The Architect taught him that song. A song from Lloyd's world, ancient as it may be. A song that could only exist in Lloyd's world, where the elven race is.
The Architect, an immortal, yet human-like being with wings. The Architect, with power thought almighty yet too similar to what Lloyd has seen. The Architect, who somehow found himself adrift in space, in a plain yet to be tilled and cultivated. The Architect, who must have existed for thousands of years on Lloyd's world if he knew the lyrics to a song otherwise lost to time. A song sang to Lloyd when he was only a toddler. A song almost no one alive knew.
The Architect. Almost certainly an angel, almost certainly a man. Almost certainly Kratos Aurion, a man Lloyd thought lost forever.
The realization sinks into Lloyd's mind at once, a freezing cold hand clawing at his heart and squeezing it until he can no longer breathe. He shuts his eyes shut, curling in on himself once more. Kratos, the Architect. Kratos, his father, a god, capable of life and everything he's created on this reflection of his world. If Lloyd thinks about it, it all makes sense - it makes so much sense. The reflections of Anna, Mithos, Martel, the trauma inflicted on Colette, on Zelos, all out of some concept of power and survival - it all makes sense.
And maybe, just maybe, that's why it doesn't take long for the frost biting at Lloyd's heart in the midst of such a devastating revelation to melt away in the presence of a wave of molten fury. A world born from another's suffering, cursed to an equal or worse fate - haven't they suffered enough? Lloyd thinks, lips pulling back into a snarl, haven't the injustices and power imbalances and countless deaths been enough? Lloyd fought with everything he had, gave so much, just to put an end to a corrupt system that had thoroughly ruined not only his life, but the lives of so many others, a system his father, Kratos, The Architect had willingly perpetuated. And for what? So his father could run away and create a world with just as broken a system?
Lloyd is not a hateful person. He doesn't take joy in hating others, in hating what they do. But for once in his life, he hates Kratos, is ashamed to call him his father.
Fists clenched tight, Lloyd forces hot air out of his mouth through his teeth, nearly hissing as he attempts to process what he feels and what he knows. He's forcing himself to look away from Mithos again, forcing himself to stay sitting, though all he wants to do is through himself at the nearest training dummy and slash it to pieces, though the dreamscape becomes cloudy with gray clouds, lightning flashing as thunder roars.
"I think I know exactly who the Architect is," he finally bites out. "His name is Kratos Aurion, and he is my father."
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The Architect, an immortal, yet human-like being with wings. The Architect, with power thought almighty yet too similar to what Lloyd has seen. The Architect, who somehow found himself adrift in space, in a plain yet to be tilled and cultivated. The Architect, who must have existed for thousands of years on Lloyd's world if he knew the lyrics to a song otherwise lost to time. A song sang to Lloyd when he was only a toddler. A song almost no one alive knew.
The Architect. Almost certainly an angel, almost certainly a man. Almost certainly Kratos Aurion, a man Lloyd thought lost forever.
The realization sinks into Lloyd's mind at once, a freezing cold hand clawing at his heart and squeezing it until he can no longer breathe. He shuts his eyes shut, curling in on himself once more. Kratos, the Architect. Kratos, his father, a god, capable of life and everything he's created on this reflection of his world. If Lloyd thinks about it, it all makes sense - it makes so much sense. The reflections of Anna, Mithos, Martel, the trauma inflicted on Colette, on Zelos, all out of some concept of power and survival - it all makes sense.
And maybe, just maybe, that's why it doesn't take long for the frost biting at Lloyd's heart in the midst of such a devastating revelation to melt away in the presence of a wave of molten fury. A world born from another's suffering, cursed to an equal or worse fate - haven't they suffered enough? Lloyd thinks, lips pulling back into a snarl, haven't the injustices and power imbalances and countless deaths been enough? Lloyd fought with everything he had, gave so much, just to put an end to a corrupt system that had thoroughly ruined not only his life, but the lives of so many others, a system his father, Kratos, The Architect had willingly perpetuated. And for what? So his father could run away and create a world with just as broken a system?
Lloyd is not a hateful person. He doesn't take joy in hating others, in hating what they do. But for once in his life, he hates Kratos, is ashamed to call him his father.
Fists clenched tight, Lloyd forces hot air out of his mouth through his teeth, nearly hissing as he attempts to process what he feels and what he knows. He's forcing himself to look away from Mithos again, forcing himself to stay sitting, though all he wants to do is through himself at the nearest training dummy and slash it to pieces, though the dreamscape becomes cloudy with gray clouds, lightning flashing as thunder roars.
"I think I know exactly who the Architect is," he finally bites out. "His name is Kratos Aurion, and he is my father."