Morgan Rice - A Rite of Swords

Bronson spoke with the utmost sincerity and Thor could see he was not lying.

“What could Thor have to fear anyway?” Elden asked. “With Mycoples by his side and the Destiny Sword in hand, all of Andronicus’ men could do him no harm.”

“I say we accept his surrender,” Srog said.

Kendrick slammed his fist on the table and the room quieted.

“The offer is Thor’s and Thor’s alone to accept or reject. It is his life that is risked for us all.”

Thor stood there, listening, wondering. On the one hand, he would gladly risk his life for the Ring; on the other, something felt wrong to him. He was not sure what. Then again, as they’d said, what could Andronicus possibly do to him? With Mycoples and the Sword, he felt invincible.

“I would rather kill Andronicus than accept his surrender,” Thor replied. “But if that is your wish, then I will honor it. I will go.”

There came a cheer from the group of knights.

“I will accept his surrender,” Thor said, “and I will make sure that every last one of his soldiers leaves the Ring.”

“No!” Gwendolyn called out.

The room grew silent as they turned and looked at her.

“You must not go,” she said to Thor. “It is not fair that you and you alone should risk your life.”

Thor turned to her, touched by her concern.

“My lady,” Srog said, “we do not wish to endanger Thorgrin, either. But how can he possibly be hurt?”

Gwendolyn shook her head.

“Send somebody else. Thorgrin had just returned from risking his life for the Ring. He has done enough.”

The room fell silent, and Thor looked at Gwendolyn, overcome with love for her. But she still did not understand. For Thor, this was more than just about confronting an enemy: it was about confronting his father . And that was something she would never understand until he told her. The time had come.

He took Gwendolyn’s hand, leaned over and kissed her fingers, and said softly:

“There’s something I need to tell you. Let us talk alone.”

Thor took Gwen’s hand and guided her from the room, to the puzzled stares of hundreds. They walked down a corridor, until they came to the privacy of a small chamber. They stepped inside, and the attendants closed the door behind them.

“You can’t trust him,” she insisted, turning to him, impassioned. “Fight him. Kill him. But do not go alone to accept his surrender. Perhaps I’m being selfish. But I have had you taken away from me once already, and I did not think you would ever come back. My life felt like it was over. Now that you are here, I feel reborn again, and I can’t have you risk your life again. I’m sorry. But let someone else go. Andronicus needn’t only to surrender to you. He could surrender to anyone. I don’t know what his fixation is with you. Please. Let anyone go but you.”

Thor slowly shook his head.

“I love you, Gwendolyn,” he said. “More than I could say. And I’m deeply touched by your care for me. But I must accept Andronicus’ surrender. It may spare the lives of thousands of our men in battle. Those men’s deaths will be on my own head. I must go. My honor compels me.”

Gwendolyn began to cry.

“You cannot go,” she insisted. “Not now. There’s too much at stake. It is not just about you.”

She cried, and Thor felt his heart breaking. He reached up and laid a hand on her shoulder and looked at her, confused.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

He sensed there was something she was not telling him, something she desperately wanted him to know, and he could not understand what it was.

“I sense you are withholding something from me,” he said. “Tell me what it is. Why shouldn’t I go?”

Gwendolyn looked at him, and he felt her about to say something—but then she turned abruptly, wiping tears away, and looked out the window instead.

“I am sorry for crying,” she said. “It is not Queen-like.”

Thor walked up to her and lay a hand on her shoulder.

“You are more Queen-like than anyone I’ve ever met,” he said.

She smiled back at him.

Thor swallowed, his heart thumping, knowing that the time had come to tell her. He could withhold it from her no longer.

“Gwendolyn,” he began, clearing his throat, “there’s another reason I alone must go to meet Andronicus.”

Thor swallowed hard, not wanting to say the words, but knowing he had to.

“It is more complicated than you think,” he continued. “There is a reason why he wants to surrender to me, and to me alone.”

She looked at him, puzzled.

“What are you speaking of?” she asked.

“You see,” he began, then stopped. “I…have learned something. Something which…I wish I had never learned. There is nothing I can do to change it. And it compels me to take the action that I must.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

She looked at him, baffled, and Thor’s heart was slamming, his throat dry. He was terrified that once he uttered the words, it would ruin their relationship forever.

“There is a reason why I must meet Andronicus…” he said, “…a reason why I must be the one to kill him.”

“To avenge me?” Gwendolyn asked.

Thor swallowed.

“Yes, to avenge you,” he said. “But for another reason as well.”

She stared into his eyes, and he stood there, trembling, wanting to get out the words, forcing himself.

“You see, Gwendolyn…” he said, then stopped.

Finally, he took a deep breath and uttered the words:

“Andronicus is my father.”

Gwendolyn stared at him, frozen, and blinked several times, completely shocked. It seemed as if, at first, she could not even process his words.

But then her stare widened, her eyes grew larger, and her mouth dropped open. She raised a hand to her open mouth, and involuntarily took several steps back, away from Thor.

Thor could see the horror and loathing in her expression, almost as if she were staring back at Andronicus himself. And his heart was crushed at the sight.

“It cannot be,” she whispered.

Thor nodded grimly.

“It is. He is my father.”

Fresh tears rolled down Gwen’s cheeks as she stared at him with whole new eyes, as if staring at a monster. Thor could not help but feel as if things would never be the same between them.

“Gwendolyn—” he began.

“Leave me!” she snapped, her voice ugly, filled with venom and hate.

“LEAVE ME!” she screamed.

Thor looked back at her, saw the anger in her eyes, and felt his entire world collapsing. He had nothing left to live for.

Thor turned on his heel and left the room, no longer caring whether he lived or not. There was only one place left for him in the world now:

It was time to meet his father.

Gwendolyn stood in the castle chamber, looking out the window, watching Thor fly away with Mycoples, her great wings flapping against the breaking sky, silhouetted by the huge ball of the morning sun. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she tried to breathe again, overcome with a million conflicting emotions. She felt betrayed by Thor, by his revelation, betrayed to learn he was the son of Andronicus, the one person she hated most in the world. She felt betrayed that he had kept it from her. And she felt betrayed, once again, by the world.

Why did destiny have to be so cruel? In the entire universe, why couldn’t anyone else— anyone —be Thor’s father? Why did it have to be the one person who filled Gwendolyn’s mind with hatred with a desire for vengeance?

Yet at the same time, she knew she was wrong to be upset with Thor. Thor could not be blamed for his lineage. Thor had never been anything but kind and loving and gracious to her, and she was blaming him for his bloodline. And of course, Thor had a mother, too, and his bloodline was not entirely from Andronicus.