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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Ugh! I can't believe we're this stupid!"
Morpheus yells while slashing and hacking away at the bark of a random tree, pushing the blade as deep as he can into it before forcing it out.
"Why would we not tell her!?"
The sword is raised above the eldest's head, angling it while he slashed it downwards.
"Now look at what happened! Her closes were covered in blood and she's unconscious for 4 damn hours!—"
The sharpness comes to a stop once he slams the weapon into the side of the tree, his fingers slip form around the handle and he falls into the snow with a loud crunch. The dark haired male stays there limp, one of his hands rising to slam into the snow flooring.
"Why?.. Mother isn't a God, she can't.. She could die.. Sh.. Sh-she can't just.. Just die on us! We.. We have to go through Ragnarök.. Together.."
Morpheus's dark brown eyes began to gloss up, this had been the first time his mother had ever not been away, besides sleep. He knows how she is when she sleeps, she normally curls up or forget that she's reading with Mimir and falls unconscious with him in his arms. The head doesn't seem to mind, yet still he doesn't sleep after that.
But this time it's different.
She isn't curled up or in a way to signal she's simple, her body is outstretched and stiff, breath barely leaving her body.
She looks dead.
The only person that actually loved him did not look as if they were breathing at all.
The winged young man just grows angry, forcing himself up to grab the handle of his weapon and force it out, it flings off into the snow. He charges at the tree, thinking how easily his mom is about to pick them up and toss them around, he had to be strong like her.
He had to be strong like Atreus and Kratos.
He had been the black sheep of the family when it came to strength, he wasn't as strong as everyone else and it made him feel like some kind of underdeveloped child.
I'll become stronger.. For her, and Atreus..
He thought while wrapping his arms around the tree, attempting to lift it in a way. His body twists and turns to loosen the roots that lay deep within the ground, that tangle themselves with dirt and snow. The wings on his back spread wide, they open to their full length, slightly fluttering to help him try to prove something.
Yet what was it?
Was pulling a tree from the ground really going to bring his mother back? To help her awake form her semi-coma?
No.
Of course it wasn't.
Atreus watched his brother a few feet as seeing him struggle to cope, the axe that their mother used was settled on his back along with his bow and arrow case. The younger brother felt bad, he wanted to help him, but he had no idea how. He also felt to blame for his mother's state, he wished they had more family, he wished his father was here so they could figure out what to do. His heart ached knowing they could do nothing to help, they were too young and wasn't strong enough to go off on their own, they needed their mother there or keep the peace and do things into mothers' are capable of.
