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Atreus was perhaps the smallest baby that Kratos had ever held… though perhaps he did not have much to compare to. He was… tiny for a lack of a better word. Even tinier than dear Calliope despite the fact that (unlike Atreus) she had been afflicted by the plague as a babe, that somehow hurt to think about. He seemed more fragile than anything Kratos had ever held, he was almost scared to do so. It almost feels as though the child crumble with the wrong move.
Kratos peered over the bundle in his arms, barely bigger than one of his palms, and tried not to think of the fact that the elders in Sparta would’ve snuffed him out due to his small size. For he was not in Sparta, and the elders are long dead.
He grunted as he settled on the sturdy chair that sat by the fire, still holding Atreus in his arms.
Kratos peered over his shoulder and found Faye fast asleep. She had done well giving birth to their child, his heart bloomed with warmth; with love. A feeling he had thought he could no longer feel since leaving Greece.
And yet here he was.
The hole in his heart left by the death of his first family still existed, no remedy in any realm could fix that. And yet… his heart made space for another.
Faye had come into his world like a whirlwind, a woman of great power. No. Of great heart. One that never looked upon him with fear or disdain, but with genuine love and compassion. One who had taken him for what he was and never batted an eye.
And now her son. His son. Their son. Who now awakes from his slumber, his eyes blinking open; a shocking blue not unlike his mother’s. Kratos will not admit it to anyone, but he cracked a smile under his beard, suddenly becoming acutely aware of the fondness his eyes must show.
The babe peers up at him and for a moment Kratos fears tears spilling from those eyes, yet the boy laughs. An airy sound, so full and genuine; untouched by the unkindness of the world.
Perhaps he should not let the child burrow so close to his heart. Perhaps he should not let this toothless smile break his walls. Perhaps he should not stow away the memory of Atreus’ laugh beside the place he kept the thought of little Calliope in the depths of his soul.
And yet he does.
Maybe just for tonight it would be ok…
“I love you… Atreus.”
______
That night was now 14 winters ago and that little baby had grown into a boy — no, he was now steadily approaching manhood.
That child had now experienced the world as a part of Kratos feared. There was no shielding even children in such a cruel world as theirs. Yet despite it all, his son kept the same bright smile he had all those years ago.
“Father, can I ask a question?”
And it seems he had also kept the stubborn curiosity that he inherited from Faye.
“You have never asked before, simply ask Atreus.” Kratos grunted out, making more of an attempt to … communicate, as Mimir advised him to.
“Is there a reason you have never told me ‘I love you’?” The words tumbled out of his son’s mouth swiftly and it seemed he regretted saying them just as quickly. “I’m sorry that’s a strange question, Father. You don’t need to answer it. I don’t know what came over me—“
“You’re wrong. I have said it. Before.”
“Oh. Okay.” His son, usually so quick to banter, was utterly silenced by this. His mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
“I think you broke him, brother!” Mimir interrupted with a crude laugh, reminding the son and father that they were not the only people on their journey.
“A— shut up, Mimir!” Atreus reprimanded though his whole heart wasn’t in it.
Kratos cracked an imperceptible smile under his beard and walked forward.