Geez, I love you guys. I write crappy and I still get all these reviews. Thanks this time to november21, Alot like Gregor, pomplamouse, alec-alumina, shadowblade546, Castaway5, Seraphania, xxxxBlackTearsForeverxxxx, and Luny Lovegud.

It's official. We're moving on. I'm happy, I can finally write about something other that Gregor's emotions and struggles. Almost. Forgive me if I'm giddy, but I'm super thrilled because so far none of you have guessed a big twist coming up, and I even kinda sorta hinted at it a bit (a TEENSY bit). Apologies, but I'm just glad it'll be a surprise. Anyway, here is Chapter 9 for you. Short, but the next will either be long or informative. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I OWN THIS! Ha, made you look.

9

Such Sweet Sorrow

By the time Ripred woke up in the morning, or what Gregor could guess was the morning, he had already finished his writing, reading and rereading his work and making sure to erase all traces of uncertainty from it. It was meant to be read through clearly the first time, and although he hoped no one would ever have to look at the words he had smote upon the page, he wanted to make sure they were perfect in any case.

He had hidden it deep inside his overcoat when Ripred came around. By the time the rat had rolled himself into an alert form of consciousness Gregor had donned the black outfit prepared for him by an unseen maid and pulled his overcoat over it. His gun remained on the table beside his bed. After a long argument with himself while Ripred snored away he had decided to leave it where it was, for reasoning he didn't understand coming from a mental voice he hoped didn't exist.

Shaking the last traces of sleepiness from his muscles and mind, Ripred yawned wide and turned it into a waking growl midway through. Stretching out for a moment, he looked over to where Gregor sat patiently and moaned, "Did you sleep at all?"

"A little."

"Great," Ripred complained in reply, rubbing a knot out of his shoulder's fur. "Today I get to defend myself from cutters and your blundering slumbering sword. I feel so special."

"You should," Gregor retorted, feeling wide-awake. Cracking his knuckles reflexively, he added in question, "So when do we go?"

"'Sooner the better."

"Agreed, but does the council as well?"

"Evidently, seeing as they have no idea just how dangerous it is in the field anymore." Ripred sighed, falling to four paws and padding his way around the sofa to where Gregor sat at the desk. "Too many years in that chamber contorts your mind into seeing everything in the view of politics. Before long, you start to believe that battles are fought by writing down insults on fine parchment and waving them at your opponents on the ends of sticks."

"For some reason," Gregor replied, "I really can't see the cutters ever adopting that particular method of warfare."

"You and me both, boy," Ripred replied. The sarcasm was evident, but even deep down there was something that Gregor just might interpret for sincerity, if he would have wanted to. Scratching his back, the rat added, "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Good," the rat said, looking over the room as if to search for something, or to memorize it. Gregor was unsure of the significance. "When was the last time you ate something?"

Gregor thought for a moment and raised both of his eyebrows when his mind fell upon the answer. "Um... lunch the day you got me in New York."

"You're lying." Gregor shook his head, and Ripred took on a look of skeptical astonishment, knowing that the Overlander wasn't misleading him but confused as to how the act was possible. "Do you mean that you went through all of yesterday's training without eating a damn thing? The whole day? Nothing?"

"Yep."

Ripred flinched, visibly and exaggeratedly. Aloud, he stated, "Don't know how the hell you did that. Didn't you used to eat up the supply in storage whenever we went on those quests?"

"Not to my knowledge. That was always you and Boots."

Ripred ignored the comment and continued. "Still don't know how you got through everything yesterday. If anyone else would have been down there with me, I swear, they would have collapsed halfway through the obstacle exercise."

Gregor gripped the edge of the table as he pulled himself to his feet. "I just ignored it. There were bigger things to think about besides food. I don't even feel really hungry right now." His stomach chose that precise moment to let out a growl of emptiness. Looking down at it, Gregor added, "But I don't expect that to last."

"We must both eat before departing," Ripred said, whacking a fallen asleep paw against the wall and pacing over to the door. "Hell, though, going a whole day in that arena without any food... that's not something everybody could do."

"But it's something you could do," Gregor retorted, joining Ripred by the door as the rat pulled it open.

"Of course. Oh, look, I feel special again."

In the corridors outside the torches had been extinguished, telling Gregor that it was still early morning. Observing this and turning to Ripred he asked, "What time is it?"

"Somewhere around the middle of the morning," Ripred replied, not bothering to look up at Gregor. "We decided in the council session of planning that it would be best if we left very early, before the city has a chance to wake and come to see us off. They felt that a quiet exit was the best, and both the Viceroy and I agreed."

The mention of the Viceroy sent a jolt through Gregor's body, reminding him why even as he did everything he could to get Luxa back he still felt utterly horrible. The image of the man's face in his head sent Gregor into an unconscious cycle of disturbing violence, each individual picture describing a different way of slicing the Viceroy's head into a dozen pieces with eight toothpicks.

As those thoughts entered and left his mind Gregor reproached himself. It did no good and truly held no justice for him to hate the Viceroy. As far as he could read, the man was working just as hard as Gregor in his attempts to retrieve his betrothed, if not, as reluctantly as Gregor was to admit it, harder. As an add-on to reasons his hate was misplaced, Gregor realized that if Luxa had to choose someone for her husband that wasn't him, it seemed, from first impressions, that the Viceroy was the perfect choice.

He mentally kicked himself for his succumbing to guilt, and instantly diverted his full attention to memorizing the route from his room (which he might never see again) to wherever they were going, supposedly a kitchen or dining room.

Or, as it turned out, both.

Ripred led him into a small room, walls lined with shelves and shelves of every kind of delicacy and sustenance Gregor had ever known the Underland humans to possess, and even many he didn't. Boxes, crates, stacks of everything from basic chicken to a strange-looking vegetable he couldn't identify lined the place, and all of it looked to be in enough quantity to feed them for what would be a long time. In the center of the room there stood a long table, with four chairs displaced at odd intervals. The room was lit only by a small ring of candles suspended above the table from the ceiling.

"We're not taking any food with us," Ripred said, lounging over to the nearest shelf and pulling something relatively meaty from a stack, "so eat almost as much as is possible."

Gregor nodded, scanning the room for something he would actually endure eating. He settled on a relatively sane-colored meat item and a strange blue fruit, neither of which he had ever seen before, and crashed down into one of the chairs. Ripred sat down next to him and both dug into their meals silently.

For a while, it stayed that way, quiet as they devoured their respective meals.

When he was as good as finished with his and Gregor had pulled a third slab of the meat from the nearest shelf, Ripred asked, "You're more silent than I thought you would be. These days, I mean. From what I've taken from your life I would guess that you would want nothing more than to leap out after her the moment you could, but so far it's just been calm and serene, after that incident up there in the alley. Still, you just sit there now, waiting, observant. How did the loud and decisive boy warrior become this masked patient man?"

Gregor took three more bites and swallowed them as he thought of a reply, staring hard into the opposite wall, losing himself in its flawless perfection to escape his mind. Finally, he replied, "What's hard and solid on the outside can be soft and vulnerable on the inside."

Ripred grunted and looked at the table. "Always with the metaphors. But is that the real reason?"

Gregor shoved the last piece of his meal into his mouth, filling his stomach to the point where he wasn't stuffed but his hunger had ceased. Swallowing, he replied, "I just want to get her back. I just need to get her back. Fighting with time and myself won't help that."

"Words of wisdom that mean nothing," Ripred moaned. He rubbed his rat eyes, aching them awake and alert as he stared down his sudden headache.

Looking for a change of subject, Gregor looked around once and asked, "And what about this place? Something about my previous visits tells me that any time we leave on a quest, especially one as important as this one, that there should be more people than we can handle there to see us off."

"Life I said," Ripred replied, "we're keeping low on this one. And on a more understandable note, you and your life aren't the only things to have changed in the past five years."

Another uncomfortable silence fell upon them. It stretched longer than any of the others, though, and soon they were simply sitting without meaning, both staring at the tabletop with a loss of words neither should have ever been capable of creating.

Finally, Ripred stood, and Gregor looked up to him.

"It's time," the rat said simply.

"Nothing else. Armor, weapons?"

"Armor won't stop the cutters for long, and it'll hinder your agility. As for weapons, the only things you bring are those that you can carry upon yourself, and if I'm not much mistaken ragers such as ourselves are best equipped with only our swords and claws."

Gregor only nodded, standing to join his comrade.

"Eaten enough? Drink?"

Gregor nodded again to both, even though he realized he had drunken nothing and that thirst was evident in his throat. He ignored it, as he had so many other things as of late, and followed the rat as he led the way from the room.

Gregor didn't pay attention to the route they took from there. He didn't want to. All he could think of suddenly was his desperation for success, and what he would do to himself if he failed. He didn't want to think about it, about what it would do to his mind, to his soul, to what was left of it... But he couldn't. Wouldn't. He wouldn't let that happen. Couldn't.

His determination was confusing.

He didn't think about it in vivid detail or for a large amount of time. He had planned to return to the here and now sooner rather than later, to clear his mind and get himself to focus more on the swinging scimitar at his hip rather than what that scimitar would soon be digging itself into.

And before he knew it or could prepare himself, they were on their departing platform.

It was the same one he had landed on two days before. In an effort to divert his mind, Gregor tried to memorize every detail of it as he walked forward, marveling how fast they had stepped forward that morning.

Like when he had landed there were only three humans and a flier on the platform. Mareth and Vikus were dressed in their formal attire, but for the first time Gregor saw the Viceroy wearing something other than his long robes. All three looked apprehensive and solemn, while their flier companion looked nothing but eager. Equinox, clearly excited and elated beyond belief, was shuffling anxiously from foot to foot, plainly impatient to get under way.

Groaning under his breath, Gregor caught a handful of Ripred's fur and leaned over to speak into his ear. "Did it have to be him? No other flier can takes us?"

Smirking, Ripred whispered back, "He's the only one big enough. Besides, he may not look or act it, but he's one of the more intelligent fliers out there. If we're in a pinch, believe me, he's the one we want to be covering our backs."

Gregor moaned in response, turning his attention to the three watchers as he and Ripred approached. Vikus gave a horribly wan smile and asked them, "Are you sufficiently supplied and prepared?"

"Yes," Ripred replied. "We've got everything. All we need now is the go ahead, and we're gone."

"Very good," Vikus said, and proceeded to pass on farewells to Ripred in an undertone.

Meanwhile, Mareth had limped his way over to Gregor and captured him in another breath-wrenching hug. Whispering into his ear, the general said, "No matter what happens, you'll always be remembered a hero here."

Pulling back slowly, Gregor observed his Underlander friend with a grimace. "Sometimes, being a hero really just means you died before you could make a mistake, and sometimes it's because you made a mistake." Mareth kept silent after the comment, and Gregor moved on to Vikus as Ripred stepped to the general.

Vikus bowed low, lower even in his old age than Gregor could imitate. Going down as far as he could, Gregor came back to his full height with closed eyes. Taking a deep breath and wrenching them open, he muttered, "Vikus, I will bring her back. I will tear down the Cutter Lair and the entire Underland if I have to, but I will bring her back. I promise you that."

Vikus nodded solemnly. "But at what cost?" In a whisper so low Gregor could barely hear, he added, "What will you have when she comes back? And will she still be the queen we have and love?"

Gregor shook his head. "That doesn't matter to me. She does. And I won't fail. I swear."

Vikus surveyed him for a moment, and then held out a hand unsteadily in a very un-Underlanderlike fashion. After a second's hesitation, Gregor took it gently and shook. "Then I wish you luck, Gregor the Overlander. Fly you high."

"And you," Gregor replied. Taking a last glance at his old friend, he moved on to the final and his least favorite person of the three.

"Viceroy," he said, approaching and bowing at the same time.

But the Viceroy skipped return pleasantries. "Overlander. I know I was blunt in the council chambers and that it was only you and Master Ripred as planned to leave. But please, allow me to accompany you. I would be able to assist you greatly. I have powers beyond which----"

"Sir," Gregor interrupted, firm and commanding, sounding much older and much more surprising than he ever had in his life. "No one could appreciate that act more than I. Not even Luxa. But I am telling you, man-to-man, not warrior-to-warrior, that where we go blood will be shed. And, more likely that not, some of that blood will be ours. For Regalia's good and for own safety, I can't let you go." The words almost pained him to say, but somehow he managed to get them out without choking.

In response the Viceroy stared at him soberly for the longest of times. Behind Gregor, Ripred remained stolidly passive, neither interfering nor ignoring the conversation. They remained there, like so, as each tried to stare the other down into submissiveness. Finally, as Gregor finally began to grow impatient, the Viceroy lower his head and dipped into a deep bow. Roughly, the Overlander returned the gesture, and as he stood again his opposite muttered, "Then fly you high as the stone sky."

Gregor stood tall again and nodded, turning away from them all as if nothing was wrong, as if what he was about to attempt wasn't completely insane. As if he would come back as unscathed as he went in, as if there was no chance that she was already dead and that they were only going after her to retrieve a dead corpse.

Ripred was already climbing on Equinox. For once, the bat seemed silent. He only spoke when he asked Gregor if he was ready for flight. Gregor was about to nod when something belatedly crossed his mind.

"Vikus!" he called out suddenly, and the old man hastened forward.

"Yes, Overlander."

Slowly, from beneath his overcoat, Gregor pulled the parchment from his night's writings. Holding it out at arm's length and examining it with a hateful and saddened eye, he lowered it so that Vikus could take it. "In... In the case that... somehow... I don't make it back... would you... would you give it..."

"I will make sure that Luxa receives it."

But Gregor shook his head nervously. "It's not for her."

Vikus regarded Gregor with confusion. "For Howard then?"

"No," Gregor said. "For Hazard. It's for Hazard."

Vikus raised a quizzical eyebrow, looking up to the rat's back where Gregor sat. Clearing his throat abruptly, he asked, "Are you sure?"

Gregor nodded. "Please make sure. He has to get it."

Vikus took a deep breath before depositing the note within his own long robe. Looking up to his old rat friend and the Overlander, he bowed for a final time and stated clearly, "I shall."

Without another word, Gregor turned away, and Equinox immediately took that as a sign to take off. As great wings unfurled around, Gregor resisted the impulse to look at the goodbye party. He had no desire to watch their already-mourning faces as they flew away on the air.

As they gained altitude away from the palace he spared a few moments to remember all he had of the city, gazing out at it as it flew past beneath. Realistically, he wondered horribly if he would ever see it again. More disturbingly, he found himself wondering if he wanted to see it again. He pushed the thought away quickly.

The city began to disappear beneath them as they neared the darkness of the tunnels.

Behind Ripred, Gregor observed the rat's eternally rooted head, determined through all willpower not to look back. Gregor forced himself to do the same, reluctantly but strongly forcing himself to keep his gaze locked ahead.

All light disappeared, and just at that moment Gregor felt himself wonder about the Viceroy's last minute request, and how easy he had put it down and away. He couldn't help thinking that if he had been in the Viceroy's place, with Luxa still missing and in danger, he would have done anything he could have to make sure he went on the rescue mission. He wondered what was the difference between he and that man. Maybe the Viceroy wasn't as determined. Maybe Gregor loved her more. Maybe the Viceroy trusted his judgment.

No matter the reason, though. It didn't change a thing.

Gregor was still riding the black bat into the darkness after a love he didn't really know he still possessed.

Not the Viceroy.

And nothing was going to change that.