odd, and Mars agreed to join me. Earlier, I thought I felt …” A pause. “Hmm. Well. I no longer feel it now.”

“There is a lot of energy in the city this night,” Vesta said. “A festival in honour to you both. Perhaps you were merely overwhelmed?”

“Bah! Let us go, Minerva,” Mars growled. “We are wasting time in this hovel.”

“If there is anything I can do to assist,” Vesta began.

“No,” Mars said, sneering. “Cower by the hearth, as you always do. If Mercury is right, and you face the brunt of whatever is lurking here, do not expect us to come at your call.”

“I daresay I will not need your aid,” Vesta said calmly. “I am fully capable of protecting my own house.”

“That is enough, brother!” Minerva snapped. “Vesta, if you notice anything after this, please let me know.”

“Of course, dear niece,” Vesta replied.

A door shut, and then there was silence. Atreus felt the strong presence of the gods receding, replaced by Vesta’s warm aura. After several heartbeats, he heard soft footsteps approaching, and then the door in front of him opened. Light spilled in from the hearth – or maybe it was just Vesta herself.

“There you are,” the goddess said. Her smile was tense. “I am glad you returned safely, and as quickly as you did. Come. We have much to discuss.”

“Are you alright?” Atreus asked as he and Calliope followed Vesta to the hearth. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“No. Worry not, Atreus.” Her eyes gleamed. “You both did well in tending the hearth. You have my thanks.”

“No problem,” Atreus said. “But –”

“Was that Mars and Minerva?” Calliope piped, her eyes wide.

“Yes,” Vesta replied. “I doubt they will return tonight; they cannot sense you here.”

“If we hadn’t left,” Atreus began.

Vesta shook her head. “It was not your doing. Not entirely, perhaps. Mercury put up a fit on Olympus when he returned with my priestess. Minerva decided to humour him and search for any wrongdoers against him, but then she caught a hint of your presence. Or perhaps it was the residual smoke from your offering in Mercury’s temple. Their temples are quite near each other, and tonight, Minerva’s power is strong over the city.”

“And Mars?” Atreus asked. Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach.

“The same goes for him. His trumpets were purified in the Forum this evening. I assume you heard them? And his dancing priests now make preparations to feast tonight, offering sacrifices in his honour. Mars would not have joined Minerva had he not sensed the same hint of yourself.”

“But they didn’t even see us!” Calliope exclaimed. “Did they? Mercury only got angry after he saw Father’s sash!”

“I see.” Vesta gestured for them to sit. She then sat down across from them and gazed into the bright flames. “In my past life, in Greece, Ares and Athena were closest to your father. I would not be surprised if they could recognize his mark on you both … Like a hound sniffing out a familiar scent.”

Atreus thought of Dulius, the hound of hell, and his ability to sniff out blood-ties. “We have to leave soon, then. We’ve probably stayed too long in the city already.”

“I regret it, but I must agree. It would be safer for you to go while the other gods don’t yet know of you.”

“Mercury does,” Calliope pointed out unhappily.

“That is true,” Vesta said. “But you will find that many of the gods don’t often take him seriously. This is not the first time he’s complained about some grave insult against his name. Many of my kin find it good entertainment, really.”

My kin. My past life. Despite the current need for planning and staying focused, Atreus’ curiosity got the better of him. “You used to be one of the Greek gods?”

“I was Hestia, yes,” Vesta said. “I don’t have many clear memories of Greece anymore … But I do remember a little about Kratos of Sparta, and Olympus’ fall.”

Atreus stiffened. Vesta didn’t seem upset at the mention of Kratos; sadness touched her face as she tended to the hearth fire. “I have no quarrel with either of you,” she said into the quiet. “Nor any ill-will towards your father, if you can believe it.”

“Not really,” Atreus admitted.

“Kratos never insulted me – Hestia, that is. Even when he spoke harshly against the other gods, he was mostly silent around me,” Vesta explained. “When he brought the Titans upon Olympus to destroy it, he did not harm me, though I too was an Olympian.” The goddess raised her solemn gaze to Atreus’ face. “Would it surprise you to learn that I felt my family deserved what befell them, even if I did not truly wish for their end? You may think it strange. Always they looked down on me and belittled me, and I took it without complaint because it had been that way since our beginning. I was – and am still – the goddess of hearth, home, and family, yet my family was … broken.”

“You didn’t try to stop them?” Atreus asked.

“I did try,” Vesta said simply. “At least, I believe I did, though I cannot remember now. But in this life, I have tried many times. Nothing helped. I went so far as to remove myself from Olympus and live with my priestesses here. It is far more peaceful, though a part of me still misses them.”

“Even though they’re rude to you?”

“Yes, even so.” Vesta straightened up from tending the hearth. “It is hard for me to recall Hestia’s life in Greece. I only know this much because Janus helped me clarify a few pieces of my past. The Olympians … I loved them. Many times I have wondered if I could have done more to stop their fall. If I could have helped your father more. When Kratos came in the end, I pleaded for him to end his vengeance, but he saw through me. He knew that I would not fight him.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Calliope said immediately. “He would have killed you!”

“Perhaps he would have,” Vesta said thoughtfully. “Or perhaps not. Doubt clouds my mind … I would have to ask him what he would have done, but alas, he is no longer here! In any case, I don’t think I could have fought him. He was part of my family, broken though it was. He was my nephew, but I thought of him more as my brother.”

“But he destroyed Olympus,” Calliope said. “He destroyed the world!”

“Not the world entire,” Vesta gently corrected. “He only damaged Greece, but not without repair. Janus says that I, Hestia, took great pains to aid the survivors. Mankind rebuilt its realms and cities.”

“But how aren’t you angry at him?” Calliope demanded.

“You mean now? Because it is hard for me to remember all that happened. But I do understand your father,” Vesta replied. “I am capable of anger, too. I was just too afraid to use it in Greece. I was a quiet and careful goddess back then, and I did not want to disrupt whatever slight peace or truce my kin created, even if they broke it the day after.” She paused. “I am still like that today, in some ways. But! I am getting ahead of myself. This is not just about me. We must speak of your next step in returning home.”

The change of topic set Atreus off-balance. He hastily gathered himself. “You’ll help us get to Ostia?”

“I have a better idea. My fires spread far and wide throughout the empire, all the way to Britannia. That is close enough to where you live, is it not, Atreus?”

“H-how do you know?” Atreus stammered.

“Your markings.” Curiosity gleamed in the goddess’ eyes. “Those are the northland letters, yes? I can send you as far as Britannia, right on the edge of the empire. Beyond that, it will be far more difficult for any of my kin to find you. You will have a head start in reaching the boundaries of your homeland.”

That sounded too good to be true. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the price?” he said. “What do you need us to do in return?”

“Nothing,” Vesta said. “There is no price. I … I only want to help you. I regret that I couldn’t do the same for your father.”

Freya appeared in Atreus’s mind. Maybe, by helping you, I can make up for a lifetime of mistakes.

“But,” Vesta went on, “if you truly wish to go to Ostia, I will not stop you. I will give you what protection I can on the road to the sea.”

Atreus glanced at Calliope. His sister looked back at him with hope, trusting Vesta fully. Atreus trusted the goddess, too; she’d granted them shelter and protected them from three Roman gods. She even mentioned Janus. Atreus wouldn’t be surprised if they turned out to be friends.

Besides, he and Calliope were starting to gather unwanted attention. Mercury already knew what they looked like. If Mars and Minerva found out about Kratos’ kids … Atreus didn’t want to imagine what would happen.

Taking a faster route to get home sounded better and better with each passing second.

“Alright,” he said. “We’ll take your offer instead of Ostia. What do we need to do?”

“For now, you will wait for early morning. The gods will have returned to their duties by then. If I were to send you away now, Mars and Minerva will likely notice, and come to question me again. Tomorrow, you will use my hearth as your doorway to the green lands of Britannia. What supplies do you have left?”

“Nearly everything we arrived with, except food,” Atreus replied.

“And a change of warm clothes, no?” Vesta gave Atreus a pointed look. “Britannia is cooler than here. You are accustomed to it, but the little one is not.”

Damn, he’d forgotten about that! “Uh, I guess it’s a little too late to do some shopping?” he said weakly.

Vesta shook her head as though resigned to a foolish child’s ways. “I believe I have some clothes to spare. I will enchant them to keep you warm, but once you enter the northland gods’ territory, the heat will weaken, and you will need to find your own replacements.”

“That’s more than enough,” Atreus assured her. “Thank you so much, my lady. Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do to repay you?”

“You can continue tending to the hearth before bed, if you wish,” Vesta smiled. “I will look for those clothes in the meantime. But first, let us eat!”

It still didn’t feel like enough payment, but Atreus didn’t want to be rude by bugging her about it. Very soon, Julia and the other handmaidens got dinner all set up, and Calliope offered an extra long prayer in Hestia’s (and Vesta’s) honour. Atreus gobbled up the food, now feeling much better after everything that had happened. His headache was gone, his heart thumped calmly, and a warm drowsiness came over him. He thought of the soft bed waiting upstairs … And, further away to the north, another bed by the hearth, covered in furs and woolly blankets.

But before he could go to bed, Vesta retrieved some folded clothes: a tunic and leggings each, with an accompanying thick cloak. Atreus and Calliope tried them on, and to all of their satisfaction, the clothes fit pretty well.

Once that was all done, Vesta took the spare clothes and set them at the foot of her hearth. “The fabric will fill with heat and keep you warm for many days,” she explained.

“Thank you,” Atreus said again. He felt like a stupid parrot repeating the same thing over and over again, with no way to truly show his gratitude. But that had been the case since his childhood, really. No – he’d been much worse. How many times did he thank Sindri for sharing his gifts and knowledge? Hardly at all. Guilt still rattled in Atreus’ chest whenever he thought about the Huldra brothers. He just … He wished he could’ve done things differently. He wasn’t sure how, but – he would’ve said more, for sure. Given more of himself in return for their help.

Now Sindri didn’t want anything to do with him. Atreus knew he should move on from the bittersweet memories of their friendship, but … He couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet.

“Atreus?” Calliope asked, startling him from his reverie. “Are you alright?”

Atreus blinked. He sat next to Calliope by the hearth, tending to it while Vesta spoke quietly to Julia and the other handmaidens. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

Calliope tilted her head as she regarded him. “You looked sad. I thought you’d be excited to leave Rome.”

“Oh, I’m ready to leave,” Atreus said. “I was just thinking about home, actually. My friends, and …”

“Sad things?”

“Yeah. I guess you could call it that.”

Calliope frowned. “I don’t like thinking about sad things.”

“Me either. But sometimes I gotta think about them.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It’s kinda like trying to stop the bleeding, I guess.”

Calliope surprised him with a tight hug. “Do you want to talk about it? Maybe that will help stop it.”

“Maybe another time,” Atreus said.

Vesta came over to them at that moment. “Stemming the blood is not always easy,” she mused, taking Calliope’s offer to sit beside her. “Old grievances, regrets … My kin would rather bathe in it all.”

“Like Father did?” Calliope asked. Her bluntness startled Atreus, but Vesta didn’t seem to mind.

“I cannot recall much of Kratos’ reign as the god of war, aside from how it ended.” The goddess gazed into the flames with a contemplative look. “When I was Hestia, I tended the hearth on Olympus at every moment. Kratos sometimes crossed my path. He was often silent when I greeted him.”

“Could you tell me more?” Calliope asked. Atreus dared not intrude; his curiosity swelled, mixing with his desire to know who Kratos was back then.

Vesta’s firelit eyes shone with a soft sadness. “I heard your prayers back then, child. And I can tell you that your father was never disappointed in you. His war against the gods, from what I can recall, was out of vengeance on your behalf. But more than that, he wanted to punish the gods for using him as their tool and lying to him always.”

Atreus could only see the back of his sister’s head as she looked at Vesta. He heard her voice grow thick with tears. “Is it my fault that he hurt everybody?”

“No!” Vesta said softly. Before Atreus could move, the goddess wrapped an arm around Calliope’s shoulders and held her close. The sight of them together, looking in that moment like mother and daughter, sent a pang through his heart.

“No, child, it was never your fault,” Vesta murmured. “He made his choice on his own.”

“But I could have stopped him,” Calliope protested. “In Elysium – he was there, and then he left after talking to Persephone, and I didn’t stop him!”

“Do you know why he left?”

“No. I can’t remember.”

“Hmm. Here is something we can do …” Vesta took a small tongue of flame from the hearth and set it to float over Calliope’s palms. It was warm and reassuring against her skin. Vesta cupped her hands around Calliope’s so that they could share the warmth.

“I will share what memories I have with you,” Vesta offered. “Memories of Kratos that have not left me.”

“Um, I can go,” Atreus offered. As much as he wanted to know more, this was feeling more and more like a private moment, one that he wasn’t exactly a part of. Before he could stand up though, Calliope reached out and grabbed his hand. The pleading look in her eyes pinned him to his seat.

“Come closer, Atreus,” Vesta said, beckoning. “Let us sit like this.”

Atreus tucked one hand under Calliope’s and placed his other arm around her. Now all of them held the flame. Its reassuring heat seeped into his palm, relaxing the tensed muscles in his arm. When he gazed into the flame, he could almost see Vesta’s memory as she described it, like a mural unfolding before his eyes.

“It was a short while after Kratos became the new god of war. He spent most of his days with his Spartan army, but there was a time when he returned from battle and came across my hearth, where I, as Hestia, tended to it day and night.

“I saw that he was weary and offered him wine to drink, and some food to eat. If he wished, he could sit at the hearth for a little while and recover his strength. To my surprise, he accepted the offer. I recall that he usually pushed the other gods away – but not many of them were amiable towards him, in any case. So he sat beside me, and we ate together in silence.”

“Did he speak to you?” Calliope asked.

“He grunted sometimes to acknowledge me when I spoke. I am sure he did speak to me at times, though … I do not recall his words, but I know that he was not harsh and spoke plainly. And softly too, I believe.”

“Really? He must have liked you very much!”

Vesta chuckled. “Perhaps. In fact, there was another time when we crossed paths. The Sea God, Neptune, was angry with me.”

“Neptune … You mean, Poseidon?” Calliope gasped. “Oh no!”

“What? What happened?” Atreus asked. “Why was he mad at you?”

“Ah, you do not know the tale of how Hestia refused his marriage proposal?” Vesta shook her head, no longer smiling. “The same happened in my Roman life. I will not repeat that tale for you, but suffice it to say, Neptune despises me.”

“But what happened with Poseidon?” Calliope asked breathlessly.

“I remember he insulted me – Hestia, that is, out of his own injured pride. He sometimes tried to corner me alone and frighten me. I was protected at the hearth, but elsewhere, I did not have many to support me.

“On one of those rare times that I left the hearth, Poseidon came and tried to hurt me. But then Kratos was there – I cannot remember how he arrived, or from where, but he took the Sea God and shoved him aside. Poseidon was angry, but Kratos’ presence disturbed him. I told the Sea God to leave me be, and so he left. Kratos then came to my side and replaced my shawl, which Poseidon had torn away in his anger.”

“Father saved you!” Calliope said in awe, though Atreus thought he heard a hint of bitterness in her voice. “But why would Poseidon bother you so? You’re the eldest Olympian, aren’t you?”

“I am the eldest child of Saturn and Ops, yes,” Vesta replied. “But when my brother Jupiter retrieved us from Saturn’s stomach, I came out last. Thus, I am the least in my kin’s eyes.” Her gaze flashed with flaming orange light. “I am trying to change that, now.”

“I hope it works,” Calliope said earnestly. “You’re a very important goddess, and I love you.”

For a split second, Vesta’s face twisted as though she wanted to cry. “I love you as well, child. I wish … I wish I did more to deserve your affection, back then.”

Vesta gently squeezed her hands, and Atreus’ too. Her fingers were warm as though lit by an inner fire. “Now then, it is your turn, dearest. Hold this flame close. What can you remember of that time in Elysium?”

Calliope glanced at Atreus nervously. He nodded encouragingly to her, and she turned back to stare at the flame. The orange light was calm before her, barely flickering. “Father came to me in the fields. He called my name and hugged me. He said he would never leave me again. And …”

Images flickered before Atreus’ eyes, caught in the tongue of fire. Elysium’s golden fields. A tall woman dressed in black. Kratos, his skin sun-browned and bare of a red tattoo, with Calliope clinging to his side.

Danger tinted the edge of this vision. Danger, fear, and grief.

One of Calliope’s hands shifted, finding his, and she squeezed his fingers. He gently kissed the side of her head. You can do it. I believe in you.

“Persephone came,” Calliope went on. “She spoke to Father. I … I can’t remember what she said. She was happy, and then angry … And happy again. But Father was angry. And then Persephone hurt him.”

The flame flared like a firecracker. Atreus saw Kratos rushing at Persephone, only to fly backward and collapse in the golden grass. Calliope ran to him, clung to his arm. And –

“No, I – I can’t remember,” Calliope said suddenly, shrinking closer to Atreus’ side. There wasn’t much room for her to move; she was wedged between him and Vesta.

“You can’t?” Vesta asked. “Or you don’t want to?”

His sister’s voice was small. “I don’t know.”

“It is not your fault,” the goddess said gently. “Sometimes the mind locks away memories that are too painful. Do you want to look again into the flame?”

Calliope didn’t respond immediately. Atreus waited, wondering what she’d say. He wouldn’t blame her for saying no. But this was also her chance to remember what happened, why Kratos left her, all of it.

“Yes,” she finally said. Atreus exhaled a silent breath and rubbed her shoulder.

“Persephone said that she … she wanted to destroy the world,” Calliope said slowly. Atreus heard Persephone’s voice as though from a distance, just faint enough that he could catch her triumphant tone. Within the little flame, Persephone gloated, smiling with triumph. “Elysium would fall too. I – I would have died there!”

“And your father?” Vesta said quietly.

Atreus heard Kratos’ voice, distant but clearer than Persephone’s, loud and desperate. No! I will not let the gods take her from me again!

“He got angry at her,” Calliope said, her words trembling. “He wanted to stop her. But I didn’t w-want him to go.”

“So he left,” Vesta said. “And Elysium remained standing?”

Calliope nodded. “He killed Persephone. He came back to the Underworld many times after. But he never came back for me.”

Grief saturated the edges of the vision, and bitterness, anger, and despair. Atreus tried to keep his head in the present. This vision in the flame was only a memory.

Yet it felt like a part of Atreus now, too. It mingled with his own boyish grief, the cutting fear of being left to face the world's dangers on his own. With no guidance. No support. The small boy in himself bridled at the injustice of it all. Kratos left Calliope alone in Elysium and never tried to return to her, though he’d been fully happy to do other forbidden things.

“He didn’t want to leave you,” Vesta said softly. “I am sure he misses you greatly.”

Calliope’s small frame stiffened against Atreus’ arm. Then she said, in a bolder tone that Atreus never heard from her before, “I don’t care if he does or doesn’t. I don’t need Father anymore. I have Atreus now, and I am a goddess too! Though, I’m still learning.”

The declaration left him startled, but … It wasn’t really out of the blue. How many times had he been angry with Kratos and convinced himself that he could live without his father? That he could survive in the world on his own? The feeling only increased as he got older, but he managed to temper it leading up to Ragnarök.

It was a satisfying feeling sometimes, but most of the time, it wasn’t. Atreus didn’t want Calliope to go through that. But part of him knew she wouldn’t listen to him if he tried to talk her out of it. He always preferred not to listen to Kratos’ lecturing, after all.

“You would give up your father then?” Vesta asked, sounding surprised.

“Why not?” Calliope said defiantly. “I’ve waited long enough for him. I’m tired of waiting! He didn’t come back for me, Atreus did.”

She looked at Atreus for support. Shit, what was he supposed to say? Definitely not what Kratos would say, gods damn. All he could do was smile awkwardly, and that seemed to be enough for his sister.

The goddess sighed. “I do not blame you for your anger. It is natural.”

Calliope clenched her fists. The little flame hovered over her knuckles. “I’m not angry! I would never get angry like Father – and neither would Atreus!”

“No, that is not what I mean,” Vesta soothed. “You are well within your right to be upset, Calliope. At your father, and what happened to you.”

Calliope relaxed. “Atreus said so, too.” She smiled at Atreus, and again, all he could do was sit there helplessly, feeling like he was in a mining cart going off the rails.

“That is good to hear,” Vesta said. She offered Atreus a warm look, and that, at least, was a little reassuring. “You need not fear his anger, or your own, dear Calliope. What you choose to do will determine what you become.”

Her next words tugged at a tingling memory in Atreus’ mind. “Follow your own path, and you will end up exactly where you need to be.”

Later, as Atreus waited for Calliope to get settled in bed, he said, “I’m sorry you had to go through that. In Elysium.”

Calliope shrugged, stretching herself out at his side. “I don’t care about it anymore.”

He tried not to focus on the uneasy squirm in his stomach. “Why not?”

“I just don’t care about Father. I don’t need him now. Lady Vesta said that he made his choice on his own. It wasn’t my fault.”

“Of course it’s not. But, Calliope –”

She lightly smacked his arm. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore!”

Atreus drew in a deep breath. “Alright. I’m sorry.”

An uncomfortable silence fell upon them. Atreus didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He wouldn’t want to hear anything if he was Calliope. But that wasn’t exactly reassuring.

Calliope lightly tugged at his sleeve. “Could you sing Laufey’s song?” she asked hesitantly, as though worried he’d refuse.

“Sure,” he said. “Hey, want to sing it with me? We can practice our duet.”

She agreed to that, and so they gently sang into the quiet of their room. It was amazing how quickly Calliope fell asleep whenever he sang to her. And she always slept easier with a bedtime song than without.

Atreus stared up at the darkened ceiling. Calliope’s feelings weren't something he could change. No matter how much he wanted to help, there was only one person who could possibly work things out with Calliope, and that was Kratos. Even if they never made proper amends … At least Calliope would be able to say what she needed to. Get things off her chest. She couldn’t exactly do that with Atreus because he wasn’t the source of her pain. He hoped he wasn’t, at least.

With a sigh, he kissed Calliope’s brow and closed his eyes. They were leaving for Midgard tomorrow. Gods, if only he could arrive at home right away! His homesickness only worsened with the thought of how many days still lay between here and there.

That night, he dreamt of the hearth in Kratos’ cabin. He couldn’t see Kratos, but he did see his father’s large shadow on the far wall.

“I’m coming home,” Atreus said.

From somewhere nearby, Kratos’ voice rumbled in his ear. “I will wait for you.”

Chapter Text

Oh Muse, do tell

If this new life of mine is all a dream?

Although my memories still haunt me,

Trapping me in dark times like a spear in my heart,

I find that they have oft receded from me

As shadows fall away before the might of the sun;

Just as Morpheus fled from Helios’ chariot,

Restoring the world to wakefulness.

A long way

We have come since our journey from my homeland;

At Sipontum the hippocampi left us

And there we met a god of the Romans:

Kindly Portunus, guardian of ports and harbours

And all sailors at sea. He sent us on our way

Across Italia, and thus we walked together

Fighting off cruel men, fighting with noble men.

Lupa I met there, the wolf-goddess, her white fur gleaming

In the moon, shimmering with many stars,

Her paws swift and teeth sharp as crystal daggers,

And eyes that have seen many ages.

Thus we found ourselves, my brother and I, at the side of Janus,

That Roman god of beginnings and endings, time and travel,

And such else that I cannot now remember, only that his eyes gleamed like pearls

With knowledge from the very edge of the heavens.

He left us

At Rome, the large city of great renown, heart of the empire itself.

In my heart, it feels as though there is much to say of it

And yet hardly anything to say that has not already been said.

It is a grand place, full of people from all lands,

But cruel in its shadows. In their games you may die;

In the clutches of the wrong god you may suffer curses and threats.

Yet there is some light to match this dark:

Hear, O Muse, of the gentle Lady Vesta, goddess of the hearth;

The eldest child of Saturn and Ops, eldest sister of Jupiter himself!

Yet who chose a humbler path, to tend the hearth

And keep the home and kindred warm.

In all this, I have seen so much and met many people,

A path I thought was long since closed to me,

But now I walk with steady Atreus, a northern god and artisan,

And the dearest brother I could ever ask for, honest and true,

And loyal to a fault.

Now we are ready

To depart for Midgard, my brother’s homeland

Full of foreign gods, people, and places,

But there lies my new home in Jötunheim with the Giants,

Atreus’ people. My heart trembles to think of how it will be

For me to live with them. But whether that is from fear or excitement,

I cannot yet say! 

***

It was still dark outside when Atreus woke Calliope up. They put on the enchanted clothes and went downstairs to find Vesta waiting by the hearth. Atreus shouldered his pack, which Julia had stuffed to the brim with travel food, and offered a small bow to the goddess.

Vesta gently patted his cheek in a motherly way. “Are your clothes warm enough? Good. I was searching for a suitable place to send you, and I believe I have found it.”

Atreus glanced at the merry flames. The image of a tavern’s common room flickered in the light, its tables and chairs empty.

“It is a small establishment on the far northern coast of Britannia,” Vesta said. “As I can tell, the patrons are still asleep, but the sailors are preparing for the day outside. You may find a ship to take you further north to Thule.”

“That’s great,” Atreus said fervently. “I can’t thank you enough. And I-I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

Vesta shook her head. “You are doing what you can, the best you can, and that is all anyone can do.”

She then knelt to hug Calliope, who embraced her back enthusiastically. “Be safe,” the goddess said. “Stay close to your brother and trust your instincts.”

“I will,” Calliope promised. “Thank you. Will you be alright here?”

“Of course.”

Calliope moved closer to whisper in Vesta’s ear. Atreus couldn’t hear what was said; Vesta’s reply was just as quiet, but it seemed to satisfy Calliope. She nodded, kissed the goddess’ cheek, then returned to Atreus’ side.

Vesta stood and turned to him. “You still have a long journey ahead of you. I will offer my well-wishes, though it may not be very helpful.”

“It is,” Atreus assured her. “Any small bit helps.”

Vesta smiled warmly. For a moment, Atreus was reminded of Angrboda and her toothy grins. He’d see her again for certain. And everyone else. Nothing was going to make him give up, not by a long shot.

“Now, then.” Vesta stepped back and held out her hand to the flames. They rose high and parted to either side, forming a portal. On the other side was the darkened common room of the tavern. “You may need to crouch. Goodwill be with you!”

Atreus gripped Calliope’s hand. This was going to be a first. He bent down to avoid the hearth’s roof and stepped through the flames; they didn’t burn him at all. It rather felt like a relaxing soak in the Baths of Titus. Calliope didn’t need to bend down as much when she stepped in after him, lucky her.

The flames suddenly pulled back and disappeared, plunging them in darkness. They stood in the hearth of the tavern, with a mud brick wall behind them. No one seemed to be around – but the faint clanking in a back room indicated a cook at work, or something else.

Atreus hastily stepped out of the ashy hearth, hitting his head against the roof in the process. “Fuck!” he swore in Midgardian.

“Careful!” Calliope whispered, having already leaped out of the hearth. If she recognized his swear words (which he hoped wasn’t the case), she didn’t say anything. Kratos and Mimir would’ve given him the lecture of a lifetime.

“Okay, let’s go,” he whispered. Hand-in-hand, they hurried for the door, leaving some ashy footprints in their wake. A gust of cool wind blew into Atreus’ face as they stepped out into the early morning. It was still incredibly dark, though torches shone along the docks up ahead.

Atreus breathed in the fresh, salty sea air. This was definitely starting to feel like home.

Calliope shrunk closer to his side. “It’s cold!”

“Are your clothes not warm enough?” Atreus asked.

“They’re warm,” Calliope said. “But the air on my face is chilly!”

“Well, we’re farther north, now,” Atreus said as they headed over to the docks. “It’ll only get cooler from here. But once the sun’s up, the air will get warmer.”

Calliope stared around at their surroundings with a mix of curiosity and wariness. She soon spotted the ships anchored at the docs, and the movement of merchants and sailors preparing to set sail. “Are we going to get a big ship?”

“Hopefully.” Atreus cleared his throat and approached a nearby man who was barking orders. He hadn’t spoken Brittonic in a long while, but hopefully using it now would jog his memory. “Excuse me. Where is this ship headed?”

The man stared back at him. Atreus’ accent sounded way off after spending so much time speaking Latin. Then the man snapped, “Lookin’ for passage, boy? Go elsewhere. I’ve no space for rats on my ship.”

Atreus bristled, but drew in a deep breath and nodded. There were several other ships to try. If this guy didn’t want to collect some more money from a couple passengers, that was his loss.

As they went to the next ship, Calliope said, “He sounded mean.”

“He doesn’t want us on board,” Atreus huffed. “Here, let’s try this one.”

They ended up asking at three more ships before a captain offered them space. “There’s a new city thriving up north, called Danmǫrk. Heard good things about it so far.”

Danmǫrk. Skjöldr! That was perfect! “I’ve heard good things, too,” Atreus said. “So, how much do I pay you?”

The sails unfurled, catching the wind, and the rowers extended their oars. Atreus and Calliope sat at the prow to keep out of the crew’s way. Of course, Atreus didn’t have much of a chance to worry about the crew with Calliope leaning over the edge of the hull. She gazed out at the expansive waters, and Atreus hastily held her steady by the waist.

“We’re on a ship!” she exclaimed. “Look, Atreus! We’re pirates!”

Atreus laughed. “Want to look for treasure?”

“I’ve never been on a ship before,” she went on. “I wanted to, but they said that sailing is only for battle and boring things. And Mother was worried about my health.”

No doubt Kratos had also been concerned. “It’ll get pretty boring after a while,” Atreus said. “I’ll see if I have any stories to help pass the time.”

“Have you ever sailed like this before?”

“A couple times. I’m more used to smaller boats.”

The sea air ruffled his braid and Calliope’s curls. Far off to the east, the sky lightened from gray to dim blue.

“Atreus? How long did it take for you to reach Greece?” Calliope asked.

“Oh, a long while.” Atreus leaned back against the ship’s hull as he remembered that whole adventure. Lots of time spent getting lost, talking to animals for directions, and searching for clues of missing Giants. “I wasn’t actually planning to go to Greece, at first. But when I ended up in that direction, I decided to keep going. See what Father’s homeland is like.”

“Your homeland,” Calliope said promptly. “It’s yours too.”

“I’m no Spartan, though,” Atreus teased.

“You’re the best Spartan I know.”

Atreus was about to laugh, but he saw that Calliope was as serious as Kratos could be. Her face was set, and a fierce glint shone in her eyes. Swallowing back his chuckle, he simply ruffled her curls fondly. “You’re an awesome Spartan too, y’know.”

She blushed. “I hope so. Did you walk all the way to Greece, then?”

“Not all the way. I turned into a bird to make it faster. Now, if I could be a bigger bird, I bet I could carry you on my back to Midgard.” He’d at least have to be as big as Hraesvelgr, right? Or was that overstepping it?

“I’d sit on your back?” Calliope’s gaze turned distant as she imagined it. “I suppose it wouldn’t be like riding a chariot.”

“Probably not. Have you ever been in a chariot before?”

Calliope shook her head. “And I don’t want to try it.”

“Me either. But – hey! I just remembered Skidbladnir! It’s the flying boat of Freyr, a Vanir god. Or, it used to be his.” An old, hollow ache settled in his chest as he thought of Freya’s late brother.

“A flying boat?” Calliope gasped. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve been in it a few times. I’ll show it to you someday; I think you’ll like it.”

“Yes! I want to see the flying boat! Skeed-blahd-neerr,” she pronounced carefully. Then she made a face. “What a funny name for a boat!”

Just as Atreus predicted, things got boring pretty quickly. There wasn’t much to explore on the ship, so after eating some breakfast, he set Calliope down for a morning nap and sang her to sleep. Now left alone with his thoughts, he found himself fiddling with the mistletoe arrowhead hanging from his neck. He didn’t know why he felt nervous. Things were going smoothly so far. They were far from Rome, and wearing Vesta’s protection. Once they reached Skjöldr’s place, Atreus planned to get some new clothes and find a Mystic Gateway. And then …

Well. They’d figure out their next step along the way.

A few hours later, Calliope woke up. Atreus regalled her with more tales of the Nine Realms, deep down thanking Mimir for sharing his reservoir of stories. He spoke of the first Giants and their conflict with the Aesir, which then led to him recounting his first-ever adventure with Kratos. He tried not to mention their father too much for Calliope’s sake. All in all though, Calliope seemed to enjoy the story, especially the part where Jörmungandr came to help them against Baldur and Freya, and when he and Kratos finally scattered Laufey’s ashes.

“We bury our dead instead of scattering ashes,” Calliope mused. “Do you think Laufey was happy after you completed her wish?”

“I hope so. It was her request after all.” But now Atreus wondered: what happened to Calliope and Lysandra’s bodies after they were killed? Did Kratos bury them? Would Calliope’s body even remain now that she was alive again? He tried to imagine finding his own corpse in the dirt and felt slightly sick. Cremation sounded much better.

“Look!” Calliope said suddenly, pointing out at sea.

A thin strip of land appeared on the horizon. Despite how far it was, the sight made Atreus’ stomach flutter. “Is that Midgard?” his sister asked. “Are we getting close?”

“Very close,” Atreus said. “Once we’re there, we’ll stop by my friend’s city. His name is Skjöldr. We can rest there for a bit.”

“And – the Roman gods won’t find us?” Calliope asked, lowering her voice to a whisper.

Atreus shook his head. “We’ll be in Midgard soon. Once we leave Skjöldr’s city, we’ll just go deeper and deeper inland. And then we’ll go to Jötunheim. It’ll be fine.”

Just as he said it, he felt a change in the air, like passing through an invisible sheet of water, or crossing from a cold area to a chillier one. Only, the air now thrummed with the familiar signature of Midgard and its gods. Atreus’ power pulsed in time with it, strengthening, glad to be back home where the source of his magic lay.

Calliope shivered. “What was that?”

“That, little sis,” Atreus said, “is my homeland. Welcome to Midgard!”

Chapter Text

That night, after eating some dinner and settling in for sleep at the prow, Atreus decided to broach the question on his mind. “Hey, Calliope … If we happen to see Father again, is that alright with you?”

Calliope crossed her arms and stared out over the dark waters. “I don’t care,” she said bluntly, but he sensed she didn’t truly mean it. “He probably doesn’t care about me either, since it’s been so long.”

“Um, I don’t think that’s true,” Atreus began.

“He never told you about me and Mother,” Calliope insisted. “He wants to forget us!”

“Or – maybe he just wasn’t comfortable talking about it.”

“But you’re his son! Why wouldn’t he tell you about me?”

As much as Atreus felt the urge to defend Kratos’ intentions, even if he didn’t really know what they were, he did share Calliope’s indignation. Why didn’t his father talk about his first family? Did he not trust Atreus to handle it? Was it Kratos’ way of letting the past stay buried, bound to be forgotten? Who would remember Calliope and Lysandra if Kratos ever died? Atreus would’ve never known them if he hadn’t met Calliope.

Kratos didn’t even need to share the part where he killed them if he didn’t want to. Unless he felt it inextricably tied to everything else, good parts included, and that meant he couldn’t share any of it at all?

Atreus didn’t know. But he was definitely going to ask once they got home.

“Maybe he’ll be angry if he sees me,” Calliope murmured to herself. “Because he wants to forget me, and he’s already moved on.”

“I don’t think –” Atreus tried.

Calliope shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Atreus sighed quietly. “Alright. But if we ever do see him, I’ll be with you, okay? You won’t have to face him alone.”

“But what if you aren’t there? What if he surprises me when I’m on my own?”

She tried to say it casually, as though it didn’t worry her at all, but everything else about her whispered fea r in Atreus’ mind. It was a thought Atreus had had long before, and he’d never found a good answer for it.

He straightened up and reached around his neck for the mistletoe necklace. “You’re right. I may not always be there. But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving you. Here –” He held out the necklace to her. “Remember what I told you about this?”

Calliope nodded, her eyes wide.

“I’m gonna give it to you. So it’ll be like I’m right there with you, even when I’m not.”

He slipped the cord over her head. The arrowhead settled against her chest, gleaming greenish-blue in the moonlight. Calliope silently reached up to touch it, then leaned over to rest her head against his shoulder.

Atreus hoped they’d reach Midgard’s shore sometime in the night, but they didn’t actually get there until early the next morning. Atreus and Calliope shuffled the ship, thanked the captain, and set off into the port town. From what Atreus remembered, Skjöldr’s city was further inland, so there was still a bunch of travelling to do. A day or two on horseback, give or take. Nor were there any Mystic Gateways here; the majority of them were concentrated in the lands further north where Atreus grew up.

But first things first. There were a few trade shops in the town, so he bought a bearskin cloak for Calliope and padded shoes to keep her feet extra warm. It was early spring, with the winter’s chill and frost still clinging to the trees and rooftops. Hopefully it’d get warmer as they moved away from the coast.

They shared a simple breakfast in a tavern, consisting of rabbit stew, hardy bread, and cooked root vegetables. Calliope timidly tasted everything, as though the food itself may explode if she ate it too fast, but she eventually finished everything.

And then it was time to get going. They walked out of the town, taking the north road; once they were out of sight and alone, Atreus shifted into a horse and galloped onward with Calliope on his back. Gods, he’d missed the freedom of running in this form!

Speaking of the gods, they must’ve been on his side (joke somewhat intended) because they met no troubles along the road. The only people they saw were merchants and farmers taking various trade routes, and the occasional hamlets scattered about. That night, Atreus shifted into a bear after dinner so that Calliope could snuggle against his warm fur. He gently puffed hot air over her face, then settled his head between his paws, ready for a good night’s sleep.

The following day brought more hamlets, villages, and forests. Throughout the afternoon, it was just one settlement after another, gradually moving into bigger towns. They were getting close, Atreus was certain of it.

Sure enough, Danmǫrk appeared before them in the early evening as a mix of towns, both of wooden and stone houses, with a series of large lodges in its centre. If Atreus had to compare it to anything, it’d be Asgard before the realm was destroyed. Sunlit, with the smell of wood, hay, baking foods, and fresh air, and – hey, this place was definitely bigger than the last time Atreus visited! He spotted a couple new watchtowers on the city’s eastern side; the market had also expanded to make more space for merchants and travellers.

“The houses look small,” Calliope commented.

“It’s pretty different after seeing so much of Rome, huh?” Atreus said. “We don’t use marble or granite here.”

“It’s not as … busy, I think.”

“Overwhelming?”

“Yes, that’s it! It feels more simple here.” Calliope watched as a few children ran past, laughing at each other. 

As they entered the inner circle of lodges, guardsmen came over to halt them. “Hail! State your business, traveller.”

“I’m Loki, a friend of Skjöldr,” Atreus said. “I’d like to see him if he’s available.”

Apparently, all it took was the mention of Loki. The guards quickly led him and Calliope over to the main lodge, then bid them wait as one of the guards went inside. A few moments later, Atreus and Calliope were ushered inside.

Sunlight usually streamed through the high windows during the day, but with evening upon them, torches lining the walls filled the hall with light. The air was warm here, smelling pleasantly of wood and sweet hay, and other soothing herbs. The layout itself was very similar to the Great Lodge in Asgard, with two long tables in the main hall for people to gather, eat, and talk. Outside of mealtimes, the tables were usually pushed to the side so Skjöldr could listen to petitions, but if nothing had changed with him since Atreus last came here, his friend preferred to go out and talk with his people directly.

Currently, the tables were still in place as it was nearing dinnertime. Atreus spotted Skjöldr at the far end of the hall, speaking with his steward. He was somewhat taller than before. His flaxen hair was longer and pulled back into a tail. A dark cloak hung from his shoulders, partly concealing the deep blue tunic he wore.

Skjöldr soon spotted them, bid a quick farewell to the steward, and strode down the aisle between tables with a wide smile across his face. “Loki! Man, it’s been so long!”

They clasped hands and shared a one-armed hug. “I’m so happy to see you,” Skjöldr said, his eyes roving over Atreus’ face. “Hey, you got more freckles!”

Atreus laughed. “I’m happy to see you too, Skjöldr. This place looks bigger and better every time I visit!”

“No shit,” Skjöldr grinned. “We keep getting more people who want to settle down, so I gotta keep expanding. But hey, we can talk about that later, if you want! Dinner’s almost ready, and you look pretty beat. And – oh, who’s this?”

“Oh, uh …” Atreus turned, but Calliope shuffled around so that she stayed half-hidden behind him. “This is my sister, Calliope.”

“Wait – no shit? You have a sister?” Skjöldr smiled at Calliope in that unassuming, puppy-dog way of his, and held out a hand. “Hey there! Pleasure to meet you.”

Did Calliope know enough Midgardian to understand him? Well, time to find out. “Calliope, this is Skjöldr. He runs this city. Surprisingly.”

“Hey! I’m not too bad as a leader, y’know,” Skjöldr mock-complained.

Calliope hesitated before reading out and timidly taking his hand. “Hello,” she said softly in accented Midgardian. “I am Calliope of Sparta.”

Skjöldr raised both eyebrows. “Sparta, you say?”

“Long story,” Atreus said. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Um, I was wondering if we could stay here for a bit? We’ve been on a long journey, and I need to re-supply before we leave.”

“Yeah, no problem! Stay as long as you want! I have more rooms than I need, honestly.”

“I’ll pay you back –”

Skjöldr shook his head. “Nah, don’t worry about it. You want the same room as last time? Calliope, do you want your own room?”

“I want to stay with Atreus,” Calliope said quietly.

Skjöldr didn’t bat an eye at the mention of Atreus’ birth name. He already knew about it. “Sure thing! I’ll get you guys a bigger room, then.”

“Thanks, man,” Atreus said gratefully. “I owe you one.”

“You can pay me in stories,” Skjöldr grinned, beckoning for them to follow him down the hall. “Sounds like you’ve had quite a long journey!”

“You have no idea,” Atreus sighed.

After washing up and changing into some relatively clean clothes, Atreus sat on the bed with the sense that a weight had lifted from his shoulders. Danmǫrk wasn’t home, but it was damn sure close to it. And Skjöldr was one of his best friends.

“Well?” he said as Calliope glanced about their guest room. “What do you think?”

Calliope simply shrugged. She tip-toed around the lamplit room, tested the fur rugs with bare feet, looked inside the wooden closet, then finally sat on the bed.

“It’s nice,” she said eventually. “It smells like trees. And hay.”

“You’ll get used to it after a while.”

“It’s not too bad. Um … is Skjöldr a god?

“Nope, he’s a regular mortal.”

“A prince, then?”

“No, but last time I was here, I heard that some people were mixing him up for one. I wouldn’t be surprised if they eventually make him a king.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but part of him felt that there was more truth to it than he first thought. He once dreamt of a flower crown on Skjöldr’s head; was that a vision or a result of Atreus partying too much during his last visit?

“He looks like a prince,” Calliope mused. “His hair is very bright.”

“It sure is. He could give the sun a run for its money!”

Calliope smiled shyly. “I like him.”

“Yeah? He’s a pretty chill guy.”

“Yes. And … I like this house. It’s cozy.”

Atreus ruffled her hair and kissed her head. “That’s good to hear. Also, how’d you feel using Midgardian?”

“It was okay, I think. I haven’t practiced for a while.”

Right, the last time they’d used it was during their boat trip in Greece. “We can work on that while we’re here,” he promised. “You’ll get lots of practice. Oh, and Skjöldr invited us to dinner tonight! Any idea what you want to wear?”

Calliope ended up choosing her old blue peplos with Vesta’s cloak. Despite the sun’s warmth from that morning, the nights could get pretty cold, especially at this time of the year. Atreus put on his old yellow tunic and trousers and packed away the chiton. It really felt like ages ago that he received the chiton from Portunus. Atreus hoped the harbour god was doing well.

Back in the main hall, they found Skjöldr waiting at the far end of one of the tables. He appeared to have saved them some seats; the rest of the benches were all full of folks. Skjöldr enthusiastically waved them over.

“You two must be starving,” he said as they sat down across from him. “I’ll fill you in on my end while you eat.”

“Aren’t you gonna eat too?” Atreus asked, reaching for the nearest dish.

“Nah, I’m not that hungry. I’m just glad to see people having a good time.” He smiled at Calliope, then furrowed his brow. “Is that all she’s wearing? Hey – are you cold?”

“I am well,” Calliope mumbled, her cheeks reddening.

“I haven’t gotten around to getting new clothes yet,” Atreus admitted.

“I have some seamstresses here, y’know. They can take your measurements tomorrow and set you up with something in a week! What d’you say?”

Atreus huffed in resignation. There was no stopping Skjöldr once he found a way to help. He rarely asked for anything in return – except when it was business-related and his city could really use something, of course. And besides, his offer was pretty tempting. Atreus didn’t trust his own patchwork skills to make something good enough for Calliope.

“Alright,” he said, “we’ll take it. Thanks, Skjöldr.”

He shrugged, smiling. “Don’t mention it. It’s my treat!”

“You will make us new clothes?” Calliope asked carefully.

“Oh! No, no, not me,” Skjöldr laughed. Calliope bit her lip, embarrassed. “I suck at making clothes. But hey, don’t let me keep you from your dinner! I still got stuff to tell you, Loki.”

Atreus and Calliope dove into the dishes before them while Skjöldr talked. Beef and vegetable stew; buttered bread hot off the plate; goat and sheep’s cheeses; damn, it really was a feast for the gods! No pun intended.

“I already mentioned our expansion,” Skjöldr went on. “You saw those villages as you came in? They’re all under my protection. And we’ve set up more trade routes, too! Got people coming in from beyond Midgard. It’s a wide world out there … But you already knew that,” he chuckled.

“Oh, and Thrúd visits from time to time!” Atreus didn’t miss how his friend’s eyes lit up at the mention of the thunder goddess. “She’s almost done with her Valkyrie training. Or is it Shield Maiden training …? Ah well, whichever one it is. She even has her wings now! They’re so cool man, I can’t even describe ‘em. She wasn’t going to take them at first, since she can fly around with Mjölnir, but Sigrún insisted. I figure it’s a good backup in case she loses Mjölnir in a fight – which would never happen, of course, I’m just speaking hypothetically!

“What else … Oh yeah, Thrúd told me about the Aesir-Vanir trouble. I’m not surprised there are still some people tryna get used to everything, but, well, I’ll just keep my fingers crossed.”

Atreus wiped his mouth. “Have you heard anything about my dad?”

“Definitely! It’s hard not to, y’know. I last heard that he’s been protecting villages and towns up there from berserker raids. There’s been a resurgence of them in the past several months.”

“I see.” Atreus ought to be careful going inland, then. “What about the Roman Empire? Heard anything from them?”

Skjöldr shook his head. “They haven’t sent any armies here, yet. Thrúd told me she’d send them all packing if they tried it.”

“It’s a good thing she’s on our side,” Atreus said, relieved.

“Yeah, no shit,” Skjöldr laughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I still have trouble believing it, sometimes.”

“Who is Thrrrood?” Calliope asked, rolling the R a little too much.

“She’s another friend of ours. An Aesir goddess of thunder and lightning, like her father,” Atreus explained. Seeing the look on Calliope’s face, he hastily added, “She’s very friendly, like Skjöldr. And she’s a warrior who protects people. You don’t have to worry.”

Calliope looked a little more at ease. “Okay.”

“Yeah, Thrúd’s awesome,” Skjöldr put in. “Seriously. She only hurts bad guys. You haven’t heard of her before?”

Calliope shook her head. “The god of thunder in my homeland is – was a cruel one.”

“Ah, I see. You mentioned Sparta, right?” Skjöldr’s brow furrowed as he thought. “Um, where is that, again?”

“Greece,” Atreus supplied. “I took a bit of a detour in my travels and ended up there.”

“Really? Wow! I’ve barely heard about Greece; it’s by the sea, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, pretty far south. It’s part of the empire now.”

“And that’s where you found Calliope? Uh, if it’s alright to ask, what was your sister doing there?”

Atreus glanced at Calliope. In Greek, he asked, “Would you mind if I told him?”

“Will he hate me if he learns I am from the Underworld?” she asked immediately.

“Of course not! He’s seen his fair share of odd things. But I think it’d be better if we left that part out for now.” Atreus turned back to Skjöldr and switched to Midgardian. “I was just telling her that you’ve seen some shit in your life.”

Skjöldr burst out laughing. “Hah! If you wanna call Ragnarök ‘some shit,’ be my guest! You’re right, hardly anything fazes me anymore. Or, that’s what I’d like to say, but Thrúd keeps finding ways to prove me wrong.”

“Well, at least she’s keeping you busy in her free time.” Atreus cleared his throat. “Anyways, about Calliope … She was, um, taken by some gods a long time ago, and kept in their domain. That’s how she hasn’t aged. I got her out of there, and then we were on the run from those gods. And now we’re here.” Not the full truth, but not really a lie, either. It would have to do for now.

Skjöldr stared at him. His smile froze on his face. “No shit?”

“No shit,” Atreus said, as serious as he could be while saying those two words. “Try not to spread it around, okay? We’re still kinda figuring things out.”

“Oh – yeah, no worries! My lips are sealed.” Skjöldr glanced at Calliope with more softness in his face than before. “So … she’s doing okay? You both are?”

“Yeah, so far,” Atreus said. “We stayed in Athens for a bit, then went to Rome. Met some friendly gods and some nasty ones. But now that we’re in Midgard, they shouldn’t bother us anymore.”

“Good,” Skjöldr said. “Though, I’m not surprised, really. Leave it to Loki to make a commotion.”

“Hey!” Atreus complained, but Skjöldr simply laughed good-naturedly.

When the dessert dishes came out, Skjöldr gave Calliope an extra portion of the pudding. She mumbled her thanks so quietly that Atreus had to prompt her to speak louder.

“The food is delicious,” she said, her words stilted but steady. “Your house is very comfortable and grand.”

Skjöldr’s eyes crinkled at the edges. “Aww, thanks. If a house isn’t comfy, what’s the point of having it? That’s my saying, by the way. You can use it if you want.”

After dinner, Skjöldr walked with them to their room and bid them goodnight. Calliope watched him go; once he was out of sight, she scampered into the room and flopped onto the bed, hiding under the blankets. Atreus arched a brow, intrigued. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing!” she piped.

Atreus sat down beside her. “You really like Skjöldr, huh?”

Her head appeared from under the blankets. “No! I mean … Maybe?”

Atreus chuckled. “Now you know how I felt when you brought up Angrboda.”

She smiled, embarrassed, and sat up with the blankets around her shoulders. “He’s very nice,” she said. “And pretty, too.”

“You think so?”

Calliope nodded. “I shouldn’t bother him though,” she said, her smile fading. “He must be a busy leader. And he probably likes somebody else.”

“Well … that’s true, he does,” Atreus admitted.

“Who?”

“Can you guess?”

Calliope paused. “The thunder goddess? He talked about her a lot.”

“Yep. But Thrúd doesn’t like him the same way. They’re just friends, and he’s fine with that.”

There was a time when he thought Angrboda just wanted to be friends. Boy oh boy had he been wrong. It ended up taking some open conversation and learning as much as he could about the Giants’ courting customs to realize what was going on.

“You’ll likely meet Thrúd someday,” Atreus said as he lay down on the bed. “She lives in Vanaheim with the other Aesir. But she moves around a lot. Exploring, and all that.”

Calliope lay down next to him. “Skjöldr says she has wings. Why?”

“She wanted to be a Valkyrie when she was young. Valkyries are winged women who lead the souls of fallen warriors to Valhalla, a sort of paradise. I suppose it’s kinda like Elysium.”

“Are they like harpies? Taking the souls of the dead?”

“No,” Atreus assured her. “These ones are warriors. Father and I fought them when I was younger, back when they were corrupted by evil. We freed them, and they were reborn as Shield Maidens, guardians of Midgard. Thrúd admires them.”

Calliope was silent for a moment. “I wonder what it would be like to have wings,” she said to herself, and that was all for the night.

Chapter Text

Atreus dreamed of Angrboda that night. Literally, in the Utangard. He didn’t see her amidst the golden sands at first and was about to search around, just in case she was hiding, when he felt two arms wrap around his waist, followed by a kiss on the edge of his jaw. Tingles erupted around his waist and up his spine.

“Lokiiiii,” Angrboda whispered ominously, then broke into a fit of giggles.

“You!” he mock-accused, twisting around in her arms.

Her face was closer than he expected, and when he tried to get her back, she ducked her head to the side, laughing. “Better luck next time, Loki. So! You’re back in Midgard now? I knew you’d get back safely.”

“Oh? You mean you weren’t worried about me?” Atreus teased.

“Well … maybe I was.” She offered a small, mischievous smile. “Was the journey alright, at least? Or did you get in a lot of trouble?”

Atreus shrugged. “Eh, not too much, really. I was super careful.”

“There, see? I knew I didn’t need to worry!” Yet he could see the relief on her face that he was back in one piece. She still hadn’t released his waist; with her being taller, she could lean over him, and he always felt oddly small under her gaze. Not in a bad way, of course. More like … His heart beat super fast, and his gut got all tingly, but at the same time, he felt relaxed in her presence.

“What about your sister? Is she alright?” Angrboda asked.

“Yeah, Calliope’s doing fine. We’re at Skjöldr’s place right now, but I’m hoping we can stop at Father’s house, next.”

“Is Calliope ready to see him?”

Atreus hesitated. “I’m not sure. I don’t know what’s going to happen. But trying is better than nothing, right?”

Angrboda nodded. She slipped her arms from his waist and took his hands. “Good or bad, at least it’s a start. And, speaking of good, I’ve got her bed all set! I was just wondering though, what’s her favourite colour?”

“Oh – it’s blue. Like what you wear.”

“Is there anything else I should know about her? Likes, dislikes?”

“Um. She likes playing the flute. And singing. I’ve been teaching her some Midgardian songs.”

“I don’t have any instruments,” Angrboda mused. “But I think she’ll fit in nicely with some of the others. Eggdér knows how to play the flute too, not just the harp.”

“Er, yeah.” The mention of Angrboda’s old friend pushed Atreus to change the subject. “Hey, where did you set up her bed?”

“It’s right above mine.” At Atreus’ surprised look, Angrboda added, “I can move it if that doesn’t work out …”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Atreus assured her. “I just – you’re really alright with this? It’s your house, and I wouldn’t want to intrude or anything.”

“It’s okay, Loki,” she said gently. “I know how much this means to you. Besides, you’re not going to be at her side all the time, are you? It’ll be better for her to be with someone if you ever leave again. I’ve been alone before, you know. It’s not something I would wish for a child.”

“Right. You’re right,” Atreus murmured sheepishly. “I understand. Just as long as you’re alright with Calliope staying, that’s – that’s good.”

“Great! Besides, she can help me forage with Jalla, if she wants. I think it’ll do her some good to meet the others and make some new friends. By the way, everybody knows you’re on your way back.”

Atreus chuckled nervously. “Uh, everyone?”

“Just those in Jötunheim, silly. I also told them that you’re bringing someone to stay. I hope you don’t mind?” she said uncertainly. “I just wanted to give them a heads-up. You know how some of them get about letting strangers into Jötunheim. I told them it’s your sister, and that seemed to satisfy them, but they’ll want to hear it from you.”

“I’ll handle that, don’t worry.” The last thing he needed was for Calliope to be unwelcome. He wasn’t so naive that he’d expect all the Giants to be happy about this. But Calliope was only a child. Surely they’d at least understand and treat her well.

“They’re also excited to see you and hear about your adventures,” Angrboda added. “You have quite a bit of catching up to do!”

“Oh, I – I didn’t find any new marbles, though –”

“That’s alright, Loki, there’s no rush. They know how much work and travel it’s taking you.”

Well, most of them did. Others were more anxious about recovering everybody. “Both of us,” Atreus corrected her. “You’re working pretty hard, too.”

Angrboda shrugged with a little smile. “I’m not as good a traveller as you are.”

“I did say I’d take you to Greece one day, didn’t I? You’ll become an expert then.”

Her smile widened. “I look forward to it.”

Atreus grinned. Then he took the chance to kiss the corner of her mouth. She didn’t duck this time; her cheeks darkened, and her lashes fluttered as she looked down bashfully.

“I’ll get you next time,” he promised as the sands began to swirl around their ankles.

Angrboda grinned playfully at him. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

After breakfast the next morning, Atreus and Calliope found themselves in the seamstresses’ room. Atreus had to stand on a stool while two women took his measurements. A third meanwhile held up small, square samples of dyed cloth. There were more than Atreus expected to see, colours that could only be found in Vanaheim or Angrboda’s paints. The seamstresses soon settled on ivory and pale yellow colours for Atreus, and shooed him off the stool.

Calliope was all too eager to get her measurements done, though she was more reserved when telling them that she liked blue.

After that, the next few days were pretty relaxing. Atreus wasn’t in much hurry to continue travelling right away; the two of them deserved a break, didn’t they? Plus they had to wait for their new clothes. Skjöldr was also eager to show them the new parts of the city, what had changed and what hadn’t. “You can head out too, if you want,” he said. “The forest outside is where we usually hunt. There’s some pretty good spots for sightseeing, so I highly recommend it!”

“We’ll definitely take a look before heading off,” Atreus promised.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to ask when you’re leaving!”

“Probably in a week,” Atreus shrugged. “We’ve still got some ground to cover before we reach a Mystic Gateway, so –”

“A gateway? I have one just outside the city!”

“You got one?” Atreus sputtered. “I didn’t think there were any this far from the Lake of Nine!”

“The dwarves set it up,” Skjöldr explained. “Your dad wanted to check up on me, but Lady Freya thought the distance was too far for cross-country. So the dwarves built a gateway! It’s near the forest, actually, so you’ll see it if you take the east road.”

A gateway so close to the city! There wasn’t any need to rush, then – and home was so close by, too! Unable to wipe the grin from his face, Atreus turned to Calliope and ruffled her hair.

“What is it?” she asked. “What is a Mystic Gateway?”

“It’s a door to reach the other nine realms,” Atreus explained. “And it means we can reach other doors in Midgard. Some are pretty close to my home.”

Calliope hesitated. “Does that mean we’ll be seeing Father?”

“Oh – no, not yet. We don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

“I’m not ready,” she said promptly. “I don’t want to see him.”

Atreus’ heart sank, but he didn’t push her. “Alright. Anyway, this means that we can stay here longer, if you want. There’s no need to rush.”

Calliope’s face brightened at that. “Yes! I want to stay longer.”

Skjöldr laughed lightly and ruffled her curls. “You like Danmǫrk that much, huh?”

Calliope blushed, but smiled and nodded. “It is a lovely city!”

Atreus was glad to see her so cheerful. She’d found some children playing near one of the lodges; despite her shyness, they let her join their games, though Atreus noticed they were pretty curious about her Greek clothing and accent. Nevertheless, it was good to see her hanging out with kids her age.

On the third day, he learned that a hunting party was going out to catch some deer, and volunteered to join. “You can stay here with Skjöldr and your new friends,” he told Calliope. “I’ll be back in the afternoon.”

“I can’t come with you?” Calliope asked, startling him. 

“Um. You could, but I don’t think you have the right clothes for going through a forest. We’ll just be setting traps and hunting for deer; I’ll probably go off the path, and it won’t be easy for you in that dress.”

“I have new trousers though, look!” She held up a pair of said trousers, dyed a light, greyish-blue. “The seamstresses brought it to me this morning. Yours are on the bed. So can I come?”

“You don’t want to stay with your friends?”

Calliope shifted on her feet. “Well … I do, but I want to go with you more. There could be bad things in the forest.”

“I’m sure there aren’t any. Other than hostile animals.”

“What if bandits are hiding there? What if you get hurt and there’s no one to help you?”

Oh. So that’s what this was about. Well, it wasn’t too bad of an idea. Faye taught him how to hunt when he was far younger than Calliope. “I’ll be fine,” Atreus assured her. “But, look, if you really want to come, you have to follow what I say, alright? Stay where I can see you. And if I tell you to run, then you run. Alright?”

Calliope nodded eagerly. “I’ll bring my flute too! Just in case.”

“And dress warmly,” Atreus added as she scampered off. “Bring your bear cloak!”

With that all done, they joined the hunting party after a quick breakfast and set out for the eastern forest. It wasn’t too far from the city, and, sure enough, as the path reached the forest line, Atreus spotted the telltale boulders just off the path, leaning against a thick trunk. Skjöldr’s Mystic Gateway.

Within the forest, everything was … peaceful. Gods, Atreus missed this. The gentle rustle of branches in the wind, sunlight streaming through the emerald green canopy overhead, the distant birdsong and flapping of wings … It was all music to his ears, like a lullaby he’d heard in his youth while following his mother through the Wildwoods. The earthy smell of beech trees filled his nostrils. He drew in a deep breath, content.

Calliope trotted along at his side, saying nothing. “You alright so far?” he asked quietly.

“Yes. This forest is nicer than the one in Italia,” she whispered, and he had to agree.

As the others set traps along the way, Atreus showed Calliope how it was done. He even got the chance to let her help him put a trap together, carefully guiding her hands on where to go and what to hold.

The main group split up after a bit to cover more ground, so Atreus led Calliope away into the trees.

“What are you looking for?” Calliope asked once they were alone.

“Deer tracks. See, there’s some!”

Atreus crouched down to show her the hoof prints in the soil. It was easier to trace animals in the snow, but he’d gotten plenty of time reaccustoming himself to hunting in other seasons. He stood and continued onward.

After some time longer of following tracks, Calliope said, “Does it always take this long to hunt?”

“Sometimes. Other times I find the animal faster.”

“What’s the longest hunt you’ve been on?”

“Probably a whole day. That was during a big winter, though, when we really had to store up on food.”

“Oh.” A pause. “Have you found the deer yet?”

“No. You can help me keep an eye out for other tracks, if you want.”

Calliope searched inside the small pack she’d brought. “I can use my flute to look for it! Then we’ll find it faster.”

“I think it’s better if we don’t,” Atreus said. “If you don’t have your flute, how will you find the deer? Best to learn the practical way.”

“Aren’t you listening for the deer’s thoughts?” Calliope asked shrewdly.

“Nope. I can’t rely on my magic all the time. If I did, I’d get rusty with my hunting skills. Now, c’mon. I think we’re getting close.”

The tracks led them to a small stream. As they followed it, Atreus heard rushing water up ahead and ducked behind some brambly bushes. “See there?” he whispered.

Calliope crouched beside him and peered over the vegetation at the scene beyond. A small waterfall splashed into a sparkling, sunlit pool. On the bank stood the deer, drinking contentedly.

“There it is!” Calliope whispered delightedly.

“What’d I tell you?” Atreus grinned. Then he unslung his bow and pulled out an arrow.

“Wait! What are you doing?” Calliope said suddenly.

“I’m gonna shoot it. That’s what this hunting trip is about.”

“But –” Calliope bit her bottom lip as she gazed at the deer. “It looks happy there. I don’t want to hurt it.”

A distant memory of his father’s hands around his, gently pushing the knife deeper through fur and flesh. Atreus sighed quietly and turned to her. “Look, I know it sucks, but … Here’s the thing. We’re hunting for food, not for sport. This isn’t like those games in Rome.”

“It’s … more like Sparta,” Calliope said slowly. “Right? The men sacrificed goats and cows for the gods, and we ate everything so it wouldn’t go to waste.”

“Exactly. Skjöldr’s city is a big one. We need lots of food to feed all those people.”

Calliope gazed at the deer sadly. Then she nodded. “I understand.”

Atreus raised his bow and aimed at the deer. “You don’t have to look.”

“Will it be quick?”

“As quick as I can make it.”

She didn’t look away when he fired. His arrow struck true. As the deer collapsed, the faint echo of its thoughts faded into nothing.

“Okay, let’s go,” Atreus said. Calliope gripped his hand as they stepped into the sunlight and hurried around the pool to where the deer lay. Atreus held his hand to its nose. No puff of hot breath. “It’s dead.”

Calliope gazed at Atreus with an odd, contemplative expression. “When did you start hunting?”

“When I was very young. Younger than you, actually. My mother taught me.”

Atreus put his weapons away and lifted the deer over his shoulders. “Careful!” Calliope said as he stood.

“Don’t worry. I’m strong enough to carry it. Let’s head back and drop this off with the others.”

“Can I say a prayer first?”

“How about you do it once we meet up with everyone? We’ll probably have more animals then, so you can pray for them all.”

Calliope seemed to like that idea. She trotted a little ways ahead as they went back, but kept looking back at Atreus to make sure she was on the right path.

“Was it hard when you were younger?” she asked after some time of quiet.

“Yeah, at first,” Atreus replied. “I didn’t like hurting animals. But I felt a little better knowing it was necessary.”

“You’re a very good shot. The deer dropped so fast. Um, do you think it hurt?”

Atreus wasn’t as sure as he would’ve liked. Nevertheless, he said, “I try to make it as painless as I can.”

Calliope nodded, satisfied.

In the end, the hunting trip yielded their deer, a rather large buck, and four rabbits. Calliope whispered her prayer while everyone prepped the animals for the walk back. Once that was done, she was visibly more at ease.

Atreus was busy enjoying his jam-smeared bread the following morning when a crack of thunder sounded just outside. Hardly anyone jumped out of shock, which stung, because Atreus certainly did.

“Loki!” a voice boomed from the open doorway. Atreus almost choked on his bite of bread. There, silhouetted against the bright morning sun, was a tall and burly young woman with a mane of fiery hair. A gleaming hammer hung at her hip along with dual swords. After fending off the warm welcomes from those nearest to her – and accepting a proffered cup of mulled wine – she strode down the hall to where Atreus sat.

Skjöldr half-stumbled out of his seat. “Thrúd! You didn’t tell me you were coming! Though, you hardly do, of course, heh. Not that it’s a problem –”

Thrúd clapped her hands down on Atreus’ shoulders so hard that it felt like a sack of bricks landing on his back. “I just got back and heard you were here!” she exclaimed, releasing him with a grin. “How long have you been hanging out with Skjöldr?”

“Since last night,” Atreus said. “I didn’t know you were coming today!”

“You and me both,” Skjöldr muttered, his cheeks tinged pink.

Thrúd playfully punched Skjöldr’s arm. He only stumbled back a couple feet this time. The guy was definitely building up a tolerance.

“I wasn’t expecting to come either, honestly,” Thrúd said, setting her cup on the table. “But I’m here on important business. Came here straight from the Lake of Nine. Where’d you come from, Loki?”

“Greece,” Atreus said. “And I brought someone with me! Calliope?”

Calliope stared at Thrúd as though she’d never seen someone like her before, which was likely the case. Her gaze flicked from Thrúd’s hair to her breastplate, to the fur skirts, to Mjölnir hanging from her belt.

“Calliope,” Atreus said with a grin, “this is Thrúd!”

“Oh – hi there!” Thrúd peered at Calliope, surprised. “You brought a friend from your travels, Loki?”

“She’s my sister from Greece,” Atreus said. “It’s a long story, but we’re on our way to Jötunheim. Calliope? Want to say hi?”

Calliope gave a start. “H-hello,” she mumbled. “I am C-Calliope of Sparta.”

“You can speak up, it’s okay!” Thrúd said encouragingly. “I promise I don't bite. Right, boys?”

She clapped Skjöldr and Atreus on the shoulders. Atreus was fairly certain a few of his ribs dislodged from his spine.

Calliope giggled. Thrúd moved over to stand by Calliope’s side, and Atreus noted how his sister stared openly at the goddess. “Loki’s sister, huh?” Thrúd mused. “Wow, you two look nothing alike!”

Calliope smiled bashfully. “Skjöldr said that, too,” she said quietly. 

“He did? Did he also tell you that you’re very pretty?”

Calliope’s face turned red. Thrúd grinned and straightened up. “Well, Loki, you’ll have to tell me all about it. But since you mentioned Jötunheim, I gotta tell you something first: realm travel isn’t working.”

“What? Why? What happened?” Atreus demanded.

“Happened last night. A dragon got through one of the gateways and did something from Yggdrasil to prevent travel. I saw it happen myself. Managed to injure it before it went in, but I doubt it’s gonna die anytime soon.”

“Damn it,” Atreus muttered. “How do we get to Yggdrasil, then? And – hang on, where’s Father? And Mimir, and the others?”

“They were all in Vanaheim a few days ago,” Thrúd said. “I don’t know if realm travel still works for them, but I’d doubt it.”

“Is there any way to contact them? Or the dwarves?”

“I tried. Didn’t work. I came here to let Skjöldr know, but since you’re here, Loki, maybe you can help me out. I’m kinda out of ideas.”

“Count me in,” Atreus said immediately. “When should we –”

Calliope’s hand on his arm made him pause. Thrúd followed his gaze and half-smiled. “Let’s meet up in an hour to plan. Skjöldr, you might as well join.”

“Can I come too?” Calliope asked in a small voice.

“If you want,” Thrúd said. “I’m gonna grab some food and sharpen my blades. See you soon!”

She nodded to them, grabbed an apple from the nearby bowl of fruit, and strode from the hall. Skjöldr slumped back onto the bench with a heavy sigh. Atreus flexed his shoulders, thinking. No realm travel. Locked from Yggdrasil, apparently. How the Hel would they stop the problem when they couldn’t even reach it?

“Atreus?” Calliope whispered. “What’s happening?”

“Remember those Mystic Gateways I was telling you about?”

“Yes. Thrúd said they’re not working?”

“Yeah, and we’re gonna have to fix them.”

“Will it be dangerous?”

“I don’t know. Hopefully not.” Until they reached the dragon.

An hour later, Atreus, Calliope, Skjöldr, and Thrúd met in Skjöldr’s private quarters. Atreus sat on the edge of the bed with Calliope on his lap while Thrúd debriefed them.

“I was just doing my rounds in Midgard, making sure there’s no trouble, and the dragon just attacked. I thought I got it, but when I opened the gateway to get back home, the bastard jumped me, knocked me aside, and somehow got through. Yeah, it’s my fault, I get it. I should’ve been more careful.”

“C’mon, Thrúd, who’s to say I would’ve handled it any better?” Atreus said. “I’m sure you did what you could to stop it.”

Thrúd shrugged half-heartedly. “Well, I’m not sure what you’ll do, Loki, but starting at the Lake of Nine could be our best bet.”

“Sure thing. When do you want to leave?” Atreus asked.

“Soon. Whenever you’re ready. We’ll be flying, so –”

“Take only what’s needed. I gotcha.” He turned to Calliope. Her hand gripped his wrist. “You stay here with Skjöldr, alright? You’ll be fine.”

“H-how long will you be gone?” Calliope asked, eyes wide with worry.

“I don’t know. Not for too long, hopefully. But if I am gone for a while, try not to worry, alright?”

“But what if you get in trouble? What if you’re hurt?”

“Thrúd will be with me. I’ll be fine, Calliope.”

“That’s right,” Thrúd agreed. “I’ll protect your brother from tripping over his feet.”

Calliope still wasn’t convinced, evidently. She held tight to his arm, so he set her on the ground and stood. “Thrúd, I’ll meet with you in a half-hour, alright? I need some time to prepare my stuff.”

“No problem,” Thrúd said.

Outside in the corridor, Atreus drew Calliope into a corner and knelt so that they were at eye level. Calliope held his hands tightly; he could feel them trembling in his own.

“I know you’re worried,” he said gently. “I promise you I’ll be fine. I’ve faced worse things than dragons.”

Calliope narrowed her eyes at him. “Was Father with you then?”

“Well, yeah, but –”

“Then he was there to protect you,” Calliope pushed on. “But now you’ll be on your own!”

“Don’t forget about Thrúd. She’s pretty strong. Stronger than me, actually.” He still had a tough time trying to lift Thrúd’s dual blades, much less use them.

“That’s not the same,” Calliope protested. Her dark eyes glistened. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know. But I have to. If we don’t have realm travel, we can’t reach Jötunheim. And it may not be just us, either. Everyone in the Nine Realms are probably stuck where they are.”

For a moment, he thought Calliope would say to let them stay stuck. Then the fire left her gaze, and she simply hung her head. “Will you be careful?”

“Very,” Atreus promised. “And you’ll be good while you stay with Skjöldr, okay? Play with your friends, do some exploring, and tell me all about it when I get back. Alright?”

“Alright. I will.”

Atreus smiled. “C’mere.”

She hugged him tightly. He gave her a strong squeeze, lifting her off her feet, then set her back down. “Remember, if you need anything, you can talk to Skjöldr, okay?”

She sniffled and nodded. “Okay.”

An hour later, Atreus departed Danmǫrk with Thrúd. In eagle-form, he soared high into the air, watching as Calliope and Skjöldr got smaller and smaller below. Calliope kept waving farewell at him.

It had been easy to say out loud that he’d be leaving. But now that he was actually doing it, something just felt … off. He’d gotten so used to having Calliope nearby that it felt natural. Now that they were separated, uneasiness twisted in his gut. What if something happened to her while he was gone? He didn’t want anything to happen to her. But more than that, he didn’t want her to feel alone.

I’ll be back, Atreus thought. I swear it.

Beside him, Thrúd flew with Mjölnir in hand. Lightning crackled all over her body and within her hair. Atreus couldn’t help but think of Thor, her father, a great, hulking man with more inside him than was visible at first glance.

He pushed those memories aside. He had a job to do. Get to the Lake of Nine and figure out how to get realm travel back.

And return to Calliope in one piece.

Chapter Text

“Here you go, dear,” Seamstress Brynja said as she handed Calliope a small pile of new clothes. “Your dress, and your brother’s tunic and coat. Would you like to try yours on now? Then we can see if any adjustments need to be made.”

Calliope had half a mind to tell the seamstress to go away. She just wanted to be left alone. But that wasn’t a polite thing to say after Brynja helped make the new clothes. And Atreus told her to be good while he was away.

So Calliope nodded and let Brynja help her put on the dress. It was a very nice dress, honestly, dyed sky-blue and embroidered with white flowers along the hem. The sleeves went all the way to her wrists. The cloth itself was thick and warm, and quite comfortable.

“There you are. A perfect fit!” Brynja smiled, and Calliope managed to smile back, though it took much effort. Atreus was gone on a mission. After being with him for so long, protected and cared for, it felt a little scary to be apart from him now.

Well, not completely apart. His arrowhead necklace rested against her chest. Be brave. Be resilient.

“Thank you,” Calliope said to Brynja. “It’s beautiful.”

“That is good to hear, child. Your new shoes will come by later, I believe. If you need anything more, you can tell me.”

Calliope nodded silently. So many people had said that she could come to them for aid, but she didn’t know what to ask for at all! Atreus would know, wouldn’t he? What would he tell her now?

Go out, enjoy yourself, explore!

There was nothing for it. Atreus wasn’t going to come back in a half-hour, was he? Calliope might as well make use of her time, so that when he did come back, she’d have lots of things to tell him.

Thus, flute in hand, she set off on an adventure. She first explored Skjöldr’s lodge. There were stairs, a library, and a little armoury with weapons. There was also a kitchen, a pantry, and many smaller rooms besides. That was a lot to tell Atreus already!

Calliope found Skjöldr in the main hall during her exploring. He was speaking with some men and women, so she waited patiently until they left. Once they were gone, Skjöldr slowly paced back and forth, alone. His shoulders slumped a bit, and he drew a hand through his bright hair. He really did look like a prince. A tired one, perhaps, but a good one all the same.

Timidly, Calliope approached him. “Skjöldr?”

He glanced up. The weariness in his face vanished, replaced with a sunny smile. “Calliope! Hey! Is that your new dress? Wow, you look great!”

Calliope beamed and twirled around. Seeing him smile without worry made her feel all fuzzy inside.

“It’s comfortable too? Awesome, that’s great to hear. And, uh, listen …” Skjöldr crouched down. “You don’t have to worry about Loki. He’s a pretty tough guy. Fought in Ragnarök and faced the strongest god I know: the All-Father himself!”

The names flew over Calliope’s head. “What is Ragnarök? Who is the All-Father?”

Skjöldr stared at her in surprise. “You don’t know? Oh – of course not, you’re from elsewhere! Well, Ragnarök is, or was, a legendary world-ending war. We fought in it four years ago, but it didn’t end us! Only Asgard was destroyed. Uh, you know about Asgard?”

Calliope nodded. “The Realm of the Aesir. Atreus told me.”

“Excellent! So, during Ragnarök, Loki and his dad fought Odin, king of the Aesir. He was a very powerful god. I mean, nothing could stop him! Except for Loki and Kratos. They defeated him and put an end to his evils.”

Calliope hung on to every word. What had Odin been like? If he did evil things, maybe he was like Zeus, king of Olympus. Had Odin been just as cruel too? He must have if Atreus had to fight him. In that case, Calliope was glad that the All-Father was gone.

“You fought in the war too?” she asked.

“Yeah, but I was injured and had to retreat with my people. I didn’t really do a lot of physical fighting, not like Loki.” Skjöldr’s hand shifted to touch his side in a subconscious way.

“Why do you call him Loki and not Atreus?”

Skjöldr blinked, as though the thought never occurred to him. “Oh, I’m just used to it, I guess. That’s the name he gave me when we first met. I didn’t hear about his other name until much later.”

“Do you have another name?”

“Me? Nope. Though I might end up with another in the future. You?”

Calliope shook her head. Skjöldr smiled. “Maybe you’ll get another one someday, too,” he said.

Her cheeks heated up again. She wasn’t sure why she felt all fluttery inside. Skjöldr was very pretty and very kind. It had been a shock at first, but … Now it felt good, really good, to have someone other than Atreus be so friendly with her.

Before she could say more, someone called to Skjöldr, and he stood up. “I’ll see you later, Calliope, alright? Got some boring adult stuff to do. But hey, you know where to find me if you need to, right?”

Calliope nodded. “I wish you well, Skjöldr!”

“Thanks! Gods know I need it,” she heard him murmur as she left the lodge.

For most of the day, Calliope played with her friends outside. They somehow got it into their heads to play run-and-catch throughout the city, though she soon learned that they never truly strayed too far from the lodges or came near the city’s outskirts. Calliope saw all sorts of people moving around as she passed through the streets: men and women, children and babes, builders, bakers, farmers, merchants, everyone! The houses were all sturdily built with wood and stone; a refreshing sight after so many marble and granite pillars in Rome. Occasionally she spotted a stray animal – a hound, or some clucking chickens, with someone close behind trying to catch them.

This was what the Romans called barbaric? That couldn’t be true! The simplicity of this place wasn’t bad at all – Calliope liked it very much, in fact! Rome was barbaric for having so many cruel gods and cruel games (except for a few of those gods, of course).

She eventually tired of playing run-and-catch. The other children hurried on, not noticing as she fell behind and stopped by a large building. Her sides hurt from running. And how far was she from Skjöldr’s lodge? She ought to get back soon; what if Skjöldr came looking for her? What if Atreus returned while she was running around outside?

Music and laughter trailed out through the building’s open doorway. Glancing inside, Calliope saw people drinking and talking, either loitering around or sitting at the tables. The music came from a bard sitting by the wall. He plucked at a string instrument that looked a bit like a lyre, but was turned sideways and had a long spine.

Calliope took a moment to listen to the Midgardian song. The words danced over her head and burrowed in her ears, unlocking more meanings, and bringing up memories of the past. It seemed only yesterday that Atreus first sang the Jötnar lullaby to her in the night. They had been deep in Greece and heading to Athens.

The ache in Calliope’s heart grew heavier. She hoped Atreus came back soon, safe and sound.

Calliope sat with Skjöldr for the evening meal. Everyone else was happy, eating and talking and laughing away. She wasn’t sure how they were so hungry. Her stomach was just a stone; the sight of food barely made her mouth water.

“C’mon, Calliope, you gotta eat something,” Skjöldr said, giving her arm a small nudge. “Loki wouldn’t want you to play with your food, would he?”

“Atreus isn’t here,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, but what about when he does get back?” He leaned forward so that she could see his smiling face. “Tonight’s steak is pretty good. Give it a try!”

“You’re not eating it,” Calliope pointed out, glancing at his sparsely-filled plate.

“Ah, so if I eat it, then you will? Alright, then!” Skjöldr cut a sizable slice of meat from the nearby roast and took a big bite. “See?” he said around his mouthful. “Delicious!”

With his cheeks bulging, he looked like a pale fish. Calliope couldn’t help but giggle. Then she took a bite of steak; spices and herbs burst over her tongue, unfamiliar yet delicious, and she eagerly ate more.

Skjöldr chuckled to himself as she retrieved another slice of meat from the roast. “See? I knew you were pretty hungry.”

“I suppose so. But what about you? Are you not eating more?”

He shrugged. “I ate a little earlier, so I’m not really hungry right now. Besides, you need it more than I do. Go on! And don’t forget the pudding!”

Calliope regarded Skjöldr as she continued eating. He spoke to the others seated nearby, always friendly and grinning, and asking them questions to see how they fared. He even knew them all by name! How was he not already a prince when everyone treated him so respectfully and followed his orders?

Though … maybe it was a good thing that he wasn’t a prince. Yet. The faint circles under his eyes were easier to see in the firelight around the hall. “Is it hard to be a leader?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, it’s not too bad. There’s just a lot of things I gotta keep track of.”

“I think you are doing a very good job,” Calliope said earnestly.

Skjöldr chuckled at that. “Aww thanks. It helps to have people like Thrúd and your brother watching my back. Even when they’re not around,”

“Do you get lonely when they aren’t here?” Calliope asked.

Skjöldr blinked. “Oh, uh …” He rubbed the back of his neck, then shrugged. “Sometimes, yeah. But y’know, I have friends here, too. I noticed you’ve made some new friends, huh?”

“I suppose so,” Calliope said. “But we don’t really talk a lot. They like to run around and shout, and it makes my head hurt after a while.”

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that. Hey, how ‘bout I show you the garden out back tomorrow? It’s pretty nice and quiet. Helps me think when I’m out there, sometimes.”

“I’d love to!” Calliope said eagerly. “I like gardens. They are very pretty.”

“Aren’t they? Y’know, some of the plants we have aren’t native to Midgard – we got a bunch of sprouts and seeds from Vanaheim, non-hostile ones, of course, and they’re really cool! There’s this one that glows in the dark …”

For the rest of the meal, Skjöldr captivated Calliope with stories of how he got the seeds from the Vanir gods. The way he described the plants and flowers made them all funny in Calliope’s mind. She couldn’t help but laugh at “puffy mushrooms with twiddly feet” and wondered about the “little bell-like flowers that change colours in different weather.”

Afterward, she felt more at ease as he walked with her to her room. He bid her farewell at the door. “Have a good night, Calliope. Tomorrow’s a new day!”

“Goodnight, Skjöldr,” she said, and then she was alone.

The quiet darkness of the room made her feel small. Alone. Calliope hurried over to the bed and retrieved her flute, then gazed out the window. Was everything alright with Atreus and Thrúd? What were they doing now? She reached up to hold the arrowhead necklace. Only a day had passed, but it felt like ages, and waiting through the night felt even longer.

But she could pass some of the time by composing. Atreus’ song wasn’t fully finished yet. Once he returned, she’d play him the entire thing! 

She held up her flute and began to play, keeping as quiet as she could so that anybody sleeping nearby wouldn’t be bothered. As she tried out phrases and built the lyrics in her head, the ache in her chest lessened. She’d have lots of things to share with Atreus once he got back! It was like that time when Father returned from war –

Calliope pushed that thought away. She didn’t want to think about him. She didn’t! He wasn’t thinking about her anyway, so why should she?

She rubbed her eyes impatiently, determined not to cry. She didn’t need Father anymore. She was with Atreus now. Resolutely, she started playing her brother’s song from the beginning. If only he was here with her … Or her with him! Maybe she could help somehow with his mission. She could be useful! Maybe …

Something tugged at her. Startled, she stopped playing. It wasn’t a physical feeling, but – something about it was familiar. When was the last time she’d felt this kind of tug, deep inside?

The dark forest in Italia, the bandits, searching for Atreus …

The feeling began to fade. Calliope hastily started playing her flute and felt the pull once more. Pulling her towards … the window. The outside? But why?

There was only one way to find out. She was supposed to stay here with Skjöldr, wasn’t she? But maybe this was important! She’d been playing Atreus’ song when her magic tugged at her. Maybe he was in trouble!

Or maybe it was something else. Frustrated, Calliope made a decision: she’d follow the pull and see where it led, but if it took her out of the city, she’d stop. There, see? That was a good plan!

First, she needed to dress warmly. She put on her new trousers, Vesta’s clothes (which had long since lost their full warmth), and the bearskin cloak. Then she played a few lines of Atreus’ song and followed the pull out of her room, keeping quiet as she made her way down the corridor. She mustn’t wake anybody!

Thankfully, there was hardly anyone in the main hall at this time. The few people there were sound asleep, resting their hands on the tables. Calliope scuttled past them and slipped through the front door.

It was even colder outside than in. Calliope drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders. The torches ringing the lodge circle offered only a dim light. Stars splashed across the night sky above, brighter than she could ever remember seeing them. As quietly as she could, Calliope played a few notes on her flute and revived the magical pull. It led her out of the lodge circle and through the darkened streets. Wasn’t this the path they took during that hunting trip? It led to the forest beyond, didn’t it? Why lead her this way now?

She still didn’t have an answer once she reached the edge of the city, hiding in the shadows of a building. The forest lay up ahead. The pull was definitely leading her there, but she wasn’t about to go near it in the dark, oh no! And she promised herself that she wouldn’t leave the city! Despite the thickness of her dress and trousers, the cold dug into her bones. She ought to turn back now and –

A faint glimmer caught her eye in the darkness. Calliope squinted; the small light appeared near the trees, fading in and out.

Curious, she played a few notes again. The pull grew stronger, as did the shimmering light in the near distance. What was that?

Someone should check. If it was something dangerous, Skjöldr would want to know. But Calliope didn’t want to bother him while he was sleeping. He needed his rest! And besides, that light could be nothing at all.

She drew in a deep breath of night air. Be brave. Be resilient. She was a goddess. She could do this.

Calliope stepped out of the city and headed for the forest. Her heart pounded heavily with each step, drumming faster and faster against her ribs. Her knees trembled, and it wasn’t all because of the cold. She played her flute at normal volume once she deemed herself far enough from the city that nobody would hear. And … this wasn’t so bad, really. Danmǫrk wasn’t too far away if she needed to run back.

She soon reached the edge of the forest. Shadows pooled between the trees and beyond like puddles of ink. The magical pull was strongest here; she looked down to find the pile of boulders she’d seen at the start of the hunt. Except they were glowing faintly with a blue sheen.

And then, before her eyes, the boulders rose up to form the shape of a doorway, with a door of wood coming together in the centre. Calliope stumbled back with a gasp. What in the world was this?

Atreus and Skjöldr’s words came back to her. Was this … a Mystic Gateway? She peered closer at the door. A tree with symbols was carved on the gleaming wood, like that drawing of the Nine Realms Atreus once made.

A quiet thought came to her. If she opened this door, where would it lead? Would it bring her to Atreus?

Calliope reached out with trembling fingers and touched the wood. That was all it needed to swing open, revealing a wall of white light. Whatever she expected to find when she stepped through, it definitely wasn’t the enormous tree with its path-like branches, and the grey-purple skies surrounding them.

“Atreus?” Calliope called. She took small steps down the tree-path. “Atreus?”

Fear stuck between her ribs. Oh, she should have stayed in Skjöldr’s lodge! How would she get out of here? Would she be lost forever in this maze of branches? She thought it would bring her to another area in Midgard, not this!

“Atreus?” His name echoed softly before fading. Tears welled in her eyes. The doorway she stepped through had disappeared in an instant. How was she to find it again? She tried playing her flute but only got a faint tug forward. Where was the end? This path looked like it went around in a circle!

Branches rustled down below, as though little squirrels were scurrying through. Calliope inched close to the edge of the tree-path and very carefully looked down.

There was no bottom. The large tree’s trunk went straight down, with many, many branches. That could only mean that she was very high up. Her stomach flopped, but she swallowed and shakily said, “Hello?”

A rumbling, inhuman growl answered her. Calliope squeaked and quickly backed away from the ledge just as something creaked below. Slow, heavy thumps against the large tree trunk, loud as a Titan’s footsteps, echoed throughout. And they were only getting louder as they climbed up the trunk.

Calliope dashed away down the tree-path, barely able to form a thought other than hide, hide! and hid behind a branch the size of a Roman pillar.

Thrúd said something about a dragon. Calliope’s heart dropped into her stomach. Oh, no!

Sure enough, a large reptilian head appeared over the edge of the path where Calliope once stood. A long, scaly neck followed it, and sharp claws, and wings, and a tail. Calliope hardly dared to breathe as the dragon clambered further up the giant tree. It paused for a moment; steam puffed from its nostrils when it snorted, and it turned away.

Calliope exhaled shakily and glanced around. The only way to go was forward, away from the dragon. She could wait until it was higher up the large tree; it wouldn’t see her then, would it?

A flash of light caught her eye. Several feet down the path stood a wall of white light. Hope burst in her chest. Another gateway! Would it lead her out of here?

Calliope glanced back at the dragon. Its head was turned from her. She couldn’t let the gateway disappear before she could reach it!

She dashed for the white light without a second thought. Just as she did so, the dragon’s tail arch overhead and came down so hard that it smashed across her tree-path, shaking everything so badly that she nearly fell over. Calliope yelped, reaching out for the white light, but it flickered and faded before she could touch it.

She didn’t even have a chance to feel despair. Another wall of white light appeared further away. Calliope all but sprinted towards it, not daring to look back even as the dragon roared suddenly. She heard a flap of mighty wings like howling wind – her fingers touched the light –

And then she was falling forward on hard ground and rolling, tumbling down a hill. Bramble and pebbles dug painfully into her skin despite the clothes covering her, and for a heartbeat, she thought of the harpies tossing her onto their harsh mountain abode.

She soon came to a halt, lying in a trembling pile on the ground. She took several deep breaths and listened for the dragon. Maybe it wouldn’t bother with her if she played dead.

There was no sound save for the gentle rustle of trees and a trill of merry birdsong. The ground was warm beneath her and smelled of earth. She opened her eyes a little; it was bright. Sunny. Like daytime.

Calliope slowly pushed herself up on trembling arms. She was in a forest! Only it looked very different from the one near Danmǫrk. The trees were sparser here, more open so that she could see the blue sky above. It also smelled different, somehow. Danmǫrk’s forest was sweet, but this one carried a hint of … wood smoke?

She got to her feet, wincing at the aches and pains in her limbs. The bearskin cloak had protected most of her dress, but her sleeves and some patches at her front were dirty. Her hair was a tangled mess, but her tainia had held on. She still had her flute. And Atreus’ necklace still hung from her neck, thank the gods!

It was a little too warm to wear the cloak now, but Calliope nevertheless kept it on. Atreus bought it for her. It was like a piece of armour.

Calliope glanced around the forest again. Was she in Midgard? Was this where Atreus and Thrúd were? There didn’t seem to be anything nearby. She caught the sound of burbling water and followed it to a little stream. After taking a few sips, she washed her face and cleaned the cuts on her hands, all the while wondering what to do next. The best thing was to look for her brother. At least she wasn’t stuck on that big tree with the dragon anymore.

With a sigh, she held up her flute and began to play. I want to find my brother. I miss him.

The faint tug appeared again, growing within her centre, but it felt rather blurry, in a way. That didn’t seem right. She played a little longer while trying to pinpoint the direction it went in – and then heard crunching footsteps up ahead.

Calliope froze. Not again! She immediately stopped playing her flute and hide behind the nearest tree. Her hands slicked with sweat as she gripped her flute, listening for any growls or stomping claws or flapping wings.

There were footsteps, but … They sounded normal. She heard a quiet grunt, something being uncapped, and then nothing. That didn’t seem very dragon-like. The burbling stream filled the silence.

Calliope warily peeked out from behind the tree. Instead of a dragon, a man crouched by the stream on the opposite bank, filling up a waterskin. Once he was done, he corked it and stood, and caught Calliope’s eye.

His gaze sharpened into a stare. Despite Calliope’s flash of fear, she found herself staring back, taking in the plated gold-like armour he wore (though it looked like it had seen better days). He was also … rather short. Shorter than Atreus for sure. A little braid hung from his beard, and his brow was heavy, but not in an intimidating way. Rather, it gave a sad touch to his weathered face.

The sight of his face nudged Calliope’s memory. Why did he seem familiar?

“That necklace,” the man said suddenly, jarring her from her thoughts. “Where did you get it?”

Calliope touched the green arrowhead. “M-my brother gave it to me.”

The man’s brow furrowed, casting a deeper shadow over his eyes. “Your brother,” he repeated.

Calliope nodded. Her mouth was very dry. “I – I am waiting for him.”

“He left you here?”

“No, I tried following him. He was going to the –” She scrambled to remember the name, “the Nine Lake with Thrúd, the thunder goddess.”

“The Lake of Nine? That’s in Midgard.”

“I know,” Calliope said hesitantly. “Isn’t this … Midgard?”

“No,” the man said flatly. “This is Svartalfheim. You’re in the wrong realm.”

Icy chills crawled down Calliope’s spine, solidifying in her gut. The wrong realm? That couldn’t be right! “How do I get back?” she asked, stepping out from behind the tree.

“You take the Mystic Gateway. It’s somewhere up that hill. Get back to where you came from and wait for your brother there.”

The man turned and began to walk away. Panic shot through Calliope, too much for her to give the bitterness in his voice much thought. “But – I cannot! There is a dragon on the big tree!”

The man paused mid-step.

“Thrúd said that the dragon stopped all travel. So she and my brother went to fix it.”

“Stopped realm travel?” the man repeated, glancing back at her. “From Yggdrasil? If that’s the case, they won’t be able to do much about it.”

“I cannot go there,” Calliope said desperately. “The dragon almost found me!”

The man turned around and fixed her with a steely eye. “If realm travel isn’t working, how the Hel did you get here then?”

Calliope glanced down at her flute. How was she going to explain being a goddess?

The man followed her gaze. “So you were the one making that music earlier?”

“Y-yes. Can you help me?” Calliope asked, unable to keep the tears from her voice. “I’ll – I can play songs for you in return, or sing –”

“I can’t face a dragon,” he snapped. “Even if I could open up a gateway for you, you’d have to risk getting seen by it.”

Calliope’s lip wobbled. “Then … could I wait for my brother with you?”

“Does he even know you’re here?”

“He said he would find me if I ever got lost.”

His mouth twisted as though he wanted to curse at her. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Calliope half-expected him to walk away without another word, but, to her immense relief, he finally gave a curt nod. “Fine. Follow me.”

Calliope wanted to cry with relief, but she blinked back the tears and hurried over to the stream. It was small enough to jump over, so she did just that, and found the man standing close by.

He really was short, but taller than her by half a head, if not more. There was a hardness to his gaze that reminded Calliope, uncomfortably, of Father and the other Spartan warriors. The man didn’t say anything; he simply turned away and strode through the forest.

Calliope hurried to keep up with him. “I am Calliope of Sparta,” she offered.

The man grunted. From this side, his scowl wasn’t so pronounced, and she suddenly remembered where she’d seen his face before – in Atreus’ journal!

“Um, are you Sindri?” she asked timidly.

He turned on her so sharply that she nearly bumped into him. “How do you know that?” he demanded. “Did your brother tell you?”

“Y-yes,” Calliope stammered. “He – he drew you in his journal. It’s a very good drawing! You look exactly the same –”

Sindri’s scowl deepened. “Don’t tell him you’ve seen me. Alright?”

“Ah-Alright.”

Sindri turned away and continued on his path, with Calliope following close behind. In truth, he didn’t look exactly the same as his portrait. Atreus had drawn him with a softer, smiling face. Was Sindri happy before, or was he always this grumpy?

They soon came to the edge of the forest. Just outside it was a tall cliff with a shallow cave in its wall. A blacksmith’s forge was set up inside the cave, and as Calliope came closer, she spotted some hanging curtains further inside, likely to section off other “rooms.” Was this where Sindri lived?

Sindri strode into the forge. “You can sit here. I have work to do, so I don’t want any distractions.” He indicated a stool by the work table. Calliope obediently sat and watched as he took up an unfinished dagger. Then he got to work hammering it. His back was turned to her; it was as if he’d forgotten that she was there.

Despite his unpleasantness, Calliope felt more at ease than before. He was somebody Atreus knew, right? Whenever Atreus pointed out his portrait, he spoke Sindri’s name favourably. If Sindri was an enemy, Atreus would have mentioned it. But he didn’t. That meant Calliope was safe here.

After a short while, she got restless. “Um, sir?” she said softly, wincing at the sharp, rhythmic clanging of his hammer on the anvil. “Would you mind if I played my flute?”

Sindri didn’t look back at her. “Do it outside.”

Calliope went several feet away from the cave, standing in the warm sunlight. The last time she played Atreus’ song to find him, he heard it too and followed it, hadn’t he? Maybe if she played it all the way through, he’d hear it again and know where she was.

The notes danced into the air as she played. Once again, she felt the magical tug, but it still felt blurry. Maybe because they were in different realms? It was still hard to believe that this was a different realm. It looked just like Midgard! Or Greece, for that matter.

Once the song came to an end, Calliope turned back to the forge to find Sindri staring at her. “What song is that?” he asked as she returned to her seat.

“I made it for my brother,” she replied. “It has lyrics, too –”

“Don’t play it again,” Sindri said sharply, startling her into silence. “The last thing I need is to be reminded of him.”

“But how were you reminded of him if you didn’t know it’s his song?”

“You were doing magic with that, weren’t you?” he said. “I know a god’s work when I see it.”

“Or hear it?” Calliope offered, though her heart pounded fast from the bitterness of his words.

He snorted but said nothing. Calliope bit her lip. She must have caught him on an off day. Or he was angry with Atreus about something. Oh, she hoped Atreus found her soon!

Sindri moved around the forge, gathering materials when he needed them, or tossing some tools aside in favour of others. He worked without gloves. Wasn’t that dangerous? Calliope spotted a few burn marks on his hands, but he didn’t seem to mind the brazier’s heat whenever he came near it.

After a few more minutes of watching him, Calliope plucked up her courage and manners, and asked, “Is there a way I can help, sir?”

Sindri plunged the finished dagger into the cooling barrel. Steam rose up with a hiss. “You? Help?” He made it sound like a ridiculous idea, but after a moment, he said, “Fine. Get that bag of ores from the shelf. The one tied with red string.”

Calliope hurried over to said shelf, found the bag, and lifted it. Gods, it was heavy! She managed to bring it over to Sindri’s worktable and plopped it down with a huff.

“Hmph. You’re a god alright,” he muttered, snatching up the bag. “No human would’ve managed to lift this.”

“You … don’t like gods?” Calliope guessed, though she already suspected the answer.

“No,” he said shortly. “They’ve never meant anything good in my experience.”

“Why?”

“Go get the tongs by the anvil.”

She recognized the dismissal. He didn’t want to answer that question, then. Calliope fetched the tongs; thankfully, they weren’t as heavy as the bag of ores. “May I ask what you are making, sir?”

Sindri grunted, saying nothing more. Calliope decided not to bother him any further for the time being.

The sun began to descend into afternoon. The sun chariot is driven by Sól, Calliope thought to herself. And she is chased by Sköll, the Wolf-Giant.

She sighed heavily. She couldn’t return to Danmǫrk without risking the dragon’s wrath. Was it daytime there already? Was Skjöldr looking for her? He was going to show her the garden behind his lodge. Was he worried? Would he be angry with her? What if he hated her for causing all this trouble?

Calliope couldn’t bear to think of that. She dearly wanted to go back and reassure him that she was alright, and that she was very sorry for leaving. But when would she get back? How would she? What if Atreus never found her here?

Maybe she should try going back, like Sindri said. Try braving the dragon again. The thought made her stomach clench. She wanted to be brave, but not that brave!

She decided to try playing her flute again, but instead of Atreus’ song, she went for a bit of improvising. She poured her intent into it: Find me. I am here. Find me.  

“Do you really think he’ll hear that?” Sindri asked skeptically when she returned. “He’s in a whole other realm.”

“It doesn’t hurt to try,” Calliope said defensively, trying not to let the doubt lodge too deep in her chest.

“Hmph. Get the smaller hammer, will you? It’s somewhere on that other table.”

Calliope went to the other worktable and scanned the assortment of tools. “You mean this one?” she asked, holding up a rather small hammer.

Sindri glanced at her and jerked his head in a nod. Calliope handed him the tool, then watched as he beat at a half-formed blade and drove it into the burning brazier. Once again, he didn’t seem bothered by the flames even though his hand was incredibly close to them.

Calliope glanced around the forge. She was certain she’d seen gloves somewhere. Oh – in that little wooden box! She went over to it and took up the large gloves. “Sir? Won’t you wear these to protect your hands?”

Sindri glanced over his shoulder at her. A sudden shadow fell upon his face, and his expression turned thunderous, faster than any approaching storm. He strode over and ripped the gloves from her hands, catching her wrist in an iron grip.

“Don’t touch those!” he snarled. “I didn’t tell you to go exploring, did I?”

Calliope shrunk back, but she couldn’t escape his hold. Mercury flashed across her mind’s eye, with his hand around her wrist and his crazed eyes boring into hers.

Sindri blinked. He let her go suddenly, as though she burned him somehow, and turned back to his work with a distracted air. “Just – sit there.”

Calliope silently sat down. She shook everywhere, hands, knees, and all. Her fingers wrapped around something, the mistletoe arrowhead, her brother’s necklace. He was still here with her even when he was not. She drew in a deep breath, though her lungs trembled with the effort. When she spoke, her voice came out very quiet and wobbly. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Sindri ran a frustrated hand through his hair, then glanced at his dirty palm. He grunted impatiently and moved to the back of the cave, disappearing behind one of the curtains, and promptly returned with a waterskin. He uncorked it and drenched his hands in water, then wiped his hands clean on a rag.

When he returned to the anvil, he looked back at Calliope. For a heartbeat, she thought she saw a flicker of regret cross his face.

It quickly disappeared. He went back to his work. But in that moment, Calliope made her decision. “Sir? I … I think I will try going through the gateway.”

That caught his attention. Sindri fixed her with a disbelieving eye. “You’ll go to Yggdrasil despite the dragon?”

Calliope nodded, trying not to show fear. At least she wouldn’t be a bother to Sindri once she was gone. “I am small. I can hide there.”

“What about your brother? Isn’t he coming for you?”

“I … I don’t know if he is. I don’t know what happened to him.” The words nearly stuck in her throat, but she pushed them out. “I want to look for him.”

Sindri didn’t look like he believed in her chances one bit. She didn’t believe in them either, but … She would give it her best try. That’s what Atreus would do.

Sindri muttered something under his breath. To her surprise, he held out his hand. “Give me your flute.”

Calliope clutched the instrument to her chest. “W-why?”

“Just give it to me,” he said shortly. “I’ll improve it.”

Despite her worry, Calliope pressed on, “A goddess gave it to me. It is very important.”

“I knew that the moment I saw it. Look, do you want to get back to Midgard or not?”

Calliope reluctantly handed him the flute. Her heart skipped a beat when Sindri took out a hammer, and she flinched when he gave the flute a firm tap.

He frowned, holding up the flute. He turned it this way and that in the light, and the flute’s polish caught the golden gleam of afternoon sunlight.

“What are you doing?” Calliope asked. She stood beside him at the table, watching as he worked on the instrument. He didn’t seem to mind her presence. At least, she hoped he didn’t mind too much.

“It’s a different type of tool than what I’m used to,” he replied. “Music’s not something I’m skilled in.”

“Oh. But … why did you hit it with the hammer? Won’t that damage it?”

“No. This thing is indestructible.” To prove it, he gripped the flute and brought his hammer down so hard that the resulting clang hovered in the air for a long moment before fading. “That would’ve split a normal flute in half. But this one is fine. See?”

There wasn’t a dent in the instrument. Calliope silently thanked Euterpe for giving her such a strong flute!

“I’m going to turn this into a realm key,” Sindri continued. “So you’ll be able to access any gateway in the Nine Realms.”

“But I did that before! I played my brother’s song.”

“How long did that take you?”

“Um …” Calliope thought about it. “I had to play the whole song, I think.”

“With this, you’ll just have to play a few notes,” Sindri said. He now polished the flute’s surface with a rag. “It’ll work just like a regular realm key. All you have to do is focus on where you want to go, and it’ll take you there.”

“So, if I thought of where my brother might be –”

“No, not like that,” Sindri said shortly. “It has to be a specific location. Not some vague idea.”

“The Lake of Nine, then?”

He nodded briskly. He tapped the flute again, and when that didn’t satisfy him, he did some more polishing. Questions bubbled in Calliope’s head, but – oh, she couldn’t ask! He could get angry again. The memory of his burning eyes remained clear in her mind.

Why did he get so upset over the gloves?

A final, sturdy tap startled her from her thoughts. “Hmm.” Sindri held up the flute to the light again. “That should do it.”

He handed it to her, and she took it gingerly. It didn’t look any different from before. There were no indents from the hammer, no scratches or smudges, nothing. “Um, thank you, sir.”

“You can thank me after I get you to Midgard in one piece,” he said.

She blinked. “You?”

“Yes, me. I’m not letting you go there on your own.”

“But – you said you can’t face the dragon!”

“I’m not planning to if I can help it,” Sindri said flatly. “So you’re going to follow my lead. Stay in line. Understand?”

Calliope nodded, suddenly bursting with gratitude. She wouldn’t be alone now! “Yes, I understand. Oh, thank you, sir! How can I repay you?”

He shook his head. “Forget about it. Let’s just go. The quicker I drop you off, the sooner I can get back here.”

He took up a sheathed sword before departing from the cave. Calliope fell in step beside him, both anxious and relieved and worried all at once. She prayed that the dragon wouldn’t find them. And if it did, she’d use her flute this time. She wouldn’t freeze up like before!

As they entered the forest, Calliope’s curiosity grew until the questions were right on her tongue. Could she risk asking? Would Sindri leave her here alone if she did?

Deep down, she felt that he wouldn’t. He was angry and bitter and grumpy, but he wouldn’t leave her to fend for herself against something like a dragon.

“Sindri?” she began, softer than intended. “Thank you for coming with me.”

He grunted in acknowledgement.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Is it about your brother?” The word was cold as ice.

Calliope gulped. “I just … I wanted to know how you know him. He only told me your name.”

Sindri snorted. “That’s all? Well, that’s probably for the best. I don’t need him using me as a sob story.”

He didn’t say anything more, so Calliope kept silent, sensing that she mustn’t push his good graces. They soon reached the stream where they met earlier, crossed it, and eventually reached the hill further on.

“The gateway’s just up there,” Sindri said.

Before either of them began the hike upward, Calliope heard the sound of boulders rumbling. Sindri froze, then grasped her shoulder and pushed her behind him.

“What? What is it?” she said quickly, looking over his shoulder.

“Someone’s opened the gateway. Quiet!”

Silence reigned for a few heartbeats. Then – soft crunching footsteps.

And her brother appeared at the top of the hill.

Chapter Text

Earlier …

Atreus first felt the faint tug in his centre upon landing near the Lake of Nine. It had a distant feel about it, as though someone was calling his name from a very great distance.

And then it just faded, disappearing so quickly that Atreus wondered if it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Ah, well. Nevermind. He had a job to focus on.

Speaking of that, he was not expecting to find the second dragon near the Lake. But there it was, thrashing around the forest on one of the Lake’s banks. He and Thrúd observed it from afar while trying to formulate a plan, which, in all honesty, had never been their strong suit whenever they worked together.

“I swear it wasn’t there when I left!” Thrúd exclaimed.

“That’s not the one that went through the gateway?” Atreus asked.

“I’m sure it’s not. The colouring is all different.”

“Maybe it’s a mate. Its thoughts are definitely leaning that way.”

“Alright, well, let’s just deal with this one first.” Thrúd stood up and lifted Mjölnir. “I’ll go and smash its head in, and you do the rest.”

“Wait, Thrúd –!” But she was already gone, flying straight for the restless dragon. Atreus sighed and changed into a wolf, taking off at a sprint.

This was nothing, really. If Atreus was on his own, he’d probably panic a little at the prospect of fighting a dragon. But Thrúd was with him, and she’d held her own against a dragon before, so she knew what to expect. Hopefully.

As it turned out, Thrúd did not manage to smash its head in. The dragon reared furiously and breathed fire at her. She dodged around it and landed hard on its back, but before she could summon a bolt of lightning, the dragon rose to its full height, throwing her off.

Atreus shifted back to human form once he was close enough. “I’ll hold it down,” he shouted and aimed three arrows at its nearest wing. “Jarðbundið!”

The dragon spun around, lashing out with its spiked tail, and hit Atreus right in the midriff. All the air left him in one go. He landed several feet away on his back, coughing and hacking as his lungs struggled to expand again.

“Get up, Loki!” he heard Thrúd shout. “Shake it off!”

Easy for her to say. Every internal organ of hers might as well be made of iron! Atreus drew on his healing, chasing away the spikes of pain all over his body. Scrambling to his feet, he took off at a run towards the dragon, just as it soared upward with beating wings. “Shit!”

The dragon flew away over the Lake, then banked and turned towards them, flying low. “Look out!” Thrúd yelled, dashing to the side. Fire spewed from the dragon’s jaws in a steady stream. Atreus dodged out of the way before it could incinerate him, though its heat flashed across the back of his neck. That was close.

The dragon landed. Immediately, Thrúd stuck it with a lightning bolt, and Atreus took the temporary distraction to try his spell again. Three arrows, pointing at the dragon’s nearest wing. “Jarðbundið!” he shouted hoarsely.

The arrows pinned its wing down to the earth. The dragon turned on Atreus, but at that moment Thrúd leaped between them and stuck it across the jaw with Mjölnir. The force of the blow shuddered through Atreus’ bones.

The dragon collapsed on the ground, stunned. But only for a moment. “Thrúd!” Atreus shouted. “On my mark –” He fired thrice along the dragon’s neck. “Auka!”

The sigil arrows burned bright magenta. “Now!” he yelled.

Thrúd struck near one of the arrows with Mjölnir. Lightning burst forth, crackling along to the dragon’s neck to each sigil arrow, splitting scales and flesh open. The dragon’s furious roar dwindled into a weak, gurgling moan before falling silent entirely.

“Phew!” Thrúd huffed, rolling her shoulders. “Well, that wasn’t as bad as the other one.”

Atreus stumbled over to her side, still taking in deep breaths. “Yeah, ‘cause – I was with you – this time.”

“Ha! Well. You did pretty good, Loki. This wasn’t your first time against a dragon, was it?”

“Nope. I fought others with Father, years ago.” Atreus straightened up, cleared his throat, and looked around. “Do we know if all the gateways aren’t working?”

“Yep. I checked them all, even the one in Týr’s Temple.”

“Hmm. Think Jörmungandr might have an answer?”

“The snake? He slept through my fight with the first dragon!”

Atreus was about to respond when he felt the faint tug again, right where his midriff was. It wasn’t a physical thing, really, but it seemed to pull at his very being, leading him towards …

“Uh, let’s just start at the Temple,” Atreus said. “It has the best vantage point to call Jörmungandr.”

“And if he doesn’t have an answer?”

“Then I’ll just make up solutions as I go. Like now. You can join in too, y’know.”

Thrúd snorted. “Classic Loki.”

They made their way over to the Lake and found a boat. They could’ve just flown over, but Atreus was too tired to shift and beat at the air with his wings. Plus, Thrúd didn’t protest against a boat ride.

“Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask about your sister,” she said after a moment. “Your dad had another kid?”

“Uh, it’s kinda complicated,” Atreus said as he rowed them over to the Temple. “She’s his first kid. From Greece.”

“His first kid who looks years younger than you.”

“Um. Yeah. Okay, look, I’ll tell you about it, but you can’t spread it around, alright? I don’t want to put pressure on Calliope.”

“That serious? Alright, I won’t tell. What’s going on?”

“Some gods captured her a long time ago. She was stuck with them for years. I got her out, and then we were on the run for a while.”

“Captured?” Thrúd peered at him with sudden shrewdness. “Does your dad know about this?”

Atreus’ mouth went dry. “He knows she was captured. He – I think he thought that she was killed. I haven’t sent him word about her being here. I’m planning to tell him eventually, but … I just need to get the timing right. And Calliope’s not ready for him to know. It’s, uh, complicated.”

“Family troubles, huh?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Oh, I can believe it.” Thrúd sighed. “I won’t tell anyone, Loki. Promise.”

“Thanks, Thrúd. That means a lot.”

Once they reached Týr’s Temple, Atreus docked the boat. From here, he had a clearer view of Jörmungandr’s giant body draping over cliffs and half-submerged in the clear waters. The serpent’s head was hidden; he was likely still asleep.

The pull at his centre grew stronger as they reached the main doors and went inside. All the snow from Fimbulwinter had long since melted, and someone had spruced up the temple afterward. Lúnda, maybe?

Speaking of, she wasn’t at Brok’s shop. Atreus lingered by the empty forge for a few seconds before tearing his gaze away. The pull pulsed in time with his heartbeat, drawing him towards the silent Mystic Gateway in the corner.

“Unless you have a trick up your sleeve, I doubt that one’s gonna work,” Thrúd said while Atreus inspected it. “Hey – I have an idea!”

“Yeah?” A distant strain of music drifted past his ears. Was that … a flute?

“We could go back in time! My dad sent the snake back to the past, right?”

“Well, yeah, but how are you gonna control how far back we go? Besides, I don’t want Mjölnir to flatten me.”

Bits of lightning crawled over the hammer at Thrúd’s hip. Atreus could’ve sworn it was laughing at him.

“Well, I don’t have any other grand ideas –”

“Shh,” Atreus hushed. “Look!”

The gateway’s boulders glowed a faint blue. Atreus took out his realm key and held it out, felt the breath of air over his face as it activated the gateway, and the boulders all rose up to form the door.

“You did it!” Thrúd gasped, delighted. “How?”

“I … I don’t think it was just me.” A suspicion formed in his head, but he didn’t want to consider it just yet. If he did, it would mean – No. She was safe with Skjöldr. It was probably something else from another realm. Maybe Ratatoskr noticed the problem and was fidgeting around on his end.

“There aren’t any symbols on the door,” Thrúd observed. “Just a one-way trip, then?”

“I think so. Ready?”

Thrúd pushed the door open and they stepped through, one after the other.

It wasn’t too hard to find the dragon on Yggdrasil. They found it thrashing about in the branches above, with Ratatoskr and Nidhogg’s four children attacking it. Thrúd didn’t hesitate to join in. “C’mon, Loki! Let’s finish it!”

All in all, thanks to the added help, Atreus only suffered a cut on his arm from when the dragon lashed out with its claws. He healed himself quickly, then regarded the corpse. Nidhogg’s children were busy tugging it away down the path, and they didn’t want any help, so he just left them to it.

“Ah, young Master Atreus!” Ratatoskr piped, perching on a branch just above them. “And Lady Thrúd. Honoured to work with you again in protecting my beloved tree. I still do not know how that blasted creature got in here! But rest assured none of Yggdrasil’s branches were injured.”

“That’s, uh, good to know,” Atreus said. Thrúd didn’t look like she was going to mention how the dragon got in, so he wasn’t going to, either. “Does this mean realm travel is open again? Is everything good?”

“Aside from some cleanup I need to do, yes. Everything is good,” Ratatoskr said, evidently pleased. “It was fortunate timing that you arrived when you did. I was just about to lose my grip on that beast!”

“About that,” Thrúd put in, “I wasn’t able to open the gateway earlier, but Loki managed it just now. You have any thoughts about that?”

“Hmm … Now that you mention it, I did sense some peculiar magic earlier,” the squirrel mused. “I thought it was reaching out to find something! That must be what opened the gateway for you, if only for a time. I was having that trouble myself, you see: I could not keep my own little realm tears open for long. But now that the dragon is dead, its power has died with it!”

Atreus heard the telltale hum of the exit gateway opening up behind him. He glanced over his shoulder at it. “I didn’t set any destination when Thrúd and I came here. Where does that one lead?”

Ratatoskr scurried over to it and hummed to himself. “Judging by its location, based on sector and height within Yggdrasil, I’d say it leads to an area in Svartalfheim that is not Niðavellir.”

“Mind showing me the way to Vanaheim?” Thrúd asked. “I gotta check on Mom and the others.”

“Of course, Lady Thrúd! If you would come right this way …”

Thrúd turned to Atreus. “Thanks a ton, Loki,” she said earnestly. “You really have a way with things.”

“Uh, thanks,” Atreus said. “I don’t think it was all my doing, though.”

“Something tells me it wouldn’t have worked without you. I’ll meet you back at Skjöldr’s place, alright?”

“Sounds good. Oh, and – if you see my dad, don’t tell him that I’m here, alright? I want to, er, surprise him.”

“You sure? He’ll probably see right through me.”

“If you meet his eyes, maybe. Just try not to look at him.”

“That’ll make him even more suspicious of me!”

“C’mon, Thrúd, it’s my first time back in a while!”

She huffed in exasperation. “Alright, I’ll try not to give you away.”

“Awesome.”

With that, Thrúd hurried off to follow Ratatoskr. Atreus faced the waiting wall of light, wondering. Svartalfheim, huh? Well, it wouldn’t hurt to look around there. Realm travel was open again, so he could afford to do a bit of exploring, maybe find out where that “searching” magic came from.

He went through and found himself standing on a hill in a forest. The afternoon sun warmed him all over, and he relaxed somewhat. It was a welcome change from Midgard’s cool weather.

But why bring him here?

Atreus stepped over to the edge of the hill and glanced down its slope. The ground levelled out as it entered the thicker part of the trees. Then he froze.

There, down below, was Calliope. And another figure he knew all too well.

Sindri.

***

Four years. Four fucking years since Brok died and Atreus ran off like the self-absorbed bastard he was. Sindri had spent that time grieving, brooding, and crafting items to sell in Midgard. It was the only way to distract himself from thinking about the past, and the only living he could think to make that wouldn’t put him in the way of anybody from said past.

He’d also gathered word on what the gods were doing. Two gods, in particular. Kratos was easier to keep track of, but Atreus was tougher. He went beyond the bounds of Midgard. He could never be satisfied, could he?

Even when Sindri wasn’t hunting around for them, for Atreus, news of them still managed to find him. He could never escape it.

There had been so many close calls of meeting Atreus face-to-face, until finally, two years ago, they just collided into one another. That had been a particularly bad day, more so than usual. Sindri hadn’t been prepared. He couldn’t even remember exactly what words had been said, only that things escalated, and then he was shouting at Atreus to get the fuck away and never talk to him again.

And now? There stood Atreus. He was close enough that Sindri could see the dumb surprise on his face. Apparently, it was stupid to think that Sindri could keep out of Atreus’ path forever. 

The boy stared back at him, speechless. Sindri couldn’t exactly blame him for that. What the Hel was Sindri supposed to say now, or even do? All the things he’d rehearsed the past several years just crashed in his mind.

The girl still hid behind Sindri. She –

“Atreus!” she cried, and ran to the boy.

That snapped Sindri out of his freeze. Snapped the boy out of it, too; he ran down the hill and lifted Calliope up into a hug.

Sindri’s gut twisted at the sight. Shit, he shouldn’t be here. He should just walk away, switch realms or something. But he couldn’t stop staring.

When did Atreus get so damn tall?

Four fucking years …

Atreus set the girl down and spoke to her in an unrecognizable language. The girl replied, and whatever she said made Atreus look like he wanted to jump off a cliff. Sindri snorted at that.

Atreus glanced at him. Calliope noticed and jabbered on, though this time Sindri caught his own name among the jumble of words. Atreus replied, then cleared his throat and turned to Sindri.

Sindri immediately cut off whatever he was going to say. “So, you’re back now?”

It just slipped out of him. Damn it. Sindri should’ve left when he had the chance, while they were distracted!

“Um. Yeah. I am.” Atreus’ eyes shifted around, never staying on Sindri for long. That irritated him. Was the boy in a hurry to run away again? “Wait – did you know I was gone?”

“I hear things from time to time.” Not to mention Sindri occasionally sought him out whenever the boy returned to Midgard. He watched from afar, never going out to confront him. Every time he saw Atreus, he second-guessed himself on what he truly wanted to do. Fight with the boy? Shout at him?

But now … Well, there just wasn’t any point in it now, was there? Sindri wasn’t stupid; if he tried to fight Atreus, he’d fail. But he didn’t want to have a talk with Atreus, either. Gods it was infuriating whenever Sindri considered the idea. Sure, talking to the kid who indirectly killed your brother was going to make everything better!

You killed him, a voice whispered in his head. You doomed him.

Shut the fuck up! Sindri wasn’t going to think about that. Not here, not now!

“You have a sister now, is that right?” he went on, as levelly as he could. “How nice.”

“Yeah, she – she told me that you were going to help her get home,” Atreus said. “Thanks, Sindri.”

Shut it. “Last I heard, your dad is still single. So where the Hel did you get her? Is she some poor soul you decided to drag into your problems?”

Atreus’ face flushed. Good. He opened his mouth to speak, but it was Calliope who said, “I told you, Atreus is my brother! You didn’t believe me?”

Sindri scoffed. “Hard to. Your brother’s not the most honest one around.”

“Listen,” Atreus began, and oh, Sindri was ready to hear this.

“My father is Kratos,” Calliope insisted. “My mother is Lysandra. I am from Sparta!”

Her voice cut into Sindri’s ears, startling him. There was more than just attempted authority in her voice – which, on its own, wasn’t much at all. Except that it was augmented by something else. Her god-like powers, maybe. Her words tried to settle in his mind, to convince him, but he shook them off easily.

“Calliope,” Atreus said, quiet but firm. “Don’t let it bother you. C’mon, we should go. Skjöldr’s probably wondering where you are.”

That sobered the girl up quick. “Alright.”

Something hot flared through Sindri’s chest. An echo of the fury he harboured during Ragnarök, directed at Atreus, Odin, Kratos, and all the gods. The boy was just going to run again, as he always did. Sure, Sindri told him to fuck off before; that was the second time he’d said it to Atreus’ face. He just – he didn’t expect the boy to take it so damnably in stride.

Atreus always meddled, always fought back, always sent every orderly thing crashing to the ground. Fight back, Sindri wanted to yell. Fight me!

Aloud, he sneered, “What, was the dragon on Yggdrasil a joke? Or are you really going to bring her into a fight?”

“Thrúd and I killed the dragon,” Atreus said shortly, still not looking fully at Sindri. “Realm travel is open again. so we’ll get out of your way.”

As if you couldn’t be bothered to do that before! Sindri knew of all the times Atreus tried to search him out. Oh, Atreus thought he was being sneaky, but he never knew that Sindri kept a closer eye on him.

But now the boy was going to turn away, huh? Suddenly, all Sindri wanted to do was shake him by the shoulders. Or punch him in the gut. It was stupid to try fighting Atreus, but Sindri would be damned if he didn’t give it his best shot.

He glanced at the girl. She looked back and forth between them, her face full of worry. There were golden flecks in her dark brown eyes. Sindri saw it earlier when they stood close together, after he – 

He couldn’t – Shit, he couldn’t do this in front of the girl. She had nothing to do with it. Gods, he wished she’d stop looking at him in that wide-eyed, innocent way!

“Fine,” he spat. “Go, then. Get out of here.”

Atreus winced as though Sindri hit him. That should’ve been a satisfying stand-in for a real punch, but all it did was frustrate Sindri all the more.

When the boy and his sister left for the Mystic Gateway up the hill, Sindri remained where he was, staring after them. Fuck, it was always like this. Seeing Atreus pissed him off, but it was even worse when Atreus just scurried away, not even bothering to show Sindri a bit of spine.

Fuck all of this. Fuck!

Sindri stomped through the forest to his hideaway forge. It was far from Niðavellir. He couldn’t stand seeing the pity in the other dwarves’ faces. They’d pushed himself and Brok away, but after Brok died? Oh then they wanted to offer help and condolences and prayers and other useless shit.

Sindri stood in the middle of his forge. He needed to craft something. Another weapon, maybe. Something to hack away at the trees and take his mind off all of this.

Brok’s gloves lay on the worktable where he’d left them. After the girl brought them up.

Sindri snarled in frustration. He snatched up his hammer and set to work on his new project. He hadn’t meant to grab her like that. He just lost it, his temper – and in the next moment, it was like waking up from a dream. No one touched Brok’s things.

But she didn’t know. She’s innocent. You’ve ruined things. Again.

Fuck off! he shouted. She was the boy’s sister. Why should Sindri care about her feelings?

And was it really true that she and Atreus were related? Since when did Kratos have another kid? Not recently, that was for sure. The girl had to be older than eight, at least. Likely no more than ten.

Sindri frowned as he did the math. A decade ago, Atreus was eight. Sindri hadn’t met him until a few years later. So his sister would’ve been a toddler by then. And … so what? Kratos had another baby with Faye (Sindri tried not to dwell on that) and stashed it away in his house?

Sindri didn’t know Atreus as well as he thought he had, nor did he want to know anymore. But he was pretty damn sure eleven-year-old Atreus would’ve mentioned a sister.

And on that note, who would’ve taken care of the girl while her father and brother went gallivanting through the Nine Realms? How did Sindri not notice anything of her during his visits to Midgard in Fimbulwinter, when he stupidly followed Atreus everywhere, letting the boy indulge in his delusions of grandeur?

Kids were loud. Or they weren’t. But Sindri would’ve heard something, surely! Kratos and Atreus would’ve brought her to the Realm Between Realms after Odin and Thor showed up, right? They wouldn’t have left her to fend for herself in Midgard. Of that, Sindri was fucking sure.

Where then had she been?

My mother is Lysandra. I am from Sparta!

Sindri didn’t recognize any of those names as Midgardian. Was he supposed to assume that Kratos just knocked up some other woman right after Faye died? Fucking bastard. But, if Sindri was being honest with himself, that didn’t feel like something Kratos would do.

Though, it did explain why Calliope didn’t look anything like Atreus. Or Faye, for that matter.

Well. Whatever. It wasn’t any of Sindri’s business. He’d just do his own thing. Alone. As always.

He turned to get another tool and stopped. Lying on the floor near the shelf was Calliope’s fur cloak. It must’ve fallen off her shoulders when he – Well, she’d likely get cold without it now. Even with Fimbulwinter over, Midgard wasn’t as warm as Svartalfheim.

Sindri picked up the cloak. Shit, was he really thinking about this? Was he really going to do this?

Yes, he grudgingly decided. He was. There wasn’t anything to it at all. He was just going to drop this off with the girl, and go. That was it.

And maybe find out what was going on with her and Atreus along the way.

Chapter Text

With a few notes of Calliope’s flute, the gateway opened, just as Sindri said it would. All she had to do was concentrate as hard as she could on Danmǫrk, and she felt the shift of something correct. Now they’d see if it worked!

“You came through here, then?” Atreus asked as they walked down the tree-path. “This is Yggdrasil, the World Tree. If you ever end up here again, always stay on the path, alright?”

“Okay. Is the dragon really gone? Where is Thrúd?”

“Yep, it’s gone. And Thrúd went to check on her family in Vanaheim. We’ll likely see her at Skjöldr’s place later.” Atreus sighed heavily. “Which is where you should’ve been. But …”

Calliope hugged him around the waist. “I’m sorry, Atreus. I didn’t mean to come here! I just played your song and it led me here.”

“Because you wanted to find me?”

“I – yes,” she mumbled. She didn’t think of that before. She hadn’t intended to leave Danmǫrk to start looking for him, had she?

But deep down, maybe she had.

“I’m not angry with you,” he said. “I’m just glad you’re alright. I’m pretty sure you opened up that gateway so Thrúd and I could reach the dragon. You were playing your flute, weren’t you?”

“I hoped you’d hear it and find me.”

“And I did find you. So it all worked out in the end.”

That still didn’t shake her guilt entirely. “Do you think Skjöldr will be angry with me?”

“Nah. He’s hardly angry. And if he was, he doesn’t like to show it usually. He’ll be glad to see you’re safe.” Atreus smiled at her, but it was a tired smile, reminding her of Skjöldr.

The exit door appeared up ahead. It left them right at the edge of Danmǫrk’s forest, with the city lying before them. A cool breeze blew past them, and Calliope shivered.

“Hey, where’s your cloak?” Atreus said suddenly.

Calliope hastily patted her shoulders. Oh no! “I – I think it’s back there.”

“Ah.” Atreus rubbed the back of his neck distractedly. “Um, we can look for another one sometime. Actually, get on my back …”

Atreus changed into a wolf. Calliope got on his back and immediately realized why he suggested it: heat bled through his fur, warming her through the dress as she clung to him. He dashed onward and reached the city quickly, navigating his way through the streets to Skjöldr’s lodge. Once there, Calliope slid off Atreus’ back and he changed back to human.

“Loki!” With a jolt, Calliope realized that Skjöldr was already outside. He strode towards them, shock and relief filling his pale face.

“Hey, Skjöldr,” Atreus said. “Everything’s fine. Realm travel is open again. Thrúd went ahead to Vanaheim, but she’ll be back soon.”

Skjöldr relaxed. “That’s great. And – you found Calliope!” He turned to her, but she found it hard to look directly at his face. “Gods, I’ve been searching everywhere for you. I was worried! Where have you been?”

“It’s a long story,” Atreus said. “Let’s get inside first –”

“I’m sorry!” Calliope burst out tearfully, throwing her arms around Skjöldr and burying her face against his thick tunic. “I didn’t mean to disappear. I’m sorry I worried you!”

Skjöldr awkwardly patted her back. “Hey, it’s okay. No harm done, eh?”

He was only saying that to assure her. That only made it worse. “I didn’t want to bother you,” she went on. “I wanted you to get your rest, so I didn’t –”

“C’mon, let’s go inside,” Atreus said gently, taking her hand. Skjöldr took her other hand, and together they went into the lodge where it was warmer.

Once they were sitting down, and Skjöldr had called for three mugs of herbal tea, Atreus told him of all that happened. The only part he didn’t mention was his meeting with Sindri. Calliope stayed silent for the most part, sipping at the hot tea. She still couldn’t bring herself to look at Skjöldr and see the disappointment in his face.

Afterward, Skjöldr ushered them to their room so they could wash up and rest. It was only during the hot bath that Calliope’s weariness caught up with her – fear of the dragon, worrying about Atreus, apparently missing a full night’s sleep, everything. She was glad to finally lie down, with Atreus stretched out beside her, yet questions still swirled in her mind despite her weariness.

“Atreus?” she asked. “Is Sindri your friend?”

He didn’t reply immediately. “We used to be friends when I was younger. But we had a falling out several years ago.”

“Oh. Is that why he was angry?”

“I’d say so, yeah. Um. Was he angry with you?”

“A little,” Calliope admitted. “I didn’t mean to, but – he wasn’t wearing gloves, so I found some for him. But he didn’t like that, so he took them away and grabbed my arm.”

“What?” Atreus tilted his head to look at her, incredulous. “Which arm? Let me see.”

Calliope showed him. He gently held her forearm and prodded the skin, then massaged her wrist. “Damn it. I didn’t think he’d … I’m sorry, Calliope.”

He kissed her hand, then released it. “It wasn’t your fault, sis. I promise. He’s angry at me.”

“Why?”

A pause. “Those gloves you mentioned, did they go to the elbow?”

“I don’t think so,” Calliope said, thinking. “They just covered the hands.”

“Then they likely belonged to his brother, Brok.”

“Brok is the other portrait in your journal, right? The one next to Sindri’s?”

“Yeah, that’s – yeah.”

“Do you know Brok?”

Atreus nodded. “Him and Sindri were like my uncles.”

“Where is Brok now? I didn’t see him with Sindri.”

Atreus swallowed. “He died a long time ago.”

Silence. He exhaled heavily. “Let’s try to get some sleep, alright?”

“Okay.” Calliope tucked her face against the crook of his neck. It took her some time to fall asleep with the remaining questions still on her tongue. Why were Atreus and Sindri no longer friends? She couldn’t imagine Sindri being a friendly type, but … Oh, it didn’t matter anyway, did it? She doubted she’d ever see Sindri again. This little adventure of hers would eventually become a memory.

The next few days were quite normal, which meant that no adventures happened. Calliope visited Skjöldr’s garden and found all the interesting plants and flowers that he’d mentioned. It was truly very peaceful in the gardens, so Calliope spent her free time there, practicing with her flute or attempting to read a book from the library. It was getting easier to read the Midgardian runes, but it was hard to keep up with all the odd names of legendary figures and places.

Thrúd soon returned, as promised, heralded by the rumbling thunder. She reported that everyone in Vanaheim was fine, though they were wondering why the gateways weren’t working earlier. So she had to tell them the story several times throughout her visit.

“I also didn’t see your dad,” she told Atreus. “Freya said he was going back to his house to check on your wolves.”

Calliope’s stomach tightened. “Does Father know I’m here?” she asked her brother in Greek.

Atreus shook his head. “I told Thrúd not to mention us.”

Oh. That was a relief. But at the same time, Calliope would have to face him eventually, right? Or maybe she would never have to! He was fine without her, right?

Later, Calliope watched from the edge of the training grounds as Thrúd sparred with Atreus. As amazing as her brother was in combat, Thrúd was, well, incredible! She was tall and strong, just like a Spartan warrior. She wore armour! Her hair was like fire, with a red streak on the right side. And blue tattoos covered her arms in such detailed patterns that Calliope soon gave up trying to make sense of it. But one thing was clear to her: those were not outcast tattoos or prisoner marks. They belonged to a great warrior.

Apparently, Atreus was the only one who could put up a fair fight against Thrúd. If it was any other human warrior, they would either let Thrúd win or be defeated very quickly. Calliope could understand that. You never wanted a god – or a goddess – to be angry with you!

Thrúd threw a spear of lightning at Atreus, but he back-flipped high into the air and landed at the top of a wooden post. He balanced effortlessly and didn’t seem to mind the height at all, though Calliope’s heart dropped into her stomach at the sight. “Be careful!” she called.

Atreus fired more magic arrows at Thrúd, then dived down for a final swing with his bow. Thrúd blocked his attack with her hammer, and the force of their clash sent a gust of air outward, ruffling Calliope’s hair and dress.

They stood there for a moment, breathing heavily. “Tie?” Atreus asked.

“Tie,” Thrúd agreed with a grin. “But one of these days, I’m gonna find a way to beat you.”

They strode to the edge of the grounds where Calliope stood. While Atreus took a swig of water, Thrúd regarded Calliope and smiled. “What did you think of our practice session? Did I beat your brother fair and square?”

Atreus resurfaced from the waterskin with a snort. “Hey!”

“I think you did very well,” Calliope said, too shy to meet Thrúd’s sky-blue gaze. “You are, um, very strong.”

“Yeah, and it’s not fair,” Atreus huffed. “I’d beat Thrúd if we were evenly matched!”

Thrúd chortled at that. “You wish!” To Calliope, she said, “I’ve been training since I was young, so a lot of my skill comes from practice, just like Loki’s.”

“You trained with the hammer and swords?” Calliope asked, wide-eyed. “Aren’t they heavy?”

“Yes and yes! Aren’t they cool?” Thrúd hefted the hammer, tossed it into the air, and caught it easily by the handle. It hummed upon returning to her hand. “You want to try, Calliope?”

Calliope blinked. “M-me?”

“Yes, you!”

“But – I’m a girl!”

“So?”

Calliope realized too late how stupid that must sound to the thunder goddess herself. But she still pressed on, “In my homeland, women don’t go to war. And I – I’m not good with weapons, either. I can barely lift a spear, or throw it!”

“We can start with something small, then,” Thrúd said. “I think I know just the thing. Come on!”

She strode over to the weapons rack nearby. Calliope looked at Atreus, but he only smiled and nodded. So Calliope trotted after the goddess, feeling very small and short at her side, but also oddly excited.

“I think this’ll work for you.” Thrúd handed over what looked like a spear to Calliope, except it was smaller and lighter, and made simply of wood with no spearhead. “Now, I’ll just teach you the basic warm-up. See how much you can handle. And if you ever get tired, just let me know, alright?”

What came next was a series of exercises that got Calliope all warmed up despite the cool morning air. When it came time to actually practice with the spear, she did not, in fact, throw it. Thrúd got her to hold it like a staff of sorts, swinging it this way and that, and holding it close in a defensive pose.

“Good, Calliope, that’s good!” Thrúd said encouragingly. “See? You can do it! Now, let’s take a break, alright?”

Calliope beamed, tired and puffing out breath, but feeling very accomplished. It wasn’t a spear or a sword, but it was still something! She hurried over to where Atreus was, only to find him gone.

“He’s probably helping Skjöldr with something,” Thrúd said. “We’ll see him later, I’m sure.”

Calliope relaxed. There was nothing to worry about. Besides, she was here with the thunder goddess! What was there to fear?

“Are there other women warriors like you?” she asked as they walked back to Skjöldr’s lodge.

“Oh, definitely! Among humans, there are lots of women who choose the sword. And there are plenty of goddesses who fought and protected others in the past. Speaking of, have you heard of the Valkyries?”

“The winged women who became shield women?”

“Shield Maidens, yeah. They’re protectors of Midgard, super tough to beat. I wanted to join them when I was younger, and I have no regrets. If you want to take up the sword, I say go for it!”

“Um, I don’t think I’m suited for fighting,” Calliope admitted, albeit hesitantly.

To her surprise, Thrúd gently ruffled her dark curls. “That’s fine too. Just don’t let anybody tell you that you can’t follow your dreams. Alright?”

Authority echoed in Thrúd’s voice, as though she was so used to giving out orders in battle that it always stuck with her everywhere else. “I won’t, my lady.”

Thrúd laughed lightly. “There’s no need to call me that. It’s just Thrúd, okay?”

“Okay,” Calliope said, smiling. “Thrúd.”

“That’s my girl.”

Calliope didn’t often see Skjöldr around, except during mealtimes. He never ate much, and he always looked like he could use a few hours more of sleep. When she pointed this out to Atreus, he said, “Skjöldr just likes to work harder than he needs to, sometimes. I’ve tried getting him to take a break, but it’s only worked twice so far. He can be pretty stubborn.”

Atreus helped Skjöldr out quite often these days. Was there a way for Calliope to help, too? She still felt bad about making him worry after sneaking off. And she hadn’t properly thanked him for offering shelter to herself and Atreus, and for having their new clothes made. If she could gift him something in return, that would make him happy, wouldn’t it? But what could she give to the leader who was already like a prince among his people?

The idea came to Calliope while she strolled through the garden. A prince, or a king, needed a crown. A flower crown! That would look lovely with his hair. 

She didn’t want to uproot the flowers of Skjöldr’s garden, though. That was very impolite! So she settled for scavenging wildflowers in the city, a fiery flower here, a white flower there. It took her a whole day to find enough with pretty colours. She then spent the evening weaving those flowers together in the way that Mother taught her back home, adding in a few leaves and ferns, and finished with a little song to perk the flowers up a bit. 

The next morning, Calliope began her search for Skjöldr. He wasn’t in the main hall at breakfast. He wasn’t in the library or at the training grounds, or talking to his steward and advisors of the city. Where was he?

As it turned out, she finally found him at the farthest edge of the garden. Skjöldr sat on a stool with his arms resting on his thighs, his head bowed so low that she could see the nape of his neck.

Calliope hesitated. “Um … Skjöldr?” Oh, maybe this was a bad time! She ought to have waited –

Skjöldr raised his head. His weary expression gave way to a bright smile. “Calliope! Hey, what’s going on? You need anything?”

“No, I – are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed a bit of air and some time to think. Why, what’s up?”

Her cheeks grew hot as she held out the flower crown. “I-I made this f-for you.”

“For me?” Skjöldr’s eyes lit up. “Aww, that’s a beautiful wreath! You didn’t have to, y’know.”

“I wanted to thank you for helping me and Atreus. And for giving us new clothes. I really like my new dress.” The words tumbled out in a rush, but at least she wasn’t stuttering!

“That’s what friends are for! I don’t expect you to give me something in return; I’m just happy to help!”

“I know, but – I also wanted to apologize again. For leaving the city and worrying you.”

Skjöldr’s face softened like a cloud. “Aww, alright, I get it. Hey, you might as well put it on me, eh? See if it fits?”

Calliope’s hands shook as she set the crown on his bowed head. Thankfully, the crown itself didn’t fall apart, and it fit snugly, too! Against his bright hair, the flowers looked like colourful explosions.

Skjöldr set his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest. “Well, how do I look? Magnificent?”

Calliope laughed. “You look very pretty!”

“Ha! I’ll take it.” Skjöldr stood up, carefully adjusted the crown a bit, then beckoned to her. “C’mon, we better go inside, or they’ll start wondering where we are!”

Inside, people paused to look at Skjöldr as he passed them by with greetings. Some smiled and murmured fondly to each other. But the best reaction was when they found Atreus and Thrúd in the main hall, already seated for the noon meal. Upon seeing Skjöldr, they both stood up and struck some funny bows.

“The king is here!” Thrúd announced in her booming voice.

“I live to serve, my liege,” Atreus said dramatically, dipping into a low bow.

Skjöldr’s face flushed pink. “Hey, I’m just trying out a new look!”

Atreus and Thrúd laughed good-naturedly, lightly clapping Skjöldr on the shoulder – or, in Thrúd’s case, a very firm clap.

The noon meal went on to be very fun, more than Calliope expected. Atreus joked around with his friends, and even though Calliope didn’t catch on with much of what was still, she still enjoyed herself a lot. Thrúd’s full-bodied laughter was infectious, and at one point, Skjöldr laughed so hard that he could barely breathe. When Calliope poured them some more fermented milk (what a funny taste!), Skjöldr patted her shoulder in thanks with a warm smile.

The evening meal was just as enjoyable, if not a little quieter. There was serious talk this time, as Thrúd called it.

“We’ll be leaving tomorrow, I think,” Atreus said. “I still gotta get Calliope properly settled in her new home.”

“I’ll stay a little longer,” Thrúd put in. “Keep an eye out for berserkers, Loki. They’ve usually been spotted in the lands north of the Lake, so you might not see them. But still.”

“We’ll be careful,” Atreus promised.

Calliope couldn’t help but pout. She liked Danmǫrk! Taking a break from travelling was far more refreshing than she’d expected. And now they had to go? “Can’t we stay a little longer?” she asked.

Skjöldr rubbed her head fondly. “Don’t worry, Calliope! You can always visit later, if you want.”

“Exactly,” Atreus agreed. “There’s nothing stopping us from coming back sometime. Danmǫrk isn’t going to disappear.”

“And neither am I!” Skjöldr grinned.

“I’ll miss you,” Calliope blurted. “And Thrúd too!”

Thrúd winked at her. “Next time we meet up, we can keep going with your staff training. How about that?”

Calliope happily agreed, feeling much more at ease now. Despite her anticipation of leaving Danmǫrk and moving further into Midgard, part of her was excited to see what would come next.

Chapter Text

Atreus startled awake. He wasn’t sure what woke him; it was so early that it was still dark outside. Still some time before they had to get up and get ready to depart.

He was just about to fall back asleep when Calliope nudged him. “Atreus?”

“Hmf? Whatsit?”

Calliope shifted so that she could comfortably tilt her head up to look at him. “I think I should see Father. I’m a little ready. I think.”

It took a moment for her words to sink into his brain. When they finally did, it was like being slapped on the back by Thrúd. “You sure? You don’t want to wait until you’re a lot ready rather than a little?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “I had a dream about him. I …” She fell silent.

Atreus rubbed her arm reassuringly. He didn’t know whether to be excited or worried. Maybe both. “Alright, we’ll go to his house first. It’s in the Wildwoods, the most beautiful forest in all of Midgard. And, um, we have a Mystic Gateway in our front yard, so we don’t have to walk too much.”

Calliope draped her arm across his midriff. Her voice slurred as she fell back to sleep. “Alright.”

Atreus remained awake, staring up at the ceiling. Oh gods. He didn’t know how this would all turn out, but he had a feeling that it was going to be big, for sure.

That morning, they set off together from Danmǫrk. Calliope wore a new woolly coat from the seamstresses, and Atreus got a full quiver of arrows. He clasped arms with Thrúd and Skjöldr; Calliope hugged them both, and was lifted off the ground by Thrúd.

Ten minutes later, Atreus and Calliope went through the Mystic Gateway and stepped out into the Wildwoods. Kratos’ cabin lay several feet away amidst large patches of green forest and smaller patches of melting snow. All at once, Atreus was hit with a rush of affection for his old home. Everything looked just as he remembered from his last visit – the repaired fence, the overhang of the roof, and the glimpse of the backyard training arena … Gods, it felt so good to be home again!

“Okay, this is it,” he said, giving Calliope’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“That’s his house?” Calliope’s voice was a little higher than usual.

“Yep, that’s where I grew up. My wolves should be around here –”

Sure enough, he heard the minds of Speki and Svanna right before they started barking.

Brother-cub! Brother-cub is back!

Make way, make way for Brother-cub!

They bounded toward him out of nowhere, tongues lolling and tails wagging with glee. Atreus laughed delightedly even as tears burned in his eyes, and he stepped forward with arms held out. “Girls! I’m back!”

They barrelled right into him and he fell on his back. Their searching paws prodded at him, and two wet noses poked at his face. He reached up to rub their fur. “Hey! I’m so happy to see you two! Oh, wow, you’ve grown, haven’t you?”

Their gleaming fur was thoroughly clean and brushed. Kratos really returned home, then, just as Thrúd said.

Brother-cub is big! Tall like Pack-father, Svanna said, licking his face. Strange smells! Very strange.

“I’ve been to some strange places,” Atreus said. “Speki –?”

New cub! Atreus twisted around to find Speki curiously sniffing at Calliope. Calliope stood still, though she didn’t look too afraid of the wolf. Speki considered her, then gave a quick lick to her face. Calliope giggled.

New cub? Svanna repeated, now trotting over to Calliope.

Smells strange. Smells like Brother-cub, Speki commented.

“Girls,” Atreus said, getting to his feet. “This is Calliope, my sister! Calliope, this is Speki, and this one is Svanna.”

“The two wolves in your journal?” Calliope said.

“Yep! You can pet ‘em if you want.”

Calliope timidly patted Speki’s head, then went into gentle pets, feeling the thick fur. “Oh, she’s so fluffy!”

Speki sat down, preening under Calliope’s attention. Young cub! New Sister-cub!

Me too, me too! Svanna pushed her nose under Calliope’s free hand and got some pets as well.

“Can you hear their thoughts?” Calliope asked eagerly. “What are they thinking?”

“They like you a lot,” Atreus said, watching the scene fondly. “You’re a new addition to their pack!”

Calliope rubbed the wolves’ heads. “Good girls,” she said softly. “Very good!”

Atreus let them have their moment for a little bit longer before reluctantly butting in. “Hey, sis? Let’s try the house, okay?”

Her smile slipped, replaced with anticipation. Speki and Svanna went with them to the front door; having them near seemed to bolster Calliope, if only a little. She absentmindedly stroked Svanna’s fur as Atreus placed his hand on the door. “Ready?”

Calliope gulped. “R-ready.”

There was no going back now. Atreus pushed the door open.

It was dark inside, but a quick magic flame got the hearth blazing, and light flooded the house. Some things had shifted around since Atreus’ last visit, but the beds were unmoved, and candles still remained on the table for light in the evenings.

There was nobody here. It was just Atreus and Calliope.

“He must’ve gone somewhere else,” Atreus mused. “Hey, girls? Where’s Father?”

Pack-father cleaned our fur, Speki said happily. Gave us treats! Called us good.

He went back to the shiny door, Svanna added mournfully. Told us to stay. And Brother-cub came!  

So it was only a short time ago that Kratos left? Maybe he went back to Vanaheim. Tension left his shoulders; he hadn’t even realized how nervous he was.

“Father isn’t here?” Calliope didn’t sound as disappointed as Atreus expected. In fact, she was visibly relieved.

“We could wait for him if you –”

“No! No, we don’t have to,” she said quickly. “I – I change my mind. I don’t think I’m ready to see him. Um, could we explore, then? And go to Jötunheim?”

Atreus hesitated. It was obviously just cold feet. He was half-tempted to suggest that they wait, but he didn’t want to make it any worse. “Alright. Let’s go, then. I’ll show you the Lake of Nine, and Jörmungandr! Remember what I told you about him?”

“The big serpent? He’s here? Really?”

“He’s here,” Atreus grinned. “We can try speaking to him, if you want! I’ll translate for you.”

Despite her initial eagerness to go, Calliope lingered inside the cabin for a few moments more, peering at the shelves, beds, and sparsely-filled cupboards. “Did Laufey live here, too?”

“After she married Father, I think. They built this place together.”

“She was very strong, then?”

“As strong as Father, yeah.”

“Did she live with the other Giants before?”

“Yeah. She never told me about her past, so I don’t know what it was like for her to live there. But the other Giants have told me a bit about her.”

“What did they say?”

“She was always restless at home, and eager to see the other Realms. She wanted to help out where she could.” Help her husband and son defy their fate.

“Did she go to the other Realms?”

“Yep. Vanaheim, Svartalfheim, Midgard … I honestly don’t know about all of her journeys. But I wish I did.”

Calliope dusted off the pillow on Atreus’ bed. “My mother was from Sparta, like me,” she said. “But she told me she visited other places before. Corinth, Olympia, even Alexandria! Her father was a sailor, and when she was young, he took her with him because he thought she wouldn’t be safe enough back home.”

“Huh. You never mentioned that before,” Atreus commented. He didn’t expect Calliope to tell him everything, but whenever she mentioned her side of the family, especially Lysandra, he hung on to every word.

“I was just thinking about it now. Mother said she couldn’t remember her childhood home much, but she remembered going on lots of sailing adventures.” Calliope returned to his side and took his hand. “I think that is where she learned archery. Going to different places can be fun, but dangerous.”

“I agree with that.” Exchanging an uncertain home for the uncertain waters and foreign lands. That was one way to do things. And, in a way, it reminded Atreus of himself and Kratos. What had Lysandra’s relationship with her father been like? Was he gruff and serious like Kratos, or lighthearted and personable?

As they left the cabin, having bid farewell to Speki and Svanna, Calliope continued, “I remember Mother told me this story about how her father nearly got caught by Scylla! He left Mother on land to wait for him because he felt it was too dangerous to bring her. She hid with the cargo so she could go with him, but his sailors found her. It was just like Odysseus’ adventure, she said! Her father lost six men to Scylla’s horrible, hungry heads.”

“That’s terrible!” Atreus said. “But her father got out, at least? And the rest of his sailors?”

“Yes! When he returned, he went the long way to avoid Scylla, but that meant Mother had to wait longer on land.”

“Was there anyone with her? What about her mother?”

“Oh … Her mother died a long time ago. There wasn’t enough food, I think.”

“A famine? Harvests weren’t good, that sort of thing?”

“Yes, I think so.”

Calliope shared more of Lysandra’s stories as they strolled through the Wildwoods. It was slower than taking the Mystic Gateway, but Atreus wanted to hear the stories, and Calliope was eager enough to tell them today. She spoke of how Lysandra once had three Athenian suitors after her when she was only thirteen, but her father sent them away because she was too young – and the suitors weren’t very impressive, either. Another time, they ran across a ship of pirates and fought them off; fourteen-year-old Lysandra stood by the cargo with her bow and shot any pirates who dared to come close.

By seventeen, Lysandra was back in Sparta while her father searched for a suitable husband for her. It wasn’t until she was nineteen that she caught the attention of a Spartan warrior, himself gaining attention and fame for his great feats. “And that’s how Mother married Father,” Calliope said. “And then they had me!”

Atreus bent down to kiss her brow, but he missed and ended up kissing her nose instead. “I’m glad they did. And look! Now you’re going on your own adventure, just like your mom!”

Calliope grinned toothily and hugged him around the waist.

“Speaking of adventures,” Atreus said, “how about I change into a wolf for a bit? We’re taking the long way to the Lake, so it’ll be quicker if I’m on all fours.”

Thus, he carried Calliope on his back the rest of the way, letting her take in the sights and sounds and smells of the Wildwoods. When it came to climbing up and down the cliffs, he switched back to human, and she clung to his back just as he’d clung to Kratos in his youth.

In hindsight, they should’ve just used the Mystic Gateway.

They were barely out of the Wildwoods when Atreus heard the telltale snarl of a draugr up ahead. At any other time, he would’ve just jumped in and dealt with them. He’d done it plenty of times before that it was pretty much rote.

But now a chill went up his spine, and he ducked for the nearest tree, drawing Calliope close to him. “What is it?” she asked.

Atreus put a finger to his lips. “I heard a draugr. It’s an undead warrior. Stay here; I’ll take care of it.”

He stepped out from behind the tree and spotted the draugr lumbering around, several feet ahead. He quietly approached it, taking his bow and drawing up a shock arrow. The draugr snarled, pausing.

Atreus fired. “Skjálfa!”

The draugr stumbled back, only to regain its balance and lunge forward with a roar, raising its half-rusted blade. Atreus dodged, attacked, and parried, just as he always did. When he heard the approach of a few other draugr, he tried not to let his fear for Calliope get to his head. She was fine. She was staying hidden.

He destroyed the first draugr with an explosive arrow, then dodged just as another swung at him. Atreus rolled up, slashed at it, then spun under a third draugr’s attack –

A screeching note from a flute sent both draugr flying back. Atreus barely had time to digest what just happened. He leaped at them, hacking and slashing with his bow. A few more blasts from Calliope’s flute told him that there were more draugr nearby; he spun around just as one of them turned toward Calliope’s hiding spot.

“Nista!” he shouted, firing arrow after arrow. That drew the draugr’s attention back to him. Atreus danced back, leading them further away from Calliope. Come on, come at me …

He wasn’t expecting her to start playing the Spartan duel song. What the Hel! This wasn’t the time to start playing music –!

One of the draugr struck its comrade. Atreus blinked. The second draugr stumbled back, then attacked with renewed vigour, and before he knew it, a gang fight had unfolded before him. He wasted no time in picking them off with arrows while they were distracted.

An eerie silence fell upon the forest once they were all gone. Atreus stood there, panting, making sure there weren’t any other draugr wandering around. Once he was certain, he turned back to the tree to find Calliope standing beside it.

“Atreus!” she cried, and hurried over to him.

He caught her in a tight hug. “You okay? What were you thinking, playing your flute like that?”

“I wanted to help! I saw the others coming for you, and I – I didn’t want you to die!”

He patted her back. “I’m not going to die, sis. I’m super tough, remember? And besides, that trick you pulled, getting them to fight each other … That was pretty awesome.”

“Really?” she said, eyes wide.

He grinned. “Yep, really.”

If she could do that to other enemies, pushing them to fight each other, or maybe stun or stagger them … Atreus envisioned them being a team as they fought, with him going in for the attack while she provided support in a safe spot. It was a lot like how he’d fought alongside Kratos in his youth.

He shook himself. They shouldn’t stay here; there could be other hostiles lurking about. Even though Calliope was proving to have some combat advantages, he wasn’t about to risk putting her in danger just to test her abilities. “Come on, let’s go. We’re nearly at the Lake!”

They reached the Lake of Nine by noon and ate their lunch on a cliff overlooking the land, with the Lake, Týr’s Temple, and the mountains all gleaming in the sun. Atreus pointed out the serpentine body coiling over the cliffs across the Lake. “There’s Jörmungandr. See?”

Calliope’s eyes widened. “He’s giant!”

“And that’s just a part of his body. Want to get a closer look?”

It took a bit of maneuvering to get down to the Lake, but they eventually reached the little boat that he and Kratos often used, and set sail towards the Temple. The breeze coming off the Lake cooled him down after all that running and climbing, and brought with it a sense of deja vu. Ages ago, it had been him sitting in Calliope’s place while Kratos paddled them to their destination. Now it was Atreus doing the paddling. So much time had passed since he first set out with Kratos to scatter Faye’s ashes. So much had happened since then. Atreus never expected them to actually travel the realms, or Ragnarök to end as well as it did, or reunite with his long-lost sister in his father’s homeland.

But they were here now. Calliope eagerly turned in her seat to see everything, from the other shores around the Lake to the statues near the Temple, not to mention the Temple itself. “It’s so pretty! Is it made of gold?”

“I doubt it, but it does look pretty shiny.”

Atreus brought them to the dock with the white flag, then led Calliope up the stairs to the Temple’s outer bridge. From there, they reached the platform that rose up to the serpent’s horn, offering yet another stunning view of the Lake and its surroundings.

Calliope leaned against the platform’s railing. “Look! I can see the serpent there, and there! And over there! Can he really wrap around the whole world?”

“I don’t see why not! He looks big enough to me.”

“Why isn’t he moving? Is he alright?”

Atreus tried searching for Jörmungandr’s head. It rested on one of the far cliffs, half-turned away. “He’s probably still asleep.”

“Oh. So we can’t talk with him, then?” Calliope sounded somewhat disappointed.

“Weeelll, I’ve woken him up before,” Atreus said, coming up beside her and leaning his elbows on the railing. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind meeting a new face.”

Calliope bit her lip. “Maybe we shouldn’t. He is an old Giant, right? He needs lots of rest … Oh, I know! Can I sing him the Jötnar lullaby?”

Now that was an idea. “I don’t see why not,” Atreus smiled. “Go on, then!”

Calliope nervously bounced on her feet, but she seemed determined to at least give it a try. She cleared her throat and drew in a deep breath, and what came out was the most heavenly voice that Atreus had ever heard.

Jötnarnir miklu og máttku

Hraktir í útlegð heim

Jötnar ei Guðir né dauðlegir,

Til fjalla í Jötunheim

Calliope’s voice echoed across the Lake, solemn and sweet, and so very melancholic. Her eyes closed halfway through, so she missed it when Jörmungandr began to move. When the first rumblings of his movement passed under their feet, her eyes shot open, and her singing stuttered into a cry. “What’s happening?”

“He’s awake!”

Jörmungandr slowly turned his head, golden eyes searching the Lake until he finally spotted them. It took a few minutes for him to get closer; either he was still half-asleep or it was just his old age, but he moved a little slower than Atreus remembered. When he was finally before them, his lips curled, and his deep, rumbling voice vibrated through Atreus’ chest:

I dreamt of the old lands, of distant mountains and golden fields, and therein didst I hear the song of my kin. Who hath summoned me hence from my slumber?

“He wants to know who woke him up,” Atreus translated for Calliope. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain.” He then cleared his throat; when he spoke, his voice echoed around them.

Loki am I; my sister, Calliope, sang to thee the lullaby. We meant not to disturb thy slumber.

The serpent rumbled questioningly. His eyes turned to Calliope, and she shifted closer to Atreus, both awed and fearful of the serpent.

No harm hath been done, save to my heart. The child’s voice brings memories of that ancient time when Giant children walked among us. If I may ask, wouldst she sing further?

Atreus smiled widely. “Calliope, he’d like you to sing some more, if that’s okay. You reminded him of his old days in Jötunheim.”

“Really?” Calliope squeaked. “He liked it? Um – okay!”

Her voice cracked on the first line. Her next attempt was clearer, gradually getting louder until it echoed around them just as before. Jörmungandr hummed contentedly as he listened. He seemed far more at ease now, and once the song was done, he inclined his head to Calliope.

Thou hath my gratitude, little Giant. If it is thy wish to ask a question of me, thou mayst proceed.

“He’s thankful for your singing,” Atreus said. “If you want to ask him something, you can.”

“What do I say?” Calliope asked uncertainly.

“Anything at all. Or nothing, if you want.”

“Um … If I ever want to visit him again, is that okay?”

Atreus couldn’t help but smile as he translated for Jörmungandr. The serpent made a rumbling noise that sounded oddly like a chuckle. Of course thou mayst. I will always be here, watching and waiting. Whither goest thou?

We go now to Jötunheim, Atreus told him. My sister shall make her new dwelling place there. Then shall I seek my father.

Ah, thy father, Jörmungandr hummed. Fárbauti hath gone to the green jungles of the Vanir. This I hath seen in my dreams.

Atreus nodded. Many thanks.

Fare thee well, my kin.

“Where is he going?” Calliope asked as the serpent slowly retreated to his perch over the cliffs.

“Back to bed, I guess. He says you can visit him whenever you want. And that Father went back to Vanaheim.”

“Oh. Let’s hurry to Jötunheim then, before he gets back!”

Atreus turned the lever to lower their platform. “You really don’t want to see Father? Are you afraid of him?”

“No!” she blurted. She quickly clamped her lips shut, cheeks flushing red. Then she said, “I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to.”

“Okay. I get it.” Atreus led her inside the Temple. They passed the empty dwarf forge in the corner and halted before the Mystic Gateway. “Alright, we’re going to Jötunheim. You ready?”

Calliope nodded and squeezed his hand. “Ready!”

Chapter Text

The warm breeze and golden sun of Jötunheim greeted Atreus like an old friend. He breathed in deeply of Ironwood’s pleasantly sweet and earthy smell. He was home for the second time today!

Angrboda’s treehouse lay before them. Excitement pooled in Atreus’ stomach at the sight. “We’re here! Welcome to Ironwood, sis.”

Before she could say anything, the comfortable quiet of the afternoon was broken by a sudden, familiar howl. Brother-cub! Fenrir called, carefully trotting over to them despite his instincts to run and leap with excitement. Ever since Atreus placed Fenrir’s soul in Garm’s body, his dear wolf had to be mindful of his size when moving among the smaller Giants.

Atreus laughed and rubbed Fenrir’s large nose. “Aww, Fen! It’s so good to see you! Hey, Calliope? It’s okay, come on out! Fenrir’s my third wolf, and a very good boy. See?”

Calliope peeked out from behind Atreus, staring at the wolf with wide eyes. Fenrir blinked at her. New cub?

“That’s right, she’s your new Sister-cub!” Atreus gently took Calliope’s hand and placed it on Fenrir’s nose. Slowly, she began to pet it.

“Hello,” she said quietly to Fenrir. “I’m Calliope of Sparta.”

New cub, Fenrir rumbled, snuffling the front of her dress as he took in her scent.

Calliope gradually relaxed. “You have Giant wolves too?” she asked Atreus.

“Aside from Fen, there’s just Sköll and Hati, I think. He used to be normal-sized like Speki and Svanna, but … Well, it’s a long story. But he lived with me and Father.”

Welcome, Sister-cub, Fenrir said happily. His tail thumped once on the ground with a muffled boom. Calliope jumped but soon went back to petting Fenrir’s snout.

“Is Angrboda around, boy?” Atreus asked.

“Right here, Loki,” came that warm, welcome voice. Angrboda stepped out from behind Fenrir, a playful smile on her face.

Something bright and bubbly burst in Atreus’ stomach, spreading through his chest and tingling up to his scalp. He moved forward as if in a dream, and their fingers entwined. And then they were hugging, his nose buried in her dark locks as he breathed in the faintly floral, Ironwood-y scent mixed with the herbal tints of her paints. Her cheek was soft against his. She pressed closer to him; her breath gusted over his ear and neck, and his knees trembled.

When she pulled back, Atreus leaned forward before she could and kissed the edge of her mouth. Oh – damn it, he’d been aiming for her cheek! At least he wasn’t the only one blushing now.

Angrboda squeezed his hands and kissed his temple. “I’m so happy to see you, Loki. Safe and soundly, too.”

“Thanks, Boda. It’s great to see you, too. How is everyone?”

“They’re all doing good! I’m sure they’ll know that you’re here, thanks to Fenrir’s howl.” Angrboda glanced around Atreus. “Uh, so where’s that sister you were talking about? Oh!”

Calliope was once again hiding behind Atreus. Fenrir sniffed at her curiously, completely giving her away. Atreus chuckled to himself and drew Calliope to his side. “Hey, sis? Remember me telling you about Angrboda? Well, here she is! Boda, this is Calliope.”

Angrboda crouched down so that she was eye-level with Calliope, and beamed at her. “Hi there! Your brother has told me quite a bit about you. You like music?”

Calliope nodded shyly. “I like the flute.”

“That’s lovely! We have some musicians here, and artists, and others besides. But what do you say to getting settled, first? I made up a little bed for you, right above mine.”

Calliope nodded again. “Thank you.”

Angrboda stood and held out her hand. To Atreus’ delight, Calliope took it, and the three of them went to Angrboda’s treehouse.

Her home with the animals had expanded considerably over the years. There was now a larger space for her bedroom, sectioned off by a wooden panel with a sun-and-moon mural. Behind the bed was the large slab of stone that Angrboda usually used as a bedside table of sorts. A footstool stood against it; Angrboda brought Calliope over and encouraged her to climb up, then climbed after her.

“Your bed is up here, see?” She joined Calliope on the slab and sat down. “I picked out the blanket for you, but you can switch it for a different one, if you want.”

Atreus came closer. The rock slab was a little over half his height, so he didn’t need the footstool to climb up. Angrboda had arranged an entire lounge here, complete with a straw-stuffed mattress, night-blue blanket, and pillows woven with Ironwood cotton. The edges were embroidered with Jötnar prayers and nursery rhymes asking for restful sleep to come upon the weary and worried ones.

“What d’you think, Calliope?” he asked.

Calliope sat down on the mattress, looked around at her new sleeping spot, and smiled widely. “I like it! It’s so squishy.” She held up an aqua-dyed pillow, enamoured by the geometric patterns woven in different colours.

“Did Eistla make those?” Atreus asked, nodding to the pillows.

“Yep!” Angrboda said. “I asked her if she wouldn’t mind having another weaving project, and she took it without question.”

Calliope turned to her. “You made the bed for me?”

“I just arranged things,” Angrboda said. “I’m happy you like it, though!”

Calliope grinned. “I love it! Blue is my favourite colour.” She peered down at the bed directly below her stone slab. “So … You and Atreus sleep there?”

“Well, I usually do,” Angrboda said, casting an amused glance at Atreus’ reddening face. “Loki sometimes sleeps there too, but not always. He can sleep here with you, if he wants. This bed is big enough.”

Calliope gazed at Angrboda for a moment. There was something in her face that Atreus was certain he’d seen before. Something … adoring? Hadn’t Calliope looked at Vesta that way?

Then she looked at Atreus, and a hint of boldness gleamed in her eyes. “Atreus told me about you,” she said.

Angrboda raised her eyebrows. “Did he? I hope it wasn’t all too outlandish.”

“Hey, you know I never exaggerate,” Atreus protested.

“He likes you a lot,” Calliope said, and Atreus just about choked on air.

Angrboda’s smile broadened. “Is that so? I’m glad. I like him a lot, too.”

“Will you be married one day?”

“Um, I’m gonna go check on Fenrir,” Atreus stammered. “I think he’s calling for me. What’s that, boy? Yep, I’m coming!”

Fenrir simply gave him a questioning look as Atreus hurried out of the treehouse. His ears burned with the girls’ quiet giggles.

A little later, after Calliope explored the treehouse and Angrboda’s murals on display, they went over to the village proper. As it turned out, the small Giants had all gathered upon hearing Fenrir’s howl. Atreus found them in what was now the Gathering Glade, a sunlit clearing in the middle of Ironwood’s village that looked like a miniature version of the Valley of the Fallen. In this area of the village, it usually served as a marketplace, or a space for the small Giants to gather for whatever reason.

Well, “small” was a general term. Atreus would describe the term as ranging from human-sized to Týr-sized, or slightly bigger. The giant Giants, ranging from Grýla-size to smaller than Thamur, lived underground or outside Ironwood in the cliffs.

The biggest Giant in this group was Hymir, an old apprentice to Thamur, the stonemason. He was several heads taller than Týr, not to mention the latter’s foster-father.

As Atreus, Calliope, and Angrboda approached, Hymir towered over everyone as the Giants crowded around the three. “Hail Loki! We heard you returned a short while ago.”

Hroðr came near and patted Atreus’ hand. She was a Giantess with greying hair and fingers always stained with pottery clay. And Týr’s mother to boot. Gods, when Atreus told Týr that he’d recovered her, the old god of war had truly cried.

“I trust your journey was well, dear?” Hroðr asked. Unlike her son, she was human-sized.

“As well as it could be, I guess. Um, have you all been waiting here ever since I arrived?” Atreus asked, struck with a bit of embarrassment.

“Oh, not too long. Just for the past year or so,” Menja said with a teasing roll of her eyes. She sat on one of the tree stumps, with her twin, Fenja, standing at her side. They were two of the youngest Giants brought back, claiming to be around Atreus’ age, and sized slightly bigger than Týr.

“Angrboda told us you haven’t found any new marbles or Giants,” Fenja said, unable to hide her disappointment.

“These things take time, dear,” Hroðr said gently. “But it appears our Loki found someone else! Will you introduce us to the little one?”

“Of course. Calliope?” Atreus had to gently disentangle his sister’s arms from around his waist. She’d been hiding behind him again. “Calliope, these are the Jötnar, my people. You remember me talking about them, right? This is Hroðr. And her partner, Hymir.”

I couldn’t see Odin as my father anymore, not after what he did to the Jötnar, Týr had said after Atreus recovered Hymir’s marble. Atreus remembered clearly how Týr cradled that marble in his hands, eyes glistening with tears. Hymir was always like a true father to me. I thought – I thought he died during the massacre!

Was it for your parents that you fought to protect the Giants from Odin? Atreus had asked.

Týr’s bifrost eyes burned bright and golden. That wasn’t the only reason. But a big one, yes.

Atreus shook the memory from his mind. “Over there is Gerð. She’s a fantastic baker.”

The Giantess with golden hair offered a small bow with a kind smile. She was a beautiful young woman, taller than Angrboda, and wearing a cooking apron over her white dress. She was also Freyr’s ex. As much as Atreus wanted to broach the subject sometimes, he wasn’t brave enough to face Gerð’s chilly gaze.

“That’s Hljóð, with her kids, Sigmund and Signy,” Atreus continued. “Those two are around your age, I think!”

Hljóð smiled and inclined her head. She was Týr’s height, but her children were human-sized, surprisingly. “Welcome, little one. Children, say hello!”

“Hello,” Sigmund muttered. He had his arms crossed, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else but here. His sister, Signy, shyly waved at Calliope but said nothing. Calliope managed to wave back at her.

“Those two are Fenja and Menja,” Atreus continued, nodding to the dark-haired twins. They always wore complementary colours, though Fenja preferred the cooler tones while Menja picked the warmer. Today, they looked pretty good with their yellow-purple combination.

“And there’s Eggdér, the wolf-herder.” Eggdér was a tough one for Atreus. Every time they caught each other’s gaze, Atreus couldn’t shake the feeling that Eggdér was trying to burn holes into his face just by looking.

Eggdér had been a close friend of Angrboda’s father. He’d cared for Angrboda just as much, if not more so. And he sure as Hel didn’t approve of her hanging out with Atreus now.

To Atreus’ relief, Eggdér simply nodded in greeting to Calliope. His brown eyes flicked to Atreus and immediately grew sharp. Atreus quickly looked away.

“Don’t forget me, Loki!” came a voice at the back of the group. The crowd parted to reveal one of Heimdall’s three remaining mothers.

“Oh, right!” Atreus said. “Calliope, that’s Eistla. She made your pillows!”

“Hello,” Calliope said, quieter than a mouse. “Th-thank you for the pillows.”

Eistla was somewhat shorter than Týr, and from what Atreus remembered, her two sisters were the same. They all wore colourful clothing that reminded Atreus of Angrboda’s murals; Eistla’s dress was a collage of cloth and drapery, all dyed in many earthy colours, especially Ironwood’s yellows, browns, and reds.

Eistla inclined her head to Calliope. “‘Twas nothing, really. But you’re welcome. And Loki, I hope you’ll forgive my sisters’ absence today.”

Atreus shook his head. “It’s okay. Really.” He was just glad that he was generally on speaking terms with Angeyja and Ulfrún. It could’ve been another case of Freya wanting vengeance after Baldur’s death, but the three sisters framed Heimdall’s death as Kratos putting him out of his misery and freeing him from Odin’s chains. Of course, that didn’t exactly make it easy for the sisters to face the people Heimdall antagonized, Atreus being one of them.

“And that’s all, I think,” Atreus said, frowning as he glanced around the crowd. “Where’s Vaf and Ímr? Still looking for old texts?”

“Yes, and you likely won’t see them here for a while,” Hymir said. “Gunnlöð has not yet returned from her journey, either.”

“And, of course, the giant Giants are outside,” Menja put in. “Speaking of that, we were thinking of having an early evening gathering so you wouldn’t have to tell your tale twice, Loki.”

“Sounds good to me. It’s a pretty long tale,” Atreus grinned. “And Calliope, you can tell it with me, if you want.”

She was still evidently shy in front of the Giants, but she nodded timidly, and Atreus gently squeezed her hand. You’re doing great, he wanted to tell her. All in all, this meeting was going pretty well!

***

Calliope held on tight to Atreus’ hand as they all strode down the forest path. Atreus said that they were going to the Valley of the Fallen, a big, grassy field with enough space to hold all the Giants, big or small. Fenrir bounded ahead to alert the giant Giants, though surely his earlier howl would’ve been heard even beyond Ironwood, given how loud it was!

She still hadn’t gotten over her shock at seeing Atreus’ people. Some were his size, while others were bigger and taller. From what Atreus said, there were even bigger Giants outside Ironwood! How big would they be? Enough to touch the sky?

As they passed through the forest, Atreus pointed out strange objects here and there, and it made Calliope’s head buzz. A medallion settled against a tree trunk, large enough to be a gateway into Athens! A length of chainmail draped over the branches, with rings big enough for her to slip through! The Giants who owned those things must have been very big indeed!

Some of the Giants here spoke with Atreus. Calliope couldn’t quite keep track of their conversation, so she turned her attention to Ironwood itself. Everything had a golden, late afternoon light to it. It reminded Calliope of Elysium, in a way … But the light of Elysium had been sharp and clear, and unending. Here, everything felt soft. Even the Giants themselves had a simplicity about them that she found reassuring.

“Hello,” a quiet voice said.

Calliope looked to her side to find Signy, the Giant girl. Her hair glowed reddish-gold in the sunlight. On Signy’s other side was Hljóð, her mother. Sigmund walked a little ways apart, kicking at rocks.

“Hello,” Calliope said. One of them was speaking to her! She ought to say something more, but what?

“I like your hair,” she blurted, then clamped her lips shut. Embarrassment welled up in her stomach. Oh, what a silly thing to say!

To her surprise, Signy giggled, her cheeks tinged pink. “I like yours, too. It’s very curly.”

Heat flushed Calliope’s face. “Thank you.”

“Where do you come from?” Signy asked, no longer as shy as before. “You speak funny.”

“Signy,” Hljóð said sternly. “Remember your manners!”

“I-I come from Sparta,” Calliope said. “Um, do I speak badly?”

“No!” Signy said, startled. “Not badly. It’s funny! I like how you speak.”

Calliope relaxed. “Greek is my first language. Atreus taught me Midgardian. I’m still learning.”

“Can you learn languages quickly like he can?”

“Yes! I learn better when he teaches me with songs.”

“We have lots of songs,” Signy said eagerly. “I can show you my favourites. Gunnlöð knows more about songs and poetry than I do, though.”

“Who is Gunnlöð?” Calliope tried to put a face to the name, imagining her with the colourful clothes of the Giants, and the same blue eyes as Signy.

“She is a warrior,” Signy said. “Long ago, she guarded the Mead of Poetry. If you drank it, you would become a poet or a scholar, and you’d be able to answer any question!”

“Really? That’s incredible! Has anyone ever drunk it before?”

Signy’s smile faltered. She leaned a little closer and lowered her voice. “Only Odin, the cruel All-Father. He tricked Gunnlöð into letting him drink the Mead, then flew away with it all!”

“That’s enough, Signy,” Hljóð said. “We don’t want to frighten our guest away!”

“Oh. Sorry, Mama,” Signy said, offering Calliope an apologetic look.

Calliope wished she could hear more about it. The tale sounded so interesting! How did Odin trick Gunnlöð? And did nobody else ever get a drink at all? That was very unfair, wasn’t it?

“Where is Gunnlöð now?” she asked, hoping to keep up the conversation.

“She is travelling to her old home, the great mountain Hnitbjörg,” Signy replied. “We don’t know when she will return.”

Calliope was about to ask more, but at that moment Atreus gently nudged her. “We’re out of the forest! There’s the Valley of the Fallen, see it?”

Calliope looked ahead to find a vast plain of rock formations mixed with golden fields. All of it lay under the open, cloudless sky. The beauty of it took her words away; when Atreus chuckled softly and lightly tugged her hand, she realized she’d been staring. “C’mon, sis. We still need to get down there.”

They eventually arrived at a big open space surrounded by structures of standing stones. Patches of golden grass spread throughout the rocky landscape. And there, gathered by one of the larger standing stone pillars …

Calliope’s eyes widened. There were Giants. Huge Giants! They sat on the stone ledges as though they were but large stairs. Fenrir sat with them, but he leaped to his feet upon seeing Atreus and the others, tail wagging.

“There they are,” a large Giantess boomed. “With the boy returned, I see!”

“I hear you’ve had quite the adventure, Loki,” a Giant said. He had a kindly, weathered face that Calliope instantly trusted. 

“Though not with much news of our kin,” said another Giant with a sour face. He was also the largest of the entire group, no doubt bigger than the Temple of Jupiter in Rome! “I see you have brought a new companion into our home, Loki.”

Calliope nervously glanced up at Atreus. He stared back at the Giant with a stony face and tight-lipped smile. “This is my sister, Hvalr. I thought she was lost for good, but it turns out she wasn’t. Isn’t that great news? I assume you’d like to hear the tale.”

Hvalr scowled, but he couldn’t quite cover up his curiosity. Another Giant close to his size came up, dressed in reddish-brown robes, and laid a brown hand on Hvalr’s shoulder. “Come now, let’s not fight. Loki has done much for us, already. And our people are good at hiding; I wouldn’t be surprised if it took Loki more than a few decades to find half of those who left, if not all.”

The smaller Giants proceeded to lay out woven blankets on the stony floor and sat down near their large kin. Atreus stayed standing but lifted Calliope up to sit on a ledge, bringing them close to eye-level. Angrboda kissed his cheek, rubbed Calliope’s hand, then trotted off towards one of the bigger Giants, a frowning woman with dark skin and greying locks. Even with the frown, she looked much like Angrboda.

While the Giants were still getting comfy, Atreus quickly pointed out the large ones in a murmured tone. Calliope was glad for the distraction. Her stomach was twisting into so many knots! “Don’t mind Hvalr. He’s always been a grumpy one,” her brother said. “He’s a stonemason, like Hymir. The one beside him is Mundilfari. Remember what I told you about Sól and Mani?”

“They drive the sun and moon chariots,” Calliope said, nodding.

“That’s right. Mundilfari is their father. And that’s Skadi, known as the Queen of the Hunt.” Atreus indicated the Giantess who had spoken first. Her long, brown hair was wild, with little braids draped over her fur-cloaked shoulders. Her face was angular, bearing a few pale scars, and her green eyes were bright. Calliope could easily imagine her with a bow and spear, walking through the forests as though she was the queen of all who lived there. 

“Who is the woman sitting beside her?” Calliope asked.

“Oh, that’s Grýla. Boda’s grandmother.”

Grýla was about the same size as Skadi. She looked very grim and scary. But if she was Angrboda’s grandmother, maybe she was kinder than she seemed. Calliope watched as Grýla picked Angrboda up and set her on her large knee. The elder’s hand wrapped all the way around Angrboda’s waist. It didn’t look particularly comfortable, though maybe Angrboda was used to it?

“The last one over there is Hundálfr. He’s a carpenter.” That was the Giant with the kindly face that Calliope trusted. He was somewhat bigger than Grýla, but somehow, Calliope didn’t feel as intimidated by him as with the others. He also had a square beard and thick sideburns. In fact, he rather reminded her of Portunus.

“Are these all the Giants?” Calliope asked, keeping her voice low in the hopes that the others wouldn’t hear.

“For now, yeah. I’ll explain more to you later. First, I gotta do some talking.”

It was then that Calliope noticed all the Giants waiting for them.

Chapter Text

“Loki,” Mundilfari said, his firm voice filling Calliope’s ears despite how calmly he spoke. “You haven’t told us your sister’s name.”

Atreus glanced at Calliope and nodded encouragingly. She swallowed, then spoke, as clearly as she could, “I am Calliope of Sparta. Um, I am honoured to meet you.”

“Any family of Loki’s is welcome here,” Skadi said. “Though, I have never heard that name before.”

“She’s not a Giant,” Atreus pointed out. “She is from my father’s homeland. His first child.”

Hvalr leaned forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. It was as though a mountain loomed over them. Calliope fought the urge to lean away. “I was under the impression from Angrboda that your sister was, in fact, a Giant.”

“I never said that she was a Giant,” Angrboda protested. “I just repeated what Loki told me. Calliope is his sister by blood. Isn’t that good enough?”

“Jötunheim belongs to the Jötnar,” Hvalr said sharply. “Our people should be our first focus! Loki’s ties to the other realms prevent him from staying fully with us. But you, Angrboda? I would have thought that you, of all people, would understand the importance of our survival.”

Calliope wanted to hide away from Hvalr’s furious gaze. Atreus’ face flushed with anger, and Angrboda looked like she either wanted to cry or snap back, but it was Grýla who thumped her fist on the stone ledge she sat on. The ground shook slightly, like a warning.

“Watch how you speak to my granddaughter, Hvalr!” Grýla spat. “Unlike you, she chose not to hide.”

“Please, let us be calm,” Hymir pleaded. Turning to Atreus, he said, “Come, Loki, share with us your tale. Where did you go this time? Did you find any traces of other Giants?”

Calliope exchanged a small glance with Atreus. His face was still red, but he drew in a deep breath to steady himself. “Not really,” he said. “I ran into some dead ends at first. And then I got sidetracked …”

He then told the story of their entire adventure, from Greece, to Rome, and then to Midgard. It was a shortened version, of course, and he left out the whole thing about the Underworld, and how Calliope was kept in Elysium. All he said was that she’d been captured by the gods of her homeland, and once he set her free, they had to hurry back to Midgard in order to keep her safe from those gods. Atreus wasn’t able to pick up any more clues about the Giants during that time.

Other than that, it was a rapturing tale. Calliope felt as though she was lying in bed while Mother told her stories of the old days, with legendary heroes and famous monsters, and their tragic ends. Even Hvalr didn’t interrupt, keeping his full attention on Atreus.

Once Atreus finished, there was a pause. Then Eggdér said, quite softly, “Am I to understand that these hostile gods who pursued you are still searching for you? What assurance do you have that they will not come searching here?”

An uneasy silence fell over them. Calliope felt the tension rolling off her brother, though he barely batted an eye at Eggdér’s words.

“The gods who stepped into Calliope’s homeland are pretty new,” he said. “As far as I can tell, they don’t know about the Nine Realms, much less a way to access realm travel. Besides, if they leave their territory, their power lessens. I highly doubt they’ll find their way here.”

Calliope tried not to think of Thanatos – of Mors. Or Somnus, or the king and queen of the Underworld. Were they still looking for her at all? She hoped not, but what if they were?

No, she was safe here. Vesta said so. And Jötunheim was a whole other world! It was just as Atreus said. What would the Roman gods know about worlds besides their own?

“I for one am glad that you were able to reunite with your sister,” Hroðr said kindly. “And we have plenty of room to spare in Ironwood. Angrboda is an excellent teacher.”

Gratitude and worry both pushed Calliope to speak. Some of them weren’t happy with her being here. She didn’t want to upset them, but she didn’t want to be kicked out, either. If she was, what would happen then?

“I will do my best to help, and to learn quickly,” she said, heart pounding. “I-I don’t want to give you any trouble.”

“You aren’t,” Hroðr assured her. “It is only that some of us often see trouble where there isn’t any.”

“This concerns all of us,” Eggdér said. “Loki may be our Champion, but that does not give him leave to do whatever he pleases!”

“Since when have I ever done that to any of you?” Atreus demanded.

“Your sister is proof,” Eggdér said flatly. “You had your mission, and you got sidetracked –”

“I wasn’t about to leave her where she was, you –”

“Stop it!” Angrboda leaped down from Grýla’s knee and grabbed Eggdér’s arm. He towered over her by at least two heads, but that didn’t seem to frighten her at all. “Loki’s done what he can for us. He’s never asked for anything in return, and this is how you repay his efforts?”

Calliope wished she had some of Angrboda’s confidence. What little she had left was steadily draining. Everybody was upset because of her. She shouldn’t have come here. Tears burned her eyes as she thought of the comfy bed that Angrboda had made for her. Calliope had been hopeful as she explored the treehouse. That was where she would live. And she’d help Angrboda with whatever chores she did and learn new things, and be safe. That was all slipping away now, like sand spilling from her palms.

“I-I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said. The words clogged around the lump in her throat. Atreus turned to her with a burning look in his blue eyes.

“You’re not intruding at all, Calliope,” he said firmly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders protectively. “It’s not your fault. I promise. Let me handle this.”

“I am with Loki in this,” Skadi announced. “Hvalr, Eggdér, I think you are being too harsh on the child. Did we not all agree, back when Loki recovered us, that any friend and family of his would be welcome here? We have allowed Fárbauti to enter Jötunheim, not to mention the goddess Freya, and that upstart Mimir. We have resumed trade with the dwarves and the Vanir. Why not let this child stay?”

“The more people we allow inside, the more likely it is that knowledge of the entrances will fall into the wrong hands!” Hvalr exclaimed.

“I will not tell anybody!” Calliope protested. She clasped her shaking hands on her lap. “I promise, I won’t tell. I don’t want to be found by the gods who want to capture me again.”

“What one wants doesn’t always matter, girl,” Hvalr snapped. “Did Loki tell you of how the Aesir sought to destroy us all? We did not want to be found, but find us they did, and slaughtered our people –”

“Hvalr!” Atreus shouted. His voice rang throughout the gathering, reminding Calliope of when he spoke to Jörmungandr. “Can’t you hear yourself? You’re frightening her!”

Calliope leaned closer to her brother, trying not to shake too much, but she didn’t have a Spartan’s discipline. Not like Atreus, or Father. Atreus looked at all the Giants, especially Eggdér, and she couldn’t bear to see the disappointment on his face. It was clear enough in his voice when he spoke again.

“Maybe Hvalr is right. Maybe I made a mistake in thinking you’d accept my sister like you accepted my father. Fárbauti is her father too, you know. He knows her. He lived with her up until she was stolen away, and he took vengeance for her, just like he did for you at Ragnarök, and for all of those who suffered at Odin’s hands.”

Atreus gave Hvalr a pointed look. The old Giant scowled, and in the dying light of early evening, the lines on his face were thrown into relief. For a heartbeat, he looked … frightened. Not of Atreus, but of something else. It must have been a trick of the light mixed with Calliope’s teary vision.

Angrboda marched over to where Atreus stood and flanked Calliope’s other side. “I have already decided to let Calliope live with me,” she declared. “None of you need to get involved. She is my responsibility now as much as Loki’s.” She glanced at Grýla as she said this. Her grandmother’s frowning face didn’t change, but that seemed to be enough for Angrboda.

“Forgive me, Loki,” Hljóð said. “I am not against the child staying, but … I would rather not be drawn into this matter.” She held her children’s hands tightly, as though worried they might be ripped away at any moment from the fighting.

“I must think on it as well,” Mundilfari put in. “In fact, I shall wait until Vafthrúdnir returns.”

“Ha!” Grýla snorted. “That one rarely gives a straight answer.”

“That’s fine,” Atreus said to Hljóð and Mundilfari. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I want Calliope to stay,” Signy said quietly. Sigmund’s head swiveled around to stare at his sister incredulously. Calliope quickly blinked back the tears.

“The child is only that: a child,” Hymir said, quiet but decisive. “I will not turn her away. Who else will not?”

“I shall not,” Hroðr declared. “If I did, I would be no better than an Aesir god!”

“Now that is too far,” Eggdér began.

“Is it?” Hroðr challenged.

“I stand with Loki, also,” Hundálfr said. “We trusted him with finding our people. He has yet to break that trust.”

“I stand with him, too,” Menja piped. Fenja crossed her arms but said nothing.

“I too,” Eistla said. “Though I cannot speak for my sisters.”

“I, as well, stand with Loki,” Gerð added. “Casting the innocent aside would be in poor taste for us, given what we have already suffered.”

Hvalr’s eyes flashed. Calliope braced herself for more of his protests, but Atreus beat him to it. “My sister is not Odin,” he said. A shiver passed through the air at the name. “If you think she’s capable of matching his powers, you’re wrong. Hvalr, and any of you who aren’t sure –” A note of genuine pleading entered Atreus’ tone, “if you can’t bring yourself to trust her yet, then trust me. Trust that I know what I’m doing. Please?”

The Giants exchanged glances with each other. Most of them craned their necks to look at Hvalr, who stared back at Atreus with an unreadable expression. Calliope resisted the urge to squirm when Hvalr turned his stony gaze on her. She kept her back straight and her chin raised and stared back at him. She was brave. She could do this.

Then Hvalr sighed forcefully, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Fine, boy. Have it your way.”

Atreus smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks, Hvalr.”

“Thank you, Hvalr,” Calliope said earnestly.

“It is decided then,” Skadi declared. “The child is Loki and Angrboda’s ward. And, child, despite the debate that was sparked here, know that you are welcome in Jötunheim. It is a peaceful realm, and we would seek to keep it that way.”

Calliope nodded fervently. “I understand. Thank you, everyone, for letting me stay.” She would repay them somehow, so that they knew she was truly grateful. And besides, it was only fair that she do something for them in return. Maybe Hvalr wouldn’t be so angry with her then.

“Now that that’s been decided,” Mundilfari said lightly, “I took the liberty of cooking a few extra dishes for tonight. They are still warm too, so if everyone is ready to eat, I will start handing out bowls …”

“I brought mead, as well,” Hymir added. “It is one of my experiments this time, so please tell me what you think!”

“We usually have dinner like this once a week,” Atreus murmured while Mundilfari set his boat-sized dishes down among the Giants. “You feeling alright?”

Calliope nodded, though her hands still shook. Angrboda reached out and took them in her own. Her fingers were very warm. “I know Hvalr and the others can be a little scary sometimes,” she said gently. “But you don’t need to worry. They’d never do anybody harm unless absolutely necessary. They know you’re not an enemy.”

“But they think I am, don’t they?” Calliope said plaintively. The hollow feeling settled in her chest like a heavy weight. “They don’t want me here.”

“That’s not true,” Angrboda said. “Listen, Calliope. The cause of their anger isn’t you. We’ve had, er, troubles in the past with people coming in from outside Jötunheim. They weren’t good people, and they hurt us. But that has nothing to do with you.” She patted Calliope’s hands. “Try not to take Hvalr’s words to heart, alright? The harsh things he says are usually borne out of fear.”

Calliope sniffled. “Okay.”

Atreus rubbed her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “Want to get some food? Smells pretty good, doesn’t it?”

It did smell very good. Atreus helped her down from the ledge, and together with Angrboda, they went over to the nearest dish. Some human-sized bowls were passed around, but to get some meat stew, they stood on some stools to reach the cauldron’s edge. There, they scooped up some stew with their bowls, then sat down with the others and began to eat.

The food was delicious, and they eventually moved to the other dishes – cooked roots that were all soft and buttery, spiced fish (or what Calliope guessed was fish, for it was the size of a ship), and steaming slices of bread, with such amazing smells that filled Calliope’s nose. Despite how amazing it all tasted, Calliope couldn’t quite muster the appetite as she sat among the Giants. Was it really a good idea for her to stay here? What if everyone grew to hate her?

Something tapped Calliope on the shoulder. She looked up to find Signy standing beside her, shuffling on her feet. “Can I sit beside you?” Signy mumbled.

Calliope eagerly scooted over so that Signy could sit. “Mama said I could sit with you,” Signy told her, once she was settled and chewing on a piece of bread. “I’m sorry everyone got all scary. Uncle Hvalr can be grumpy sometimes.”

“He’s your uncle?” Calliope asked, startled.

“Well, not really,” Signy allowed. “But Mama says everyone is family here. I call them my uncles and aunts. Sigmund thinks it’s silly.”

“I don’t think it’s silly.” It reminded Calliope of home. All the women in her neighbourhood grew close while the men were away at war. Mother saw them as her sisters, so Calliope saw them as her aunts. They didn’t make fun of her like the other children did.

“Do you have any uncles and aunts? By blood?” Calliope asked.

“I don’t know. But I do know my father,” Signy said. “He lives in Midgard with his people. Before everyone hid in the marbles, Mama and Sigmund and I stayed with him. But then Mama was afraid that Thor would find us, so we went with the Giants to Jötunheim, and hid in marbles.”

Half of it made no sense to Calliope, but she tried to follow along all the same. One thing kept coming up: the marbles. Atreus carried that marble with Angrboda’s name on it. And why would there be Giants in Midgard if their home was Jötunheim?

“Well, Loki,” another voice said, startling both Calliope and Signy. It was Menja. She sat down beside Atreus with her bowl of fish and bread. “If you don’t mind me saying, the places you went to sound fascinating! Maybe some of ours passed through there at one point.”

“Maybe,” Atreus said. “But I didn’t really get any clues.”

“Ah well, you can always check later. Are you sure you don’t want any of us to join? I can help out, and we could cover more ground that way.”

“I’m good, but thanks, Menja. Besides, you know Fenja won’t want to come along.”

Menja sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“Wait,” Calliope said suddenly. “What about the Gigantes?”

Menja blinked at her. “Gigantes?”

“The Giants in Greece.”

The murmur of conversation around them died down immediately. Calliope felt everybody’s eyes turning towards them like shivers on the back of her neck.

“I remember you telling me about them,” Atreus said. “But I don’t have any proof if some of us became some of them, or if there’s any connection at all.”

“Even so, you ought to tell us,” Hvalr said sourly.

“Well, I did kinda get caught up in a debate,” Atreus pointed out.

“Can you tell us more about these Giants?” Angrboda asked Calliope. “What are their names? What happened to them?”

“There was a poem about them called the Gigantomachia,” Calliope said, focusing only on Angrboda. It didn’t feel so crowded when she looked at one person at a time. But she wasn’t going to look at Hvalr! “It was lost a long time ago.”

“But your people still remember it?” Angrboda guessed.

Calliope nodded. “My mother told me about the story. It’s not a happy one. In the Gigantomachy, the Giants were at war with the Olympians. Some ran away and hid, others were destroyed by Zeus’ lightning bolts, and the rest were trapped under volcanoes. That’s what causes the earthquakes back home.”

An odd tension filled the air. Calliope wasn’t sure what to make of it; she looked to Atreus and Angrboda for guidance. “Their names?” Angrboda gently prodded.

There were a lot of Giants named in the texts that Calliope had seen. “Their king was Porphyrion. There was also … Alkyoneus. Enkelados. Polybotes. Typhoeus. Mimas. Hippolytos …”

None of the Giants here seemed to recognize the names as Calliope listed them all. Once she was done, some of them shook their heads. “It’s possible that they would have changed their names in a different land,” Hymir pointed out.

“But if they all died in another war, who’s to know?” Grýla said bitterly.

“Vafthrúdnir might know,” Menja said. She turned to Calliope. “Hey, what did your Giants look like?”

“Um, some poets describe them as looking like mortals,” Calliope said, thinking back to what she’d read, and what she’d seen on painted vases. “Sometimes they’re very big. And … I think they also had snakes for feet. Sometimes.”

Eggdér chuckled softly. “Snakes, eh?”

“My feet aren’t snakes!” Signy exclaimed, wiggling her toes.

“I’m not lying!” Calliope said anxiously. “There – there isn’t much known about the Gigantes. The war was very long ago, so no one other than the gods has seen them.” And the Greek gods were gone, replaced by the Romans. Did they remember fighting the Gigantes at all?

“Well, until Vafthrúdnir returns or Loki departs sometime soon, we will not learn much more from this,” Hvalr said. “Though, I will thank you, girl, for bringing it up.”

“Did I do alright?” Calliope whispered to Atreus.

“Of course,” he said. “It’s good that you mentioned it. It completely slipped my mind, honestly. I’ll have to add it to my list of things to check whenever I go travelling again.”

By the time the evening meal ended, the night sky was full of glittering stars. Some of the Giants brought out some instruments and began to sing, notably Menja, Hymir, Hundálfr, and Mundilfari. It took Calliope a moment to realize that they were reciting old legends, one after the other. Menja’s song was a new one, she explained, detailing Odin’s fall and Jötunheim’s resilience. Fenja didn’t join in as her sister sang, but she had a little smile on her face.

The music buried deep into Calliope’s ears, filling her head with ancient figures of legend, far-off kingdoms and mountain abodes, princes and princesses, and cruel gods playing tricks. Despite having travelled enough for a lifetime, she thought she could jump up right now and go on another adventure.

Her eyes grew heavy, and she hid a yawn behind her hands. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but when she woke up, Atreus was carrying her as he walked somewhere. Leaves and twigs crunched under his feet. Someone brushed a strand of hair from Calliope’s head; was that Angrboda?

Calliope surfaced from her doze when she felt herself lowered down onto a comfy mattress. “Atreus?” she mumbled.

“Right here,” he said. A little lamp cast a warm, orange light on his face. “We’re back at Boda’s house.”

“Where’s Boda?”

“She’s getting ready for bed, like me.”

“Where’re the other Giants?”

“They’re heading off to bed, too.” Atreus pulled the blanket up to Calliope’s chin. “There’s no need to worry, alright?”

“Okay,” Calliope murmured. “Food was yummy. I … I didn’t thank Mundilfari.”

“That’s alright. You can thank him tomorrow.”

“Atreus?”

“Yeah?”

Calliope blinked the sleep out of her eyes and turned on her side towards him. The pillows around her and under her head carried an earthy, herbal scent to them. “What are the marbles they talked about? Why do you have Angrboda’s marble?”

“Ah, that. It’s a bit of a long story; I can tell it to you tomorrow, if you want.”

“No, I want to hear it now,” Calliope persisted. “I’m awake. See?”

“Oh, I can see that. But it’s … not a pleasant story.”

“I know lots of unhappy stories,” Calliope said stubbornly. “Like the Curse of the House of Atreus, and Odysseus’ journey home, and many tales about the gods, too! Everyone knows about them.”

Atreus sighed. “Alright, then. I’ll try to keep it short since it’s your bedtime.” He perched on the edge of the bed, and from Calliope’s position, she saw the gleaming firelight dancing in his eyes.

“A long time ago, before Ragnarök, and back when many Giants lived in Jötunheim, some Giants decided to go to Midgard and live there. They had this dream that Midgard could be shared by everyone: mortals, gods, elves, dwarves –”

“What are dwarves?” Calliope asked.

“They’re craftsmen. Blacksmiths. They can build many types of machines, and they have lots of magic, too. And they’re short. Um, Sindri is a dwarf.”

That explained why he lived in a forge, and how he could improve her flute!

“Anyway, Odin, king of the Aesir, had been at war with the Giants for a long time. Týr, the god of war, tried to bring them to a truce, and the Giants allowed Odin to visit Jötunheim for negotiations. But Odin didn’t care for any of it. He just wanted their power to see the future. When the Giants learned of his deception, they threw him out and forbade him from coming back.”

“What happened then?” Calliope asked eagerly.

“Odin was furious. So he and his son, Thor … They took out almost all the Giants in Midgard,” Atreus said quietly.

“They killed the Giants?”

“Yeah.”

Just like the Olympians fighting the Gigantes. Calliope didn’t know what to say, but Atreus continued the tale, so she stayed silent. “The survivors retreated to Jötunheim, and Týr helped them destroy all entrances to this world. The only entrance left was hidden away. Odin searched for a way to get inside for a long time, but he never found it.

“As for the Giants, some fled to faraway lands. Others decided to hide, though, and that’s where the marbles come in.”

He held up Angrboda’s marble. Its polished surface gleamed in the light. “Boda’s father whispered their souls into these marbles so they’d stay alive. Odin would never find them this way. The bodies were placed under a stasis spell and hidden away, and Angrboda was left alone to keep the marbles safe.”

“Why didn’t she hide in a marble?” Calliope asked. “Didn’t she want to be with her mother and father?”

Atreus moistened his lips. “They, uh –”

“They died when I was young,” Angrboda said softly, appearing out of the shadows in a cream-coloured nightgown. She came over to Calliope’s bedside and leaned against the edge of the stone slab. “My father gave me the marbles before he went.”

“I’m sorry,” Calliope said quietly.

Angrboda simply smiled and shook her head. “I was alone for some time, but I’m not anymore. I have my grandmother, and the people I knew when I was little. I have your brother to thank for that.”

Atreus’ face flushed a bit in the firelight. “Boda told me about all this when I first met her. After that, Ragnarök came, and we defeated Odin and Thor. I left soon after to find our people and bring them back.”

“That’s why you’ve been travelling so much?” Calliope asked.

Atreus nodded. “It’s been four years since Ragnarök. I’ve been searching since then. And Boda’s been helping everyone get settled.”

“Have you found any others outside of Jötunheim?” Calliope asked.

“A few, yeah. They’re kinda tricky to find. Vafthrúdnir and his son, Ímr, were wandering around in Germania. Eistla and her sisters were hiding in a forest in Britannia. I’m sure there are others. They’re just really good at hiding, y’know?”

Calliope nodded. Atreus leaned down and kissed her brow. “Now then, time for bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Atreus. Goodnight, Angrboda,” Calliope said.

Angrboda gently caressed Calliope’s cheek with the back of her fingers. “Sweet dreams to you.”

Then the two of them lay down on the bed below Calliope’s stone slab. She could see them if she peered over the edge, but for now, she settled under the blanket and closed her eyes. It felt very strange to not lie beside Atreus like before, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. His mistletoe necklace lay on her chest, and she could sense him very close by. She could even hear the slow and gentle whoosh-whoosh of Fenrir’s breathing outside the treehouse.

With a weary sigh, she pulled one of the plump pillows close and drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

The morning dawned bright and clear. It was a whole new world to Calliope – and yes, it was literally a different world she now lived in, but it felt like a fresh start. After spending so much time stuck in the Underworld, then travelling from cities to towns, and walking through all those crowded streets, the forest of Ironwood was a breath of fresh air.

Atreus stayed in Ironwood with them over the next few days. Calliope was very relieved to have him near as Angrboda helped her get into a new routine. As much as Calliope liked the Giantess, Atreus was steady and familiar. He wasn’t at her side all the time as before, of course, but she felt better knowing that he wasn’t too far away.

Atreus usually left early to take Fenrir on his daily walk. Calliope hoped they’d be alright, but she found that her worry wasn’t as bad as before. It wasn’t like Atreus was going off to fight a dragon. And he had a giant wolf with him! Fenrir would keep him safe.

And, as it turned out, Angrboda soon became her new constant companion. Their morning routine began with some washing up, and then some foraging along the riverbank. Calliope started wearing her peplos again, given how pleasantly warm it was, though she still wore her trousers for easier walking. Then they went to the river near the treehouse to meet with Jalla. Angrboda always called to the animal with a song; she called it a “kulning,” and Calliope dearly wanted to learn it.

And Jalla? Calliope had never seen an animal like her before! She looked fearsome with her thick hair and horns, but Jalla was truly just a gentle soul, and rather slow when moving around. And then they were sitting on Jalla’s back and diving into the river. Calliope sat in front of Angrboda, held securely by the latter’s strong arm, and gazed around in wonder at their surroundings. This place would make a far better Elysium than the one in the Underworld!

They gathered up greenbulbs and roots, not just for themselves, but for the animals that Angrboda cared for. Calliope quickly grew to love this part of the morning. It was so peaceful here, with the trickling of water around them, a warm breeze in the air, and the sounds of other Giants foraging nearby. Sometimes she and Angrboda spotted them, and they waved to each other.

After foraging, Calliope followed Angrboda around and helped her feed the animals. Angrboda sometimes hunted, she said, but not too often. She had a method for preserving meat for long periods of time. And with Skadi here, it was easier to go to her for meat since she was the best hunter of them all.

Angrboda showed her how to use the oven and stove next to the treehouse, and what to use for washing clothes by the river. Calliope remembered doing all these chores back home with Mother, like gathering food to cook for the morning meal, seeing to the horses, making sure the house was tidy, and other little things like that.

Sometimes they ran errands together, which brought Calliope all over the Giant village in Ironwood. She saw where Hljóð lived with Sigmund and Signy, Hroðr and Hymir’s hut, and Menja and Fenja’s cabin by the river. In the afternoons, Angrboda painted on wooden panels, so Calliope did the same. The vibrant colours were incredible, but there were so many to choose from, even if Angrboda said that you only really needed three. Sometimes the other Giants visited to borrow a few of her paints.

Calliope ended up choosing black and orange. “Why those?” Angrboda asked curiously.

“In Greece, the vases and pitchers are all painted with little pictures,” Calliope explained. “They always use these colours. Mother told me that the clay of our pots always turns red after baking, so you only need black for the paintings.”

“All the pottery have paintings on them? That’s cool!” Angrboda said. “Have you made them before?”

“I tried once,” Calliope admitted. “But I wasn’t very good at it.”

“Well, we all start somewhere,” Angrboda smiled. “You know, Hroðr makes our pottery. She’s been teaching Fenja and Signy how to do it. I’m sure she’d be happy to teach you, as well.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hm! I noticed you were getting on well with Signy before. You could spend more time with her too, if you want.”

Calliope did miss Signy a little. She didn’t know her well enough, but from the few conversations they had, Signy was very pleasant to be around. And she knew a lot of stories!

“You can think about it for a bit,” Angrboda said. “Just let me know if you want to join Hroðr’s lessons, alright?”

Calliope nodded. “Okay.”

At a specific time in the afternoon, Angrboda went off to forage with her grandmother. From what Calliope understood, Grýla was a prickly woman who preferred to stay on her own most of the time, unless you were a close friend, like Skadi, which meant that she might spend time with you.

While Angrboda was away, Calliope explored Ironwood with Atreus, skipping down small paths through the forest and following the little rivers, or running through grassy fields and climbing up rocky ledges outside. Atreus wanted to teach her how to climb like him. She found it a very scary prospect, but he promised he’d be there to catch her if she fell.

For now, they started by climbing the low ledges, which made Calliope think of stairs. It wasn’t too difficult to haul herself up, especially with Atreus’ helping hand. It just took a lot of arm strength, and it left her puffing for air once she reached the top. 

Gradually, Calliope grew comfortable with her new life. She told Atreus so one morning, and he ruffled her hair proudly. “I’m really happy for you. I know this has all been a big change.”

She beamed at his praise. “The change hasn’t been too big, really. It’s like what I used to do back home with Mother.”

“That’s good to hear.” Atreus fell silent for a moment as he cleaned his bow. Then he said, “Calliope … How would you feel if I left for a bit? I’ve been thinking of looking for Father.”

Calliope’s gut twisted. “You’re leaving?”

“Just for a few days, give or take. I miss Father, and I’d like to see him again.”

She wasn’t sure what she felt. Guilt, mostly. Everything else was a painful jumble. And the thought of him leaving for another world entirely was a little frightening.

“You’ll be alright,” he said soothingly. “Angrboda’s here. And the other Giants are here too if you ever need help with something. Plus, you’ll have Fenrir to keep you company while I’m gone! He’ll protect you. He’s a strong boy.”

Calliope could easily believe that. It didn’t help the twisting in her chest though. “I – I don’t want you to go.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Part of her wanted to push him away and yell at him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“Are you scared that something will happen to me?” he asked. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want you to see Father,” she mumbled. It was embarrassing to say out loud, but at the same time, it felt like a weight lifting from her shoulders.

“Oh. Why not?” Atreus didn’t sound angry. That was good.

“I just – don’t want you to.”

“I know you’re upset at him,” he said quietly. “That’s okay. But nothing will be fixed by staying away from him, either.”

“But I don’t want to see him,” Calliope burst out. “I hate him!”

The words were out before she could stop them. Shame fell upon her, clamping her lips shut. She shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t right. But she’d wanted to say it, didn’t she?

But not out loud! Saying it aloud made it more real and sticky, unable to be taken back. And … she didn’t really hate Father. She … did miss him. A little bit. She didn’t want to miss him, though. It made her angry. Why couldn’t she just forget about him after all he did to her? He didn’t care about her! Why did she have to care about him? Why did Atreus have to?

It all became too much and she began to cry. Atreus hugged her tight. Fenrir whined from where he lay nearby.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Atreus murmured. “It’s okay. I’m not angry with you.”

Fenrir came near and snuffled at her with his big nose. Calliope sniffled, rubbing her eyes. “Will you be gone for a long time?”

“A few days isn’t too long when you can fill it up with things to do,” he said lightly. “Time also moves differently here compared to Midgard. Everything is faster there, so it’ll be a longer time for me, but a shorter time for you.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” she mumbled.

“You’ll be alright. You’re a brave girl and a resilient one. And you can tell me all about your adventures once I get back, alright? I expect to hear lots of stories from my little sis.”

Calliope managed a watery smile at that. “Okay. Will you tell me about yours, too?”

“Of course,” Atreus said, and kissed her hair.

She reached up to hug him tightly around the shoulders. The arrowhead necklace pressed against her chest between them. A reminder that he would always be with her, even when he was not.

“You won’t tell Father about me, will you?” she asked, voice muffled against his shoulder.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he promised. “But are you sure?”

She wasn’t, really. She had to see him eventually. But she couldn’t bear to imagine standing before him, caught in his shadow, and seeing the anger and disappointment on his face.

He didn’t need her anymore. He had a strong son now. It was better if she didn’t bother him. She hoped it would be, at least. “Yes, I’m sure.”

***

After saying goodbye to Calliope and Angrboda, Atreus went through the Mystic Gateway and arrived in the humid jungles of Vanaheim. Location-wise, he was in Freyr’s Camp. And it wasn’t empty.

“Hey, there! That you, cutie pie?" Lúnda exclaimed from her usual spot at the forge. “When didja get back? C’mere, let me see you!”

“Hey, Lúnda!” Atreus went over and bent down to give her a hug. She pinched his cheek fondly.

“Well, look at that! Didja grow another few inches? Gotta be that Giant blood runnin’ through you. You ‘ere to see your old man?”

“Yeah,” Atreus said, excitement thrumming through him like lightning. “Is he still here?”

“Oh, you bet. He comes an’ goes, but you’ve picked the right time, as usual! He’s at the village with Miss Freya, dealing with the usual troublemakers.”

“I hope they haven’t been too troublesome.”

“Not at all! Just your usual scrubs. Nothing that can’t be sorted out with a good Kratos-talk.”

“I’m sure they won’t like that,” Atreus grinned. “I’ll see you later then, alright?”

“You betcha, cutie pie!” Lúnda clapped him on the shoulder and waved as he left.

Freyr’s Camp now had a little shrine dedicated to the god himself, nestled in the shallow cave where the war table used to be. The villagers usually passed through here on their way to other areas of the jungle and often took the chance to pay their respects to Freyr at the shrine. It was much better than having a huge temple, Atreus mused. This was simpler, more open, more in line with Freyr’s laid-back character.

Atreus quickly made his way down the jungle path to the village, avoiding hostile plants along the way. They weren’t as explosive now as during Fimbulwinter, but it didn’t hurt to be careful.

His heart pounded as he approached his destination. This was his first time seeing Kratos in at least a year! He always returned from his travels, of course, but somehow it never failed to feel like he was coming back for the first time since leaving after Ragnarök. And a year was still a long time. How much had his father changed, if at all? What about Mimir, and Freya, and the others?

And now that Calliope was back … His heart raced with more than just eagerness to see Kratos again. He had so many questions for his father, but how could he ask them without giving his sister away? Gods, this was a tangly situation, wasn’t it.

The sounds of village life grew louder as he arrived at the end of the path. It was definitely louder than the Giant village in Ironwood; people talked and children laughed, cut through with the occasional splash as some villagers played in the pools. Atreus scanned the area for any sign of Kratos, but found nothing. Huh. Where was he?

He ended up heading into the village proper and asked around. Kratos and Freya had gone to the old ruins to check on the progress with the refurbishment. As the population of Aesir and Vanir alike increased, so did the need for more space. Some families had already moved to the renovated ruins, preferring the open air and drier weather to the humidity of the jungles.

Atreus thanked them and hurried on, taking another path out of the village and through the jungle. A few more Mystic Gateways had been set up to make transportation easier. Maybe he could catch Kratos and Freya on their way back! Maybe he could give them a surprise …

He was so lost in planning that he didn’t immediately notice the gateway activating up ahead. Atreus froze upon hearing that familiar, rumbling voice, and immediately climbed up the nearest tree. Oh gods, it was them. Kratos. Mimir. Freya. They were so close that Atreus could just leap down and surprise them right now!

But he didn’t. He restrained his excitement and listened in on their conversation. Freya was in the middle of talking about the ruins. “Another few months, and everything should be in order. I’ll be glad to see that place full of life again.”

“Aye, and to see the valley restored!” Mimir piped up. Atreus sorely missed hearing his accent. “Though, we still have that other dragon nest to find. Wouldn’t want them to wreak havoc on all that we’ve built thus far.”

“I will return after my gear has been fixed,” Kratos said. The sound of his voice nearly knocked Atreus off his perch, but he kept his balance, leaping nimbly from branch to overhead stone ledge to keep up with them. “Freya, you need not –”

“Oh, I’m coming with you,” she said, a slight smile in her tone. “I’m sure Hildisvíni wouldn’t mind joining if we asked.”

“I would prefer to limit the number of casualties.”

“I thought you’d say that. That’s why I’m coming along, since there’s apparently no one else who is up to your standards.”

She was definitely joking around. Well, what if Atreus decided to join in? This was the perfect chance, he could practically smell it!

He jumped to another branch just as Kratos passed underneath it, and called to them, “What about me? Am I up to par?”

“Little Brother –!” Mimir cried, just as Kratos and Freya spun around, weapons half-raised. And then they saw him.

Kratos’ eyes widened and he swiftly released the Axe, taking a few steps forward. “Atreus!”

Atreus laughed and leapt down from his perch. He barely had time to catch his balance before Kratos closed the distance between them in a few strides, catching Atreus in a bear-hug. Atreus hugged him back just as tightly, felt his father’s beard rub against his neck, and his throat seized up with tears.

“Hi, Father,” he said thickly.

Several heartbeats passed before Kratos gently withdrew, though he didn’t move too far. He held Atreus’ face with calloused hands as he inspected his face. “You have grown,” he commented gruffly.

“Yeah, we’re pretty much the same height now,” Atreus chuckled, a little wetly. “I told you I’d catch up someday.”

“I never doubted you, son.”

Kratos didn’t look any different from when Atreus last visited. There was a bit more grey to his beard, and a few more age lines to his face, but other than that, it was the same man that Atreus had grown up with. His father’s amber eyes shone with love and warmth.

Slight movement caught Atreus’ attention. Freya stood by while keeping a respectful distance, and a warm, wide smile played across her face. “Atreus, you’re back! You really gave us a surprise. When did you return?”

“I went to Jötunheim a few days ago. And now I’m here.” He looked back at Kratos. “I really missed you.”

“We missed you too!” Mimir said. “Brother, let me look at him! It’s been ages since I last saw the lad!”

Kratos took a step back and raised Mimir’s head just as Freya drew Atreus into an embrace. He held her tightly, suddenly awash with memories of the past. There were different feathers in her hair and braids now, but the kindly, maternal aura about her was the same. When she withdrew, she patted his cheek fondly.

“Ah yes, he’s truly grown up a lot since we last saw him!” Mimir exclaimed. “Your hair’s gotten longer too, Little Brother. I like the braid!”

Atreus grinned at him. “Thought I’d try something a little different.” He cleared the lump from his throat, then said, “So, um, I heard you were going to fight some dragons?”

Mimir burst out laughing. “Ah, ye can never resist getting down to business. Just like your father, eh?”

“You have only just returned,” Kratos said. His gaze roved over Atreus’ face, as though he was trying to make up for the past year. “Freya and I will deal with the dragon nest. Rest here, and we will find you after.”

“Or, I could come along and help us get things done faster,” Atreus offered.

“Or,” Freya put in, “I can go ahead with Hildisvíni while you stay here with your son, Kratos.”

Kratos grunted, though Atreus could see the longing in the lines of his face. He wanted to spend time with Atreus, and that clashed with his other priorities.

“We’ll cover more ground if I come along,” Atreus pointed out. “The quicker we get rid of the nest, the sooner we can return here, and I’ll tell you all about my travels.” And boy oh boy was that going to be an experience.

If Atreus was right, Kratos still didn’t know that he’d gone to Greece.

“Hrn. Alright,” his father said, a smile just barely tugging at his lips.

“Awesome!” Atreus grinned.