Atreus sat alone in a quiet corner of Asgard, his back resting against the rough stone wall as the noise of the city continued around him, distant and almost unnoticeable. The cold air bit at his skin, and the weight of the mask in his hands seemed heavier with each passing moment. He probably shouldn’t have climbed the wall of garðr in the first place—he’d known it would lead to more trouble. But here he was, far from home and his family, trying to make sense of everything. The mission with Thor, that big beef, to find the mask piece felt like a lifetime ago, and now, sitting in the heart of Asgard, Atreus couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling of doubt. What were Odin’s true intentions? He had promised answers, but everything felt more confusing than ever.

The sounds of the city, the clatter of hammers and the murmur of voices, should have felt like the pulse of the place, but they only highlighted how isolated he felt. He missed his father, Kratos—no matter how complicated things were between them. The guilt of leaving behind his family and friends pressed on him. Was he really doing the right thing by seeking his own path, by running away? The world of Asgard felt vast, but it also felt cold and unfamiliar. Despite the grandeur around him, Atreus felt smaller than ever, lost in a sea of gods and schemes he didn’t fully understand. He had been so eager to prove himself, to find out who Loki was, but now, with the mask in his hands, all he could feel was the weight of his decisions. Perhaps Heimdall was right, he came here to help himself.

The boy was struck out his upsetting inner monologue at the sound of approaching footsteps. His head snapped up, lips parting, looking like he just committed a crime even if he was just sitting there. The mask was carefully maneuvered behind his back. "Uh...hello?"