He is sleeping in his customary place, at the foot of his master's bed. He has forgotten an time when anything was different. He is twelve years old in the measurements of the world he had been plucked from, but he doesn't remember that either.

He looks almost like a true member of his adopted race now, wearing night clothes of Shi'ar design. When he goes outside, he ties his ridiculous yellow head fur into a tail and stuffs it beneath a feathered wig so that no one might be offended by his appearance. In every other way, he looks almost Shi'ar born, the designs around his eyes painted by one of the giggling chambermaids. They are amused by the boy, and like to tease him. He is not unhappy by their attentions. They treat him well and they are never mean. Sometimes they kiss him when no one is looking and he likes that.

His Master renamed him D'Alken, which meant roughly, "Belonging to D'Ken" and he is proud of the name. He does belong to the Majestor and he is happy about it. He is fed well, and is rarely beaten, He is granted every benefit that the court has to offer, and of course, there are the aforementioned chambermaids.

D'Alken's Master and Mastress sleep in a tangle of feathers in the big bed that his little trundle is attached to. When he lies awake sometimes and listens to them breathe, he gets the fear that one day they will die and he will be left alone. That scares him more than anything.

He is not sure why.

There is a sudden pounding on the door and a frantic voice cries, "Majestor! Majestor!"

D'Ken sits up, instantly alert. Lady Deathbird throws the pillow over her head, "Kill whoever that is!" she orders.

D'Alken kneels in his trundle, his brown human eyes half-hidden in his sleep tousled mop of fur. He pushed it out of his face, in anxious disgust. "Master?" he asks in perfectly unaccented Shi'ar.

"Stay." The Majestor says, firmly.

The little pet does as he is told, slumping disappointed in the trundle.

D'Ken stalks to the door, pulling a robe over his nakedness. He yanks the door open, angrily, revealing a cowering chamberlain. "How dare you disturb our rest!"

"But, Majestor, there is trouble at the mines." The trembling servant says.

D'Ken's eyes flash dangerous, "It is that human again, isn't it?"

"Yes, my Lord."

The Majestor looks at D'Alken, "Hatchling, get dressed in your formal clothes, quickly. We are going to the mines."

The boy nods, eagerly. He has never been allowed to accompany his Master to the mines before, and has always wanted to. "Yes, Master, thank you, Master."

He is out of his sleep clothes and dressed in the miniature suit that matches D'Ken's royal garb. His offensive fur is tucked out of sight beneath his high feathered wig and the tattoos around his eyes shine.

D'Ken calls his personal guard, Gladiator, to his side and they set out for the Mines of Alisbor, where political prisoners toil for gold and gems and crystals and coal, depending on whatever whim strikes the Majestor's fancy...whether or not that particular stone can be found in the mines at all. He attaches the long change around D'Alken's throat to his own wrist. "To keep you safe." He tells the child, "Some of the prisoners would not think twice about hurting my favorite."

The hatchling is pleased and grateful to be shown such consideration. He strokes the chain, lovingly, wishing he could express his love his benefactor, but D'Ken would never allow such familiarity in the presence of Gladiator.

The Mines soon rise before the barge, the mountains dark and craggy. The only since of disturbance is the dust rising from one of the shafts in a smoky plume...

...that and the bodies of the three Shi'ar that lay in a tidy row, their head feathers matted with blood and filth.

D'Ken, his pet in tow, steps off the royal barge to look down at the corpses, solemnly. He sends up a prayer to the Gods to accept these poor souls. D'Alken, without prodding, adds his voice, his flawless pronunciation ringing clear and respectful, the tongue perfectly learned from being so young when he was brought to this planet. The Majestor smiles, proudly, on his little toy and, pats the boy on the cheek with affection.

But then his smile fades. "Where is the human?" he spits.

The guards bring forward a horrifying figure that makes D'Alken hide behind his master, peering around him fearfully. The man is thin and filthy, fresh blood and bruises cowering every inch of exposed skin, the fur on his head and chin matted. He glares at D'Ken with undisguised hatred.

"Corsair, again you do my people harm." D'Ken scolds with the tone of a disapproving father. "Why do you persist on rebellion against me when it only results in more pain?"

"Because I hate you D'Ken." The human, Corsair, says bluntly. Gladiator, without a word, sweeps out a foot and catches the man in the knees. He falls, with a grunt of pain and still, manages to look up, boldly at the Majestor. "I will not rest until you are dead." Gladiator rewards this with a crack across the man's face. Corsair, bitterly, begins to laugh, an almost hysterical sound.

"Or until you are dead?" D'Ken asks, smugly. "Is that more to your liking?"

"What have I to live for?" Corsair spits, "You have taken everything from me. My home, my freedom, my wife and sons."

D'Ken narrows his eyes, "And yet, you foolishly and stubbornly refuse to give me the one piece of information that I seek."

The human painfully gets to his feet, spitting a mouthful of blood on the hard packed dirt. "I will not betray my planet, even if I knew of a weakness you could exploit. I will never tell you how to conquer Earth."

"Then you will never see it again." D'Ken growls.

Corsair bows his head tiredly, "I have accepted that."

"Then why do you continue to make these ridiculous attempts to escape?" D'Ken waves his hand at the corpses, the chain attaching him to his pet rattling slightly.

The human meets the Shi'ar's eyes. "Because I am Christopher Summers, and it is not in my nature to surrender."

"D'Alken, come to where this man can see you." D'Ken says, his eyes not breaking Corsair's stare.

The boy does as he is commanded, looking up fearfully at the mad and disrespectful human. "Yes, Master?"

"Remove your wig."

Timidly, ashamed of his appearance, the boy does so, revealing his long yellow fur, sweat matted from the wig.

Christopher Summers nearly faints in shock, "You...my God, Alex?"

D'Alken frowns, not recognizing the word, "What?"

"Tell him your name, D'Alken, speak his language." The Majestor orders.

The hatchling nods, obediently, "I am D'Alken of Royal House Neramani."

Corsair's eyes narrow, and he lunges for the child. His captors hold him tightly, "D'Ken, what have you done to him?" he demands.

D'Alken pulls backwards, pressing frightened against his master. D'Ken folds his arms around the boy and says, "He is mine, Corsair. I choose his life and his death. He does what I ask, and is rewarded. He will be a Guardsman when he is old enough, and perhaps he will lead my armies to your precious Earth." He looks down at his pet, "Would you like that, Hatchling?"

"If that is what you wish for me, Master." D'Alken says, quietly, cowering from the enraged human.

Corsair's face falls, "Alex, Alex, look at me. I am your father. Don't you remember me?"

D'Alken's brown eyes fill with tears and he looks up at his Master, "I don't understand." He says, in Shi'ar. "He's scaring me."

D'Ken strokes the boy's horrible yellow fur, "He will not scare you anymore, D'Alken. I think Corsair is going to behave now, or something awful might happen." He looks over his pet's head and says, "Is that clear, human?"

Corsair falls to his knees, "Please, Majestor, he is only a boy. Don't do this. Don't do this to him. I will tell you whatever you want."

The Majestor smirks, "It is too late for that, today, Corsair. Perhaps I will come and question you again sometime. Or perhaps, I will simply throw you into the deepest mine and forget all about you, while I train my young hatchling here to become Shi'ar's greatest warrior."

"Alex, please!" Corsair cries, as the boy is lead away and he is yanked roughly to his feet.

D'Ken and D'Alken board the barge and the boy sits sadly at his master's feet. "I am so sorry to have shamed you with my fear."

The Majestor strokes the boy's head, "You did exactly what you needed to do, my love. I am very pleased, very pleased indeed."