Kratos x Reader

Thirty

Wrapped in silence, Kratos traveled through the rows of books and knowledge, letting his eyes wander over the shelves.

He didn't know what he was looking for.

To be honest, he had been stupid to go without knowing what he was looking for.

But he knew that the answers he was seeking must have been something that was worth hiding in the deepest depths of this labyrinth.

Knowledge about a godly being that was able to bargain with death itself seemed like something that Tyr would have loved to keep hidden form the eyes of the universe.

As he thought about it, his heart began to beat a little faster.

It was strange, never before he had felt this way.

No, that was a lie.

He had felt this way before, but had been long, long ago. The last time he had felt like this when his wife had told him that she was expecting.

He had loved her for carrying his child, he had loved her for being with him and caring for the wounds of the past.

But she had never been as mysterious and interesting to him like you were, he had to admit.

Fey had been an open book to him. You were wrapped in questions and the answers were hidden deep inside the darkness. The urge to hunt for those answers made him restless and at the same time angry.

Why did he feel this way?

What did he feel towards you exactly?

Was it pure curiosity or affection?

He couldn't tell. Never before he had been unsure about his decisions.

With a displeased grunt, Kratos twisted his mouth and let his fist crush into a bookshelf.

The wood cracked below his knuckles, splinters and dust twirled up. Sharp pieces cut through his skin, but the pain was meaningless to him.

The wounds healed without any effort, a curs and a blessing combined. He couldn't remember the last time when his body had suffered.

His godly existence made it hard to feel the consequences of his violence.

As the anger faded, he pulled his fist out of the ruins he had left and eyed his hand. He felt how they wanted to move without his permission.

They wanted to kill. Not anybody, but himself. Purely his own end would satisfy those bloodstained hands.

Was that the effect of Try's magic?

Or had he finally come to the realisation that he had no place on this earth no more?

No.

With a grim expression on his face, he clenched his hand into a fist and closed his eyes.

Taking a few deep breaths, he collected his thoughts and tried to get a clear mind. But the memories of your face stuck to him like a bee to honey.

It just wouldn't let go of him, not even as he tried to remember the face of his wife.

"Soon.", he said, moving on. "We will meet again, Fey. Wait for us."

The way seemed endless.

Worse even, it felt pointless.

As Kratos' patience slowly came to an end, he allowed himself to make rest.

It was strange, the corridors of books seemed to grow with each step that he made. Sometimes, he looked back, but couldn't see the beginning nor the end.

Maybe this was a road that could not be finished. Maybe it would have been smarter to return. But at the same time the urge to go in grew in his broad chest.

He wanted to go on, he needed to go on.

The strange feeling awoke in him again, he felt the magic stretch its fingers out for him. He had to move on.

Rest meant weakness. He wasn't allowed to have a weakness.

Hastily, he began to walk again. But his legs didn't carry him far. Suddenly, the feeling of something crawling down his back chased through him.

Alerted, he grabbed his axe and turned around. He was ready to split a man in two, ready to start a fight. But as his eyes fell on you, he stopped abruptly.

The anger inside him faded.

Why did he feel at ease all of a sudden?

At ease and concerned.

Confused, be frowned.

"What are you doing here? I told you to stay away.", his tone was displeased, but he had to admit that his face was soft.

Not soft soft, but softer than it was usual for him.

With fogged eyes, halfway closed, you looked up at him. Your lips moved, but not a single word left them.

A questioning look appeared on Kratos' face. He tilted his head, asking a silent question.

"Y-you.", you whispered in a sleepy, yet confused voice.

He eyed you, trying to find an explanation for your strange behaviour.

"Do you feel unwell?", he asked, coming closer.

You didn't react. Your eyes seemed to look right through his body.

"Me... unwell? No. No, I don't think so.", you looked up to the ceiling, your eyes filled with a strange shadow. "Odin is calling for me. Master Freya, is the child well? What will happen with the prophecy, if the child is unwell?"

The words that left your mouth made little sense to him. He frowned even more, took a step forward and grabbed you by the wrist.

At fist, his touch was soft and gentle, but he squeezed it tighter as you didn't react and wanted to walk away.

"I must see Odin. He has requested me.", you said as if you were trapped in an endless dream.

"What are you talking about?", Kratos words had a strange sound to them, almost worried. "(Y/N). (Y/N)!"

But nothing he said reached your ears. It was as if you were deaf.

"The child. It will ruin the prophecy. Freya has told me so. The prophecy must be fulfilled. I must bargain again, but the price will be high.", slowly, you tilted your head and looked him in the eyes. "The heart of this child must beat, so I can live."

There was this empty, dark hole inside the (E/C) orbs of your eyes. You were not looking at him directly, but through him.

He was, but a mere illusion to you, a strange creature that meant nothing.

Struck by surprise and a little shiver that crawled down his spine, Kratos let go of you. His heart was beating like crazy inside his chest.

"What is this witchcraft?", he asked.

You tilted your head in question.

"Tell me, who are you?", you asked, whispering.