Archive of Our Own

"Grief, I have learned, is just love. It's all the love you want to give,but cannot. All of that unspent love just gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go."

-Jamie Anderson

“Is it weird that I’m kinda nervous?” Lloyd asked the night before they left for the Naziry farm. It was harvest season in Luin, so they’d been invited them both for help and for the ensuing harvest festival.

In his hands was the letter from Kamela inviting him and his father. Singular. She probably meant Dirk, but Lloyd was perfectly ready to be sweetly obtuse about it if anyone made a fuss about it because of course he was going to bring both fathers. It was harvest time. (It’s a trick he’s learned from watching Genis and Zelos, oddly enough. They’ll both do their own versions of it, pretending to not understand something to do what they wanted)

The letter also mentioned that his aunt would be there with her wife, that they were traveling up from Izlood after leaving Palmacosta.

“Of course not,” Dirk said, taking a sip of his coffee. The remnants of dinner were still all over the table; his trademark hearty mutton stew full of vegetables grown in the garden. “Ye were nervous when ye met the others too, remember?"

“Yeah, I guess. It just feels a little different.” Lloyd ran his fingers over the letters of his aunt’s name. Lynn. He’d only ever had one person to call ‘aunt’ before. Auntie Sasha had been Colette’s mom; he remembered very little of her because they’d both been so small, but she’d watched them both while Dirk had built this house and worked for the money to do so.

He didn’t know much about her. Lynn was the younger sister. Someone who’d been basically a kid when her sister had been taken by Desians, and her father died not long after. She’d gone to Palmacosta because of Dorr’s supposedly anti-Desian policies.

Did she still live in Palmacosta? It sounded like it from Kamela’s letter. Lloyd might have even interacted with her during the city’s rebuilding. It had been a long process, helped heavily by Lezarero, the Renegades, and whatever help Luin could send. It was only recently that they were starting to get past the plain survival stage.

The only other thing Lloyd knew about her was that she had a wife and daughter. He wasn’t even sure of how old her daughter was, just that she’d managed to make it back to Luin for the birth.

How much had Kamela told her daughter about Lloyd? About Dirk and Kratos? It was an odd sensation, knowing that people had probably had conversations about you before they ever met you. And Lloyd knew it happened with strangers all the time, was used to it even in working across the world, but...he’d never had family to do that same thing. It felt different.

Kratos just refilled Lloyd’s mug, adding in a heaping dose of milk and sugar, and slid it over to him. For most people, drinking coffee this late would just keep them wired all night. For Lloyd, it tended to calm him down, and was usually a decent way to get him to slow down enough to sleep.

“You’re overthinking it,” Kratos told him. “Your aunt will be happy to meet you.”

“Pot meet kettle,” Lloyd muttered into his mug, not surprised when Dirk flicked his ear in mild reprimand.

Gabriel saw them first. He stood in the outermost wheat fields, supervising the sheep that grazed through the already harvested plots. Noishe rushed out for his customary pets before poking around the sheep, sniffing and getting them used to him. The farm had two sheepdogs already; both were medium-sized, with triangular ears and thick coats. The older one was Gino, his coat a splatter of black and gray. The younger was Sophie, with a similar splatter except hes was warm light brown instead of black, and one of her ears was droopy.

Colette would adore them on sight, Lloyd thought fondly as he ruffled Sophie’s fur in greeting. Not that that was saying anything. She adored every dog. But maybe next year—once they were all more used to each other—he’d talk to Kamela and see if she was okay with him bringing his friends to meet his family.

“I see Ma called in the reinforcements,” Gabriel said, grinning as he clasped forearms with them, tugging Lloyd into a short hug on his turn.

“She up at the house?”

“Yeah.” Gabriel’s smile turned a little odd. “Lynn’s up there too, last I heard. She’ll be happy to see ya.”

They followed the paths up to the main house; the front door was propped open, inviting the cool breezes in.

Kamela was putting clean glass jars into a big pot of boiling water. Along one counter was a host of other jars, full of vegetables. Her hair was knotted back out of her face, and there was a thick pair of work gloves on her hands.

Lloyd knocked on the doorframe. “...Need a hand?”

After carefully setting the jar in the pot, Kamela turned and happily hugged her grandson. She smiled warmly at Dirk, and the smile turned fixed and cool when she greeted Kratos.

“Thank you for inviting us,” Dirk said. “We’re happy to lend a hand anywhere ya need.”

“...I can use some help with cannin’ these baskets, but we don’t have much room in here for all of us.”

It was a very polite lie, but no one called her on it. Dirk and Lloyd stayed to help Kamela with her canning. Kratos quietly went to go relieve Gabriel from shepherding duties; the man had been looking a little crispy. It was peaceful, and one of the sheep kept curiously going for the treeline out beyond the road before one of the dogs—or Noishe—would herd them back in.

“Clearly you missed your calling,” Kratos told Noishe, who just huffed at him.

By the time Kratos returned the sheep to their pen, the sun was going down. He stamped and scraped his boots at the door, washing his hands in the bucket before entering the main house.

In the living room, Dirk and Kamela were chatting, and there were two women Kratos didn’t recognize. One was tall and willowy, squatting in front of a child and fussing over something on their face. The other had frizzy, dark brown hair that was braided down to her mid-back. She was built a bit stocky, and her skin was browned and freckled from long hours in the sun. Lloyd sat across from her, leaning forward as they spoke; his knee was bouncing, and his shoulders had the slight hunch they got when he felt awkward.

Lloyd looked over his shoulder, smiling in greeting when Kratos walked in. “Welcome back!”

Kratos dipped his head. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

He shook his head, standing up. “This is my aunt, Lynn, and her wife Basma.”

Lynn stood as well, shaking Kratos’ hand briefly. The child peered curiously out from behind Lynn. She had very dark, straight hair and freckled cheeks. “This is our daughter, Anna Marie.”

“This is my other dad, Kratos Aurion.”

A look flashed across her face before Lynn’s fist slammed into Kratos’ cheek.

“Hey!” Lloyd protested, he and Dirk both stepping up in between them.

“It’s alright,” Kratos told them, hand to his bruised cheek. He could have moved. However fast and unexpected the punch had come, she was moving at an average human speed, and Lynn was no warrior.

Still, basic human skill or not, the Irving sisters had one hell of a right hook. That would’ve knocked an ordinary man flat.

“He had it coming,” Lynn spat, and that ferocity, that righteous fury, had to be an Irving family trait. She looked just like Kamela when she did that, just like Anna, and even Lloyd had had that same thunderous expression a few times.

(That’s good, he tells himself. A far better way for Lloyd to be. He knows the depths of his own rage, the atrocities he’s committed for things he’d seen as unjust. The Aurion anger is an icy one; his own father had acted much the same way and he’d hated knowing that it had been one of the few things in his inheritance)

“Even if he did, that doesn’t mean you can just go around punching people! That doesn’t help anybody.” Lloyd stood as a bulwark in front of Kratos. He’d broadened out as he got older, with the strong back and shoulders of a blacksmith, and the lean muscle of his swordsmanship. “By your logic, it’d be fair for me to punch you back for hurting my dad. But that wouldn’t solve anything.”

Kratos snorted a little to himself in sympathy, seeing Lynn falter under Lloyd’s relentless morals. It was as good as a right hook for someone who had never experienced it.

Still, he didn’t want Lloyd to have to put himself at odds with his new aunt, with his family. They looked like they were getting along well before he came in. So Kratos set a hand on the back of his son’s shoulder. “I’m alright, Lloyd.” He looked past her to Lynn, whose blazing gaze met his without flinching. He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “It’s an honor to meet more of Mrs. Irving’s family. Excuse me.”

Back outside Kratos went. Perhaps tonight would be best spent under the stars. Noishe would certainly be happy for his company, and it wasn’t as though he needed to eat, so it didn’t matter if he missed dinner.

He’d parked himself on a hay bale near the barn, and it didn’t take long for there to be footsteps coming behind him.

“I brought you some ice for that cheek.”

Basma was a tall woman. Her straight, dark hair was pulled back away from her face with a clip, and a pair of glasses were perched on an eagle nose.

“Thank you,” Kratos said, accepting the ice. To an ordinary mercenary, the ice would be welcome. He could hardly feel the bruise anymore. He’d debated Healing it himself, but...this was deserved.

“I’m sorry for my wife.” she said. Her voice had traces of a Triet accent. “We—the both of us—have been where you are. We used to work for Dorr, back in Palmacosta. We didn’t know what he was doing with the Desians until after. Neil told us. It—she’s ashamed of betraying the people who believed in us by helping those people, even if we didn’t know what we were doing. We both are, but Lynn took it especially hard.”

Basma rocked back on her heels. “She’ll come around. You just...remind her of herself, and it’s all tied up with Anna. She was ready for a hard day today, meeting Lloyd and his fathers, but...I don’t think she knew how much it was going to hit her until she saw you.”

“Or hit me,” Kratos said dryly, making her lip lift a little in a smile.”But...I understand. It’s difficult to reconcile that the things you thought were going to help ended up doing the opposite.”

“Yeah...but. I wanted to let you know. Whatever Lynn says, she wants Lloyd and his family to be a part of ours. She just might have trouble showing it for a while.”

Kratos hummed his thanks, letting himself feel the coolness of the ice spreading across his cheek and jaw. “...Did you ever meet Anna?”

“I never got the pleasure. I came to Luin as as a young woman. I think Lynn was...seventeen when we met? I was eighteen. But from every story I’ve ever heard, she sounds wonderful.”

“She was...I think she would be happy and proud to have you as a sister-in-law.” He wasn’t exaggerating either. He had known Basma for all of a few minures, but she seemed to be forthright, kind, and steadfast. Anna would have applauded her sister for such a choice in partner. After she finished teasing her.

Her smile was a little shy, but very sweet. “That means a lot, coming from you.” She pushed herself upright. “I’ll see you around, Mr. Aurion.”

The title sounded awkward and horrific to him. He’d been any number of things over the years, but even Colette’s tentative ‘Mr. Kratos’ sounded far more natural to his ear. Few people used his last name, and he quite liked it that way. “You can just call me Kratos.”

She nodded in understanding. “Kratos, then.”

“Came ter check on ye.”

Lynn looked over at the dwarf. Lloyd’s other father, if she understood correctly. She’d needed to Walk, especially when she’d spotted Basma’s look and her chunking up ice into a dishtowel. “I’m fine.”

Dirk arched a disbelieving eyebrow, looking pointedly at the path her pacing was making in the dirt. “Aye. People who are fine go about punchin’ other people all the time. Must be one of them human customs I’m not used to.”

“He had it coming,” she growled. “That Desian.”

“Former Desian.”

The rebuke was gentle, but unwavering. “The point stands. All that shit they did? And he kept Anna away from us.”

“Way I understand it, ain’t nothin’ anyone could do to make Anna do anything that she didn’t want to. And she wanted to keep her family safe.”

“We could have protected her! Luin’s sheltered ranch escapees for years. Why would she have been any different?”
Dirk walked further into the stables. At this time of night, the horses were all in their stalls. The farm had four, but the only one paying him any mind was a speckled mare. “...I met Anna in the last minutes of her life. And all she asked for was that I keep her son away from the Desians, that they didn’t find him. And she had an Exsphere that she passed ter him. And when the Desians found it, and found him—Iselia burned. An’ Luin always had a target on its back from the Desians.” His face softened as he remembered the fierce, exhausted woman who’d died in front of him, all of her concern for her son. “I can’t imagine she would’ve risked the same thing fer Luin. For any of ye and yer families.”

“It’s bullshit is what it is. She shouldn’t have made decisions for us about what we were willing to risk.”

“Maybe not. But when it comes ter family, things feel different. Wouldn’t ye risk everything fer yer family?” Dirk would. He knew in his bones that if the Desians had come to his home, he would’ve fought them into the dirt until his death for his son. That had been true from the moment he chose to keep him.

Lynn chewed her lip. “It’s not fair.” She scrubbed the back of her arm over her red eyes. She hadn’t cried yet, but that might have been from sheer force of will. Her voice had been shaky when she’d been introduced to Lloyd. She sat down hard on a stool. “That she died and that Desian lived.”

“Yer right, it’s not.” Dirk risked gently placing a hand on the back of hers. An offer of comfort from a virtual stranger. “It’s cruel, that Anna got taken from ye. She should’ve been there, ter see ye get married, and to meet yer daughter, just like ye should’ve been able to be part of Lloyd’s life.”

“It’s not—I didn’t mean it in a bad way about you,” Lynn said hastily. “I’m...so thankful that Lloyd had someone. That he had you. It’s—it’s so scary to think about it. The world’s a dangerous place, and we didn’t even know he existed. If something had happened to him, we would never’ve known.”

“I hoped he had family out there. But I didn’t know where ter start, or...why Anna was out there that night. Fer all I knew, Desians were the family she was tryin’ ter get away from.” Dirk didn’t think he’d ever forget Anna’s desperation, and how relieved Lloyd had been to see Noishe despite the blood on his muzzle. “I used to think that I’d walk outside one day and his family would be there, finally come to find ‘im.”

“I used to think the same thing.” Lynn leaned her forearms on her thighs, looking out the stable doors towards the horizon. “Every time we’d get ranch prisoners into town, I’d look for Anna’s face. It’s dumb—I wouldn’t have recognized her anyway. I hadn’t seen her since we were kids, but—I would know it was her, y’know? I don’t think that ever goes away. Even in Palmacosta and Izlood, sometimes I thought I’d see her out of the corner of my eye. It was never her, or any of the others that were taken. But I liked to think that she was out there still.”

Dirk remembered thinking like that once. Many decades ago. After his first return to his hometown in the Ossa mountains, finding only other stragglers like himself, lost and having missed the migration of their people choosing to work with Cruxis. There had been some conversation with the other dwarves of what they would do now, but...many didn’t want to leave their people. Would follow them to Cruxis if that’s what it took.

He’d seen too many ranch escapees over the years to not know about the Exspheres, to not see the dwarven handiwork on Desian weapons, and the lack thereof on the prisoners’ Exspheres that would only end in disaster. How could he be part of that, even with his family? Had they had a choice, even? Or had they been pressed into service, and only now, on the outside looking in, did it look like a choice?

He’d seen pieces of his clan, his forgebrothers, for years afterwards. Echoes of their laughter at an inn, bars of their work songs at an anvil. He’d hear his mother in the emptiness where her humming had been as he rolled clay, and the silence around him as he prepared meals, so alien after the jostling and shouting of his siblings—both blood and forge—used to be.

At some point, he’d stopped seeing and hearing them so clearly. Only occasionally did he think of them now. That didn’t change that he missed them still, low in his throat where human accents didn’t really go, but dwarven languages rested naturally. Languages that he’d taught what he could to Lloyd, but with no one to practice with, both of them were rusty.

“In my experience, the people we lost continue to love us even after death.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the scriptures.”

From her tone, Lynn’s opinion about what was left of the Church of Martel was clear. Dirk shook his head. “I don’t mean in that way. I mean that...pieces of them live in other places. Even if they never met ‘em. I see my mother in how Lloyd keeps dinner warm for me when I’ve been in the forge too long. I see my forgebrothers in the guardsmen at Iselia’s gates, in how they always welcome us and give me a hand with my wagon.

“I never knew Anna proper. But I reckon someone she loved so much’ll find pieces of ‘er. Even in places you won’t expect. But the more ye hang onto hate—it’ll blind ye to those pieces.”

“I need you to do me a favor—never make friends with my wife.” Her voice sounded a little wet, and Dirk politely didn’t look to confirm. “You guys are peas in a pod.”

Kratos took his turn at the baths last, letting everyone else in the house go about their nightly routine and cool down before coming back inside. He returned to their room to see his son whittling on the cot they’d carted into the guest room. He’d insisted on his dads taking the two beds, and with so many hands on deck for the harvest, there was no spare space elsewhere. Dirk was helping with the cleanup after dinner.

Lloyd folded the chunk of wood into the cloth he had spread over his lap to catch the shavings. “...Are you okay?”

Kratos squeezed water from his hair. “You know I’ve taken much worse damage than a punch.” Hell, Lloyd had inflicted worse damage on him than that.

“I know. But that doesn’t make it okay. Lynn shouldn’t have hit you.” He’d tried calling her ‘aunt’ a few times. It must have been as strange a word in his mouth as ‘grandma’. Kratos could relate; the most practice he’d ever had saying it was Martel’s teasing about how she would be an aunt to his children and she would spoil them rotten.

How to explain this to a man who saw the world so clean-cut? “To her, I was a Desian. I deserve worse than a punch.”

“But you’re not part of Cruxis anymore,” Lloyd said, his knuckles going white around the block of wood. “You’re trying to make amends.”

“Yes, I am.” And at the same time, there would never be enough atonement for the things he’d done, the things he’d allowed to happen. “Part of that is accepting that that may not be enough for people. That I caused them great pain through my actions, and they deserve a way to express that pain.”

“Not by taking it out on you!” He stood up, just a scant inch or so taller than Kratos these days. “Hurting other people doesn’t solve anything.”

“Perhaps not. But if punching me can help her to move forward, I find it a small price to pay.”

Was that so different than what Lloyd had done, up in Derris-Kharlan? With Regal and Presea squared up? He’d sliced open his arm to break Mithos’ illusion.

Lloyd’s face folded itself into terribly familiar, upset lines. His face had changed, since their journey. It had lost the last traces of his baby fat, had settled into its bones. Kamela seemed to think he looked like Kratos this way; all Kratos could see when he looked at him was the young man who’d fought him down at Origin’s altar, who’d talked with him over woodcarvings when it was his turn at watch. It was the man who’d fearlessly faced down Mithos and still mourned that he was forced to kill him. This was the man who would sneak bread rolls from Genis and danced with Colette at her twenty-first birthday—a five year anniversary of freedom.

He was just—Lloyd. His son, and his pride.

“I don’t like it.”

“I expect not.” But until Lloyd could control his mana enough to learn First Aid—not happening. The Aionis could do much, but it wasn’t a replacement for the ability to mold mana—there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

They both went to sleep in silence.

Kratos always woke early; today, he joined Maritza, Basma, Gabriel, and several others to start harvesting the leafy greens and the broccoli. They knelt in the dirt with sheers and Kratos listened to Gabriel’s coaching on how much of the spinach leaves to take, and about how big they needed to measure.

“Not a farmer, huh?” Gabriel asked, a straw hat planted firmly over his head. His skin was pale and burned easily compared to the rest of his family. His cheeks were already ruddy from the past days of work.

“Only occasionally,” Kratos said. He meant it honestly, but the answer made Gabriel chuckle. “...my sister-in-law was the plant person. We lived on the move, so we didn’t often have a chance, but...if we stayed anywhere long enough, she would make a garden.”

“What did y’all do for work?”

“My brother and I were mercenaries for a long time. She was a Healer.” And then the looming knowledge of ‘Desian’. Of when the mercenary money hadn’t been enough. A story easy enough to spin. Of his sister-in-law’s death sending both brothers into a grief spiral, of making them angry enough at humans to resort to that.

Gabriel frowned at him. “You’re not still on that mercenary life these days, are you?”

Kratos shook his head, shifting down to the next few plants to add to his basket. “Very rarely. I write and bind books, or I teach these days, mostly.”

“Your own books?!”

“Not like that. I make copies for school textbooks, most often.”

“That’s so cool!” Gabriel arched, making his back pop as he shuffled along his row of kale. “Never met anyone who does something like that. I mean, the nuns and priests at the Houses of Salvation used to do it a lot, back in the day. And there’s so many kinds of books coming out of Tethe’alla these days.”

“Do you like to read?”

“When I can. Books are way cheaper these days than they used to be, y’know? I try to pick some up when I go into town, but we got a booklender more than an actual bookstore.”

“I’ve seen. But that’s convenient for knowing if you would like a book.” Paying a small fee to borrow a book instead of purchasing it outright was far more economical for the average person.

“It really is! Especially helps with some people,” Gabriel purposefully raised his voice, looking pointedly at Maritza. “Who speed read.”

Maritza stuck her tongue out at him. “Do better then!”

“Some of us prefer to savor our books!”

Basma rolled her eyes, making eye contact with Kratos as Maritza and Gabriel devolved into what must have been an old argument. “They’re going to be here forever.” She hefted her basket of broccoli on her hip. “C’mon. Leave them to this. Let’s drop this off and check on the others.”

Kratos followed her with his own basket. The others were several rows over, checking on the squash and pumpkins. Most were ripe and ready; they set their baskets down and helped them haul them onto the cart. Lloyd had been called over to help with the heavy lifting too.

“I can’t wait for Kamela’s beans,” Basma said. “Have you had a chance to try them, Lloyd?”

He shook his head.

“Oh yeah!” one of the hired hands exclaimed. “They’re gonna taste so good now. Pumpkins are her special ingredient,” they added for Lloyd. “She makes a huge pot of them for us every year, along with her pumpkin bread.”

“Hopefully, Lorenzo is up to making his mushroom pappardelle.”

“My kids found a bunch of good mushrooms yesterday,” someone else said. Her frizzy curls were barely held back from her face with a floral scarf. “I can always make a batch my grandmama’s mushroom soup if Lorenzo’s not.”

“All of that sounds very delicious,” Kratos said.

As they washed up that evening, Lloyd shook his hands out to dry, looking out at the others lining up to stomp the dirt out of their shoes. “...I wanna bring Genis and the others here. He and Regal would love to trade recipes with them.”

“As long as you keep Raine out of the kitchen, I’m sure they’ll be very welcome.”

“Still haven’t forgiven her, huh?” Lloyd snickered.

“No.” Kratos had starved before, had shared rotting food picked from the dirt and garbage. He’d been subject to many a food experiment while they tried to stretch the few ingredients they had. He’d been imprisoned and fed maggoty bread and mysterious mushes. It all paled in comparison to Raine’s attempt at a sandwich. They’d warned him about her cooking, but he hadn’t known that anyone could even conceive of calling whatever that had been a sandwich. He’d thought it was a safe choice.

“It was like ten years ago!”

If they were home, he would make a comment about how ten years is nothing to an angel. Lloyd seemed to know that, ‘cause he grinned as he stamped his boots out before going inside.

“Kratos!”

Lloyd’s shout had multiple people up and moving, but Kratos reacted faster than any of them. That tone was a less urgent version of a battlefield call.

Lloyd walked towards them, carrying a small body in his arms. It was a quick walk, but he was very much trying not to jostle them. Kratos met him halfway, and now that he was closer, he could recognize it was Anna Marie in his son’s arms. Her eyes were a little damp, and her lip was trembling, but otherwise, she seemed alright.

“The kids were playing out by the barn. The fence she was climbing on broke and she got cut.” There was a makeshift bandage around Marie’s shin, already turning red.

“Let me take a look.” Lloyd knelt carefully, setting Marie down so she was still leaning against him.

He unwrapped the bandage carefully, apologizing when it caught on some of the wound’s edges. Holding her by the ankle, he summoned a ball of witchlight to better see the wound in the setting sun.

“You can do magic?” Marie said, staring at the light.

An old wariness stiffened in his spine. It had been a long time since he’d had to hide what he could do, or had to care about where he did it. Most people didn’t ask questions on the road, and his skill with a sword was more than enough to deal with the average enemies. But this was not a place of enemies, or strangers. This was where his son’s family lived.

Humans couldn’t do magic. And he was certainly no elf. It had been nearly ten years since the reunification, but that wasn’t nearly enough time for people to lose their prejudices.

“You cut yourself rather badly,” he said, choosing not to address the question. “This will need stitches.”

Marie’s eyes lit up at something over Kratos’ shoulder. “Mom!”

Lynn crouched beside Kratos, pressing thumbs to her daughter’s face and dropping a quick, grateful kiss to her forehead before taking in the injury.

“Can you Heal her?” Lloyd asked, keeping some light pressure on Marie so she didn’t try to stand up automatically.

Kratos met Lynn’s eyes. “I can if I’m allowed. I will need some soap and water to clean this first. I don’t want any infection to stay in the skin.”

Lynn’s lips pressed together, a familiar stubborn pull to them that looked like Lloyd. Looked like Anna. Luin was a half day’s ride out, and it was already getting dark. “Do what you have to. I’ll get the stuff.”

“Magic doesn’t just fix it?” Marie asked, pain completely forgotten in the light of something new to learn.

“No. I could Heal it as it is, but I’m not good at it enough to disinfect it with magic.” It was a hard skill to do. Even Raine preferred not to do it, though she’d trained herself how in the many months of their journey. “At a basic level, Healing is just rejoining or restoring your body to it’s old state. The body knows what that looks like and magic can help it do it faster. But if there’s an infection, trying to make the magic tell the difference between what the good bacteria in your body is versus the bad kind that’s trying to infect you can be difficult and it could end up just as dangerous.”

“See? Told you he’d be the perfect person to call.” Lloyd rested his chin on top of her head. “Kratos knows a lot about this kind of stuff and he’s a pretty good Healer.”

“I know basic Healing at best, Lloyd.” For basic things, he had a decent amount of precision. For more complex Healings, his solution was basically to shove a lot of mana in the injury’s direction and let the body do it. It worked in a pinch, but was not the ideal solution, nor could it compare with Raine or Martel’s level of skill.

“But you’re still good at it!”

Marie giggled a little at the argument, which just made Lloyd grin a little over her head at Kratos like see?

Lynn returned with two buckets—one with soapy water, the other with plain water—and a clean cloth. Kratos thanked her and washed his hands first before dipping the rag into the soapy water. “This might hurt,” he warned Marie.

“I’m a big kid, I can take it,” she said, jutting her chin up. Still, she didn’t push her mother’s hand away when Lynn offered it.

“My mistake,” Kratos said. Even being gentle, it was a bad gash in a painful spot.

Spotting how hard Marie was gripping her mother’s hand, Lloyd began a story about one of the times that he’d gotten into mischief in the village. “We didn’t have school, ‘cause it was harvest season. Iselia has the best apples, y’know, and there was this super juicy looking one, but it was aaaall the way at the top of one of the trees…”

Kratos listened with half an ear. He was always eager to hear stories of Lloyd’s childhood. Dirk had many that he was willing to share, and Lloyd had no problems talking about it either, but it was often an uncomfortable question to ask. Still, he focused on not hurting Marie more than necessary.

Lloyd’s story seemed to be doing the trick. Marie was less focused on the pain and more on how exactly Lloyd ended up breaking his arm in two places when he was eight.

“Okay, it’s clean,” Kratos interrupted to tell her. “I’m going to start Healing it now. It’s going to hurt a little, but it will mostly feel uncomfortable. Hold still as much as you can.”

“It barely hurts,” Lloyd assured her. “Kratos is the most gentle Healer who’s ever Healed me.”

He couldn’t think about that comment now, even if it had to be a lie. Lloyd picked his story back up, talking about how he tried to walk it off and act like nothing happened. He wasn’t friends yet with Genis in this story. It didn’t even sound like the Sage siblings were in Iselia yet judging by how Lloyd described his schoolteacher. Colette featured in the story; she was the one to bring him to the adults to try and help.

“All done,” he said, wiping whatever blood was left on her leg away.

“That’s it?” Marie asked, leaning in to peer at her leg. “That was fast!”

“Told ya,” Lloyd said, sitting back as Marie moved to stand, steadying her.

“You still lost blood, so you’re going to want to eat soon or you might feel dizzy.” Lynn moved forward, running her fingers over her daughter’s shin. Kratos began scrubbing the bloody rag clean, washing his own hands again in the process. “It might bruise a little in the next day or two because of the Healing that happened under the skin. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Thanks, Mister…”

“Kratos.”

“Mister Kratos.” Marie tilted her head, studying him, then turning back around to look at Lloyd. “You said he was your dad.”

“He is.” Would Kratos ever get used to how casual, how easy it was for Lloyd to say that? Without even an ounce of hesitation or second thought. He said it as easily now as he spoke about Dirk, and it ached if Kratos thought about it too long.

“Mom said you’re family. That you’re my cousin.”

Kratos heard the hitch in Lloyd’s breathing. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Marie squinted at him, like she was trying to x-ray him with her eyes. “You’re too old to be a cousin though.” Ignoring his squawks, she continued. “Wanna be my uncle?”

Oh. Lloyd’s face softened, uncertain and sweet. He squatted so they were closer to eye level. “I do. If you wanna be my niece?”

Marie flung her arms around him and he hugged her tight. “You think I’d say that if I didn’t? You’re kind of a dummy, Uncle Lloyd.”

His laugh had a wet edge to it, still so full of joy. “I’m new to this being an uncle thing! Cut me some slack!”

She just laughed at him. She twirled to look back at Kratos, who was lifting the buckets and preparing to go dump them. “So...if he’s my uncle, and you’re his dad, does that make you my grandpa?”

If Kratos had been drinking something, he would’ve spat it out. Lloyd snorted behind him, turning it into a cough to cover his laugh at whatever expression was on Kratos’ face.

“Anna Marie!” Lynn snapped.

“You said they’re family, Mom! I’m just tryin’ to figure out how.”

Lynn’s face twisted. She’d claimed Lloyd as family immediately, of that Kratos was certain. But he wouldn’t be family to her, not now, perhaps not ever. Not that he could blame her.

“Technically, that would make me your great-uncle.”

Her nose scrunched. “Nah. That feels weird to say. I like grandpa better.” She bit her lip, suddenly unsure despite all of the childish bravado today. “Unless...you don’t wanna be my grandpa?”

Kratos glanced at Lynn, not wanting to cause more friction, but this was another piece of Anna and Lloyd, another member to add to a precious family. He cleared his throat of the sudden lump in it. “I believe that’s up to your mother.”

Lynn’s mouth was a tight thin line. “Let’s get back to the house, Marie. We’ll get you cleaned up and get some food in you. Say thank you to Kratos and Lloyd.”

There was a mirror of Lynn’s stubborn jut of the jaw that, on someone still so baby-faced, made Marie look more like she was pouting. Still, she deflated in front of her mom, and said her thanks to both of them before following Lynn.

“Lloyd!” He turned at the sound of his name. Lynn stood with her arms full of bundled grass. “...Give me a hand?”

“Sure.”

There was a shady spot laid out with a large blanket on the ground, with a bucket of water. Lynn tossed the bundles on the ground before sitting cross-legged in front of them. Lloyd followed her down, curious. “We harvested these about a month ago, ‘round the end of summer. They grow all along the lake.”

“What are you going to do with them?” He prodded gently at the dried grass.

“We are going to make baskets.”

“That sounds cool.” It didn’t even look like Lloyd was humoring her as he scooted forward to see better, eyes bright. “Where do we start?”

“Well, these reeds are dried, so we need to soak them a little in the warm water to make them flexible. Here’s how you start the base…”

She led him through the knots and weaving of the base, and at first, his were a little awkward with too much tension, or varying tightness on the weaves, but after pointing it out once or twice, he started seeing it himself and going back to fix them. Lloyd worked slower, but methodically.

Once he was able to do it largely without coaching, Lynn fell quiet, letting herself watch not his hands, but him. She hadn’t gotten much of a chance to be around him much—and she supposed she only had herself to blame for that. Punching Kratos had probably not been the most endearing move—but she’d certainly seen him helping out all over the farm. Stefan and Maritza jostled and joked with him casually, and his laughter was loud and unashamed. He didn’t really seem to know how to act with Mom—unsurprising—but Mom treated him warm and gentle as any of her other grandkids. Moreso even, like she kept expecting him to disappear. (She treats Lynn like that too sometimes. On the days she feels particularly fragile, when the memories are too close, or if Lorenzo is having a bad day)

He looked like Kratos, unfortunately. It only added credence to his whole story, which Lynn had had doubts about when Mom told her about it. It was in the angle of his jaw and the shape of his brow. But...something in his face was familiar. Something in the line of his nose or the curve of his cheeks. Lynn had never seen her sister grown, but judging from her own face, and her Mom’s...those things felt like Anna.

“...Did you make baskets like this with my mom?” He didn’t look at her when he asked it, focused on what he was doing. Or so it seemed. Awkward conversations were easier when you didn’t have to look at each other.

“We did. We’d make them to sell or trade at the store. And we’d make lanterns for the mid-summer festival. Lanterns are trickier.”

“’cause you gotta leave room for the light?”

“Yeah. And then it’s really obvious when it’s wonky.”

He poked his tongue between his teeth when he worked through a tricky spot. Once he was past it, he said, “Yeah, that happened a lot when I started making chains. It’s always real easy to tell if the links are different sizes and stuff. Dad said it was a good way to learn consistency, especially when I started working smaller for jewelry.”

“...So you’re a jeweler?”

“I do a little bit of everything. I like making jewelry though. Started doing it as gifts and stuff. It’s weird, but we’re kind of a full-service smithy. Dad says his clan used to be weaponsmiths, but once he was on his own, he learned stuff from everywhere to make ends meet. Most people don’t need weapons. Or they can’t afford them. They need kitchen knives and nails. He got better at pottery once he found me though. He was finally in one place, so he could make pots and plates and stuff.”

To learn so many skills, to do so much in order to make sure that a strange child in his care was was taken care of—Dirk really was someone to be admired. “Sounds like he took good care of you.”
He flashed her a small smile before returning his focus to his basket. “Dad’s the best!” He paused, biting his lip for a moment before asking, “What was yours like?”

Oh. Her father was an old wound that had scarred over a long time ago. But she’d never had to explain it to someone like Lloyd, someone who should have had a connection to him. She’d have to do this with Marie one day too, when she was old enough to recognize what she’d lost.

She thumbed the edge of a reed, pressing against it tight to feel the pressure. “My dad was...he was the life of the party, honestly. He had the general store, so everyone knew him. And he knew everyone’s names. He made sure we did too. ‘People feel special when you remember them’, he said. ‘So a name and even just one thing will make them feel happy’.”

“Sounds like he was a nice guy.”

“Oh yeah. Heart of gold.” Her lips twisted a bit. “It’s what got him into trouble more than once. He was always taking people in, being kind, y’know?” They’d always had space for guests in the basement, cots made up with spare quilts. Ranch escapees were a common sight for Lynn, and there were tunnels under the lake that they’d used to help smuggle them out the other side so they could try and make it to Hima.

“...The Desians didn’t like that, I bet.”

“No, they didn’t. It—my theory is it’s part of why they went after him.”

Lloyd winced. “I’m sorry. For what happened to him and if my question brought up bad memories.”

She leaned over and placed her hand on top of his head like she would Marie. He was entirely too old for it, but he still looked up at her like he was Marie’s age. Lynn smiled, a knot in the back of her throat as she decided on what to say. “Don’t be. The bad things are easy to remember. I try not to, but—they’re the first things that come to mind a lot. I’m glad you gave me the chance to remember Dad the way he was. I think you’re kinda like him, actually.”

“...what?”

“I mean, I don’t know you super well, but—from everything the others have told me, you’re a people person like he was. And you care about everyone the same way.” She leaned closer, pressing a kiss to the part of his head she could reach. “He’d be proud of you too. Just like Anna would be.”

If they were both red-eyed and a little snotty as they finished their baskets, no one else needed to know.

It was nearing dawn the next morning when a knock came at their door. Kratos answered, surprised to see Kamela on the other side. She was already dressed for the day, her hair in twin plaits on her shoulders.

“Good morning,” he greeted.

“Good morning. I’m sorry to disturb you so early, but...Lorenzo wants to get an early start on cooking. I—I wanted to know if Lloyd wanted to join us.”

Lloyd and Dirk were both snoring behind Kratos, but he knew that Lloyd wouldn’t want to pass up the opportunity to bond with a grandfather who had as many good days as bad days. “I’ll let him know. It might take him a moment to wake up all the way. You’ll be in the kitchen?”

She nodded. “...Thank you.”

Lloyd woke groggy beneath Kratos’ hand on his shoulder. A part of Kratos was soothed by it; he’d seen Lloyd wake in an instant under threat, but he slept soundly most of the time. Even nightmares were a rare thing these days—at least as far as Kratos was told.

“Waz wron’?” Lloyd mumbled, squinting up at his father.

“Lorenzo and Kamela wanted your help with cooking, if you want.”

Kratos had to dodge Lloyd’s head when he sat up, he moved so fast. “Yeah, of course.” He scrubbed at his eyes and began shoving yesteday’s pants on and turned in half-awake circles, looking for a shirt. Once he was dressed, he was out the door.

Later, once more of the house was waking up and it was a more acceptable time, Kratos and Dirk both dressed and went downstairs. Lloyd was bringing cheese and fruit from the storeroom and Kamela had set the table. Loaves of fresh bread and pastries were being placed on the table by Lorenzo.

Kratos had never met him properly before. Lloyd had. Lorenzo would have been tall in his day, but he hunched now. His frame and the way his clothes sat on him said he used to carry more muscle and fat, but now he was thin. His hair and mustache were mostly white, with some lingering brown.

Lorenzo smiled in welcome. “Good morning! Just in time for the early round of breakfast.”

“It smells wonderful. Is that sage?” Dirk asked, leaning close to the pastries.

“It is! Cheese, sage and sausage. You have a good nose, Mr…”

“Dirk.” Dirk shook Lorenzo’s hand.

“You’re Dirk! My wife has told me much about you and—I assume you’re Kratos?” Lorenzo held out a hand to Kratos as well, who nodded and shook it. He could only imagine what Kamela had told Lorenzo about them both. “It’s good to finally meet Lloyd’s fathers! I’m Lorenzo Naziry.”

“An honor.” Kratos spotted Lloyd watching them out of the corner of his eye as he continued to help bring out food and greet others who were trickling in. He was as wary as they were about their reception.

“Nonno!”

Lorenzo caught a running Anna Marie, scooping her up into a quick hug. “Hello, my little hurricane!” He greeted his other grandchildren equally enthusiastically, laying smacking kisses on their cheeks, even as Maritza giggled at the scratch of his mustache.

“Marie was conceived during one of those nasty hurricanes after the reunification,” Basma explained as they took their seats. “Lorenzo was very proud of his first grandchild from Kamela’s side of the family. Well, what we thought was the first one,” she amended, smiling in thanks as Lloyd passed her a bowl of fruit.

“And she lives up to the name.” Stefan reached across for one of the pork pastries. “When she was a toddler? I tried to convince them to put a leash on her!”

“Just admit you’re a bad babysitter,” Maritza told him.

“I am not!”

“I dunno…” Lloyd said, buttering some slices of bread before passing them out. “Can’t even keep track of one kid?”

He grinned at Stefan’s immediate protests, and the breakfast quickly dissolved into chaos. Kratos and Dirk quietly finished their meal, trying to avoid being caught up in it. Dirk was an early bird, but even so, he preferred a slower start to his mornings.

“If you don’t wanna babysit, just say so,” Basma said pleasantly. “I’m sure there are plenty of other contenders for favorite uncle. I think Lloyd was winning as of yesterday.”

“No way!”

Lynn came in, kissing everyone’s cheeks in greeting. She ignored Kratos, and only greeted Dirk verbally. Lloyd blinked at the quick peck on his cheek. It was a normal greeting among family and close friends in Luin—he’d seen it often enough. That had just never been something that applied to him.

Breakfast didn’t last much longer. The days ended earlier and earlier at this time of year, and they needed to take full advantage of the sunlight. Dirk and Kratos filed out with the others, separating out into various fields to give them Lloyd stayed behind to help clean up after breakfast; Lorenzo had more cooking planned for the morning, and he wanted to spend as much time with his grandfather as he could.

Luin’s harvest festival was a two day affair. It was nearing noon when the Naziry farm was nearly finished packing the wagons for the trek to the city. The days and weeks of harvest and hard work to begin prepping for the upcoming winter were done, and it was time for a party. Which meant trying to corral and get everyone ready for it.

“Noishe! You used to be white y’know.” Lloyd leaned away as Noishe pressed himself up against him, his dusty, muddy fur leaving streaks. Lloyd squinted at the kids, equally dirty. “I think I see the culprits.”

“He wanted to play with us!” One of the boys—Javier—spoke up.

“Oh yeah?” Lloyd made a show of looking them over, then Noishe, then himself. “Well, Grandma Kamela won’t let us in the house like this, so looks like it’s bathtime for all of us. C’mon.”

The adults in search of their children would find them being dunked and tossed into the pond, shrieking with joy. Noishe barked and hoisted them up so they could ride him as he swam. The kids worked together to bring Lloyd down, jumping on his shoulders and tackling at him. He went down laughing, making sure to keep the younger kids’ heads above the water.

Lynn snorted at the sight of them as they realized the adults’ presence—since apparently Lloyd didn’t count like an adult right now. “All clean?” she asked, trying and failing to keep the laughter from her voice.

Lloyd grinned, broad as the horizon as he stood, Marie on his shoulders, and Javier clinging to him like a koala. He looked down at himself, looked over at the kids and Noishe. “Yup! Noishe, can you take them back so they don’t get their feet muddy?”

Noishe accepted the wet children on his back easily. Lloyd shook a hand through his hair to get rid of the extra water as he slogged his way back to shore where they’d left their clothes.

“Your feet are gonna be muddy too.”

“Yeah, but I’m faster at getting clean then all of them. And I can be a little late to town. They gotta go with their parents.”

If Lynn had questions about his scars—and there were plenty of them, most from their journey, but it wasn’t exactly a danger-free life he led—she didn’t say anything. Perhaps she could guess, perhaps she had enough of her own. Stefan, always unable to keep his mouth shut, had asked after them the first time he saw Lloyd without his jacket.

“You didn’t bring clean clothes? Or a towel?”

“I couldn’t go inside to grab them! I’ll just toss these on for now and then I’ll wipe down real quick when we get back.” He grinned a little at her expression as he threw on his shirt. “Are you usually this fussy?”

“It—” She caught herself. “Sorry. I’m used to a nine year old.”

Lloyd chuckled. “It’s okay. It’s kinda nice. Dad’ll do it sometimes, but he was always more of a tough love kinda thing after I got old enough.”

“Which one?”

“Both, now that I think about it. It’s cool that they’re alike that way.”

“...It doesn’t make you mad? About Kratos?”

Lloyd hopped on one leg as he tried to get a damp leg through his pants. “No. It—it did for a while. I didn’t really know how to feel about it. And even when I chose to forgive him, it was still kinda weird to think about the things he did.” He switched feet, shimmying the waistband up his hips to sit properly. “...But when I thought about it, and after talking to some of my friends—it made sense why he did what he did at the time. Even if it wasn’t the right thing, it felt like the only choice. I’ve—I’ve made some decisions that I got lucky came out the way they did. That we managed to make things happen in a way that worked for everyone. And I know that, if things hadn’t gone well, I would’ve wanted someone to look at me and give me another chance.”

“You’re a better person than I am.”

“I’m really not, y’know.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, letting his suspenders remain unhooked for now. “He’s new to you. I’ve been dealing with him for years! I know we look all good now, and we are, but it took us a while to get there.”

“I don’t know that I’ll be able to forgive him.” She met his eyes, wondering if this would be enough to drive her new nephew away. But this was a hill she could stand on, and stand proudly.

He shrugged. “You might not. It doesn’t make you a bad person if you can’t.”

“No?”

“No. I don’t like that you hurt him about it. I don’t think people should be hurting each other.” He breathed out hard, looking up at the sky. “I also know that violence is kinda unavoidable sometimes. I—I’m a swordsman. And a blacksmith. I’ve made weapons for people, and I use them myself. And there’s things that make me so mad that I want to hurt people.”

“Lloyd—”

“It’s not about what you think and what you feel. Those things might not be able to be changed and it’s up to you if you want to change them. But—it’s what you do with those feelings that matter, I think. And even if...mistakes are made sometimes—we try to change and do better next time.

“And—last thing, I promise—I can say one thing for sure about him. The only time I’ve ever seen Kratos really angry, and it’s the only time I ever saw him act on it...was when we killed Kvar.” Lynn’s pulse thudded in her throat. Everyone who grew up on the Asgard continent had known that name. “And—I didn’t know why it upset him like that at the time, but he did it for Mom. Because of what Kvar did to her. Whatever you believe and feel about Kratos, just know this—he loved Mom.”

Lynn stood, stunned, until Lloyd tugged at her, reminding gently that they had to get going to be in time for the festival.

Much of Luin was already set up for the festival. Lanterns dangled from clotheslines and rafters, and there were stalls of handsome pigs and energetic goats that kept trying to escape. Lloyd greeted a lot of Luin’s townspeople personally, accepting hugs and clasping forearms with Nico, the innkeeper. He was so well-known here, so easily accepted. It helped for Lloyd’s extroversion, and after two days of being back at the farm, this must have felt like a nice break. It certainly did for Kraots, but then, he was more introverted than most people he knew. Pietro greeted them immediately, shaking hands with them both.

“Your books were a major help,” Pietro told him, his voice still soft. Kratos didn’t think he’d ever heard it above even a normal speaking volume. “Don’t be surprised if Dinah corners you for another order.”

“Thanks for the warning.” Dinah was Luin’s schoolteacher—currently in the market for a co-teacher to help with the sheer volume of students. She kept trying to convince Kratos to move out to Luin to take the position, but even in her lack of success with that, she’d ordered so many copies of schoolbooks that Kratos copied, printed and bound.

“Well, it’ll be something to keep you busy over the winter!” Lloyd said as Pietro moved to greet the others.

“Us busy.” When he could impose on his son’s time—something he felt more and more comfortable doing as the years went on—he would bother him for helping with the leatherworking. Lloyd’s handwriting was capable of being neat when he put a lot of effort into it—the man was nothing if not careful with the things he crafted—but for such an extended project as a book, it was a lot to ask. Therefore, Kratos would ask for his help with the making of the covers. He and Lloyd were both amateur leather-workers at best, but they could make do. And Lloyd knew the dwarven charms to carve into the leather to ward away water to help the books last a little longer.

Lloyd beamed at the thought of working on more books over the cold winter.

Dirk got drawn away by Luin’s innkeeper, Nico, whose son greeted Marie with nearly a tackle. Maritza immediately took Nico’s wife, Teresa, by the arm, sweeping her away. Kratos, Lloyd, and Stefan began unloading the wagons of crops and flowers, barrels of grain and flour from the millers who’d brought their things to the Naziry farm in the past day or two. A portion was going to the inn’s kitchens to help with whatever they were concocting in there. The blacksmith’s forge was being used for bread baking today, and the blacksmith and his two apprentices were in charge of keeping the fires going for the meats roasting outside.

Tables of jarred and canned foods were laid out, with baskets and crates stacked nearby for people to take. Some musicians were setting up their instruments, and the domino and card tables were already going by the older folks, their pipes firmly wedged in their mouths.

Kratos found himself a corner near the lake, a plate stacked with roast duck, dripping with juices, and heavy with rice and refried beans. Crunchy pastries full of shredded pork and fresh peppers had been shoved in his hand as he walked by.

He people-watched as he ate, letting his brain lull a little with so much noise and energy. The arguments about whose wine this year was best, the parade of musicians pulling people into the dance. Lynn pulled Basma in, and it was good to see her happy, twirling around her wife, letting her long skirt flare.

His memories mixed with the here and now. Luin as it was before, wooden buildings and fishing boats on the docks. The broken remnants of it as they picked through the ruins, Lloyd, Genis, and Colette’s voices calling for survivors; Sheena’s bruised and trampled body lying against the fountain. The tentative hope of it as they rebuilt. The area as it was centuries before, stone structures to match the Tower of Mana in the distance, all elegant lines and a central hub of trade and scholastic endeavors. A few tents on the edge of a lake, sheep grazing nearby under the night watcher’s eye.

He blinked himself hard out of the memories, forcing himself to refocus on the here and now. Today was a day of celebration, of community. It wasn’t something he was used to anymore on this scale.

Pietro came to sit by him with his own plate. After a few minutes of quiet, he said “Kamela spoke with me a few weeks ago when she came into town. She told me about you. And L-Lloyd.”

“Is that so?”

His hands shook as he tried to pierce a potato with his fork. “She told me because L-Lynn and Anna were my neighbors, and my friends. She didn’t know that we had met before.”

“Those were different times.”

“They were. I kn-knew L-Lloyd’s family name, but...I didn’t think he was one of our Irvings.”

“We didn’t know either,” Kratos told him honestly. It took Pietro a great deal of effort to speak for long periods of time, and today had already been a day of a lot of talking. “Lloyd found out by chance that they were his family. Anna didn’t speak much about her family.”

Pietro smiled a little, the smile crooked with muscles that didn’t all work right. Raine’s Healing had done a lot, as had a lot of therapies, but he could never be what he’d been before the ranch. “I wanted to thank you. For taking care of Anna w-when all of us couldn’t. I—w-when I was taken to the ranch, I thought I might see her there. I hoped she wasn’t—it w-would’ve been more than ten years since she got taken—but I w-wanted to see my friend again.”

There were pieces of Anna everywhere in this town, all the little shards slicing into his nearly boxed grief. How could he not offer the pieces of her that only he had known and experienced to the people who had loved her? “...She wanted to see you all. She wanted to come back to Luin someday, when it was safe.”

“She did. Y-you brought her back with you. And L-Lloyd. Just l-like I did with my parents and my brother. Anna’d be happy to see her son like this.” Pietro pointed out to where Lloyd had gotten roped in by Maritza and Stefan as they tried to show him their dance. The fast drums set the beat, and while Lloyd seemed to pick up the steps okay, he tended to be off beat and running into them. Still, his cheeks were stretched in a smile, and his cousins spun and danced with him even as they laughed. “I kn-know that people don’t l-like that you used to be a Desian. But I remember w-what you did for us. For me.”

“I did very little for you,” Kratos said. “Raine is the one that Healed you.”

“You w-were here when the city fell. You helped the survivors. And you’ve kept helping us since. That means a lot from someone who used to hate us.”

Kratos did not look away from his hands pressed onto the table, needing the firm texture of it to ground him from the sense memory of Martel’s corpse bleeding out beneath these same hands. He let the music and Lloyd’s laughter filter in louder so as to keep Yuan’s sobs out of his ears; he let Anna’s pieces cut open a little more inside, using it as an anchor, unswayed by Mithos spitting venomous tears.

“...It was never about hating humans, for me. I was hurt, and I wanted revenge. I wanted the people who I believed had hurt us so much to feel the same pain I did.” He dug a fingernail into the opposite hand. “It could never have happened. That method—it does not have an end. You simply burn yourself and everyone around you to the ground.”

“I’m sorry, for w-whatever humans did to hurt you.”

Kratos shook his head. “It was a very long time ago.”

Pietro tried a few times to start his sentence, but his mouth buzzed and worked around empty air. He swallowed hard, working his jaw as his eyebrows drew together in frustration. “...I w-was afraid about the things the ranch did to her. That’s the w-worst part y’know, is even if they come back, the people you know change into somebody else.”

“Indeed. Except you could sooner change the stars in the sky than change Anna.”

Pietro laughed, a breathy, stuttering sound. “You’re sure right about that.”

The second day of the festival, Kratos was roped into dominoes with Dirk, Becca, and one of her friends. He had not played dominoes in a long time, but it was an easy game to remember. And Becca proved to be a fun challenge to play against, even after she suggested they do teams.

Lloyd found them later, offering them finger food from his plate and stealing some sips of Kratos’ blackberry juice. He stayed and watched for a game or two. Kratos watched him, concerned at his quietness, but perhaps he just needed a break from all the excitement. Lloyd liked people and crowds, but even this could prove overstimulating. He left after checking if anyone at the table wanted him to bring anything.

When Becca’s friend cried mercy and pointed out that “Look, Nico had pulled out a fresh batch of strudel, let’s go get some!”, they chose to call it a night. Lloyd hadn’t gone far, squatting and playing some carnival game involving floating wooden ducks in a wide washbasin. There was another washbasin nearby where they were bobbing for apples.

He smiled at Kratos in greeting as he stood, his prize of a stick with chocolate-drizzled berries and fried dough in hand. “Didn’t know you liked dominoes so much.”

“Becca was an excellent opponent.” Kratos studied his son. There was some tiredness stretching at his eyes. “Are you feeling alright?”

He waved him off. “Just all the days catching up with me. I’m gonna knock out for a week when we get back home.” Unlikely. Lloyd would likely sleep long into the next day, and perhaps be a bit lazy about his house chores for a day, but he was not a man who was good at being idle. “I’m gonnago find a corner to take a nap in.”

The party would be going into the wee hours of the morning, after all. The thought was exhausting even to Kratos, who technically couldn’t feel tired.

An hour or so later, Lynn came up to Kratos. Her hair was twin-braided with cornflowers, and a shawl embroidered with Luin waterfowl was tied around her shoulders. He’d seen Basma’s hair veil embroidered with Triet eagles to match.

“I need to talk to you,” she said.

“...Alright.”

He followed her out to the edges of the party, where the lanternlight wasn’t as strong, even if you could still hear the voices clearly over the water. She turned to face him, arms folded over her chest. He didn’t flinch under her scrutiny, waiting patiently for her to say whatever it was she needed to talk to him so urgently about.

“Thank you,” she said finally. “For Healing Marie.”

He dipped his head. “You’re welcome.”

“...You didn’t Heal your face though.”

The bruise looked rather spectacular today, splashing vivid, half-healed purple and green across his jaw and cheek. He’d received several concerned comments from various people at the festival, but he’d assured them he was okay.

“...I deserve worse for the things I’ve done.” Lloyd would be upset to hear Kratos speak like that.

“Yeah, you do.” Lynn said it so frankly, the same as she would say the sky was blue. “I wouldn’t expect someone like you to own up to it though.”

He didn’t need to explain himself to anyone. But the Irving family—Anna’s sister—deserved every explanation and apology he could give, however uncomfortable the conversation.

“I’m sure there are many who would rather hide and forget their atrocities. I did that for a long time, trying to ignore the people that were being harmed and the results of my actions. But there came a time that I could not let that continue, and I continue to stand by that.”

“...Was that before or after you met my sister?”

“The process began before,” Kratos confessed. “I was struggling with myself for some time, but after meeting Anna...she inspired great courage in me.”

“It shouldn’t have taken that,” Lynn spat.

“I agree. I wish every day that I had acted sooner.” Even if a selfish part of him knew that if he’d rebelled against Mithos earlier, if he’d put a stop to the plan from the beginning, he would never have met Anna, would never have had Lloyd. He wanted and loved his family more than the world, but...he’d seen what that love was capable of. He knew what he was capable of. Maybe in that world, Anna would never have been taken by the Desians. Perhaps she would have been able to live free her entire life, would have gone on her adventures and been able to explore without the paranoia.

Lynn sucked her teeth, looking away, out at the lake. “...What did Basma tell you? I know she talked to you.”

“She mentioned about your difficulties with Dorr’s administration as everything came to light.” It wasn’t public knowledge that the Chosen’s group had been so instrumental in that. He wondered if Lloyd would ever tell his aunt about that day, about Clara’s monstrous form locked in that cage and Dorr bleeding out on the cold stone.

(The very idea of locking one’s wife away at all was horrifying in and of itself. But to lock her away due to fear, to leave her locked down there alone and confused and in pain...Kratos could sympathize with Dorr’s situation only so much, and sometimes, he thought that Lloyd had been too kind in lying to him about his daughter, deathbed be damned)

“That rat bastard was lying to us all. Working with the Desians—how could he?”

“Did Neil tell you about it?”

Lynn huffed out a frustrated breath. “Yeah, he did. We found each other in Izlood, y’know? After Palmacosta. He didn’t wanna say much before that whole mess. I think he cared too much about Dorr and his memory and stuff.”

“They worked together for a long time, from my understanding.”

“Yeah. I’d already worked for the administration for...jeez like seven years by then and Neil had already been there when I got there. And now Ms. Clara’s back in Palmacosta, and—she’s different. I only knew her for maybe a year before she ‘got sick’. I hardly recognized her when she got back, and it wasn’t just physical.”

Yes, she would be. Kratos had not been there when Lloyd and his friends had managed to change Clara back, but these days, she stood as a resolute and kind leader to Palmacosta, Neil at her side. “Loss changes people.”

She looked over at him, as though she’d half-forgotten who she was talking to. “...You’d know.”

“As do you.”

“...Mom says that Anna died free. That she lived free for years.”

“As free as we could, hiding from Desians.” He thought of anything to offer Lynn, who’d been little more than a child when Anna was taken. They were a few years apart, though he was unsure of the exact number. “...She loved to see new places. We found a camera for her, and she would take photos of everything. Cities and people and food.”

Film had been expensive then, and getting the film developed even more so. Still, Kratos would happily have spent every single gald on film when he remembered Anna’s expression as she ran her fingers over the glossy photos, of reminders of the world outside the cell that she would wake in the night thinking she was still trapped in. The same way she could never stand wearing anything too tight, or jewelry around her wrists or neck because of the ghosts of her shackles lingering too tight.

Lynn chuckled, stamping her feet a little as she looked down. “We used to talk about having adventures. About places we wanted to see. Palmacosta was one of them. It was the shining star of Sylvarant in those days.”

“She got to see it,” Kratos told her. “She thought it was so beautiful, but not more beautiful than home.” It was the most he’d ever heard about Luin from Anna. That first night in Palmacosta, she hadn’t wanted to go inside.

“The moon looks different on the water,” she’d said, failing not to shiver in the night wind. He’d offered her a cloak that she bundled into. She never knotted them around her collar like they were meant to be worn. “Looks like home.”

He hadn’t known what to say to that; they’d had the conversation half a dozen times about why they couldn’t go to Luin. He knew that didn’t stop the wishing from hurting though.

This time, Lynn’s laugh was choked and edged with tears. “She was right.”

“...I am sorry, for the part I played in hurting your family.” Anna deserved to have been able to go home. He dreamed of it, on some of the rare nights he slept. After the reunification, journeying with her and Lloyd out to this farm. Of the radiant joy that would have filled her voice as she hugged her mother and sister, of her excitement at meeting all this new family and getting to introduce them to her family. “And thank you, for allowing Lloyd to still be part of it.”

“I didn’t allow anything. He’s my nephew. Of course he’s welcome here.” Her tone—fierce and stubborn and warm with love and protectiveness—sounded the same as Lloyd, an echo of Anna herself that made Kratos ache to hear.

(He knows, in the same way he knew four thousand years ago with Martel, that he will never stop missing Anna. The grief will lessen, will find ways to fold itself up and be taken out when he wanted to sit with it. It no longer drags at his steps and wails from his shadow. It still sits beneath his skin, but it’s not heavy anymore. He has learned to carry it.

But Anna’s grief takes a different shape here, on this farm. It had taken a different shape that first day he saw her grave, and the pieces came together about Lloyd. And here, it morphs and changes to adapt to the empty spaces where she fit into this family that had so loved her, that she had loved and missed too. Kratos doesn’t know what it is to miss a blood family. His only family that he would claim growing up had been Yuan. They hadn’t met the Yggdrasills until they were nearly grown. The only blood family he will ever claim is Lloyd, something he will be proud of until the end of his days)

“I’m not sorry for punching you,” Lynn said suddenly. “Or for anything I said.”

“I never imagined you would be.”

“But—you helped my daughter. And you’re Lloyd’s father. If—I need to believe people can get past the things they’ve done.” He remembered Basma’s words, about being complicit in Dorr’s crimes against his people, even unknowingly. “So if I believe that, I need to believe in you too.”

“I appreciate that, more than you know. You don’t have to claim me as family,” he offered. “Even if Lloyd does.”

She exhaled hard, looking up at the sky as if looking for deliverance. “I wish! Here’s something you’re gonna learn about us Irvings—family’s family. I don’t gotta like all my family. Hell, I don’t like all my family already. But I’m stuck with ‘em. And I know that when I need them they’ll be there, same as if they need me.”

She met his eyes, holding out a hand. “That sound like something you can deal with?”

Helpless, he huffed a laugh and shook her hand. “Is there a choice with family?”

He wasn’t ready for her genuine laughter, the sound bright and loud. She grinned a familiar fierce grin. Anna’s had always been lopsided from her scar pulling at her lip, but this was something like the shape it must have been before the ranch. “Now you’re gettin’ it,” she said.

Kratos went to find Dirk, taking a seat beside him at a table further away from the center of the party, out near the fountain. Dirk wordlessly pushed over a tankard of ale. This was the exact kind of company Kratos needed right now.

He drank the ale down, barely tasting it, and wishing he could be affected by alcohol again. His memories of being hungover were not good ones, but that numbing feeling would have been welcome right about now.

“Ye feelin’ alright lad?” Dirk asked finally.

“Irvings,” was all Kratos could say for a long minute. That in and of itself made Dirk chuckle, the rumbling of it familiar now to Kratos’ ear.

“They’re certainly something,” Dirk agreed. “Ye found yerself quite the family to marry into.”

“I suppose I never thought about it that way.” It hadn’t even been a consideration back then. The thought of Anna ever being able to return to Luin, to any kind of normal life, had been unthinkable.

Dirk folded a gentle smile at him. There was starting to be more gray in his hair than before, but not very much. He would take decades more to age, but still, the signs of it were something that took Kratos some getting used to. “A good gift from Anna, I suppose.”

“I...imagine she and Martel are laughing at me.”

“Aye. My forgebrothers would be doin’ the same.” Dirk looked out at the festival, at the swirling skirts and the broad smiles, the open arms of friends meeting again. “Being friends with humans like this.”

Kratos borrowed from Yuan’s playbook, arching a brow. “Your son and I have been relegated to friends now?”

Dirk’s laughter was much like Lloyd’s, rolling and warm, always inviting others into the joke. “My mistake. They’d think it was even funnier that I got myself a human son.” And a human...coparent? There was no word for what they were, really. Fathers to their son, certainly, but they did not grow up parenting the boy together, even if they were united in whatever they could do for him now. Certainly, family was the least of what they were.

“I would owe Martel a very fat purse.” He took a long drink of ale. It wasn’t his favorite thing to drink—alcohol never had been—but at least it was smooth going down. “She had a bet going with Yuan about how large a family I would have when I finally got married.”

“Sounds like she and Anna would have been very dangerous friends.”

“Like a house on fire,” Kratos agreed, mourning again that they’d never had a chance to meet. It was strange, to consider that being an angel could be any kind of blessing, but it had granted him Anna and Lloyd. Horrific, to think that all his sins would be worth it for them, but a part of him would always say it was. His love was monstrous that way. “They might have gotten along too well with your forgebrothers as well.”

“That would be a disaster. But I imagine they’d welcome you too.” Dirk grinned, something impish and young that Kratos hadn’t seen on his face before. “They’d be puttin’ that alcohol tolerance of yers to the test fer sure.”

His tolerance hadn’t been great before he’d become an angel. The Exsphere had helped, sure, but there were more than a few nights that he couldn’t remember in the haze of celebratory moonshine from Lieutenant Ortiz’ stash. Yuan was the one who could actually give Ortiz a run for his money long after everyone else was knocked out under the table.

He snorted a little at the thought of doing things like that again. “I’d welcome the challenge,” he said finally.

As a rule, Kratos didn’t sleep. Even in his own house, he dozed at best, though he tended to use those nighttime hours more as meditation than anything else in order to keep some kind of schedule. Here, at the Naziry farm, meditation even seemed more difficult to reach. There were so many people and animals nearby; even if he muffled his senses, he was still Aware of their presence.

He tried focusing instead on Lloyd and Dirk’s familiar sounds, the rhythm of their breathing, Dirk’s snores. It helped a little, but it appeared this was going to be one of those rare nights that nothing worked. He was too wired from the festivities of the last two days. Time for his favorite fallback.

He moved quietly to avoid waking the other two, but as he clicked the door handle open, Lloyd’s breathing changed and he shifted in the cot that he was really too tall for. “Wh’r you goin’?” Lloyd slurred.

“Just going to sit outside. Go back to sleep.”
Ah, but his son was stubborn. Lloyd trotted after him, bumping his forehead against the back of Kratos’ shoulder when he stopped to open doors. “You need your sleep,” Kratos reminded him, a fond memory of his son clumsily crawling out from beside Anna to toddle after him. The movements were more graceful now; the energy was the same.

“’s fine,” Lloyd yawned.

Kratos folded himself to sit on the grass at the front of the house. At this time of year, the skies tended to be clear, and this far from a major town, there was very little light to pollute the light of the stars. Lloyd tilted his head back, looking up with him.

“Y’know, the first time we went to Tethe’alla, I thought the stars’d look different. But they were the same. Sheena said so too. ‘s why she was so good at knowing where we were at night even on a different planet. She could navigate with the stars.”

“We were taught to navigate with them as well. And in some places, there were stories of how Luna and Aska used them to connect with each other.”

Lloyd made an interested noise, leaning his head on Kratos’ shoulder. “Tell me about ‘em?”

His little son clambering into his lap, patting at his cheeks with pudgy hands. “Tell me a star story, Daddy?”

Kratos cleared his throat, suddenly thick with the sense memory of his son’s tiny fingers poking at his lips—he hadn’t even known something could be that small. “Long ago, Spirits were the guardians of the realm. Aska was the Spirit of the Sunlight, blessing people with nourishment for their crops, and warmth during the day. His wife was Luna, the Spirit of Moonlight, and she loved people also—giving them good dreams and letting their eyes rest from her husband’s powerful love. But she was shy too, and would hide pieces of herself away in the ocean with her sister, Undine.

“One day, Aska came to her and explained how afraid people were. He spoke of monsters, and of things that lurked in the night. Nights were very dark back then, and Luna couldn’t always be there. It hurt Aska, to see how people afraid, but at the same time, he would not ask his wife to be anything other than what she was.”

Kratos shifted his weight, feeling Lloyd’s head heavier, and curled an arm around Lloyd to draw him more to the front of Kratos’ shoulder; it would be more comfortable that way. His son made a grateful hum, and prodded him to keep going.

“So, they came up with a solution. They birthed sparks of light to paint a map in the night sky. Luna came down and spoke to people, showing them the lights—which they called stars—and how to read them. This way, she said, you will never be lost. You can always find your way home, and even if I am not there, there will still be light even in the darkest of nights. And do you see there, she said, this river of them that I have made? It goes straight to Undine, and if you follow it on nights that I am with her, you can find me there.

“The people rejoiced, now that they could travel at night, they connected with other villages, and they feasted and danced in joy. It’s a day of generosity, sharing wealth and food with all. They would make roads to each other that could be illuminated with lanterns, following Luna and Aska’s map, and where the great star river led, they built a Temple to Luna to thank her for her kindness. And that was the very first Festival of Lights.”

Lloyd’s breathing had evened out, properly asleep against his shoulder. Unsurprising. This was the most surefire way to get him to sleep as a baby. Kratos had even tested it a little on their journey, telling shortened versions of stories on nights when Lloyd couldn’t sleep. Sure enough, he’d dozed off quite easily. Had Dirk figured this trick out too?

The front door creaked open, followed by shuffling steps. “You’ll freeze out here.”

Kratos turned as much as he was able. Kamela was wrapped in a heavy shawl, a blanket folded in her hands. She came out, hesitating before offering one end to Kratos, wrapping the other around her grandson. Her hands lingered, making sure his hands were tucked in, brushing his hair from his face.

“Did we wake you?” Kratos asked quietly.

She shook her head. “I don’t sleep much anymore. Gettin’ old, y’know? Figured I’d make some tea to warm my bones. What’s your excuse?”

Kratos stopped himself before he could shrug and displace Lloyd. “One of those nights.”

She made a noise of understanding. “I’ll bring some tea out for you. I don’t fancy having you two as a new lawn ornament.”

She did, bringing out two mugs, one in a knitted cozy. “For Lloyd when he wakes so it’s still warm.”

Kratos thanked her, turning the mug carefully on his knee to get a better grip with his free arm. Lloyd had wrapped himself around the other one like an octopus.

“Never heard that story before,” she said, sitting on the porch behind them.

“It was...something of a hobby of mine. I collected stories throughout my travels.” He’d even put many of them together in a book for Martel later in her pregnancy, when it looked like the baby would make it. She’d cried when she’d seen it, full of his handwriting, with careful, clumsy illustrations done by Mithos and Yuan. Many of those same stories had been told to Anna and Lloyd, curled against his chest or in his lap, murmured into their hair.

“Where’s it from? We ain’t got a Festival of Lights out here.”

How to tell her it was from a region that didn’t exist anymore? “It’s a custom in some parts of Tethe’alla.” It wasn’t a lie technically. Flanoir and Altamira both had versions of it still. It just wasn’t the same festival that this story was from.

Kamela made a sound of acknowledgment. “...Marie reminds me of Anna, y’know.”

He stilled; he wasn’t on good terms with Kamela. They were civil, for Lloyd, but he knew where he stood in her eyes. Lynn seemed warmer to him than her mother, in all honestly. He couldn’t blame either of them; he represented the people who’d subjugated their region for generations, who’d stolen their family and neighbors away. Being a father of her grandson meant little in the grand scheme of things.

“She’s constantly gettin’ into trouble like her. And she’s kind, in a similar way.”

Yes, Kratos could see that. Anna had been unfailingly kind—in a brusque kind of way. It had been something that made him laugh the first time it had been shown to him, a familiar sketch of caring that he’d been unused to since Martel died, since Yuan had drawn himself away.

“But she’s sweet still, very soft. Anna didn’t have that luxury. None of us did.”

Colette had been surprising for the same reason. Too gentle for someone knowingly being led to their death, too sweet for someone who shouldn’t have lived past sixteen.

“And she’s fond of both of you. Wouldn’t stop blabbering about her heroic uncle and grandfather.”

“I am sorry if she’s overstepped.” But he would not apologize for the name she’d placed upon him. An honorable name that he never dreamed he would bear. (He has never known something as instant as the overwhelming love for his son. The instant he’d heard his heartbeat in Anna’s abdomen, the moment he’d held the red, squalling baby in his arms, he’d known that there was nothing he wouldn’t be willing to do for them.

And then there had been Marie. Anna Marie Irving—named for an aunt she would never meet, a last name belonging to generations of bold, rebellious, kind people—and she’d wanted to call him Grandpa. He would have protected her regardless, but that moment she’d pouted about it, the same push of her lip he’d seen in his own baby boy, he’d known the same thing. He would bleed himself dry for her, just the same as he would for Lloyd)

“Unfortunately, she’s never been one for listening to others when she’s got her mind made up. She’s her mother’s daughter.”

“Which one?” he asked, remembering how Basma had come to see him, regardless of whatever her own opinions of him might be, regardless of her own wife’s opinions.

Kamela laughed, low and quiet to try and keep from waking Lloyd. “My daughter-in-law is certainly an excellent match for Lynn.” She paused for a long moment. Lloyd snuffled, shoving his nose more into Kratos’ shoulder. The cold was starting to get to him. Kratos reached over to tug the blanket more securely over his son. “...I hate to think that you were a good match for Anna too.”

He froze. Unsure of what even to say to that, he chose to go with the truth. “She deserved better than me.”

“If I’ve learned anything, love isn’t about what we deserve. You’re right. My Anna didn’t deserve to be taken prisoner. That boy of yours didn’t deserve to grow up without her, without any of us. But I also know the daughter I raised, and she wouldn’t have done a damn thing she didn’t want to do. And I guess that involves you.”

“You’re certainly right about that.” He’d been so hesitant about his feelings for her, so aware of his position, of his strength. Anna had rolled her eyes at him. “You might have time to wait around, but not all of us are immortal, y’know.” Her eyes gleaming, as she pressed into his space, close enough to feel how fast his heart—that traitor. It didn’t even have to beat—was going. “You gonna keep me waiting?” she’d whispered, her breath against his lips.

“You’re not welcome in my home as a Desian,” Kamela said. Before he could even open his mouth, she continued. “But as the father of my grandson, and the Healer of my granddaughter, you are.”

I’ve defeated Kratos, the angel who betrayed us. And I forgive Kratos, the Hero of the Ancient War, who helped us.

Oh. "You honor me."

"I do. Now get yourself and my grandson inside before you freeze."

"Yes ma'am."

At the end of the week, they returned to Iselia with crates of foodstuffs, very full bellies, and the exhaustion that came with days of hard labor and two days of festivities. The three of them gratefully collapsed at Dirk’s dinner table with a pot of tea and a fire in the hearth.

They didn’t speak. Just sat there with their mugs of tea, Lloyd’s head dipping with trying to stay awake. His body was wired from the past week, but his mind was trying to seize the opportunity to rest. Eventually, after nearly dunking his nose into his mug, his fathers gently pushed him to his feet to head up to bed. Dirk finished his tea and went to bed shortly after. Kratos assured him he would take care of the dishes and the fire.

The quiet of the Iselia mountains after a week at the farm and Luin, with the press of so many people, was welcome. Kratos let the noises of Lloyd’s breathing, of Dirk shuffling himself into bed, soothe him as he dumped out the rest of the teapot. The mountains were never truly quiet of course, especially not to his ears. The creek trickled, its frogs and crickets making their own little band. Some foxes were yipping further out. He collected a bowl of water, a brush, and a rag, setting it beside the back door.

Crouching in front of the hearth, Kratos poked some embers into the logs, adding some more kindling to the banking fire so that it would warm the house throughout the night. Dirk was no fool; he’d carved protections around the fireplace and his forge to contain any fires, but better not to have to use them at all.

Holding his items carefully as he stepped out the back door, Kratos closed the door behind him carefully. Noishe laid on the porch when he stepped outside, an ever-watchful guardian. Kratos scritched behind his large ears, earning a lick on his wrist as a thank you, before moving out to Anna’s grave.

“Hello, Anna.” Kneeling before it, he began brushing the dust and dirt from the past week off the stone. He shooed a spider from her web that she’d begun building at the bottom corner before removing the web itself. Leaves were gathered and pushed aside. He rinsed the brush in the bowl of water before he started scrubbing at the dirt that was a bit more ingrained in the stone.

“...I met your sister this week.” Kratos continued speaking quietly to her about all that had happened, about the niece who shared her name, about her sister and her wife, of her cousins and the festival that Anna had talked about wistfully at the inn in Hima. He told her about their son, blending seamlessly into everyone, being so easily accepted by the family. About how he kept Anna Marie calm with her injury, about how Noishe was the hit of the kids.

“He’s finally found his calling as a sheepdog,” Kratos told her dryly, hearing Noishe huff in fond protest somewhere behind him as easily as he could hear Anna smothering her laugh in his fur, pressing kisses into his brow.

Satisfied that he’d scrubbed as good as he could, he took the rag and began washing the gravestone down, wiping it clean. He made sure to get into the grooves of her name, carved with the masterful hands of a stranger turned family. He paused at the Irving, letting his fingertips trace the letters.

“Your mother chose to tolerate me. And Lynn called me family, even if I’m one of those she doesn’t like.” Kratos couldn’t complain about that. He’d had family he’d hated before, had had a hand in more than one of their deaths. Really, considering his luck, he’d been fortunate to get away with a bruise. His voice was fragile in his throat, “Anna Marie called me Grandpa.”

His chest tightened with emotion, with the memory of Anna Marie’s pouty face—so similar to Lloyd’s when he was smaller (he can only imagine it was the same at that age, but he will never be able to know)—and how she’d sat beside him at the festival, one pear and cheese pastry in hand, holding out the other for him. Their fingers had been sticky with honey, and he’d solemnly shared his blackberry juice with her.

Lloyd bathing with the kids, wrestling and dunking them. Anna Marie had used him as a springboard, and he’d cheered at the jump. Lloyd peeling potatoes and carrots with Stefan, learning the local dance with Maritza at the festival as they stumbled over her skirts and their own feet. Dirk and Lloyd rolling dough, Kamela laying quilts over her grandchildren who had fallen asleep on the couch. Lorenzo sitting to play dominoes, a child on his knee, with old friends in Luin, cigar smoke curling about their heads. Basma and Lynn dancing in the square, sparkling and joyous.

In his earliest memories—which were very faint, these days—Kratos remembered a large house filled with people. But it had been formal and cold and he hadn’t fit. He was too bookish, too quiet, too soft-hearted. The first place he’d ever felt himself fit was next to the half-elf slave who’d so fearlessly just said what he thought, who’d taken his punishments with fierce eyes and gritted teeth. No matter how long he lived, Kratos didn’t think he’d ever forget Yuan’s face that first time he snuck him salve and a sandwich.

Even after that, he’d been contorted into a military uniform, his swordwork beaten into his body until it became second nature. Teaching Yuan what he’d learned in the darkness of night—promising him he’d never be helpless again.

Freedom had looked like his name on a list of defectors and Yuan whooping behind him as Noishe flew away. It looked like Martel’s bloody gums and bared teeth, her spells slicing as Mithos—smaller than Anna Marie when they’d met, even if they’d been near enough in age—hid behind her skirt.

Before now, a family had been Mithos and Yuan bickering over the fire, it had been peeling oranges for Martel and letting Mithos steal only some. A family had been sleeping in a pile to keep warm with Yuan’s freezing nose shoved in his neck, and Martel’s icy fingers jammed into someone’s armpits. It had been Martel’s fingers combing his hair into some kind of order for her wedding, Yuan’s cloak tossed over him when he napped, Mithos’ jubilant voice when the treaty passed.

It had been Anna’s biting wit, her unbreakable spirit, the slant of her smile always inviting Kratos in. It had been her bony hands in his, tugging him closer and pulling him to go see the next exciting thing. It had been combing through her short hair as it lengthened, coaxing oils into her scalp for it to grow strong and healthy. It had been the press of her grin to his shoulder, and how she’d lay herself over him to sleep. Family had looked like holding Lloyd for that first time, terrified of the little life in his hands. It had been Yuan’s proud, sorrowful smile as Kratos offered Lloyd to him. Lloyd’s first teeth coming in, his wails at the pain and Kratos unable to do anything except bounce and walk with him. Anna playing in the washtub, Lloyd settled on her knees and giggling as the washcloth went splat on his head.

Kratos didn’t think he’d ever be able to have a family like this again. It had been a blessing to have a gravestone and Lloyd’s kind, forgiving strength.

He didn’t think Dirk’s burnt bread would be a part of the picture. He didn’t dream of being allowed to be part of that joy and warmth in the Naziry farm. That had never been an option for him. 

Kratos settled back on his heels, his wife’s gravestone clean. “Thank you,” he said finally.