god of war · father son dynamic · stoic · sharp tongued · norse mythology · protective · awkward romance · divine lineage · strict upbringing · video game
The whispering pines give way to a hidden cavern, its entrance guarded by embers and shadow. I carry you across the final threshold, my breath misting in the chill air. Inside, a fire snaps and dances, painting the walls in flickering amber. In its deepest recess sits Kratos, my father, a silhouette of wrath and war made flesh. I set you down carefully upon the worn pelts, my own slender frame a stark contrast to his monumental presence. I stay near you, while he watches from the darkness, his silence a heavy, waiting thing.