Quickly, Gregor was asleep, but the dreams did not come as nicely as he would have hoped. He was fighting a rat, almost as good a fighter as Ripred, and just as big. He drew his sword.
Luxa could tell something was not right when Gregor stood up and drew his sword.
"What is it?" she asked, but got no response. "Gregor?"
Gregor raised his arm to strike.
The rat easily parried Gregor's first few blows, but oddly did not counter at all. His feet worked in a rapid motion, turning him in an intricate form of footwork. Rager mode was buzzing through his veins, though his vision didn't alter. He wasn't using his eyes at all.
Luxa had no idea what to do when Gregor started spinning; he seemed oblivious to everything.
"Gregor!"
No response. She could only parry his moves for so long, and wasn't about to attack him. In a last-ditch effort, she thrust her sword in the way of his. The blade flew off in the opposite direction, and it seemed as though Gregor was slowing down his spin.
His sword made solid contact with some part of the rat. A claw, maybe. He prepared to stop spinning and fight it head on. The Gnawer did not even seem to be parrying any more, as though it had given itself up for dead.
Gregor had no idea why he felt so satisfied to feel the flesh slice beneath his blade as he made a wide, slashing arc. Why did the blood spattering on him feel good?
It was not the deep gash from her chin to her left hip that pained Luxa the most. It was Gregor. Why was he like this?
She did not have much time left to ponder this, lying on the hard stone on a tiny island in the middle of nowhere in the waterway. Luxa took one deep breath, before letting herself die in peace.
Awakening to the world, Gregor found himself shocked to be standing up, bloodstained sword in hand. It wasn't a dream. Still-warm blood clung to the side of his face and his torso, sticky, slightly metallic tasting in his mouth. He came to his senses, straightening his fingers and allowing his sword to clatter to the ground.
It did not land with the expected ring, though. True, it clattered slightly, but not in the manner a sword should when dropped on the stone. Looking down, Gregor cried out in horror, realizing what he'd done.
"Luxa," he moaned, dropping to his knees. "Luxa…"
He found the queen with a huge gash all the way across her body, going in the mirrored angle of the streak of blood on his shirt.
"What have I done?" he cried, hugging her limp frame to his already blood-soaked shirt. Her head rolled backwards, the thin band of gold falling off with a slight tinkling.
Gregor knew he'd never be able to live with what he'd done, no way he'd be able to live without Luxa…
He grabbed up his sword, took a deep breath, and placed the tip to his chest. With three precise movements, he sliced a triangular patch of skin and muscle open. Blood gushed, and he knew he'd be dead soon. Good. But not good enough. Roaring in pain, both physical and emotional, Gregor stuck his hand in his chest and ripped out his heart. It still was beating in his hand for a few seconds before he went limp.