Once he was sure the prisoner was securely locked into a cell, Arthur felt relieved of the heavy burden on his shoulders and slowly walked into the safety of his palace where he could finally rest and forget about that person... at least for a while.

Before he reached his quarters, though, the Queen made sure to clearly expound his rules in regards of the man in the cell. He ordered his guards to reinforce the security in the prison and to quarantine the man inside, just in case he was suffering from one of the many diseases that circulated through the lower district - he couldn't let any illness spread through the palace ground, after all. He then decided he would personally take care of the prisoner the following day, after a good rest and a warm bath.

While he lightly brushed his hand against the recognition mechanism next to the door of his private room, Arthur wondered what to do with the stranger. It was true that the man's plan didn't succeed and no one was actually hurt during the attack, but he just couldn't release him without a proper lesson.

But as much as he wanted the young rebel to pay for the affront he suffered, the Queen knew it wouldn't be fair to execute him. Not... directly, at least. He considered selling him to the fifth district (they were always in need of new personnel, especially in the brothels and taverns) or having him live in the palace labs as a guinea pig for the testing of new chemicals - another necessary thing for his kingdom.

As the sliding doors finally parted and Arthur was allowed to step inside his room (he needed to accelerate the recognition process), he decided to forget about the prisoner for a few hours and rest.

He would wait for the results of the blood tests, he decided, and then establish his disposition for the man's punishment.

.x.

Alfred would never say it aloud, but being a prisoner in the queen's palace was better than living a free life in district seven. Fresh air, three meals every day and a soft cot- what else could a man wish for?

After weeks of starvation and the excitement at the monthly discourse, these days of peace and quiet came as a blessing for Alfred. At one point, perhaps in a few days, he may desire freedom or even company but at the moment, he was perfectly content in staying just the way he was.

However, there had been an unpleasant constraint at the very beginning. Mere hours after he had been brought in, Alfred had been roughly manhandled into a thorough cleaning process. The men around him wore long white robes and sanitary masks as they washed him with special concoctions Alfred had never seen before and with the way they treated him, he felt more like a diseased animal than a normal human being.

By the time they allowed him to dress again (in a new set of clothing, which felt heavenly soft), Alfred had concluded that that might have just been the most humiliating event in his life as of yet.

In what appeared as an afterthought, Alfred had been strapped down into a chair and punctured with a needle. The pain was quickly forgotten as Alfred's attention was focused on the deep red liquid that was flowing so smoothly from his body into some vial. Once the procedure was done, all Alfred wanted was to be left alone.

And left alone he had been. It had been days since he'd seen anyone aside from his jailor. He was beginning to wonder if the queen might have forgotten about him, after all.

.x.

The few days Arthur had spent in solitude were rather calm. After the discourse in district seven and the failed revolt, he had been allowed to take some days off to rest and take care of the bureaucratic issues. The hours spent among books and chemical infusions yielded their benefits, and Arthur was able to forget about the problems caused by the young rebel from district seven.

That was, until a few men began frantically knocking at his door on a Saturday morning.

The Queen was up by then and although his annoyance grew after being disturbed in such a rude manner, he climbed out of bed with a growl and typed a code in the nearby panel to open the sliding doors, only to frown when he was met with the sight of three men in white tunics. The serious expressions the doctors had and the thick stack of papers one of them was holding were enough to make Arthur worry, seriously so, about the safety of his country.

The doors were locked behind him as the men stepped inside without even asking for permission, and accommodated themselves in the Queen's chamber with agitated and preoccupied gestures.

It didn't take long for the doctors to explain the reason behind their sudden visit. Something was wrong, terribly so, with the newcomer. While the tests had revealed no trace of diseases or hazardous agents, the blood analysis revealed something rather... peculiar about the man's genes.

Arthur asked the doctors to repeat; once, twice, until they thought their Queen was becoming old and forgetful (how hilarious, he noted with bitter irony), but each time he heard the same words being pronounced over and over again, he couldn't help but gape at the three men in front of him.

It wasn't possible. He had been convinced that none of them were left.

With a newfound wave of anger and anxiety, Arthur didn't wait for the physicians take their leave and stormed out of his quarters, rushing to the royal prison with firm and heavy steps, repeating to himself that it was all a mistake all the while.

Alfred looked at his reflection in satisfaction. The metallic image of himself smiling back at him from the iron wall was somewhat distorted, but it was accurate enough to reflect what he had been suspecting for the past few hours- he had gained weight. Just a little bit really, considering the short amount of time he'd been on his new diet, but it had been radical enough a change to pad his stomach and legs with a thin layer of fat. He was still scrawny and malnourished, but at least he didn't look as much of a human wreck as he did when he had entered the prison.

Raised voices interrupted his train of thought. The door quickly slid open and in stormed an enraged queen, glaring daggers at him. Startled, Alfred turned to face the man fully and squared his jaw. His first human contact in days was off on a bad start.

"You," the queen addressed him with a hiss. "Name, age, provenance. Be detailed, or I'm getting you executed right now."

"Alfred," he said shortly after quickly assessing that giving his name wouldn't cause much harm in the long run. "Alfred F. Jones. I'm not exactly sure how old I am or what my origins are, but I think I'm a few years into the second decade of my life."

He shuffled in his place, trying to think of anything else the queen might consider as relevant details. "I was raised by my grandfather, who wasn't originally from the seventh district. He died three years ago. My parents were killed in a chemical induced arson a few months after I was born."

He straightened his back and met the queen's eyes hesitantly. Why did he look so troubled?

Arthur's anxiety grew even more when he heard the approximate information about the man. When their gazes met, his face tightened and in a quick movement he reached out and clutched the prisoner by the collar, tugging him closer.

"What do you mean, not exactly sure?" he asked frantically, his preoccupied eyes looking straight into the other's before he realised he was acting too temperamental and impulsive and slowly released his grip on the fabric.

With a softly spoken curse he took a few steps back and turned around, quickly brushing his fingertips over the black diskette pressed against his right temple to make a visor lit in azure appear .

Arthur needed to know if the government had been informed of their little problem. If they knew, the young man would be in trouble.

It took a while for the Minister to respond, but eventually the Queen's radio call received an answer.

"Ah, look if it isn't our old Queen! Tell me, my friend, how come-"

"Cut it off, did they inform you?"

"They did. Two days ago, actually."

Arthur seemed to puff out in anger. "Why wasn't I informed before? This is a gargantuan problem!"

"A...?"

A sigh, "A tremendous problem."

"Not a great deal, my friend, rest assured."

"How can you say that?"

"We can dispose of him very easily."

Arthur glanced back at the man behind him, when he felt a sudden wave of guilt rush through him. "But he is innocent-!"

"So were the others."

"This isn't- I oppose!"

"Not a great deal either."

"I am serious!" Arthur cried, furious. "And furthermore, we can't let such information leak!"

"Then try to find another way."

"This is preposterous-!" The line was cut off, and with an infuriated growl he removed his visor and smashed it against the ground.

Alfred watched the exchange with wide eyes, doing his best to overcome the cultural shock of seeing such advanced technology and to focus on what was being said. Apparently, something about him was causing an uproar, enough for the queen and government to fret over him. From being an anonymous citizen among millions in the poorest district, he had become what looked to be a national problem.

He wasn't sure if to bless the stars or curse them.

Something was said about getting rid of him, but aside from the slight shiver of apprehension, Alfred didn't dwell on it. He had been waiting to die for days already- the notion of an execution was a familiar idea to cling to while everything around him had become chaotic. Whatever he had to go through, at least the end would be clear.

What surprised him amidst it all was the queen's behavior. One minute he was storming into his cell, demanding and threatening and a moment later he was bartering with the prime minister over Alfred's life.

What on earth was going on?

Impatient and unwilling to remain in the dark any longer, Alfred stepped forward and cleared his throat with an anger tinted nervous look.

"Look, I don't know why my name or heritage should matter to anyone, but if it does, I'd like to know why. I mean, if you're going to execute me because of it rather than because my assault, I have the right to know what I'm being punished for."

Upon hearing the man behind him speak, Arthur turned around, brows furrowed in a scowl and a furious glint in his eyes.

"Address me properly," he ordered, slowly stressing each word. "And stop assuming you have any sort of right here. Nay, if you keep blabbering I'm selling you to a damned bordello in district five and will leave you there for the rest of your life- the pay may be good, but you catch the worst diseases there."

Alfred would have denied it later on, but his face had turned a pale shade of grey when he heard the queen's latest threat. Not that he had ever heard the word bordello before, but from the tone and the job description, Alfred could figure it out pretty easily. When he had calculated the risk of assaulting royalty, spending the rest of his life in a brothel hadn't even been in the equation.

Taking a step back, the Queen pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, closing his eyes as he tried to come up with a solution.

They could always get rid of the boy and pretend nothing had happened, but Arthur preferred to use him to his own advantage and finally solve his own personal problem - the government wouldn't approve of it, but he knew they couldn't oppose too openly to his orders. He still had enough power to blackmail them and reduce their kingdom to ashes.

Though, he couldn't afford taking hasty decisions at the moment. With a slightly disgusted grimace, he walked over and sat down on the only cot in the cell, a gloved hand brushing over the spot beside him to invite the prisoner to sit down.

"Sit down, lad," said Arthur. "You need to enucleate a few things. If your explanations satisfy me, I'm going to tell you what's going on. I need you to tell me everything you know about the arson that killed your family."

Frowning, Alfred gingerly took a seat on the cot, pointedly making sure that there was a considerable distance between him and the queen. He pursed his lips and wondered what would be considered enough information to sate the other's interest without revealing too much.

"My parents were scientists who worked in a government lab in district three," he said stiffly, measuring out his words cautiously. "I was given to my uncle's family after the arson, but they ran away for some reason and left me with my grandfather. When I was six he said that it wasn't safe for us where we were living, so we kept moving into different areas and finally in between districts until we reached district seven, where I have lived for over five years. He never told me why we had to move so often."

He narrowed his eyes and watched the queen from the side of his eyes. Would he be able to pick out the truth from the mass of lies? Or would he just swallow it as it had been told?

After all, he was no fool. He wasn't about to tell the queen anything that would incriminate him or the Resistance further.

Arthur listened silently as the other man spoke, his eyes fixated onto the ground in a pensive expression. He took in the information and contemplated the details very carefully, knowing that a prisoner (and a rebel no less) would easily lie in such a situation, even upon being solicited with horrid threats. After all, how could the Queen of Albion know about the private life of a single human being in the poorest district of the kingdom?

A small, sly smirk tugged the corners of Arthur's lips upwards before he twisted just enough to be able to look at the man next to him without being too uncomfortable. The poor soul had been unfortunate - the Queen had visited every single authorised laboratory in the first five districts, and had an easy way to know if the stranger was telling the truth about the arson or just lying bluntly.

"Tell me, lad, have you ever heard about Lady Greensleeves?" He asked, and without waiting for an answer - he was certain it would be negative, anyway - he continued; "It is a mammoth... brain headquartered in the first district. Several legends circulate about it- some say it has been moulded by the first Queen himself, some other say it's the venue of the whole history and economy of the entire kingdom. One thing I can tell you for sure, lad, is that only the Queen has free access to the Brain."

Arthur waited long enough to see the weary expression intensify on the prisoner's face before continuing. "What I am trying to say, essentially, is that I can easily find out if there has ever been an arson in the third district. I can check and test every information you gave me right now. And if I find a single lie in your testimony, then consider yourself either dead or sold."

With a small nod and a satisfied smile, Arthur stood.

"Anything else you would like to share?"

Silent, Alfred shook his head. He had expected to get away with his lie, but it was possible that this information device was just something the queen invented in order to scare him into revealing any sort of information he might have left out or lied about. Either way, whatever punishment he'd receive for lying (should they ever find out, that is), he'd take it with dignity. The truth wasn't his to tell.

"No, sir," Alfred forced a small smile. "Now, will you tell me about this new problem that concerns me?"

Upon seeing the small smile on the prisoner's face and after hearing his respectful epithet for the Queen, Arthur had no doubts he had lied, at least about minor details. He returned the smile in a sickening sweet manner, and nodded.

"The issue is, lad, that we found your looks too dashing for our kingdom. Too much beauty is not to be contemplated in a sole human being."

And with a grimace, he turned on his heels and left.

.x.

After the queen freshened up, he wasted no time and began barking orders here and there, commanding the guards and the government officers to get everything ready for him to enter into the room of the Brain.

The procedure had always been tediously long (another thing he needed to speed up), but it was worth it - more than it had ever been. He was infuriated, curious, and rather eager to give the man a proper punishment; so much that whilst he waited for the keys to be found and the doors to be unlocked, he began pondering over which method of torture would be best for that lying nuisance in his prison.

When the armoured sliding doors finally parted and Arthur was allowed to step into the room, he made sure no one was following him - damned minister and his executives - and locked himself in. He hadn't entered that chamber in years, yet he could remember it perfectly, from the opaque lights that adorned the room in blue to the large plot of thick wires that rested in the middle. A light pressure of his palm against the sensor of the small screen just before the wires activated the mechanism, that started to glint in various specks in the guise of synapses.

Arthur stayed locked inside the room for over four hours, and when he stormed out, the glower on his face was inhuman. Again, he gave up manners and began hissing orders to anyone (were they rolling their eyes at him?) he could find, threatening them and demanding them to quickly bring syringes, chemicals, whatever sharp objects they could find, and a sturdy pair of handcuffs.

When he was certain he had gathered enough supplies, the Queen immediately made his way into the prison - struggling to do so with all the objects in his hands - and politely asked everyone to remain as far from the cell as possible.

He didn't want anyone to overhear the cries of a man twisting in agony.

.x.

Alfred paced the floor of his cell, restless. The unnatural quiet was beginning to get to him after all this time and the waiting for something to happen was nerve wrecking. He wondered how long it would take for the queen to find out that he had been lying. He wondered even further how long it would take for him to punish him.

When the queen stormed into his cell, Alfred stilled and stared at the man, quickly folding his arms across his chest and studying the other carefully. By his expression and armful of what looked to be torture tools, it was obvious that the queen knew and what he intended to do.

He swallowed.

"Not very queenly, are you, doing all the dirty work yourself," Alfred quipped, leaning back against the wall with an attempt of a confident smile. "I guess I should be honored."

At that, Arthur dropped all the items he was carrying and hurried over the prisoner, quickly wrapping his hands around the man's throat as he gave him a death glare.

"You have no idea," he hissed out, tightening his grip around his prey's windpipe. "Dirty work is the absolute best. Especially if it's filth like you we're talking about. Did you really think I wouldn't find out? How foolish of you."

The corners of his lips curled upwards in a satisfied grin. "Spit it out already, young man. You may have no value, but I'm fairly certain you don't want your friends to be hurt in any way, do you? You know, I still remember the lad we encountered in my carriage."

Alfred's hands immediately went up to the queen's, digging his nails in the back of the hands that were choking him. He managed to pry them away from his throat and with a low growl, he shifted his weight so that the queen was forced forward. Quickly, he grabbed the man's arms and slammed him against the wall, pinning his wrists over his head.

"Who said I have any friends? I don't care about you, this kingdom, or anybody in it. If somebody decided to help me that night, it was his own stupid idea. You," Alfred tightened his grip over the queen's wrist, "are not god. Stop trying to play one."

Arthur's eyes squeezed shut as his back hit the wall, but he quickly began trying to yank his arms away from the man's grip. When he realised it was no use, though, he gave up struggling and instead raised his head to look into the other's eyes, still glaring as he wondered how a malnourished man was so much stronger than him.

"I have never claimed to be a god," was his response, oddly calm for such a situation. "But you saw that, young man. You saw the wonders of this kingdom - the kingdom I have created and managed for years. Go ahead, throttle me and leave me here. Do it if you have the courage to condemn the whole country and make it burn into ashes. Crush me in your hands if you want this place to die - I have wanted this for a long time."

Arthur met his eyes. "I'm not stopping you. Go ahead and condemn everyone to hell."

Alfred wavered, if only for a moment. He had seen the kingdom as they rode by in the queen's chariot. While he had never attended school properly, every citizen in Albion knew that their kingdom had been built out of ashes after the apocalypse. For a split second Alfred wondered if the queen in front of him was indeed the one who had put enough land together and created life.

If he had done that, then why was he so intent on ending it?

His grip slackened slightly. "Listen, I didn't come here to try to kill you. If you want to die, do it yourself." Alfred bit his lip and pulled away, letting go of the other man. "What you did in the past was amazing, but that doesn't excuse you from doing your best in the present. If you can't do the job, you should find somebody who can. Not a corrupt government that exploits people. That's all."

Arthur's arms came to rest against his side as his wrists were released, but other than that he made no other movements. Slowly, his gaze moved downwards until he was staring at the floor as he thought about what the young man had said, over and over.

It was all true, the Queen concluded, foolishly so. Yet, it was unbelievable how young minds worked- they eradicated any problem from its context and claimed to find a quick and simple solution to it, while the issue was way more complicated than it seemed.

And it was also true that Arthur had wanted to disappear for a long time, but he knew better. He was certain that, if he died, the minister would take over and reduce everything he had done into dust.

"It cannot be done when evil is rooted," he responded, his voice strangely quiet. There had to be a way to find someone -anyone- who could manage his beloved kingdom and finally let him rest.

Then, suddenly, his eyes widened and he glanced back up at the man in front of him. Jackpot.

Whatever it was that had plagued the queen when he had entered his cell seemed to have quieted down, Alfred observed. With a small sigh he sat down on his cot, looking up doubtfully at the queen.

"I wouldn't go as far as to say that everything that's going on is evil, per say. Just... badly managed. I can't say that I'd do a better job since I'd hate having so much responsibility and I don't know the first thing about handling anything, but I'm sure there are some good people out there who are just waiting to be given the opportunity to make changes."

With the immediate threat gone, Alfred felt comfortable enough to lay back on the cot and stare up at the ceiling. Maybe, if he were lucky, the queen would just let him go and he'd be able to return home. He didn't have anybody waiting for him, granted, but at least he'd be able to apologize to Rex about botching everything up.

And who knows? Maybe his little speech would inspire the queen to improve. That's what he'd wanted from the very start, in a roundabout way.

While the boy's words were truthful, Arthur felt a rush of annoyance through him at how easy his interlocutor was making it. Did he really think that managing a kingdom as big as this just required good will and ideals? The thought of such foolishness made him cringe.

For one, there were too many interrogations. It all began with a revolt (and that enough should've been the apogee of problems), but then it quickly evolved into something even bigger and more terrifying. What if, among his lies, the man was hiding the existence of others like him? And what if he lied just because he actually knew about his peculiarity, and was waiting for the best moment to take over the Queen himself? And again, what if the prisoner was sent by the government itself?

He needed to know. And he was certain that the key to the problem lied into this man's past.

That's why, Arthur decided, he would try to get as close to him as possible and get him to reveal the truth about him and his genes. Then, after his problems were solved, he could take the plunge and let him stay - or, if he wasn't good enough as a monarch, he could dispose of him very easily.

"...Why don't you give it a try?" The Queen offered, much calmer now that he had found a solution. "I can... give you the power to rule beside me for a while. No one will know who you are or where you come from, I will make sure. And I will personally take care of your education."

He couldn't have possibly heard right. Brows raised, Alfred quickly sat up and openly stared at the other man. "This is some trick, isn't it?" he frowned, glaring at the queen. "Some new sort of mental torture, isn't it? Well, I'm not falling for it. I just told you- I don't want to be in charge of anything. I'm not doing anybody's job for them."

Alfred shook his head tiredly. "Besides, why would you want someone like me to rule with you? Listen, all I want to do is just go back home. I swear I won't try to hurt you again or whatever. I could even find someone for you if you're so keen on getting help. Just leave me out of it, please."

"You truly are one of the most deplorable human beings I've ever met," Arthur responded promptly, returning the glare and the unfriendly look.

"Just look at you. Just a day ago you were ready to give up your life to kill me - or kidnap me, it doesn't make a difference - and now, you are escaping the only possibility you have to change things. It is not a joke, I can assure you. I thought it was clear that all I ever wanted was to make this kingdom greater than any other, and if you are so positive that you have the right motivations and ideas to improve the condition of your friends, then try. Do your best, for once."

The queen continued, staring at Alfred accusingly. "I am offering you the possibility to change the face of this world, and yet you are refusing it just because it looks too important a job for a brat like you. If you think that being beside me as a monarch would be so difficult, then imagine how hard it was for me and just stop contradicting me and what I did when you are willing to do nothing concrete to change your situation. You looked like you loved this kingdom, but I was mistaken. You are just a pathetic nullity."

The last words were pronounced with such bitterness and rancour that the Queen felt his voice waver just slightly, and clenched his fists. Screw his plan, he would free the brat and let him do whatever he wanted in the hellish pit that was district seven. That was what he deserved.

"Maybe I'm refusing it because I love this kingdom! Maybe I want what's best for it, which isn't me!" Alfred exclaimed, anger coloring his face. "Or maybe I'm intelligent enough to require some time to think about something so big! Have you ever thought about that, your highness? Not everyone are used to making life changing decisions in a heartbeat!"

Sighing in frustration, Alfred rounded up on the queen, effectively pinning the man back to the wall with his eyes. "I'll think about your offer, if it still stands. I just need some time to think about it. I know that I probably sound crazy for not exchanging a life you'd consider worthless into something glamorous and meaningful, but it's still my life. I think it would be fair to allow me to get used to the idea of such a radical transformation before agreeing to it."

Arthur stayed silent for a while, his annoyed scowl only growing as he felt the man's scrutinising gaze on him. This bloke bothered him, he decided, with his extremely simplistic way of dealing with problems and his incoherence when it came to reach a conclusion. He'd have to change that if the lad was to become his puppet.

"I'm not here to judge you or your crazy choices," he said, striving to sound magnanimous and calm. "Like I said, I'm just offering you a possibility. If your actions satisfy me, then you may stay here full time, and replace me when the time comes. I've been thinking about a successor anyway – you've seen that, lad, people in the lower classes are starting to dislike me, and I'm certain that it won't be long until somebody smarter than you manages to organise a proper conjure and get rid of me. You see, I'm doing it for my citizens. But it is fair that I grant you some time to think about the offer." At that, Arthur smiled slightly, in what he hoped was an affable manner.

"How does a week sound?"

An amused smile spread across Alfred's face before he could stop himself. "Replace you? You? I swear you're older than my grandfather and don't look a day over thirty!"

"Older than your grandfather?" Arthur echoed, his lips curling in an amused smile. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you're talking about, lad. I'm merely above twenty-seven."

Now that Alfred thought about it, the kingdom was rather old. He didn't know how old it was exactly, but Alfred's feeling was that it was much older than a human's normal lifespan. Oh, over a hundred years for sure. If the queen had been the one to create it, however... it didn't make sense. Maybe all of the queens simply referred to their predecessors as themselves. Some sort of of metaphorical royal 'we'.

"Anyway, yeah, that sounds good," Alfred nodded, offering a small smile in return. "I appreciate it."

With a laugh, Arthur began picking up the items he had dropped after he stormed into the cell, strangely cheerful-looking.

"You see, young man, this kingdom is a rather odd one - several legends circulate regarding the monarchs. Lore says, for one, that the first Queen was nothing but a gigantic monster that keeps haunting every candidate to the throne. It is said to eat their body up and transfer their soul into this... shell." Another cheerful laugh, and Arthur turned around.

"Peculiar, isn't it? I'll see you in a week, lad - Alfred, was it?"

Without waiting for an answer, the Queen opened the armoured doors and left, replacing his affable smile with an unsavoury grin once he was out of sight.

Thank you all for your lovely reviews! I'll be happy to hear what you think about this chapter as well :)