Chapter 20:
Kratos:
Once the secret of their natures was revealed, much as it had with Atreus himself during their first journey to Joutunheim; what came after were questions.
Atreus’ first words after Kratos had told him he was a God was ‘Can I turn into an animal?’
It would only follow that the mortals, who his son was still so very like, followed a similar vein.
The subjects ranged, from their powers to knowledge of the Goddess of their world, to recontextualizations of Mimir’s old stories.
Mimir, was happy to answer most of the inquiries, Kratos was happy to let him do so. Not only because the subject of his own Godhood was irritating but because in truth, Kratos had very little knowledge to give.
His time as the God of War had been short, an eye-blink really, in comparison to his lifespan; and the hostility between himself and the Pantheon of Greece even before his razing of Olympus had left many many gaps in what should have been his knowledge base.
Gaps in knowledge that left him dreading the day Atreus would ask him and he would be incapable of answering; or guiding his son.
“Mr. Mimir, I’m curious.” Fern ventured, her tone a little hesitant as she and Stark walked, the two of them flanking Mimir and Atreus. “Why is it that Mr. Brok asked if you… qualified as a God?”
She seemed worried that Mimir would take offense at the question, judging by how nervously she spoke.
It was a reasonable fear. Most Gods Kratos knew would have killed her for the perceived insult.
Mimir however, was not most Gods. “Well its quite simple Lass- I, and some others, weren’t born Gods, we became Gods.”
“Wait; that’s possible!?”
“Not how that’s supposed to work.” Kratos heard the priest mutter somewhere behind him. It likely wasn’t intended to be heard, but Kratos did hear it regardless.
Of all the Mortals, the Priest was the one least accepting of the revelation, incredulity and skepticism poured off the man; scrutinizing every word of explanation offered by Mimir, or Atreus.
For his sake, he’d best get over his grievances soon.
“Aye-” Mimir nodded, oblivious to Sein’s mutterings or Kratos’ irritation. “Those who are not Gods can become Gods in various ways, usually by taking over the domain of another, either through merit, subterfuge or…” Mimir trailed off, his thoughts no doubt wandering towards how Kratos himself had taken over Ares Domain. “Well, there’s a few ways. For me- it was a contest of sorts…”
Fern almost looked like she was ready to lean forward “What kind of Contest?”
“One of Wits.” Mimir declared. “One that I won… Ya see; before I came along, Odin had another advisor-” He paused, negotiating his way, carefully over a tangled mess of roots, taking great care to watch his step and not trip. Kratos hoped the lack of sensation would not plague him forever. “-His name was Bragi, and his Domain was Skalds… bards-” He amended with a nod. “-you might call them here. Poetry and Wisdom. That last part was my key ya see.”
“Because you’re very smart?” Stark questioned.
“The Smartest.” The head chuckled, but Kratos had known him long enough to hear the hollowness in it, watched as his hands tightened around the staff.
The memory was not a pleasant one it seemed.
“As it turns out, I had arrived at Odin’s court, and aye he took me on as an Advisor alongside Bragi and Bragi’s wife, Idun. I didn’t notice it at the time, or more specifically the manipulation, but Odin slowly began listening to me more than he did Bragi, gradually, carefully. Showerin me with favors. Bragi didn’t notice either.”
The young ones hung onto his every word, Kratos himself had not heard this story, so he too listened carefully.
“In short, he was deliberately making Bragi angry… concerned about his position being usurped ya see. He pit us against eachother. Until finally, Bragi challenged me.”
“And you won?” Fern asked.
“Aye” Mimir nodded again, and then sighed. “I won. It was a battle of Wits; one I was more than ready for. And when I did, that part of Bragi’s domain, Wisdom, was broken…” The head paused. “When a God’s Domain breaks, when it’s usurped when a God is defeated… the God is diminished, but the power doesn’t vanish ya see. I took on aspects of it. I became the God of knowledge, of Memory, and aye a bit of Wisdom stuck with me too I like to think.” He saw him offer Stark and Fern a small smile before the frown returned. “But Odin was the winner in truth. When Bragi was diminished, it didn’t take long for Odin to quietly orchestrate his death. Usurping his power in full, adding it to his own; like a carrion feeder swooping down on a carcass.”
A tense, heavy silence descended on the group marching ahead of him, and when it was broken, it was Atreus who did so. “So… he used you so he could kill Bragi to get more powerful?” His son asked, wide eyed.
“Aye. Even if Odin cares little for Skalds or Poetry.. Power is power. He did the same to his own Brothers Veli and Vili at the dawn of creation; shortly after they killed Ymir.”
“His brothers!?” Stark’s voice was equal parts shocked as it was horrified.
Mimir simply nodded. “Aye lad. I was not lying when I said Gods could be cruel beings.”
“I am curious though-” Now, all eyes turned towards Frieren, who once more rode with the Hulda brothers on the cart. “How long have you been a God for Mimir? How long have you lived even before that?”
Now, Mimir smiled in truth. “Well milady, I can safely say that I am one of the few beings older than you.” He bowed, in exaggerated theatrics. My Godhood…” The head huffed out a whistling sort of breath. “I’m not sure. At least two thousand years. And two thousand more before that at least.”
That answer did make the elf smile, though it garnered Curious looks towards Atreus from Fern.
“Well, wait- how old are you then?” The girl asked his son.
Atreus, with a sheepish hesitancy Kratos had thought he’d grown out of long ago answered with uncharacteristic embarrassment. “I- I’m just fourteen.”
“Aye.” Mimir patted the boy on the head, much to his embarrassment and Kratos’ amusement at said embarrassment. “So young we haven’t even discovered his domain yet. My leadin theory is it has something to do with magic, or language.”
“How do you find out?” Stark asked.
“It’ll come with time. Discovering it isn’t a science really-”
Now, Fern’s eyes turned towards Kratos, he stared back.
“Well, how old is Mr. Kratos then?” She asked.
“In God terms. Young.” Mimir interjected quickly. “A thousand or so years, give or take a century. He too was mortal and won the Domain of War.”
Kratos tensed, and the glare he tossed to the back of Mimir’s head was something he couldn’t have helped even if he had the mind to try.
“How?” It was Sein who asked. The question was challenging, still laced with that skepticism, and Kratos temper flared.
He turned, glaring over his shoulder, and whatever the Priest saw in his expression made the man flinch.
Mimir pressed on, speaking quickly, pretending he hadn’t heard the Priest’s question. “But that was from a God of a distant land. Different realms and cultures have different Gods. Did you know the people known as the Celts on a far off island have a God of Flatulence?"
If the youths noticed the sharp divergence in subject it was immediately overshadowed by the absurdity of Mimir’s statement.
Stark came to a dead stop where he stood. “You can't be serious.”
“I think you need to work on the language a bit more” Fern followed up.
Even Atreus wasn’t unaffected. “That cant be a real domain.”
“I absolutely am serious, No; I dont need to work on the language, and yes that is a Domain.. His name is Ailill. Met him only once while I still served Oberon’s court, couldn’t walk into the Great Hall for a bloody week after he left.”
Atreus shuddered. “Please don't let me have a Domain like that.”
As Mimir regaled them of the… peculiar God with the admittedly unenviable Domain, Kratos noticed that Fern did look back for a moment, tossing a careful look over her shoulder towards Kratos- that sharp gaze and wit no doubt piecing something together before she held her silence and turned her gaze back to the front.
—
“Why do you worship them.”
The question came from the priest, halfway through one of Mimir’s stories; this one involving Thor.
Twilight was beginning to descend , the sun beginning to turn more orange than yellow in the skies above as they continued on the road.
“If they’re so cruel; monstrous enough to sound like demons-” The Priest spat. “Why would anyone worship them.”
At that, Mimir looked sad. “How else would mortals appease cruel beings?”
Those words made the priest pause his features scrunching up in thought.
“Not the best example, because Freyr was one of the kinder ones, but say; one Farmer plants his crop and prays to Freyr for good harvests. The other does not. Freyr blesses the first and he can feed his family, the other, at best Freyr leaves him alone, and its up to the whims of fate or luck. At worst, Freyr takes offense, and sends locusts to his farmstead. The Locusts eat the crop, they carry disease that make him or his loved ones sick, perhaps one of them die.”
“Are your Gods really so cruel?” Fern asked.
“They can be. Many times.” Mimir nodded. “Thor and Odin are some of the worst, and while Odin might not care about the worship or lack of it from Mortals, either way, his Valkyries will bring him the soldiers he wants for his army come Ragnarok. The Mortals dont know that, and the displeasure of other Gods can wreak terible vengeance on those that have drawn their ire.”
Mimir sighed, and then kept walking.
“So they pray, they leave offerings, they look to appease them in any way they can, because the alternative is risking destruction on nothing but stiff necked pride and principle, and its a rare being that would do so, Mortal or God.
A brief moment of awkward silence.
“No offense Mimir… but your world sounds like crap” Stark suddenly said, uncharacteristically blunt.
Mimir barked out a sharp laugh.
“It isn’t all bad.” Atreus tried to defend.
“You have a drunken Thuder God who goes around actively looking for people to beat to death with hammers.…”
—
They walked through the day, the questions and queries did not cease, even as they drew nearer to the next village.
Mimir continued to speak, continued to answer, continued to distract and divert the questions that might have brought Kratos, or his past into the front of the conversation.
For that; he was grateful.
But even so, he hoped that they would all get past their queries before too much longer.
“You told me once that you were half giant.” Fern said to Atreus now. “If Mr. Kratos is half God, then your mother was the half giant? Who was she?”
“Laufey the Just!” Mimir gushed.
Atreus shrugged helplessly. “I just knew her as Mom…”
Kratos resisted the urge to snort, spying the faint light of the village in the distance. They were almost there now.
Stark pushed the conversation forward. “What’d she do to get a name like that?”
“Oh Laufey was a paragon. Fantastic warrior, she frequently foiled the worst of Odin’s plans and took up her axe for the mortals and Giants the Aesir were punching down on in a given day. Rumor has it she even fought Thor to a standstill, though that was never verified. At least to me.”
“Nah she did!” Brok chimed in from his place on the cart. “We had to fix the ol girl up a bit afterwards-” He gestured towards the Axe on Kratos back. “Never thought anyone could hit hard enough to chip it but Thor and the ol girl did it.”
Though he heard the words, for the life of him, Kratos could not picture what they were saying.
Faye had always been… Faye. Kind, gentle, understanding, patient. She was everything he was not. She could hunt and yes she could fight… but the image of her battling Thor would not come to him.
He tried to picture her smile, the red flame of her hair, her pale skin and found that… itwas difficult to do even that.
It had not been so long since her death. Could he really already be losing the image of her in his mind as he had Lyssandra?
Kratos ground his teeth behind closed lips. Cursed be whoever deemed that he would remember the face of Zeus with perfect clarity, and yet he could not hold onto the images most important to him.
“We’re here.”
Frieren’s declaration was unnecessary, they could all see the village clearly, but the Elf smiled, unusually chipper as they arrived, even hopping off of the cart and marching forward with what Mimir would call a ‘pep’ in her steps.
As they drew closer to the fence that segregated the village and its wide open entrance, the object of her joy became clear.
An old Dwarf, sitting quietly by the road, his robes pooled over him, an old helmet on his head, a sword leaning against his shoulder.
“Old man Voll.” Frieren greeted.
The old warrior’s head moved, and Kratos saw the barest hint of a smile making the corners of his mustache rise as he caught sight of her.
(X)(X)(X)
Not much to say on this one; I'm expanding on a bit of the God of War Universe/Mythos/World Building here. I hope I'm not contradicting some God of War book or other that I havent read, and yes I'm taking some liberties with the Norse mythos but given how sparse the games are with the Norse Gods outside of the big ones (Odin, Thor, Heimdall) as to almost be non existent I feel like I've got some runway to work with the other lesser Gods of the sagas.
Hopefully I'm right, if you'd like for me to continue expanding on the world building let me know :)