I'll keep this short and sweet...

-Atreus will be older in this story than in God of War (2018)

In that case, this fic happens after God of War (2018)

-Percy Jackson will be the age he is in the movie (works better for the story)

In that case, this will take place in the Lightning Thief Book/Movie.

This fic will also be available on AO3: (Will be Linked at account)

Prologue

The Ages of Gods were over, and the memories they withheld lost within the deepest of forests and the highest of mountains.

Aeons prior, a fatal prophecy of bitter snow and ice for three tortuous periods had gripped the foundations of the globe. In time, its chaotic maws would rip the very planet to ribbons, casting all remaining life to choke mercilessly in the darkness. This destruction was known as the Twilight of the Gods. A Ragnarök, followed from a severe Fumbulwinter. A battle of Gods to end all Gods.

But Earth lived to breathe life into a New Age.

A surplus of uniformity occurred. A harmony of advancement by the humans, while the Gods lay dormant in the highest of skies and the deepest of rock. The skies and seas that had once raged with endless battles and death had now become reconstructed into a new age. Great towers of modernisation basked into this age. Humans thrived, and through it all, the Gods and their children seeped into myth and legend. They observed only for peace as the Age took over.

The Age of the West.

Yet one such set of Gods held a distinct path, hidden away by spells of the ancients. So far away in fact, that not even the Gods could find them. Concealed in the northern and coldest of mountains, a space of ancient land resides, though its tales of supposed curses and rituals haunting the grounds has caused no soul to venture there.

A venerated, quaint little shack had settled itself amongst the brush of the dense, powdered forest, overlooking these mountains. While the house was ancient, in more ways than one, it held a deeper history with every slab of wood. In a way, the home was delightfully dingy. A charm sunk into the markings of old runes on the door. Thus, at first glance, it would seem beyond abandoned, lost to time.

If a wanderer truly did venture there, (that is they reach it undetected), they were welcomed with an abundance of fresh tinder, salted game, and the smoke of a fresh fire inside.

The main resident of this home was of a peculiar sort, at least compared to the Gods residing in Olympus and Asgard. With ashy skin and strange red markings swirling his body and a seemingly constant glare, he would seem to intimidate most. Even the Gods fear his power, his unstoppable Spartan rage holds no bounds.

His quarrels with them in the past were mere proof of that.

His companion was perhaps the complete opposite. Forever curious of the modern world, Atreus, Kratos' flesh and blood, regularly would seek out the modern world, acquiring vast riches through millennia. Atreus is older now, still a child, per se, as the claws of immortality that binds them seems to have ceased adolescent growth to be as slow as pond water.

Nonetheless, the history of Kratos' carnage towards the Gods had escaped the clutches of national museums and murals, at least from what Atreus had told him after his many travels. All mentions have ceased it seems, and he prefers it that way.

For now, though, he will only focus on his home. A home he needs to protect.

"Do you think it's him?" asked a booming voice.

The other male seemed to glare into the distance. His tone brought out a reminisced anger. "If it is, perhaps we should be rid of him. The sooner the better"

"No" cut in another. Unlike the other two, this one held a feminine quality. "We should not dig up old wounds. The world has changed, we have changed"

Silence reigned.

"It is no matter that our we have changed our ways!", the angered voice replied, "Even if we have changed after the Age, it does not say he has too!"

"No", the feminine voice bit back. "You know that the humans will not be able to handle another war. And this time, the world may not be so lucky to survive. Besides, the way you speak does not sound like a voice of change"

Tense air followed.

"Very well," agreed the first voice. He had been silent with their bickering. Perhaps he had his own opinions, but his colleagues knew that this particular subject was way too heavy for him. "We will watch. If we must get involved, we will. But for now, there is no reason to act"

The angered one opened his mouth, preparing to argue-

"Enough. I already regret the past we share. Let us not repeat it.

We will wait"