Author's Note: So I played Tales of Symphonia because my roommate is awesome and insisted I should, and now I'm hooked. Since one of my favorite plot line things is weird/twisted family dynamics, I naturally gravitated to Kratos and Lloyd's bizarre relationship. I started digging through some of the other stuff that was produced for it and watched Kratos' scenes for Tales of Fandom Vol. 2. There's an interlude of him convincing Mithos to let Lloyd live so they can study the effects of his exsphere on him and even offers to take Lloyd's keycrest (and apparently leave him a soulless shell) if he refuses to cooperate. My 'what-if' meter flipped my into space, and I ended up with this. Originally it was just going to be the first part with Kratos (and I honestly think that was the most successful bit), but Mithos and Yuan got in on it too so here's the whole thing.

Kratos sells his first born child to the devil himself. It's like one of the fairy stories except instead of spinning gold he's trading Lloyd's soul for the boy's life and there is no clever, last minute ploy to foil the monster. It's just Lloyd and the stone that killed his mother with no keycrest in between.

Are you saying even if he loses his self, so long as he's alive, it's alright?

Carefully, he fusses over his son's hair, not looking into empty eyes and definitely not aching for that bright, carefree smile. He pushes the feathery locks this way and that and thinks that maybe he needs to cut it soon. Lloyd's unruly hair is definitely getting too long, too much like his own. Anna would be appalled (for so many reasons).

Eventually he runs out of strands to manipulate and lets his hand slide down to cup the back of his boy's head. There's a moment of stillness. In Derris-Kharlan there is a lot of stillness, something previously foreign to kinetic Lloyd, and Kratos gives in to yet another impulse. With Lloyd unable to protest there's also a lot of caving in.

He pulls the child up against his chest, ear over his heart, rocking him slowly. This always put his baby boy at ease, and it just feels so nice to touch him. When they'd traveled together on the journey of regeneration, Kratos had to deny himself even the most casual of contact, afraid he'd break apart at his clumsy seams and spill all his secrets into the open. Now he's a pile of splinters and ash, so what does it matter?

"It won't always be like this," he mumbles, knowing that beyond the lifeless veil Lloyd can still hear him, still sense everything that happens. It's viscerally horrifying, and Kratos has to remind himself he's doing this to keep his precious son alive. "It's just for now."

Don't die, Lloyd.

There's a whisper of cloth, barely a sound at all, but Kratos hears it and looks up to see Mithos lurking in the doorway. A flicker of disgust gives way to perverse amusement, and Yggdrasill laughs silently at the domestic spectacle, shoulders shaking and eyes glittering with spite. Kratos privately hopes he'll get his fill of revenge soon and release them, but the boy-god has been finding new cruelties to inflict for four thousand years so the hope isn't strong.

Mithos doesn't linger very long (he never does). It's just enough to satisfy himself before he drifts back to his shining wasteland throne. Maybe he doesn't want to risk growing bored with the Aurions' particular flavor of self-inflicted purgatory, but he'll be back again later, usually around the time Kratos tucks Lloyd into bed with a soft command to sleep. For some reason Yggdrasill seems to find that especially charming.

Kratos leans his chin on the crown of Lloyd's sheltered head and starts to hum an old tune, a little lullaby with gruesome, war-soaked lyrics that was popular back when Tethe'alla was one country and not a whole world. Anna had asked him to sing instead of hum it only once and then wondered how anyone could think it was appropriate for children to fall asleep to. He hadn't the courage to tell her it was his favorite growing up.

Lloyd doesn't respond to the coddling, of course, just rests against him with only enough tension in his limbs to not fall to the floor in a heap. At first the passivity had plagued Kratos, but now it's gnawed all the way through his spine and left him almost as numb and detached as he'd once pretended to be.

This must be what hell feels like, he thinks, but he says, "It won't always be like this" as a promise he has no confidence he can keep.

It's a bit of an odd thing, considering how vexing the child had been, but Mithos decides Lloyd makes a very nice ornament. He's taken to having the dull eyed boy sit at his feet, right next to his throne, when Kratos isn't around to monopolize him. Dressed properly (in a Cruxis styled uniform with red accents) he looks almost like he belongs. Almost like he's more than a surprisingly pretty puppet.

Mithos barely pays attention to Pronyma, more interested in watching Lloyd mechanically play with the toy he's been given. It's a deceptively complicated thing that swivels and twists in different ways meant to teach children to match colors and shapes while developing manual dexterity. Even without access to his higher mental functions the boy does reasonably well.

The Desian kneeling on the carpet buzzes about her duties, but Yggdrasill lets his whims direct him and reaches out to play with Lloyd's hair again. The locks are just as baby soft as they look, and he combs them to the side until they fall over the left eye. After a bit more work, the angel pauses and hums curiously.

Pronyma stops talking at the noise.

"What do you think?" he asks her absently. Not that he cares about her opinion. She's just the only one here who can respond.

"I… well…" The Grand Cardinal doesn't like not knowing what he wants from her and hesitates lest she say the wrong thing.

"Doesn't he look just like his father?" he prompts. If the nose was a bit straighter, hair more red, and a bit less of the roundness of youth to his face, Lloyd would practically be a copy of young Kratos. Mithos knows it agonizes the father who would rather strip all of himself out of the child and leave only the mother behind (and what a terrible waste that would be).

"Yes, my Lord. Very much so." There's something in her response that says she doesn't mean it as a compliment, but Mithos lets that slide. He's feeling charitable today.

The Desian finally finishes her report and departs to complete her next assignment, leaving just Lloyd and Mithos (and silent, sleeping Martel) to while away the time. Mithos has come to enjoy these moments. They make for peaceful company.

"It should always be like this," he says out loud to a mute audience, and thinks that being surrounded by his family, real and acquired, for eternity would be such a lovely thing.

Yuan had first thought it was just another bit of cruelty Yggdrasill had devised. Keeping Lloyd physically close made for a nice threat and a choking leash on Kratos, but Mithos plays with the child like a doll, and it's almost monstrously familial as well as unsettling. The boy's soul is sealed up like Pandora's box with an exsphere for a lock, and there isn't much chance of prying it open to find any hope at the bottom.

Instead of saying so, the half-elf deliberately drones on about statistics and logistics in a way that makes Mithos' eyes glaze over in boredom. It's one of his small rebellions (unlike the better hidden large ones). Over several millennia Yuan has developed the skill of talking up a very boring storm while letting himself think about other things, so rather than voice his concerns about the teenager slouched emptily next to Mithos' immaculate shoes he quotes another set of percentages.

This whole farce has taken a new, decidedly torturous turn with Lloyd's addition to the cast. It's no longer just the four of them in an eternal spin of superfluous violence and death. Now there's five, and Yuan is struggling to predict just how this is going to change everyone's trajectory. With the Chosen and her friends having managed to flee Welgaia but Lloyd left behind, Yuan had thoroughly expected an explosive fit from Mithos; instead, he shrugged it off and decided to amuse himself with the part of his plan that hadn't been derailed.

They'll come back for him.

Kratos still set out to track them down, desperate to catch some of Yggdrasill's good graces to shield his son. The soldier's fear is at least something that Yuan could count on, but it's quickly overriding better sense and gobbling up any chance to steer the man in a useful direction. Having a family had made Kratos soft, and it also made him afraid like never before.

Yuan is momentarily distracted when Mithos begins petting Lloyd's head (like some kind of prized dog), and he lets his words trail off. It's nauseating to see that wild, energetic kid listlessly submit to his enemy's caress.

"You were saying?" Mithos cues, chin propped up on his idle fist. His eyes stray upward to the great seed that hovers over his head. It's just a habit. Martel isn't going anywhere.

"About the decline in exsphere production capacity due to the lost ranches, yes…" Yuan carries on with his accounting. He knows Martel would have loved Lloyd, doted on him and probably driven Kratos up the wall by spoiling the boy with sweets and anything generous she could lay her hands on. Mithos would have loved him too, once upon a time. He'd very much wanted a niece or nephew and always called Kratos his big brother. How things change.

And they just seem to be getting worse.

It's not long after that Mithos reaches the point where he can't take anymore of the endless numbers and rubs at his eyes. "You seem to have everything accounted for. Why don't you start on the plan you've drafted? Consider whatever resources you need to be at your disposal."

It's exactly what Yuan wants to hear and just the amount of rope he needs to hang a few of his lingering obstacles in regards to the Renegades' activities. I can't let it be like this, Yuan thinks and knows he'll have to make a move soon, but he smiles disarmingly and says, "As you command."