Y/N and her two sons live a quieter life after the death of her husband, guiding her children to worry of much needed training and getting along despite their differences. Until the day comes where she figured out her sons have been going behind her...
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After making it passed the stave, they continue onwards towards their home, passing through a semi-narrow and dark cave. Her body goes about healing on its own, disintegrating the blood to nothing.
"I'm sorry I couldn't take the shot."
Atreus's voice spoke in a light tone, she hums.
"It's okay.. I wouldn't have wanted you to. Plus, you could have hit your brother."
In which his sibling is rubbing his nose, fair skin now a flushed a red color do to how hard Freya elbowed him.
"It's alright, he wouldn't have. When you knocked her back after removing her sword from your shoulder, I fell onto the floor of the sled again."
He sighs, looking off to avoid any real eye contact. She didn't catch that detail right away, but it was good to know Morpheus wouldn't have been injured. Seeing as he cannot heal his body as quickly as the rest of his family could, which was a slight downside. The ginger readjusts his seating and gives his mother a small glance.
"I keep hoping she'll let it go. Fathe—... Uh.. We saved her life.."
A soft frown fell upon her lips at the indirect name, though she could not simply ignore his words.
"He killed her son, Atreus. That's something you can't simply forget, despite her life being saved."
E/c irises stare ahead.
"I could never live with the thought of you two being killed, I'd want revenge as well."
"But we'd never try to kill you, mom. That's the difference between us and Baldur."
Morpheus spoke as he shifts his body to gaze up at her, brows knotting together and lips form a flat line. She's certain that her sons would never-ever lay a hand on her, but they don't seem to understand that Freya's boy was under a spell to feel no pain. Such a thing robbed him of living, to feel nothing is a burden he couldn't bare, which resulted him to resort to violent tendencies. She was trying to be a good mother, the witch, though she hadn't realized the true dangers behind her seemingly thoughtful act as a mother.
"Even so, that is still her child. I don't condone either of their actions, they were wrong.. In a way, I can see where both of them were coming from."
They look at her for a moment, the expression on their mother's face slightly tugged at their hearts. The two pivots back in their seats correctly and look off in various directions once the cave is left, a bright outside of freezing snow is met.
"Looks like killing Baldur really did bring on Fimbulwinter. It never stopped snowing after that day.."
The younger teen begins to mess with the hem of his fur clothing.
"Think it's ever gonna get better?"
This makes her think back to Krato, the things he spoke to her about right after they got home from a usual hunt on a random day in Midgard. They talked for a long while, leaving the two young men to rest as the adults went fishing, something the Ghost of Sparta was never really good at. The prophecy he saw when spreading his first wife's ashes along the lands of Jotunheim, where they found to be many dead giants upon reaching it, had concerned him greatly.
