Okay. Seriously. I have this weird habit of coming up with decent ideas for one-shots when I'm about to SLEEP. So right now it's 12:55AM, I have SCHOOL in the morning, and I've just been up for about two hours writing this. My bedtime is 11PM, and any later than that usually ends up with my mother killing me. Painfully. With a cigarette.

I will write a HAPPY baby-Lloyd oyako fic one day. ONE DAY. Just ... lemme get all the angst out of the way first. I'm working on it. Anyway, this came from the idea of Lloyd being an angel after the game. Seeing as it is Mithos' being inside his Exsphere, that would make the power part of Mithos moulding with Lloyd via wings and ... Exsphere. I don't think Kratos would approve D:

Okay. I'm sorry for the lame summary. I seriously have to sleep now - I have science first. In EIGHT HOURS. OH SHIZ.

Proper spellcheck/grammar check tomorrow. OpenOffice isn't the best for that kinda stuff. And I'm so tired.

Wings

'Daddy, they're so pretty!'

Kratos had to do his best to hold back the frown that would surely tug at the corners of his lips if Anna weren't watching him. The tone of sheer excitement from his son's childish voice almost made him pull the incandescent wings away from the boy's curious hands and fold them back into his shoulder blades, but the stubborn look his wife held him with told him that he knew better. Lest he be beaten with a fire-poker all night, he'd let his son play.

Kratos' breath hitched when the unmistakable softness of child-like palms clasped blue feathers between them. Anna smiled, nodding gratefully when Kratos glared at her, the inquisitive hands fluttering around his back stretching his patience for the two surrounding him.

'He does not need to see this,' Kratos told her gruffly while he dug the heel of his palm to his forehead. He noted that Lloyd was blissfully unaware of his father's annoyance and was leaning up to press his cheek between his shoulder blades, mumbling something about how warm the wings were. Kratos passed it off and continued glaring at his wife until she offered an answer. Finally, she rolled her eyes at him.

'I know it's hard for you to let him see these things,' she said firmly. 'But he is your son, Kratos. He can't grow up not knowing who his father is.'

'What his father is,' Kratos corrected her, voice quiet.

'Oh, stop being so negative,' Anna sighed. 'See? He loves them.'

Kratos' brow furrowed at her calm words. 'He is a child. What of when he grows, when he learns what they really mean? Learns they are a sign of my inhumanity? Tell me that, Anna.'

'For heaven's sake, they're blue, sharp, and shiny,' the tall woman groaned. 'He'll barely notice your 'inhumanity'.'

'Anna, this isn't a joke.'

'Yes, I know-' she sighed, forgetting what she was about to say as Lloyd let out an excited squeal as Kratos gently let the soft wings flutter around him. Anna watched as Lloyd bounced on the soles of his feet, reaching up to clasp the the feathers between his tiny fingers and tug them gently. Even as he giggled, fell against his father's broad back and wrapped his arms around him the best he could, Kratos never smiled.

Anna watched the pain slowly increase in his features as Lloyd frolicked on the spot, dancing in the warm glow of the wings and the flurry of feathers gliding around him. She leaned over, kissed Kratos' brow gently, and stood.

'I'll make dinner.'

Her only response was a small nod.

It wasn't long before Lloyd noticed the presence of his mother no longer graced the world around him, and he leaned up over Kratos' back and resting his chin on the strong shoulder.

'Daddy, M'mmy disappeared,' he mumbled, jaw straining to move while pressed down on his father's shoulder. With a sigh, the tense muscles slacked, and Lloyd stumbled before he was caught and pulled into Kratos' lap. He struggled, reaching around the angel's neck to try and grab the luminous wings lighting up the dark night around him.

'Noooo Daddy, I wanna plaaaay ...'

'They aren't toys, Lloyd,' Kratos scolded softly, settling the boy into his lap and pressing a firm finger to his nose. 'Try and forget about them.'

'Bu' they're really sparkly and pretty and I wanna play Daddyyyyy ...' Lloyd whined, pressing his face into Kratos' chest. Tired and defeated, Kratos ran a hand through Lloyd's soft, wispy hair and folded the wings into his back once more until they were ready to come out once again. Lloyd just sniffled into Kratos' shirt, putting his crying act into play. Kratos wondered vaguely where he had picked up the habit of pretending to cry to get his way, and blamed Noishe's consistent whining whenever he was denied of dinner. Damned dog.

'There's no need for that,' Kratos said quietly, pushing back hair from Lloyd's face. 'You're not a baby anymore.'

'I'm'm'ababy,' Lloyd huffed in protest to his father's warm chest. He sighed, stroking his long fingers through Lloyd's hair to lull him off to sleep. It always seemed to do the trick, and Kratos was thankful that it was something so easy. He remembered his mother telling him so long ago that the only way she could send him to sleep was by telling him the same story over and over until his childish mind became bored and he slept. He also remembered being beaten over the head with that story book in his adolescent years, and he smiled at the fond memory. Painful, but fond.

Cradling his son close, he wondered if he would ever be a suitable parent like his mother, being the way he was. There was a chance that Lloyd would never lead a proper life unless the problems with Cruxis were stopped. He would never be able to attend a school and meet with children his age and make proper friends, nor would he be able to settle down in one city or village. He wholly blamed himself and his inhumanity, and the pain in his back seemed to increase at the thought. The wings inside of him quivered warningly, and he sighed.

'Daddy's depuressid.'

Kratos looked down, large brown eyes staring back at him. 'Hm?'

'Depuressid,' Lloyd repeated, nodding knowingly. 'When Daddy sighs like that, it means his depuressid, or somethin' like what M'mmy says.'

Depressed.

'It's alright,' Kratos said, forcing a small smile for his son. 'Daddy is just tired.'

'... M'mmy says wings make Daddy depuressid.'

'Depressed,' Kratos corrected finally. 'And ... Daddy is fine. Wings are ... special.'

Kratos regretted those words when Lloyd's large brown eyes lit up, and he beamed up at his father. So happy, so blissful and unaware, so very, very foolish. 'Daddy's wings are really pretty! Can I have wings when m'big and strong like Daddy?'

'No,' the former angel of Cruxis snapped, far too sharply for his child. Lloyd's face faltered nervously at Kratos' tone, and small, noticeable glints of light caught on newly brimming tears. Kratos regretted his abrupt tone, but despite Lloyd's age, he couldn't have his own son grow up with a desire to be like him. Despite all of what Anna said, despite everything – he couldn't. He couldn't let Lloyd become ... this thing he barely called human. A disturbing mix of human, elven and angel. Unnatural, wrong, inhuman.

His son was human. He was a complete and pure human. He would remain that way, and he would see to it that Cruxis would never blotch that purity.

'D-Dadd-'

Kratos just held his son tightly to him, as if Mithos' angels were surrounding them and threatening Lloyd with eternal life, years of never ending regret. Kratos would never with four-thousand years of pain upon anyone, and he definitely would not let Lloyd fall victim to that punishment. Yuan hadn't been able to endure it. For a short period of time, Kratos could have sworn the half-elf had finally gone mad. Mithos? He was already mad. Twisting the worlds out of shape, yearning for the dead. Even he himself might have been turned to insanity – he had spent so many of those years alone, he was sure he wouldn't be able to remember.

Alone. Sinful. Inhuman.

'Daddy, you're hurting me ...'

Kratos was snapped out of the mourning for his old self and looked down at the boy in his arms. He loosened the grip that had become far too tight in those thoughts, but he didn't let Lloyd go. This sudden wash of fear, of dread – he wanted to protect the last pure thing in his life from ever becoming like him. He hadn't been able to protect Anna from Kvar's constant pursue that was now controlling her life, but he would make sure Lloyd would be happy. That he would remain pure.

Small hands fisted in Kratos' shirt when the man leaned forwards, pressing his lips to Lloyd's hairline.

'You can't have wings,' Kratos told him firmly, but Lloyd didn't answer. He just stared up worriedly at him. Trembling hands, shuddering breath – things Lloyd didn't recognise from his father. It scared him. 'They will only hurt you.'

Lloyd didn't protest when he was pulled tightly to his father's chest – he listening to the echoing thump of his heartbeat against his ear, strong and rapid. He felt arms securely around him, long fingers wound into his hair, shaking as they moved over his scalp.

'Daddy ...'

'Never,' Kratos mumbled softly, pressing his lips once more against Lloyd's hairline. 'I will never let that evil become a part of you.'

Teeth clenched against a quivering lip, and Lloyd buried his face into that warm chest, arms wrapped around his father. He tucked his head beneath Kratos' chin, his usual place of security and warmth – but now the muscles in Kratos' throat rippled nervously as his slow breathing made it's way through.

'I will never let Mithos become a part of you.'

Lloyd didn't bother to ask what his father was talking about. He wrapped his small arms around Kratos' neck and held tightly, wanting so much to cry into his father's protective hold. But now it did not seem protective – it seemed desperate, worried, as though Lloyd was slipping slowly away from him. Lloyd wondered if his father was having a nightmare, but then again, that was just silly – people can't have nightmares unless they're sleeping. People can't, they can't -

'Mithos will never have you.'

'People can't have nightmares 'nless they're sleepin' ...' Lloyd whimpered, holding tightly. 'Daddy, wake up ...'

Daddy's only answer was a cold, dry laugh forced through a sob.

The worlds are reunited. The tree has sprouted, been named, gained it's protection. Mithos is dead, Yggdrasill set to rest with him. Lloyd is glad that Mithos lives on through his Exsphere to see the changing world around them. For lending Lloyd his power to save the Great Seed, this is his thanks for the eternal aid of wings. That power that seems to linger within him, slowly mould with him and become a part of his very being. Within his heart, he can see Mithos' pain, Yggdrasill's twisted desires, the dark thoughts that had gathered those past four-thousand years. His heart is changing to make place for Mithos ... for Yggdrasill. But Lloyd can live with that. Until he can no longer eat, no longer sleep, no longer feel, he can live with that. He is so very blissfully unaware.

So he finally reaches the ground, tree named, worlds saved, journey complete.

He can only wonder why Kratos is holding him so tightly.