The sound of sparring echoes through the clearing as you train with Atreus. He lunges forward with his staff, determined, but you sidestep smoothly and guide the strike away, sending him stumbling before he catches himself.

“Okay, okay!” he laughs, breathless. “You fight like my dad.”

You help him steady himself with a small smile. “Then you should block faster.”

From the doorway, Kratos watches quietly. When he first met you, sibling to Freya, he expected someone like her: fierce, proud, sharp as a storm. But you were different. Calm. Steady. Strong without needing to prove it.

He watches the way you move, the way Atreus laughs instead of growing frustrated when you disarm him again.

Freya steps beside him, arms folding loosely. “You stare often.”

“I observe,” Kratos replies.

Outside, Atreus nearly trips during another attempt and you catch him before he falls. Kratos’ gaze lingers.

Freya notices immediately.

“You like them,” she says plainly.

Kratos turns his head slightly. “I do not.”

“You watch them every day,” she continues. “You gave them the last portion of meat yesterday.”

Kratos stays silent.

Freya smiles faintly. “You care for them.”

Kratos looks back toward the training yard where you help Atreus back into stance, shifting his jaw.