For Your Own Good

"This will be your room..." Freya points to a door behind her as she looks at Atreus with a smile, "...It's one of the biggest rooms in our home, so I hope you like it."

Atreus nods in response, glancing to the door with furrowed brows, "...Thanks, I guess," he mutters.

The Goddess returns her own nod, "We'll resume your training tomorrow, so make sure you get your rest in," she says.

The Little Jotun furrows his brows as he stares up at Freya, "Same training as today?" he asks.

Freya giggles slightly, turning to walk down the long and dim hallway, "It'll be just a little different..." she says, "...Goodnight, Atreus."

With his brows still tensed, Atreus finds his eyes glued to the woman's swaying backside, "...Goodnight," he responds, finally ripping his eyes from the temptation as his fingers wrap around cold metal. The door swings open slowly, and the boy is met with a massive room, the only light present being the moonlight peeking through the large windows.

Atreus raises his vision to find the ceiling high above his head, a single large chandelier hanging from it with shining crystals lining the silver frame. His eyes lower again, and a massive round bed enters his vision against the back wall, a strange wooden frame rising above it with white curtains draping down to the mattress.

The Little Jotun trudges over to the bed, retrieving the weapons from his back and setting them on a bedside table. He climbs into the large bed, the mattress sinking under his knees until his head plops onto a pillow. Atreus sighs as he stares at the white ceiling, his eyelids fighting back despite his efforts to keep them open, "...Goodnight, Fa-" Atreus mutters to a soul not present, and suddenly, the boy bolts to a sitting position.

Atreus darts his vision to every corner of the room, his eyes wide as if he had been awoken from a nightmare, "Wh... What am I doing?..." the boy mutters to no one but himself. His hands clutch to fists suddenly, and he crawls to the edge of the bed quickly, "...I know father has been looking for me, yet I've made no effort myself... What is wrong with me?"

Silence follows Atreus' question, and the boy looks to one of the windows with pursed lips, "...There's no way it would be that easy, right?" he whispers as he stands from the bed. Those weapons make their way back to their previous spot, and Atreus arrives in front of that window a second later. A click echos through the room as he flips a lock, "...I won't know unless I try," the window slides upward, and the cool night air grazes against the boy's pale skin.

Atreus lands on soft grass with a grunt, standing with focused eyes that scan the area before him. A path intersects a few meters from him, the adjacent path leading to a beautiful garden, each petal untouched, and every flower organized as if the gardener had a sword to their neck. Atreus steps lightly through the garden, a shadow suddenly covering his body as his vision is filled with that stone wall.

"Hmm..." Atreus cranes his neck skyward with a hand to his chin. He shrugs after a moment, stepping back and leaning a hand on his knee. Suddenly, the boy bursts into a sprint, and his tiny body scales the wall with ease. Atreus raises his knees, pivoting on one hand as he falls with his back facing the street. He lands in a squat, his arms resting on his knees, "Oh..." The boy mutters with raised brows as he looks to the top of the wall again.

Atreus stands after a moment, turning to find a black shirt filling his vision. He looks up, and his eyes meet the rusty pupils of Ottar, "...Oh," a chop to the neck later, and the Little Jotun's body loses its strength. Ottar catches the boy, lifting his limp body over a shoulder. The Boaz steps up to that wall, and readies himself for a quick hop, but strangely, the man pauses his movements.

Ottar raises his eyes to the top of the stone, and silence surrounds the man as he struggles with a decision. Loyal is an understatement when it comes to the strongest man in Orario, and Ottar would do anything that Freya asked of him. However, with him knowing the Goddess for nearly his entire life, the man knows how the woman's thirst for potential can wipe her clean of reason.

After watching Allen fly through a window on the fiftieth floor, Ottar knew the tattooed man was a danger despite his Goddess' disinterest with the revelation. The Boaz never had a particularly good relationship with Allen, but as a fellow child of Freya, Ottar trusts the feline's word above all but Freya herself.

On the same note, Freya had mentioned to Ottar that Atreus seemed to be resisting the Goddess' charm. Freya knew that the boy had been affected in some way, but it seemed Atreus took it as his own mind playing tricks on him. Ottar was skeptical when the woman had mentioned this detail, but with this failed escape attempt and his actions leading up to it, it seems Freya was right.

That single detail was not the thing that disturbed the Boaz though. The small pit of fear in his stomach comes from the thought that if Atreus were to escape and find his way to his father, then Kratos, the man who catapulted a level six across the city, would bring his wrath down upon Freya herself. With that thought, Ottar becomes confident in his imminent actions.

Ottar suddenly turns from the wall, his strides swift as he begins a journey through Orario, "Freya, forgive me... I will take responsibility," he mutters, a promise left to the gentle wind of the night.

Miles from that unheard promise, with that dark blanket still covering the concrete jungle, heavy footsteps happen upon a large gate. Kratos stands before the gate, his eyes focusing on a padlock with a chain holding the gate together. A gentle tug rips the lock from it's place, and that chain slinks to the ground as the gate squeaks ajar.

"Brother... Don't you feel like you're forgetting something?" Mimir suddenly says as Kratos pushes the gate open.

The Greek God grunts, his cold eyes rising to the shadow-covered Twilight Manor with light shining through some of the windows, "What are you implying?" he hisses.

Mimir hums, "Well... I'm not exactly sure myself. It's like a memory's been blocked from my brain. I believe it's a rather important memory too... If my gut still serves me," he responds.

Kratos scoffs, "You are bewitched again?" he asks, passing hedge sculptures of different animals and beasts as that front door grows ever closer.

"Hmm... I want to say no, Brother, but... I can't rule it out as a possibility. It's like I've woken up after a night of heavy drinking, the night before merely a blank in my memory," Mimir responds.

Kratos hums as he listens to Mimir's words, his mind rewinding through the past days until the Spartan notices something. A memory from over a week ago pops in Kratos' mind, and an image reveals his own arm holding the throat of a man. The God attempts to focus on the face of the man, but like a wet painting, the figure's facial features seem to shift constantly. Kratos grunts as the memory leaves his mind, "...It seems we are being made out as fools once again," a hiss leaves his lips as he arrives before those double doors.

Silence floats above the ground like a thick mist, and suddenly, a rough fist booms against the door in a rhythm. A moment passes, and the door swings quickly to reveal a werewolf with a scowl directed at the unwelcome visitor, "What the hell!? Do you know what time..." Bete's words turn to a mutter as he widens his eyes, "Kratos!? Wha-"

Suddenly, the Werewolf is lifted by his throat, and brown eyes stare back at him coldly. Kratos tightens his grip slightly, gritting his teeth as he opens his mouth, "Where is my son?" his words thunder through the lobby of the Twilight Manor.