Gzera And The Warrior God

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The day unfolded with a rare and welcome tranquility. After the bustling activity of the past week, the cottage was remarkably peaceful. No hunters arrived with game, no palm wine tappers sought sustenance, and no merchants appeared with their wares. It was just Gzera and Thorn, their shared space now filled with a comfortable, companionable silence.

Gzera spent the morning preparing a variety of dishes, experimenting with new recipes using the abundant produce from her flourishing garden. Thorn, to her quiet surprise, joined her in the kitchen. He moved with a practiced ease that belied his warrior's stature, his large hands surprisingly deft as he chopped vegetables, kneaded dough, or stirred pots. His presence, initially a silent, watchful shadow, gradually became an integral part of the rhythmic flow of her cooking. He didn't offer advice, nor did he ask questions; he simply helped, his immense strength and quiet efficiency making light work of every task.

By midday, the new kitchen was filled with the tantalizing aromas of their combined efforts. They ate their meal together at the sturdy wooden table in the living room, the quiet punctuated only by the clinking of plates and the satisfied sighs that escaped them both. After they had finished, Thorn, without being asked, began to help Gzera clean up. He washed dishes with a thoroughness that impressed her, his movements methodical and uncomplaining. The domesticity of the scene, two powerful beings engaged in such mundane tasks, held a surprising warmth.

As the sun began its slow descent, painting the western sky in hues of orange and purple, they found themselves sitting together on the new porch. The air was cool and fresh, carrying the faint, sweet scent of the roses Gzera had conjured. The vast, lush garden stretched before them, a testament to her magic, framed by the newly erected fence. It was a peaceful scene, one that settled a quiet contentment deep within Gzera.

She turned to Thorn, who sat beside her, his gaze fixed on the distant mountains, his expression typically stoic. The comfortable silence emboldened her to ask a question that had lingered in her mind since learning of his solitary existence.

"Thorn," she began softly, "if you don't mind me asking... why are you unmarried?"

His shoulders, usually so rigid, seemed to sag almost imperceptibly. He remained silent for a long moment, the quiet punctuated only by the chirping of unseen creatures in the newly grown forest. Gzera waited patiently, sensing the weight of the past in his hesitation.

Finally, he spoke, his voice a low rumble, devoid of inflection, yet carrying a profound weariness. "I have been married twice," he revealed, the words stark against the tranquility of the evening.

Gzera gasped, utterly shocked. Twice? She had assumed him a lifelong bachelor, perhaps even one who had never found love. "Twice?" she repeated, bewildered. "But... why? What happened?"

He sighed, a deep, heavy sound that seemed to carry the weight of ages. "My first wife," he began, his gaze still fixed on the distant horizon, as if reliving the painful memory, "she left me. To be with the King of Thunder."

Gzera's eyes widened in disbelief. The King of Thunder! A powerful, renowned deity, ruler of one of the greatest realms. "She left you for the King of Thunder?" she murmured, trying to reconcile the image of this quiet, powerful god with the idea of being abandoned. "Why would anyone leave a god like you, Thorn? A god of such strength?" The words slipped out before she could fully censor them, a genuine confusion in her tone.

He turned his head slightly, his storm-cloud eyes meeting hers for a fleeting moment. A bitter, almost imperceptible twist touched his lips. "She left for wealth," he stated, the word clipped and cold. "The King of Thunder... he has limitless riches, luxuries I could never afford her. Grand palaces, jewels, endless feasts, a court filled with admirers. He lured her with everything I could not provide. She chose that life."

Gzera was stunned. To choose material wealth over a god? It seemed incomprehensible. "And your second wife?" she pressed, her voice softer now, sensing the layers of pain in his words.

Thorn's jaw tightened. "My second wife... she too left. She believed I had been unfaithful." A long pause. "The King of Thunder... he tricked her. He manipulated events, twisted truths, made it seem as though I had betrayed her. She was heartbroken, and she left. Believing me a liar."

Gzera felt a chill despite the evening warmth. This was more than just abandonment; it was malice. But what truly shocked her, what made her heart pound with a sudden, dreadful realization, was the next piece of information.

"The King of Thunder," Thorn continued, his voice now laced with a cold, simmering rage that was barely contained, "is my brother."

The revelation hit Gzera like a bolt of lightning. His brother! Not just a rival, but family. A brother who had twice systematically destroyed Thorn's chances at happiness, twice ripped his family from him. The depth of that betrayal, the insidious cruelty of it, resonated deeply within her. It wasn't just losing a wife; it was losing trust, losing family, losing hope. It explained his silence, his isolation, his weary indifference to the world. He hadn't just been broken; he had been shattered by the very person who should have been his closest ally.

"Your brother?" Gzera whispered, her voice barely audible, filled with genuine horror and sympathy. "He... he did that to you?"

Thorn merely nodded, his gaze returning to the distant horizon, as if the very memory burned him. The quiet evening air seemed to thicken with the weight of his past. The image of the powerful, stoic warrior god, brought low not by battle, but by familial treachery and broken hearts, was profoundly moving. It explained everything: his reluctance to trust, his dismissal of her at first, his grim acceptance of solitude. His world had not just shattered; it had been painstakingly and cruelly destroyed by his own kin.

The quiet understanding of Thorn's profound sorrow now hung between them.