Kratos x Reader

Thirty-Four

"Ah, smart child.", a voice whispered into your ear. "I expected you to be smart, but not like a fox. Odin and I have worked long on our plan to keep your knowledge at bay. What a good thing that at least one of the two curses is eternal. Look at you now. Now that you broke the weaker spell, how does it feel? How does knowledge feel? Does it hurt, knowing that you will never own anything more than a hundred years? Oh, if only I wouldn't have stolen those memories. You would have become more mighty than Odin. But now you will be who you are supposed to be. A healer, bond by memories and fate."

The voice giggled. Then, it faded.

A loud scream ripped through the silence.

It was this very scream that tore Kratos back into reality.

His eyes snapped open, he jumped up. Rage was burning inside his eyes. Wrapped in small flames, he stamped towards the fort of pillows. The floor was breaking below his strong feet.

He rushed to your side, his hands reached out for your face and he took it gently.

"(Y/N)!", there was a hint of worry inside of his voice. "I am here. Do not worry."

Disoriented, you threw your head to all sides. Your eyes flicked and loud breaths left your lips. As you threw your hand into the air, Kratos grabbed it to cover it with his own. The warmth made you stop and fall into the familiar feeling.

"K-Kratos?", you asked, tears running down your cheeks.

"Yes.", his hand stroked away the sweat on your forehead. "Are you well?"

You shook your head.

A headache was spreading inside like a parasite that wanted to drive you mad. The memories were still dancing before your inner eye. It made you sick to the stomach.

"No. No, I'm not fine.", you mumbled. "Freya betrayed me. The price for my gift... It is forgetting. And to top all that, you might be the man that will kill me."

A long, exhausted breath left your lips, followed by a laugh. Everything seemed so surreal, so fake and beyond control. At that moment, the world felt heavy.

Being alive felt like a burden.

Sleep.

All you wanted was sleep.

The tiredness was biting into your bones like bugs chewed into old wood.

You eyes flustered, your head fell to the side, bumping into the soft muscle of Kratos' chest. The way he breathed made you feel at ease.

So calm and soft as if the world wasn't able to affect him with its cruelty and twists.

His hand stroked through your (H/C) hair, gentle and almost loving. He let his chin rest on top of your head and let out a deep breath. His eyes closed.

"Rest.", he said softly. "I will be here. I won't be your end. I promise."

A tired laugh escaped you. Your lips felt dry.

Your stomach ached. Hunger grew.

"Fuck prophecies, Kratos. Fuck the gods and their plans for others.", you tilted your head, pressing it into his warm chest. "I would be honoured to die through the hand of a great man. And an even better father."

He wanted to say something in return, but held back as he noticed you were already dazed away.

With a strange expression on his face, he put the pillows in a good position and lay you down on a bed of feathers and silk. He covered you with a blanket and settled next to you.

His axe was resting in his lap. The soft blue glow spread in the room, that seemed so dark all of a sudden and told a story of snowy nights and forgotten lands.

Wordlessly, he stroked over the blade, collecting a bit of frost on the tip of his fingers.

The cool reminded him of the land of the dead, both from his world and the one he had given to his son. It had been long ago, but he remembered his world as clear as dawn.

Sometimes, when he thought about it, his heart began to throb and ache.

But he knew how to lock those feelings away.

However, he had noticed change in himself. His eyes jumped over to you. They flew over your face, taking in every detail, noticing that your lips were trembling while being trapped in the world of darkness and dreams.

He had noticed how his eyes searched for you over and over again. The first thing he felt when you were gone wasn't numbness or anger.

It was worry. He only felt this way about Atreus.

With a deep hum, he closed his eyes and shook the thoughts off.

No, he didn't feel the way towards you that he did with his son.

You were different. But he did not dare to call you a friend. After all, every friend he has ever had had died or stabbed him in the back.

"Are you getting weaker, Kratos?", the voice of Athena whispered inside his head.

He twitched, wanting to raise his axe and split her in two. But he knew that she was just a painful memory, chained to him forever.

"Leave.", he said to himself.

"No. I won't ever."

Kratos pressed his lips together and suppressed a displeased sound.

"What do you want?", he asked.

"Nothing.", she giggled, the sound filled his chest with hate and fury. "I just thought that it is amusing. Once again you are part of a prophecy. And once again, you will be the dark part of it. Oh Kratos, no matter what you do you can't escape yourself. You will shed blood again. And you will suffer again. Only so that the circle can continue. It starts with you and it will end with you. As long as you love something, it will suffer no matter what."

Her words didn't hurt. Not anymore. He had heard them a thousand times, had raged because of them. But those times were long gone.

Now, he was just numb to them.

However, he couldn't help but notice that it wasn't the same. This time, he actually felt strange.

Was that... pity?