Hi everyone! Guys, even if you just read my story, please start reviewing! It's the reviews that keep this story going. I will do my best to update weekly, but the reviews serve as a motivation to work harder and keep churning out chapters. Anyway, thanks goes to the following people: THExPOTxHEAD, A happy reader, koipbuiop, Im Blu, TH3 EL3TR1C, DeathDrayanD, Clytuis, AresTheUnderlander (glad to see you again my friend), Moeez, phantom1299 and pyro159. To the rest, please join these guys in keeping the reviews coming!

This chapter may be a little boring to you, but it's crucial in setting up the coming events, and is necessary to establishing some thematic elements in this story. Some of you guys might even notice a couple of allegories here and there. Looking forward to some intellectual analysis!

This chapter is written from Gregor's perspective.


Chapter 20: Jaws of Death

"More gnawers have defected to join the rebels," one of the guards at the city gates reported bluntly.

Gregor contemplated the eerily tranquil plains, which could easily descend into an anarchic battleground. The lines between friend and foe had never been blurrier than they were now. As it stood, Lapblood was still set to lead a contingent of rats to fight their brothers and sisters, who had chosen the path of trying to slay an empire of Goliathan proportions.

Soon the dry, rocky ground would be damp with fresh blood, spilled in the name of ideological conflict. The rebels saw Regalia as a tyrannical state which oppressed its gnawer minority, and were thus justified to bring the city to its knees. Regalia saw the rebels as an existential threat, a group of terrorist fighters warped by extremism and driven to slaughter innocent people.

Little did both sides know how much good there was in each cause.

The rebels were trying to remind Regalia that they deserved basic rights too, that they should be treated as equals rather than being allowed to toil about in germ-festering slums, firmly cut away from climbing the rungs of the social ladder. They felt the Council and the monarchy had become too drunk with power and acted based on their own whims and fancies. Stripped to its barest concepts, their cause was to restore balance and justice to a city which had become far too discriminatory and corrupt.

Regalia, in its attempt to remain stable and secure in an increasingly tumultuous Underland, had stamped its foot down and were now employing somewhat draconian measures in order to protect the city. The monarchy would remain in power, because bringing democracy and equality could upset too many people in society and create the discord needed for the foxes to strike. And if that meant suppressing dissent brutally, then that would be carried out as long as it was deemed necessary.

Both had good intentions in terms of their causes, but they could only settle their differences in one way- the one way the Underland used to solve all problems.

War.

"How many of them?" the guard to Gregor's left asked.

"About a dozen," came the reply. "The city's entrances and exits have been closed off, by orders of the queen. With the exception of your expedition, no one may leave or enter the city."

Gnawers choosing to leave the safe and secure comforts of Regalia in order to enter a warzone spoke volumes of the situation in Regalia. If these gnawers would rather put their lives on the line and throw away their life in battle than stay behind the city walls, then there could only be one conclusion drawn.

They wouldn't have survived in Regalia either.

Gregor recalled the raging fires that devastated the gnawers' residential area, ravaging and razing homes to the ground, consuming bricks, soil and rat flesh alike. It was an atrocity committed with discrimination and hatred on an unprecedented scale. Even during the Civil War period under Conrad, fights were situated in streets and neutral ground. Burning homes to the ground? That was as personal as it got.

The violent screams and moans that he heard seemed to linger on for a split second, hauntingly brushing past his ear like prayers sent up to god. But he was no god. He was neither omniscient, or omnipotent, or even benevolent. He was just a man.

But he knew those screams would swirl around his head over the coming days, causing him to doubt himself and his own capabilities. Becoming the symbol of hope he wanted to be would be infinitely harder during this period, simply because nobody would buy into it. The people of Regalia would become as cynical as Ripred very soon, because no matter how much of an idealist they were, their dreams of peace were being constantly shattered by, ironically, their own thirst for war.

The gnawers were leaving because they knew that in Regalia, they stood no chance against the rampant, irrepressible hate directed towards them by the humans. As long as they invoked the slightest bit of suspicion in the humans, they were as good as dead. The humans would attack them with a seemingly unquenchable thirst for violence and would not stop until every rat was reduced to flesh and blood.

"Bastards," the guard to Gregor's left replied. "Hopefully the Queen will have each and every one of them executed by fire."

Unable to stand by one side and allow the injustice and discrimination to remain pervasive, Gregor blurted out, "They leave because of you guys."

Everybody turned to face Gregor, and even Gorger raised an eyebrow. Gregor cleared his throat awkwardly and said, "They're leaving because you guys can't even treat them with basic respect. I'm not gonna pretend like I know this city better than you guys, but, I mean, burning down their homes can't be right, can it?"

"We had the right to," the guard to his right responded frostily. "All suspects have to be shut down immediately. If we do not clamp down on them, what's to stop them from launching another attack from within?"

"But why are you clamping down on them by killing them?" Gregor asked, frustrated by their ignorance and bigotry. "Why can't you just conduct a normal investigation? Why must violence be involved?"

For once, the Regalians seemed stumped by the question. They turned to look at each other, searching for answer but finding themselves speechless.

"That's exactly what I mean," Gregor went on. "You guys aren't doing this out of justice. You guys are doing this out of anger and hatred for them. They didn't even do anything to you and yet you're destroying their whole life. And still you curse them for choosing to leave this shithole."

"They killed many of us during the War of Time," one guard responded uncertainly. "They killed our parents."

"You did the same," Gregor shot back. "You think the humans were the only ones who lost their parents and siblings? Everybody thinks there's a good guy and a bad guy in a war. But you know what? In the end, it's just two sides fighting. There are good and bad people on each side. And it sucks, cos' it's often the good guys who die fighting for the bad guys."

Again, a thundering silence rang throughout the air. Uncertainty began to entangle itself around all the Regalians, instilling doubt in their very mission. Hell, it was instilling doubt in their very existence. These guys lived to fight wars… Was there a life for them beyond fighting?

Gorger broke the delicate silence with a guttural chuckle. "You're not as stupid as Ripred has made you out to be, Warrior."

"Shut up," Gregor snapped back, and the rat raised one paw up in mock surrender.

"Regardless of what you feel Warrior," the one guard to his right spoke up, asserting his authority amongst the people at the gate, " the war has begun, and nothing will stop it. Mount up, gentleman!"

"No," Gregor muttered under his breath as he climbed onto a bat he was unfamiliar with. "I'll stop it."

"Greetings Warrior," the bat purred, "I am she called Nemesis."

"Hey Nemesis," he greeted her. "Where exactly will we be flying to?"

"A series of caves West from the city gates," she informed him. "That's where the hostages are being held. The rebels are stationed there too."

"That's not too far from here," Gregor mused aloud. "By the way, would you happen to know how Apollo is doing?"

"He's sustained heavy injuries, Warrior," Nemesis replied. "But he will definitely pull through, and there is a rumour amongst fellow fliers that he's recovering faster than expected."

"I should have gone to see him before this," Gregor sighed.

"You will see him again Warrior," Nemesis consoled him. "This is not the last time you will be in this city."

"How do you know?" he asked. "I'm going there to be executed. It's my life for the lives of the hostages."

"I don't know, Warrior," she replied softly. "But I believe. What else is there but faith and hope in our darkest moments?"

That statement was so profound and powerful that it shut Gregor up instantly. To despair in moments devoid of hope was effectively suicide, but to believe… to have faith… Now that was a whole different story. Gregor had seen how hope inspired an entire city to fight back even when death loomed over them.

Ripred was wrong. Hope was not a false ideal. It lived on in those who were willing to carry it on their shoulders.

"Let's go!" the head guard barked and the fliers took off into the air, destroying the placid atmosphere as they rocketed towards the caves.

Gregor couldn't help but smirk when he saw Gorger's legs bound by shackles. It was always gratifying to see a despotic king humbled and humiliated, as if the social pyramid of society had been inverted and he now sat at the bottom of it. Gregor was no Communist, but to see elite bastards being humiliated brought a sense of justice and balance to the volatile universe.

Feeling a little overwhelmed and exhausted by the turn of events, as well as feeling the weight of his injuries from the fight with Ripred bear down on him, Gregor decided to close his eyes…


and come face to face with the Bane.

The two of them sat across each other in the Council hall, which was petrifyingly still and quiet. The chairs and benches seemed to creak every few seconds, as if to remind Gregor that there was still life in the hall. His ears picked up a couple of distant sounds, but they seemed like they belonged to another realm, far beyond the reality he was a part of.

The Bane hauled his carcass of a body up, and trudged around the hall for a few minutes, observing the finest details and all its intricacies.

"I lost my parents when I was but a pup," the Bane mumbled. "My father was scum, sure, but my mother? She loved me."

In that moment, the Bane looked vulnerable and pitiful, despite how monstrous and imposing he looked. The monster was but a little child in this scene, nostalgically recalling a past where there was no hate or death. Gregor, for the first time in years, felt so sorry for him.

"Ripred raised me," the Bane went on, "but not as a parent. I was a burden for him… I was the future of the Underland. Its fate hinged on the choices I made. You know that feeling, don't you?"

Gregor nodded slowly.

"Not a very pleasant one, huh?" the Bane said bitterly. "He objectified me, treated me like an asset which could fall into the wrong hands. And because of that, I did."

"What's your point?" Gregor asked, finally breaking his self-imposed silence.

"My point is," the Bane drawled, "would you have been so different from me if you had been born in my place? Growing up without the one who cared for you the most? She was the only one who truly loved me in this world. Everyone else saw me as a tool in whatever game they were playing. Was it really surprising that I became who I am?"

"You could have been born in my place," Gregor realised. "You could have grown up with a family. You could have been kind, and honourable, and heroic."

"Exactly!" the Bane exclaimed. "I could have been all that. The point I'm trying to make, Warrior, is that you and I could have swapped places and become entirely different individuals. The point I'm trying to make is that who are we to judge our enemies? Have we seen what they went through? Do we know what kind of environment they were tossed in?"

"You want me to have mercy on my enemies?" Gregor asked in disbelief.

"I'm not telling you to hold back from killing them in battle," the Bane clarified. "I'm just saying that the next time you raise your blade and you have the time to think, think carefully if you really want to bring it down. There's a goodness in everyone if you look hard enough, and sometimes the individual can't find that goodness because he just didn't live in an environment which gave him an opportunity to expose that goodness."

"I don't know if I can do it," Gregor said uncertainly.

"You will," the Bane said unconvincingly, almost as if he was just as uncertain as Gregor. "You have to."

The light from the fading torches unfurled itself over the Bane's enormous corpse, casting the shadow of a little pup. The contrast as so stark- the shadow signalled the beguiling innocence the Bane once possessed. It was of a time before chaos, a time when he was but a child to a loving mother who would go on to sacrifice her life for him.

"Don't…"

Remembering Goldshard's dying breath caused a single tear to dramatically roll down Gregor's worn out and weathered cheeks. He never thought he'd cry for the Bane- the brute who savagely took the life of Gregor's best friend. But here, as he gazed at the shadow of a rat who could have had a heart as golden as his mother's fur, he couldn't help but break down from how tragic it was.

"We're not very different, you and I," the Bane smirked.

"For some reason, I feel that isn't the first time I've heard that," Gregor remarked. But in this instance, it was hard to deny that the Bane was lying. If his parents were taken from him, Gregor would have become the merciless villain Gorger was urging him to become. Life wouldn't have meaning for him anymore- it'd just be about killing and drowning self-pity in an ocean of blood.

"Do you regret killing me?" the Bane asked as his shadow began to crawl over and coalesce with the other shadows into a titanic mass of swirling darkness.

The Council hall began to fall apart, with huge blocks of the building raining down and crashing into the ground. But before Gregor could answer, his world disappeared entirely, and he…


Woke up.

Gregor rubbed his eyes and groggily lurched back and forth, trying to get the blood flowing up to his head again. Little statements which were said in the dream were whispered into his ear, like there was a ghostly apparition caressing Gregor's disorganised thoughts with soothing words.

"We are near, Warrior," Nemesis told him. "And I just want to say that… Whatever they decide to do with you will not matter. You are still a hero in our eyes."

"A dead hero is still dead, Nemesis," Gregor replied.

"No Warrior," she disagreed. "Dead heroes never stay dead. History immortalises them, and will continue to do so till the end of time."

Before Gregor could respond, the bats made a sharp turn into a huge cavern from which an awful din emerged. It sounded like a dreadful choir of demons gathering together to scream about their hatred of the planet. Curiosity inevitably rose in Gregor's chest and he looked down to see what the commotion was all about.

He nearly threw up.

A teeming mass of rats squeaked and whistled below, crawling over each other like rabid ants in an airtight container. The sheer number of them was staggering by anybody's standards. They were in every corner of the cavern, squeaking away in a language nobody understood. Even the deciphered code wouldn't have been able to interpret what the hell these guys were talking about.

Fear wrapped its cold fingers around Gregor's heart, giving him a taste in his mouth so familiar yet so distant. Was he afraid of heights? Yes. But had he been so afraid of an army in the last few years? No. Not even Flavius' army had spread so much terror as this one did.

Because at the end of the day, Flavius' foxes made up an army, a disciplined unit of soldiers who followed orders obediently but did not go overboard with them. But the rats below? They were anarchists, radicalised insurgents, freedom fighters who would die for their cause. They were unpredictable and insane and warped beyond most of the forces Flavius had conjured. These rats weren't driven by money, or riches, or power.

They were driven by their hero.

Their warrior.

Their god.

Gregor felt sick when he saw a single skull placed on a natural stone pedestal in the cave. The skull gleamed a brilliant white and stood out against the thousands of grey, black and brown rats. A skull so white in a sea of colours that it served as a stark reminder of who it once belonged to. Gregor could recognise that skull from miles away. Only one creature had a skull so massive, and which seemed to smile maliciously at him.

Maybe Nemesis was right. Individuals were immortalised by history, and here, under the dark light of the Underland, the Bane stood above everyone else.

Not as a warrior, or a king, or even a hero.

But as a god.

The whole cavern reeked of rotting flesh, and soon it wasn't difficult to figure out why. A solitary carcass rested in one corner of the cavern, and surrounding it was thousands of hungry rats. To Gregor's surprise, each rat bowed his or her head before taking a single bite out of the corpse, with the rat releasing a shriek after consuming the mouthful of meat. It was a holy communion in an unholy church.

The bats landed at one side of the cavern, where a trio of rats stood in a line, patiently waiting for their visitors. Gregor leapt off Nemesis, whose muscles had tensed up in fear. She shifted about uneasily, occasionally flitting upwards before landing back down. Meanwhile, the guards quickly dismounted and hauled Gorger off, before tossing his body in front of the rats.

"Ah, Bloodclaw," Gorger greeted the grey rat standing in the middle. "It has been a while."

"Indeed, your Majesty," Bloodclaw replied, bowing down reverently. "Our brothers and sisters are elated to hear that you still breathe. It is truly a miracle, and a sign from the Bane that you are meant to lead us."

"They're all yours," one of the guards told Bloodclaw. "We've upheld our end of the bargain. Release the hostages."

Bloodclaw glanced at the guard and sneered. "Remove King Gorger's shackles."

"Do that yourself," the guard responded coldly. "Removing his shackles was not a part of our bargain."

Bloodclaw raised an eyebrow. The two rats standing next to him paced forward, causing all the guards to unsheathe their weapons and stand in a defensive position. Within seconds, the cacophony in the cavern died down and was replaced with an intense silence. Gregor felt the weight on his shoulders increase even more as more than a thousand pair of eyes locked their vision on him and the other guards.

"Remove King Gorger's shackles," Bloodclaw repeated.

For what felt like eons, Bloodclaw and the head guard stared into each other's eyes in what felt like the most terrifying game of poker ever played. But just when it felt like the intensity would cause the whole world to crumble to pieces, Bloodclaw forced the head guard's hands. "You can choose to leave this place with his shackles and your people, or neither."

The head guard inhaled sharply, but nodded his head, resulting in the other guards sheathing their weapons reluctantly. He then walked over to Gorger and took his keys out of his belt, before removing the rat's shackles. The clinking sound of the keys and chains was the only sound that echoed throughout the vast cavern, adding to the tension in it.

The guard removed the shackles and brought it back to his bat, before turning to face Bloodclaw. "The hostages. NOW."

"In the next cavern," Bloodclaw told him. "Find your way back to Regalia yourself."

The guards and their bats began to make their way out of this cavern into the next one, but Bloodclaw quickly called out to the head guard, "My friend, I didn't say you could go."

All the guards turned to stare at the head guard fearfully, but he somehow maintained just enough composure to nod at them to carry on.

Bloodclaw casually strode forward and eyed the head guard, walking in circles around him like he was evaluating his suitability for something. Gregor didn't want to start imagining what that "something" was.

"Do you know why they are eating that body over there?" Bloodclaw asked the head guard.

The head guard shook his head.

"That body has been sanctified," Bloodclaw explained. "It's part of our weekly ceremony where we consume holy flesh. That flesh has become holy through our prayers, and every time we consume it the Bane showers blessings on us from above."

"You're insane," the head guard replied mockingly. "All of you are. The Bane is beyond all of your prayers."

Bloodclaw ignored him and continued, "The one who offers his body must be willing. Only then can the sacrifice be blessed by the Bane. But, as with every set of rules, there are exceptions."

Without warning, Bloodclaw lashed out and shredded his claws through the head guard's throat. Gregor closed his eyes, unwilling to take in the sight in front of him. His stomach churned as he heard desperate gasping, a sign that the head guard had begun to choke on his own blood.

When Gregor finally opened his eyes, his gut felt like it had twisted into the Gordian knot. The head guard's body was being dragged to another corner of the cavern, as Bloodclaw boomed, "This is a gift from the Bane! He has decided to endow us with human flesh, which will give us the strength to overcome their pathetic walls and soldiers!"

A roar of approval greeted Bloodclaw's words. The grey rat yelled out, "Do not take that flesh yet! Wait till next week, when we are at war with the Regalians! Discipline, brothers and sisters! Discipline for our Lord!"

Another roar of approval followed suit, and Bloodclaw, now foaming at the mouth, unleashed a hysterical squeak and said, "And our Lord has sent us another sign! He has given us a king to lead us on earth! That king was dead, but has been resurrected in the name of the Bane! My brothers and sisters, I present to you… KING GORGER!"

Deafening screams and shrieks literally caused the cavern to shake, and the noise could have drowned out two Kpop concerts with ease. The rats threw themselves up in the air in a frenzy and lay prostrate on the ground, grovelling in front of Gorger and singing his praises.

"Warrior," Bloodclaw greeted him as he stepped away to let Gorger stand under the metaphorical spotlight, "You belong somewhere else. Follow me."

The grey rat lead Gregor through a series of narrow tunnels, with the air seeming to thicken from the evil that lurked nearby. The scarred tunnel walls seemed to grin at him, beckoning for him to inch closer to the jaws of death.

But Gregor couldn't help but ponder over the fate of the Bane. Even after his adversary was long dead, they were still at war against each other. Gregor knew that this war was just another chapter of the War of Time, and this time his battle with the Bane had evolved from a physical one into a symbolic one.

It was a battle to see whose legacy would last longer.

The Warrior's legacy was the very existence of Regalia, and the alliance between the different species. But now that alliance was falling into tatters, with almost half of the gnawer population in Regalia leaving the city to join the rebels.

The Bane's legacy was this cult, a fanatical group of rats who were once motivated by the right reason to take down Regalia but turned the Bane into a deity in order to manipulate the more conservative rats into fighting for the rebels.

This battle of legacies would determine whether love or hate won. And as it stood, the Bane's legacy of hate was poised to claim victory.

"Didn't know the gnawers were so gullible," Gregor remarked, trying to rile Bloodclaw up. It wasn't the wisest decision since he had no weapon, but if he played some mind games with a leading figure like Bloodclaw, he could possibly influence the rat to do something stupid.

But Bloodclaw wasn't buying the bait. He just shot Gregor a sly grin, before replying, "Aren't we all?"

They made a couple more turns and then arrived in a cave which was pint-sized compared to the cavern they had entered earlier. Gregor's rager senses instantly were on high alert as he spotted at least half a dozen armed guards standing on each side of the cavern, each hand wrapped around the hilt of their blade.

Standing in the middle of the cave was none other than York, with Susannah standing to his right. Bloodclaw nodded, before speaking. "York, we brought the Warrior here for you to punish him. My brothers and sisters only implore you to exact justice on him."

"I will do as I see fit," York replied. "He has wronged me, not you."

"Aye," Bloodclaw agreed, "But perhaps you should consider taking a harsher stance. After all, you might want to… set an example for your soldiers."

"We are grateful to you," York said slowly, "For bringing him to us. But that will be it. I will handle him myself."

"As it should be," Bloodclaw responded, bowing his head once again. He then began to trudge out of the cave, but not before shooting another fiendish smile at Gregor.

Gregor turned to face York. "Have you decided how you're gonna punish me?" he asked innocently.

York's fierce gaze seemed hell bent on penetrating Gregor's facade in order to break him and elicit fear, but Gregor somehow remained calm enough to meet that gaze with assuredness.

"Why did they give you up?" York asked eventually, as Susannah let out an irate sigh from the long stretch of silence.

"They didn't," Gregor said softly. "I gave myself up."

York appeared to be visibly shocked by Gregor's reply, even if he tried to put on a poker face to hide it. "Why?" York asked.

Gregor took in a deep breath. This was the moment of sympathy he had to capitalise on. This was the moment he had to use to convince York to end this madness.

"I did it because I deserve it," Gregor replied truthfully. "The hostages should never have been in the shit they were in. If they died because of me I could never live with myself."

York raised an eyebrow. "Is that all? Do you really have no other agenda?"

"Actually, I do," Gregor answered. "I came here to convince you to end this war. Look York, I know we haven't been fair to you. Regalia's been like a bully to you, and I… I never should have attacked you. I'm sorry, York, I really am."

"Apology accepted," York grunted. "But that apology changes nothing. We will still fight Regalia in battle."

"Don't do it," Gregor said, shaking his head vigorously. "Punish me- I'm the one who fought your city, not them. I went in there unauthorised. This has nothing to do with them."

"Regardless of the atrocities you committed," York said coldly, "Regalia still has to pay for its years of oppression."

"Kill me," Gregor blurted out.

When York stared at him in bewilderment, Gregor quickly went on, "Kill me if it satisfies you. If this is what you want, then do it. Just swear you'll stop fighting with Regalia, and I'll give you my life."

"Your life is in my hands," York growled, "It's not up to you to give away."

"I made the decision to come here," Gregor replied calmly, "in the hope that you'd spare Regalia for my life. York, you lose men when you fight a war, and at the end of it you'll achieve nothing. Do you really want to tell hundreds of grieving families back home that the ones they loved most died in vain?"

"War is necessary," York snarled, "to teach Regalia a lesson in power."

"Not this way," Gregor pleaded. "Show you're better than the Council, York. Show them that you have the courage to solve this without fighting."

"It is cowardly to avoid battle," York argued. "It's a sign of weakness."

"No, it's not," Gregor said earnestly. "It takes more courage to put away your sword than to kill someone with it."

York hesitated, and that was the moment for Gregor to exploit and break down his resolve. "York, I know this doesn't sound right to you. Honestly, it doesn't sound right to me either. But then I thought for a while, and then you know what I realised? Everybody has good in them, and that good is worth fighting for. You, me, Regalia, the Fount, the rebels… There's good in all of us, and we can't give up on that good as long as hope still lives."

"Gregor," Susannah said slowly, "You know that I, of all people, would not wish any harm on you. But you did fight us and hurt us. That cannot go unpunished."

"I know," Gregor replied, "which is why I'm offering you a chance for retribution. I came here without any weapons or armour so that you guys would know I'm serious about this. I don't mind dying, but dying knowing that my friends and my loved ones aren't safe? I don't know if I can do that. Kill me, York. But promise me you'll leave Regalia alone."

Gregor could read the conflict and pain on York's face. The big man bowed his head, and said, "You really came here to die for Regalia?"

"Yes," Gregor confirmed, "and… and above all, I came here to die for your niece. I… I don't know if she still loves me, but I still love her. And if that means dying to save the city she loves, then I'll gladly do it."

"You're not even an Underlander," York said in confusion. "Why are you doing this for Regalia?"

"There are times when everything in the world seems to fall out of place," Gregor sighed. "And in those times I lose hope that I can make the world a better place. But then when I see the people that are a part of the Underland, I realise that so many lives count on me to preserve the peace. I want to die knowing a kid can walk down a street with a smile, or a pup can play with his parents and his human friends."

"I don't understand," York admitted.

"We can change the Underland," Gregor urged him. "And it starts by ending the fighting. Let me be the last life you take, York. You and I can save the Underland. I've gone through so much shit the last few weeks but I'm here to tell you that there is still hope left in me, and that hope rests in you."

York took a couple of steps forward until he was standing directly in front of Gregor. "I'm sorry for hurting you, York," Gregor said. "You're a good man."

Gregor closed his eyes and imagined the stone knight at the Cloisters. No matter what happened, he would remain peaceful to the end. Opening his eyes, he looked right up at York

Suddenly, York broke down and wrapped his arms around Gregor. Each sob rumbled like an earthquake tremor through his body as the big man began to cry. Overcome with emotion, Gregor's composed masquerade fell apart, and he began to cry as well.

"I'm so sorry," York sobbed, "I'm so sorry, Gregor."

"I'm sorry York," he replied through his sobs, "I should never have fought you."

York let go of him and reared up to his full height again. A quick glance at Susannah revealed that she had broken down into tears as well, with her cheeks now damp from the waterworks. The guards still stood at the side, but this time with a solemn rather than an aggressive expression.

"Few men have as much honour as you to sacrifice themselves for their city," York said. "Least of all an Overlander like you. All is forgiven… There will be no need for any punishment. You have taught me a lesson I shall never forget till I rest in my grave."

"York, I have to-" Gregor began, but York cut him off.

"No, there will be no more fighting between us. If you are willing to lose your life for me and your city, then I have no right to take it away from you. Will you accept an apology from an old man?"

He stretched out his hand.

Gregor gripped it, and shook it with conviction.

This handshake was going to change the fate of the Underland.


That's it for this chapter! Firstly, I hope you liked the scene at the end of this chapter. It's not perfectly written, but I hope it conveyed the emotional weight I intended to incorporate into that scene. York sees the goodness and hope that stays in Gregor, and realises that he cannot take the life of someone like him. He also understands the need for peace in the Underland, and as dramatic as it seems it has a powerful effect on him.

Personally, I know it seems like York gave in very easily, but if you were in the same position I suspect some of you might act in a similar fashion. To see someone nobly choosing to give up their life, and a promising one at that, can be very touching, and seeing as how York is in the middle of it, I think it's realistic for him to forgive Gregor.

Favourites and follows please! Reviews are also greatly appreciated!

Question: Do you prefer a darker and more violent Gregor, or a more peaceful and hopeful Gregor? It's not a question which decides whether you're a good person or not, but this question does reveal your preferences as a reader. I'm interested to hear a response!