He'd so long dreaded the day when the prince would obtain a reason to march him towards the other end of the palace, but he hadn't imagined going there as a visitor, not a prisoner– Which wasn't any more reassuring.

The other end of the palace– Nasty rumours about it. They said the captive's terror-filled shrieks kept you awake at night. They said sweltering hot rods were used to punish to who stepped out of the line. They said captives were starved for days on end, just to be mean. They said the harsh treatments would make the prince look like a cuddly puppy. They said a lot about that place, and it all was frightening enough that no one even unintentionally wandered there.

Every child was taught to stay away from the other end. Nursemaids didn't collect the clothes from the prisoners' cells. Servants didn't sweep this side's floors. Only the jailers resided here, and let's just say they were not very pleasant people.

He kept his head low, avoiding looking anyone in the eye. As he shuffled, the guards with what looked like laser guns surrounding him walked in accordance. It was a strange procession– An underfed adolescent blocked by some raucous men with unduly combed goatees, led by three men, including the royal hair– and any onlookers they met didn't hang around long enough to judge the spectacle.

They remained silent the entire journey– an unspoken agreement.

Mac tried not to look at the iron-barricaded doors as he passed by. He tuned out the infrequent desolate wail arising from one of the doors. He even turned a blind eye to the jailers standing dutifully, some of their expressions barely concealing their excitement.

But what he could not ignore was the thick, wooden door towards which they were heading. The prince stopped in front of it and twisted the circular iron ring replacing a typical keyhole. A holographic tablet appeared on the desiccated wood.

A moment later, the door swung open to reveal an empty, dark cell. There was a passage of sorts located at the other end leading to a void of blackness. The air was still, and the absence of any insects proved how abject this place was. Though this tension reminded him of...

Just as the flashbacks of the previous night were about to take over, he realized that the cell wasn't entirely empty.

In the center of it, lay a familiar figure with coffee skin and imbibing green eyes. The usual mess of black hair had dirt and soot lining the messy strands. And alloy manacles confined him to his secluded spot. His shoulders drooped as if he'd lost all his hope, and the set of his figure showed that he hadn't heard them enter.

Mac would have liked to say that his heart stopped. He burst into a sprint, running towards his one and only, eyes brimming with tears. Instead, he froze where he was. An unmistakable aura of calm-before-the-rage filled him. "What did you do to him?" He murmured to no one in particular.

The prince had apparently decided to address the accusation. "Nothing," He whispered, his voice crested with daunting malignance. "Yet."

An arm shoved him forward, though the only way he knew was due to his hearing since his nerves had nulled. As if his brain had just finished processing what'd happened, he ran across to Zey, muttering, "Oh god, Oh god, Oh god under his breath."

----

Zey started at the sound of approaching footsteps. Really, couldn't they leave him alone while he was foreboding about the oncoming misery he was to face in this cell?

A few hours ago, while everyone was asleep, he'd pasted a note on the dorm's door stating that he had decided to head early into his shift and helpfully mentioning that Mac had no reason to worry. After that, he headed straight to brush his teeth when a few armed men barged in and catered him off to the prince's quarters. Well, yes, Zey was stunningly attractive, but that didn't mean the prince should choose to make out with him when he was half-dressed in a blooming pair of trunks with images of chicken imprinted on them and a toothbrush midway down his throat.

Apparently, the prince wasn't overly fond of his suggestion which may have been the result of his arrest. In his defense, he had been suffering from post-kiss trauma, which usually left him knuckle-headed, and prone to dole out marvellously insulting remarks.

Though, he had heard something about Zhy Shu... who the hell was that?

Zey shook and head, expecting another visit from his surly jailer, and imagine his shock when he saw an adorable blonde with fitting blue eyes ready to kill him.

"If we get out of this, I'm going to kill you," Mac said, for the first time, actually meaning the threat.

"Nice to meet you too."

"Zey, this isn't a joke. What did you do this time?"

"Apart from being charismatically seducing?"

Mac's eyes leaped from their sockets. "You did what?" Unfortunately, neither of them found out where the conversation would have headed. Someone grasped Mac's hands and raised a pistol to his head. A guard, he noticed. To protect him from what? Me?

"I don't remember permitting you to leave my side." A smooth voice chided. The prince hunched before Zey with his hands in his pockets, directing his degenerate gaze towards Mac, and beside him were too many guards with weapons– like their bulky figure and impassive faces embedded in stone. He unsheathed a dagger and twirled it playfully in his calloused fingers.

Zey tried to bite his tongue, but some troublesome attire seemed to have risen inside him. "Amnesia. Happens to anyone."

The prince's expression morphed into fury and... was that grief? Within a flash, he flung his dagger and Zey closed his eyes, waiting for the strike. A scream tore through the walls. But the blow never reached its destination.

Confused, he slowly peeped through his eye and regretted it instantly. The smug impression entwined in the prince's complexion wasn't pleasing, but the dagger jutting out of Mac's thigh was scary. He was trembling uncontrollably. There was blood on his tongue too– Like he was biting his tongue to stop flinching.

Something about that expression tingled a feeling in him. Or maybe it was the firm set of the prince's jaws or the clenched teeth. It could even be blood pooling outside of Mac's thigh. Or the hollow grave chiseled into his heart. Something switched inside him– A thing which could not be turned off.

Faster than he'd anticipated, he lunged forward, but the chains halted any further ideas of assault. He struggled, writhing in the metal chains, but it was as effective as drilling a hole in an iron shield using a stick. Once he could have sworn the chains creaked a little, but that was wishful thinking. Hesitantly, he backed down, not willing to give the prince any more satisfaction from the ordeal. His heart was pumping loud enough that he was afraid that the others could hear it.

"You..." He trailed off. What kind of a sick, twisted bastard hurt such an angelic being with exaggerated patience? A hateful glare was all he could muster, without erupting into a frenzy again.

"Not so eloquent now, are you?" The prince grinned, and even though it was in a mostly friendly way, he could still sense animosity in it. "Watch your mouth– next time it'll be his heart." He gnashed.

"You wouldn't do that, " He said, his voice steady, though doubts emerging about the thought. "You'll lose leverage."

The prince shrugged. "You want to test it out? Suit yourself." Speaking of Mac... where was he anyway? The prince seemed to notice this at the same moment as he looked around wonderingly. "Hey." He pointed accusingly to the guard who'd earlier hoisted a pistol to Mac's head. "Where is he?"

The guard blinked, out of whatever stupor he was in. He looked down to see that a pistol aimed towards no apparent target.

"Hey, suckers!" Mac yowled, standing right outside the threshold of the cell, displaying his middle fingers for the entire world to see. It was an odd sight– A naive, sweet boy molding into Satan's right-hand commander in three seconds. He contacted Zey's eye and deadpanned, "I'm going to curse."

Zey tried to hide his surprise and put on an encouraging face. "Which one?"

"The F-word." Bold move.

"Forge ahead."

"F-" Mac hesitated. "I'm nervous." So much for daring. As if he'd remembered that he was supposed to taunt the prince again, he said, "Hey Mr! You suck, you know that? Come and get me!"

Mac might have acted brashly, but the way he concealed the burning of his wound wasn't missed by Zey's eyes. Before anyone could get over the shock, he limped away yelling, "Zey, I will be back." for good measure.

"Go after him, send the entire army against him if you have to, but get him to me." The prince appeared questionably composed as if he were ordering his dinner and not the arrest of a valuable prisoner. The guard decamped the cell one by one, leaving Zey alone with the only person he'd wanted to murder this ruthlessly in his entire existence.

For a while, none of them talked but Zey was growing tired of shutting up, so he decided to give it a go anyway. "So, what's with arresting me anyway? You asked if I knew anything about this Zhy Shu. I said no. What's the big deal?"

"Pay your sovereign better respect." The prince spat.

Zey shrugged, seeing no point in courtesy at this point. "I'm going to die nevertheless."

I am not in a mood to talk." Good try, better luck next time. The prince relented anyway, and said, "This Zhy Shu, " He trailed, a sneer tugging at his lips, "Is your biological father."