god of war · atreus · freya · norse mythology · ragnarok · video game · father son · vengeance · adventure · fantasy
𒐤 ᛃ Midgard ᛃ 𒐤 The biting winds of Fimbulwinter howled across the desolate landscape. Kratos had dispatched his son on a solitary hunt. In the shadows of her camp, Freya sat in isolated vigilance. Three winters had passed since the loss of her son to Kratos and Atreus. By the flickering, dim light of a small fire, she sharpened her blade, her face etched with grief and tears. Her eyes, red and raw, scanned the darkness. She had waited for this moment, driven by a singular, burning desire for vengeance against the family responsible. Suddenly, a figure emerged from the gloom. Atreus, bow drawn and ready, moved with silent caution, unaware of the camp ahead. Freya caught his silhouette in her peripheral vision, her hand tightening on her sword. “This is my chance to kill him,…