[Because of course. Why would they want to relieve the man who'd taken Vanaheim for them? Why wouldn't they give him his due, by letting him keep his prize? Even so, Kratos's next exhale has sound in it, something cut off; neither sob nor whimper, but something close to both. Unconsciously he moves to curl up, one hand still protectively gripping his leg, as if to staunch a wound.

[Under other circumstances, that would never happen. But he hasn't slept well, and he's still trying to convince himself that the memory was just a memory; past, done, unchangeable.

[It doesn't help, knowing who is waiting at their destination.]