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Gragas stood by the bed, quietly watching Darius's peaceful face, his heart filled with complex emotions. Joa's mother's words made him feel a little relieved, but he was still worried about Darius's condition.
Joa's mother gently stroked Darius's forehead with her wrinkled hands, her eyes revealing deep compassion and sympathy. She turned to Gragas and said in a firm yet gentle tone, " Gragas, the most important thing now is to let him rest quietly. His body has endured great hardship, and even with the help of miracles, recovery will still take time."
Gragas listened, a hint of subtle worry flashing in his eyes. He knew Darius's strength and understood that this warrior of Noxus would not easily succumb to any difficulty. But at the same time, he was also aware that Darius was in an extremely dangerous situation.
Joanna, watching Gragas's solemn expression, gently tapped his shoulder and reminded him, "Right now, all you can do is believe in him and give him time. You also need to rest, don't wear yourself out."
Gragas silently took a step back, turned away from the bedside, his steps heavy but resolute. Despite the conflict and worry in his heart, he knew that what Mama Joa said was right. He needed to give Darius time and take care of himself so that in the days to come, he could stand by Darius once again.
Mama Joa said, "For now, you can stay in the neighboring wooden house. It's still livable." Gragas nodded, and Mama Joa then tossed him a bowl of ointment, saying, "Take this, you big oaf! Can't even handle a snowfalcon!"
Gragas took the ointment from Mother Joaya's hand, smiling and muttering softly, "Hmph, if it weren't for that fierce bird, I wouldn't have ended up like this." His voice revealed a hint of self-mockery, but more so a sense of helplessness about his adventure this time.
Mother Joaya didn't say much, only gazing at Gragas with her wise eyes, seemingly silently examining him. Her gaze carried an unspoken understanding and support, bringing a hint of warmth to Gragas's heart.
Gragas turned and walked towards the wooden house next door. Although his steps were weary, his eyes were determined. He knew that in the days to come, he would need to recover well, preparing himself for Darius's recovery and the potential challenges that lay ahead.
Entering the wooden house, Gragas surveyed the simple yet warm interior. The furnishings were modest, but there was a sense of unpretentiousness. He sat gently on the edge of the bed, opened the jar of ointment, and began carefully applying it to the wounds on his back. Despite the stinging sensation, Gragas knew that this was the beginning of healing and a new beginning.
Gragas lay on the bed, his body sinking heavily into the thick mattress. His breathing gradually steadied, but his thoughts raced like wild horses, difficult to control. The memories of war played like a recurring nightmare in his mind.
He remembered the battles on the frozen tundra, remembered Darius—the enemy who left him conflicted and perplexed. Gragas was always filled with anger towards Noxus, but whenever he thought of Darius, that anger would be replaced by an inexplicable feeling. He didn't want to admit it, but he had a different kind of feeling towards Darius—a feeling of respect, even for an enemy.
Gragas's thoughts drifted back to the previous event, where in the icy wilderness, Darius had fought desperately to protect him. This filled his heart with complex emotions. In that moment, they were no longer enemies, but warriors facing death together.
Lying in bed, Gragas took a deep breath, trying to dispel the turmoil in his heart. He knew that when he faced Darius again, these conflicts and emotions would resurface.
Gragas lay on a simple bed, his body weary but his mind unable to find peace. His thoughts were like a captured bird, struggling incessantly in his mind, seeking a shred of relief. He thought of Darius, the resolute and fearless general of Noxus on the battlefield, the man who fought alongside him in the storm.
Darius's face kept appearing in Gragas's mind: those deep eyes, rugged stubble, and the unwavering expression on the stern battlefield. Gragas had to admit that the face had left a deep impression in his heart, even deeper than he was willing to acknowledge.
The tranquility of the late night did little to calm Gragas's struggle. Every time he tried to push the image of Darius out of his mind, the face appeared even more vividly in his thoughts. Gragas felt an inexplicable emotion quietly growing in his heart, a feeling he had never experienced towards an enemy on the battlefield. It was a complex, deeply buried emotion, accompanied by respect and sympathy, and even a hint of subtle admiration.
But this emotion left Gragas feeling confused and even uneasy. He had always been a resolute warrior of Freljord, fighting to the death against the enemies of Noxus. How could he harbor such feelings towards an enemy? Was this a betrayal of his faith and years of fighting? Or had some corner of his humanity been unexpectedly touched in this endless war?
Gragas feels himself being pulled by two powerful forces: on one side, his loyalty and the glory of a warrior, and on the other, the gratitude towards Darius, a former enemy turned savior, and the indescribable emotions. This inner struggle leaves him feeling deeply helpless.
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