Hi everyone! So sorry for the late upload - I know it's been more than 2 months. Life has been supremely busy, but I did promise I'd finish this story, so here's another chapter - they'll be a bit more frequent now that the busy phase of my life has somewhat concluded. As usual, please review! Keeps me inspired and motivated to keep going. Thank you to Jeremiah Hudson, Hypheman, Gyltig (yes, I was talking about kintsugi!), and bugging killer for your reviews - they really made a difference in me eventually finding the strength to write this chapter.

This was a difficult chapter to write because there's a lot of character development I had to unpack which is necessary for the story, but it's also difficult to fit it in as a chapter on its own. Nonetheless, I hope you like the character interactions in this chapter!

This chapter is written from Gregor's perspective.

Chapter 38: The Price of Love

A city of stone and a will of iron.

Faded scorch marks were the vestigial scars of a history ravaged by war, defined by tragedy.

And in the centre of this sprawling mass of old wounds and fresh pain, a solitary statue of a messiah clad in armour as black as his soul, glowering over an adoring faithful who sang martial hymns and restlessly awaited the drumbeats of war to toll. The Warrior's hands were at torso height as they clasped the hilt of Sandwich's sword, pointing the blade upwards towards the Underland's starless sky. It was a promise to defend the city at all costs, a sacrifice no one else could offer or undertake. It was a monumental ode to the wars of the past, and the wars to come. He, the bane of gnawers and the scourge of schemers.

Gregor eyed the Warrior from head to toe and sighed.

From his vantage point on the balcony of Luxa's room, he could not tell if he was looking down on the gargantuan statue, or if its sheer size meant he was technically still looking up at it. The lights of Regalia were dim, its fires lukewarm - there was no telling where exactly the statue began and where it ended.

Gregor searched for any sign of himself in the statue, but he knew his answer before his eyes began their quest to explore the behemoth of Regalia. The Warrior's helmet obscured any proof that Gregor wore his armour, his hands were disproportionately larger, and his body was rigid in obedience and duty. Gregor remembered how he'd used the knight in the Cloisters as a crutch against the anxiety which wracked his body, wrapping him in a web of fear and portents. The Warrior in the middle of the city betrayed no sign of nervousness, guilt, or fear.

Whoever it was donning that armour and holding that sword, it wasn't him.

He heard the familiar rustle of the curtains behind him. "How's Perdita?" he asked.

"She does not speak," Luxa replied, as she glided up next to him.

Perdita had been arrested immediately after she had deemed herself the judge, jury, and executioner of Conrad's fate. No one knew how to respond - the rebel gnawers soon burst into laughter, cackling and jeering maniacally as they were dragged away by Lapblood's contingent on the long trek back to Regalia. Luxa, Gregor, and Ripred had flown back immediately, a flight strangely devoid of the old rat's snarky comments. Perdita flew back in chains while Dionysus was hauled back to Regalia by a couple of fliers. Only Conrad remained, his blood mingling with the blood of dozens of gnawers whose bodies lay strewn across the battlefield, unceremoniously left to rot in the cold dark of the Underland.

"What are you guys going to do with Dionysus?"

"I fear I do not yet have an answer for that," Luxa responded quietly.

Gregor turned to face her. "He's Conrad's bond. He's obligated to save his life, we can't punish him for that."

"He was privy to Conrad's plan as his bond."

"That's what they said about Ares too!" Gregor snapped. He took a deep breath, realising he had overstepped with his reaction. "I'm sorry for raising my voice, it's just… haven't we seen enough death?"

Now it was Luxa's turn to sigh. She looked up at Gregor, and he almost stumbled backwards in surprise. Her eyes carried the weight of all she had lost, and her expression was wearier than that of dead men. All this time she'd been trying to hold it all together, but everything seemed intent on pulling her apart. And Gregor knew there wasn't much sinew left to stretch.

"Hey," he said, pulling her into a hug, "what's up? Talk to me, babe."

Her face was buried into his chest, but he could feel the familiar heave of a sob escape her body. She pulled out of the hug, her eyes brimming with tears glimmering like undying pearls of the sea.

"It has weighed on me, Gregor," she said softly. "His death."

Conrad's death.

Of course she had been upset - even if she wasn't in love with him anymore, she'd been his wife for several years. Of course she still cared about him… or at least that's how Gregor preferred to rationalise it. The tricky knot of jealousy that sat in his stomach had to be untangled, because this wasn't about him, or even Conrad. It was about how she felt in that moment. And Gregor wasn't great at saying things, but he knew how people felt. He knew how she felt.

"I know," he said stiffly. "I was shocked by that too."

"He was not a good man," she continued, sniffling slightly. "But I do think he tried to be. He never imposed his will on me, or denied me anything. He did love me. Reciprocate I never could, but he did love me. In the most bizarre, twisted manner, I will not deny that… But he did love me."

It was tricky managing his response to that. Conrad was a terrible leader, possessing grandiose but unsound visions of success and projecting his insecurities into those visions. He was merciless, selfish, and reckless. But Gregor couldn't say any of those things now, because Luxa was right - Conrad's warped version of love meant that Luxa was left holding the poisoned chalice of the crown, but there was no doubting that he cared for her, even when she never reciprocated it. Or at least Gregor liked to believe it wasn't reciprocated.

So Gregor stayed silent. He knew nothing he said would help Luxa at this moment - it was complicated enough for her already.

"Do you think he can hear us, Gregor?" she asked abruptly. "Do you think any of them can hear us?"

Tick. Henry. Pandora. Hamnet. Thalia. Solovet.

Temp. Mareth. Vikus. York.

The Bane.

Ares.

More than ever, Gregor wished he had one last conversation with each of them - whether he hated them or loved them, whether they inspired him or broke him, whether they were shining beacons of hope or dark shadows of despair. No matter who they were, they all held an inseparable bond with each other through Gregor - they had all made a difference in his life. His world was not the same without any of them. And more than ever before, Gregor found himself wishing he could thank them… thank them for making him the man he was today.

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "But I like to believe one day we'll see them again." Somewhere beyond the rising walls and fading light of this world, Gregor hoped he would see his friends and loved ones again.

He cleared his throat and continued. "All we can do is focus on the people who are still around. They matter more than the dead right now… which is why you can't take their lives."

"Which lives do you speak of?"

"You know which ones," Gregor said. "The rebel rats."

"They betrayed us," Luxa said coldly. "We could have taken the light of every last gnawer but Ripred and I made a pact to save them."

"That pact saved you too," Gregor replied softly.

Luxa looked up at him. "Gregor, I mean not to offend you, but you have been here for half a decade cumulatively, if that. You have not seen what I have seen."

Personally, Gregor was offended.

"I've seen enough," Gregor said, his voice calm but seared on the edges with the fire in his belly. "I was there with you when they killed the nibblers. I was there when the Bane took my friend. I was there, Luxa."

There was once a time when Luxa would have hurtled headfirst into an argument with him. This time, her harsh gaze softened. "As true as that may be, you have not lost your parents to them."

Gregor let those words sink in.

"And," she continued, "we have had pacts with gnawers since the days of Sandwich and Aldrich. None of them have lasted. None of them have mattered."

"Then why bond with Ripred?" Gregor asked. "Why bother with that?"

Luxa's gaze dropped. "I thought I would be different," she said, her voice falling to a whisper. "I thought I would be the queen to end all wars."

"Hey," Gregor said, placing his finger on her chin. He gently tilted her head up to face him, so that their eyes could meet. "There's still time for that. I know there's still hope in you, Luxa. You just gotta find it, and hold on to it. I promise you it's worth it."

He could see the slightest twinkle of hope flash across her eye, a glimmer of unfulfilled promise and a desperate desire to heal a broken world. But then Luxa remembered who she was.

"The best I can do is exile them," she said firmly.

"Exile them?" Gregor asked, the incredulity resounding through his words. "You're sending us back to square one!"

"What would you have me do?" Luxa said, raising her voice in frustration. "The gnawers in Regalia are being driven out by the humans already. We cannot accommodate their needs AND ours! And my duty as queen is to protect my people, not open my borders to every hungry beast with a… with a melancholic disposition!"

Maybe Conrad was right - maybe Gregor was made of metal and rage, stitched together by hope, and nothing more. Even if Luxa could save a few displaced gnawers, it would mean abandoning humans she actually had an obligation to protect. War was the only language Gregor could speak, while politics was a dialect too far-fetched and complex for him to wrap his brain around.

He stared out again at the solitary statue of the Warrior, looming over the sleeping city like an apocalyptic shadow. A figure which bestrode the narrow world like a colossus, while petty men danced around his legs to find dishonourable graves. Why, Gregor was one of those petty men, trapped under the shadow of the Warrior.

Regalia was an oasis in a desert - the Waterway flowed nearby, it was built into a wall of stone, the fields within its walls bountiful. But far beyond the city, in the vast expanse of shadow, only one thing could stay alive - hatred.

"Has Daedalus come up with anything?" he asked.

Luxa shrugged her shoulders as she too gazed out into the endless distance. "If he has devised a solution, I know nothing of it."

"So they're all doomed," Gregor said bleakly. "The rats, the foxes, Dionysus… Our grand plan is to kill them all. No wonder you guys worship Sandwich down here."

Again, Gregor expected his caustic tone to incite a scathing response from Luxa.

And again, he was surprised.

"I mourn every soul I am responsible for taking," she said softly. "Even the ones that have wronged me. My thirst for revenge does not overwhelm the guilt that crawls into my heart every time I go to bed, Gregor."

She sighed and continued. "There are days I mourn who I used to be - I was a Warrior in my own manner, defending those who had justice snatched from them. I needed only mind what was right - Regalia was secondary to that."

Luxa looked up at Gregor. "Do you remember who I was?"

"I remember who you are," Gregor replied firmly. "Some things change, but the girl I fell in love with is still there."

"We were children," Luxa's voice thinned out with a tiredness Gregor had grown accustomed to.

"We weren't," Gregor said sadly. "I was eleven when I stopped being a kid. And I really tried so hard to go back to that after leaving you… I tried to let go. But I couldn't just be normal, not after what I've seen. People expect me to be normal and also be a saviour. I just want to be me."

Without realising it, Gregor's eyes were filled to the brim with sorrow and angst. "I just want this war to end," he said, his tone audibly laced with frustration. "I just want all of us to go back to being like, actual people."

"The Underland has only known war –" Luxa began, but Gregor wasn't having any of it.

"I've heard that so many damn times," he said. "It's a self-fulfilling prophecy. Everything down here is. If there's someone who can change that, it's you."

"I will not break with centuries of tradition to sue for peace," Luxa said, her jaw tense with resolute determination. "It will mean the end of Regalia. When our enemies are at our gates, would you drop your sword and greet them with open arms, Gregor?"

And there it was - Gregor could not do that. He looked back at the statue of the Warrior.

Luxa's gaze followed his. "Perhaps…" she began, her voice trailing off like a wisp of smoke against the howling wind.

"Perhaps what?"

"No," Luxa shook her head. "I have asked enough of him."

"Who?"

"Hazard," she said. "I have sent him off with Heronian to bring peace terms to the spinners, crawlers, diggers… and to the rebel schemers. I can ask no more of him."

"What were you going to ask him to do?" Gregor asked.

"Rule by my side," Luxa said. "You and I have only known war. Hazard has only known peace. The three of us would be an ideal match."

"I'm sure Ripred would have something to say about that."

Luxa rolled her eyes. "He is perhaps a few years too old to shape Regalia's future."

She turned once again to face her city. "I was entrusted to protect this city. My purpose is this city."

Gregor's heart dropped slightly into the chasm which yawned wide for it. "Don't you ever dream of anything more?"

"Dream?" Luxa's voice stiffened, almost as if it strained against the shackles wreathed around it. "I do dream - I dream of falling debris and shattered heirlooms. They are the shadows of tomorrow, they rise only to haunt my rest. I have long foregone the dreams of a better life."

"Really?" Gregor pressed her, still hopeful there was something in her left to be salvaged. "Don't you ever think of a future without all this?"

"How could I?" she said bitterly. "My life is now a duty to Regalia. I am not free to pursue whatever I wish."

She cleared her throat and continued. "Therefore, I must execute the rebel gnawers. They will be bound and thrown into the abyss, as will Perdita. And when Hazard has finished his diplomatic mission, I will send him as far away from this throne as possible, because this is my duty to bear."

"You don't have to do it alone," Gregor said softly. "Neither of us do."

Luxa stared out into the distance once again. "Regalia is a jungle of stone, Gregor. And the laws of the jungle dictate that only the strongest survive. Only those willing to make the hardest decisions live to see tomorrow. I cannot allow Hazard to be hurt - he is too pure for this world. You once were too, but -"

"Regalia got me," Gregor finished her sentence, the feeling of resentment rising like bile in his throat. "The Underland takes everyone eventually."

He reached out and took her hand. "Don't push me away, okay? Promise me you won't. I'm here with you, through everything… and when I say everything, I really mean it."

Luxa sighed. "I wish I were selfless enough to keep you safe from this world, Gregor. But I need you like a sword needs a soldier. Without someone to wield it, the sword holds no power."

"I sure hope you can come up with better analogies than that next time," Gregor snorted.

Luxa's laugh was as light as it was sad. "I am sorry, Gregor. You know I have not been myself in a long time. It has been a while since I have been able to devote myself to you, and for that I apologise too."

"It's fine," Gregor sighed. "War doesn't really provide fertile soil for love to grow."

Luxa shook her head. "Life is short, and there are few good things in it. I need to treasure the few good things I do have with me, and you are the most important of them all."

Gregor knew those words. He had been given that advice years ago, but remembered it like he heard the words yesterday.

"Ripred gave you a pep talk recently?"

"No," Luxa said with a wry smile. "But he did tell me about his little chat with you before we went off to war."

"That was a lifetime ago," Gregor said wistfully.

"Indeed it was," Luxa replied. She gave his hand a slight squeeze. "You understand my burden, do you not?"

Gregor's eyes once again rested on the statue. "Yeah, of course I do… I just wish we could imagine a world without duty. Everything we've done has been in service to others. We haven't had the time to think about what we want."

"I know," she said. "That is the price of love, is it not? You and I both love this city, so we must play our part in protecting it. This city would not be standing if we abandoned our duty to chase what our hearts desired."

Gregor's heart sank like a rock. "And what about our love?"

Luxa sighed. "You make me happier than anyone else in my world, Gregor. But everyone who has made me that happy always leaves me, and usually not of their own volition. I will not have you suffer that fate too."

"It'll be different with me," Gregor insisted. "You have to hope it will."

"Perhaps," Luxa said sadly. "It would be nice to be proven wrong."

She looked down, and her posture stiffened slightly. "My poor cousin is beyond these walls, at the mercy of the Underland. He was one of the few true friends after you and your family had left Regalia… he was one of the few people who made me truly happy when I thought I had said goodbye to you forever. You never needed to doubt his intentions - you just knew his words were as pure as the finest blades crafted by the finest blacksmiths. Hazard was one of the few people I spoke to who never held the kingdom of Regalia behind his eyes. Now I have sent him to deal with beasts and monsters, all of whom serve their own ends. He knows nothing of this world."

"He'll be ok, Luxa," Gregor said gently. "He can't always hide behind these walls. You won't always be there to protect him, and the only way he's gonna be able to stand up for himself is if he learns to, on his own. You said his words were as sharp as swords, right? Let him use that to defend himself."

"My uncle entrusted him with me," Luxa sighed. "I am not to leave Hazard's fate to chance, certainly when he has nothing to defend himself with."

"That's why you have soldiers with him, and Heronian too," Gregor assured her. "They've got his back."

Gregor allowed his words to sink in a bit longer, before continuing. "We aren't gonna be around forever, you know…"

"I know," came her weary reply. "The thought is as familiar as my nightmares."

A loud rap on the door echoed in response. "Your Majesty!" a soldier barked from outside. "You have a visitor!"

"Pray it is not some trivial matter that interrupts us," Luxa muttered under her breath, "or they shall feel my wrath."

She cleared her throat and replied to the guard. "Who wishes to speak to me?"

"Heronian, your Majesty!" the soldier responded tersely. "She wishes to speak to you urgently."

"Heronian?" Luxa wondered aloud. Gregor, for once, was a few steps ahead and felt his heart contorting into a knot. Heronian's presence without Hazard could only mean one thing.

Without so much as waiting for a reply, the doors swung open and Heronian stumbled into the room, her fur caked in mud which seemed to be coloured by a suspicious red hue. She was the epitome of a dishevelled, mangled mess, and the wild glint in her eye told the story of the utter chaos which had descended on her.

Please don't be blood, Gregor thought to himself. Please, not now. Please tell us that isn't Hazard's blood.

"Forgive me, your Majesty," Heronian bowed deeply. "We made it to the Arch of Tantalus, but no further. Our party was dispersed."

"Dispersed?" Luxa's tone had hardened, the edges of her voice sharpened by panic and anger.

Heronian's head dipped even lower. "We spoke to the crawlers and spinners, as well as the diggers. We tried to find the schemers, but…"

"But?" Luxa questioned sharply.

Heronian looked up. "They found us instead."

Gregor glanced over at Luxa, who was now paler than the moon on a foggy winter night. You could barely tell that blood still coursed through her veins.

"Where is my cousin, Heronian?"

Heronian's head fell again. "I could not tell you, your Majesty. But there were guards with him at the time of our parting."

"How many?"

"Half a dozen," Heronian replied feebly.

"And how many schemers were there?"

"Perhaps a dozen," Heronian answered, still too frightened to meet Luxa's steel gaze. "They split us down the middle. We managed to escape."

"Because they did not pursue you," Luxa realised through gritted teeth. "They must have discerned Hazard's station and cornered him."

"Forgive me, your Majesty," Heronian said.

Luxa turned to Gregor. "Don your armour. We must send all our forces to the jungle to flush them out."

"Your Majesty."

Ripred's familiar drawl punctured the tension that had quietly enveloped the room. The old rat stalked in slowly and deliberately, as if he, for once, recognised how close Luxa was to her tipping point.

"Your presence was not requested, Ripred," Luxa said coldly.

"With all due respect, your Majesty, I don't think I need your permission to be here," he replied equally icily. "You must remain in Regalia."

"My cousin's life is in danger," Luxa snarled. "You would leave me here in a cage while my enemies sink their teeth into him."

"If Hazard's light was extinguished, I would know by now," Ripred said firmly. "I have spies in the jungle. These schemers aren't loyal to Flavius, they have no reason to kill the young prince and make an enemy of us."

"They are schemers, they need no reason to take his life."

"I know they haven't precisely because they are schemers," Ripred reasoned. "Hazard bore the white flag of truce, and there are no settlements near the jungle. To kill an emissary would be a foolish move when they need us to help them fulfil their cause."

"Then wherefore chase the contingent?" asked Luxa.

"There are no more than a few dozen rebel schemers following Varius," Ripred replied. "They needed to ascertain this was not some ambush which would result in their annihilation. And, to put it simply, they need a hostage to make sure they aren't killed if negotiations go south."

"How do you know those schemers were not Flavius' soldiers?" Luxa fired back.

"If they were, every being in the Underland would know of Hazard's death by now," Ripred said darkly. "Likewise, if you leave Regalia with a full complement to hunt twenty schemers in the jungle, Flavius would hear of it from his spies by the morrow and have Regalia pillaged before you'd have a chance to realise how stupid you'd been."

"My cousin needs me," Luxa said, but her voice wavered slightly.

"Your city needs you too," Ripred replied softly, again uncharacteristically restrained in his reply. "The Council convenes in a few hours to determine the fates of the rebel gnawers and Perdita. If you aren't there, their judgement and yours both come into question, and everything we worked towards may fall apart. Hazard has worked hard to bring the spinners and crawlers and diggers into the fold, so that we are all finally united. Don't undo his work with a rash act."

Gregor knew that Luxa was as unpredictable as the weather in the Upper Midwest. He'd seen it all before - Riprerd cautioning her against her impulses, Luxa stubbornly rejecting his advice, with tensions between the three of them escalating. Alternatively, Luxa would take Ripred's advice, but freeze him out in petty retaliation.

But Luxa had just spared Gorger's life when all signs pointed towards his death.

The queen of Regalia simply met Ripred's gaze with a look of weary resignation and nodded her head. When she spoke, she sounded like she had aged a decade.

"Perhaps you are right in that. Call the Council to convene in the coming hour. I will settle the fates of our prisoners now."

She turned to Heronian. "Thank you, Heronian. You have performed a great service to Regalia, and to the Underland."

Heronian's gaze remained glued to the ground. "I will find a way of remedying my error, your Majesty."

"I know not what error you speak of," Luxa replied as she strode elegantly if not ponderously across the room. She nodded to her guards as she exited, leaving Gregor and Ripred glancing at each other.

As Heronian ambled out of the room too, Ripred spoke. "We may make a queen of Luxa yet."

"At what cost?" Gregor said bitterly. "She is broken. We have all broken her."

Ripred snorted, and Gregor could swear he could see the faintest glimmer of Vikus' twinkle in Ripred's solitary eye. "Some of us have broken her in more ways than one."

"You're really not that funny, you know," Gregor shot back, but Ripred had already turned his mind back to serious matters.

"I won't be around forever. I must guide her now so that when I'm not there, she can make the right decision."

"Is there a right decision?" Gregor asked ruefully. "She'll always offend someone no matter what she decides."

"The burden of being a queen," Ripred mused. "You ask what the cost of being queen is, and it is simply this - your life."

The two of them remained in silence to allow his words to stew, before Ripred added, "Love is the price of duty, and sacrifice the price of love."

"And yet I'm still here."

"A testament to her love," Ripred replied. "Luxa may one day have to choose between you and the crown. Whatever she decides, I hope she makes the right decision."

As the bells of the city tolled to signify Luxa's convening of the Council, Nerissa drifted into view outside Luxa's room. She glanced over at Gregor and Ripred, her sallow complexion sinking deeper into the crevices of her skull still.

"My lords," she said, her voice barely audible against the gnashing fury of the bells, "your time has come."

"Our time?" Ripred asked.

Nerissa nodded. "Your time indeed," she said, her voice laced with grief. "The fall of ragers is upon us."

And that's the chapter! As usual, please review, and please answer the question I have because it would genuinely make a difference to my life.

Question: So, I'm actually interested in writing a TUC prequel series, with Vikus as the main character. It will span multiple decades, because I think there's some really interesting stories to be told there. Would you guys read it and support it if I started writing this series?