Hello!

So this is a little out of the blue, but I had this story idea rattling in my empty head like the windows logo on a turned off computer screen and I decided to compose it.

Now I want to make this absolutely clear:

This is not a continuous story. This is a short story in five parts and then a sequel. I cannot write another story unless I cancel one of my other ones and we all don't want that.

Sorry to sound so serious, but I thought I needed to make it known.

Anyway, this story is about my OC Ptolemy Alexander, a Celestial Dragon who rejects his heritage after learning what it meant and is eager to escape to a life of freedom. Please do enjoy it and let me know what you think.

The Good Dragon

By Victor Soul

Chapter 1

To say that Ptolemy Alexander didn't fit in at Mary Geoise would be an understatement.

For one thing, he didn't look like a noble at all. His eyes weren't pig-like and his nose was not turned up; he didn't have buck teeth nor was his obese nor did he have his hair worn up in the usual Marie Geoise style; there wasn't even snot running down his nose. Alexander had the appearance of any sweet young boy of six years of age; a round kind face, bright green eyes which sparkled with curiosity, fair skin and light flaxen hair that reached to his shoulders. To his parents and the other members of his family he was absolutely hideous; he didn't look like a Celestial Dragon at all.

His attitude was far worse, however. The first time Alexander said thank you to the waiter serving his meal, his mother fainted into her bowl of bourguignon. Thanking a commoner for serving him? How unthinkable! Not only that but he talked to his father's slave girls politely, played in the mud on rainy days and rejected wearing his bubble helmet whenever they were outside. His parents soon rushed him to their personal doctor, thinking that he was sick or dying or have gone insane, but the doctor concluded that he was, physically, fine.

Mentally, however, not so much.

His parents did everything to cure him; increasing his harsh private tutoring, intensive therapy and even considered brain surgery at the laboratory on Punk Hazard. But nothing seemed to work. So they decided to try their best to ignore him whenever they could. It wasn't as if they could get rid of him since he was the heir to the family's estate, so they put up with him.

One of the remedies the doctor suggested to help cure him was for him to take frequent walks around the beautiful gardens of Marie Geoise and to immerse himself in its splendour that should, in theory, knock some sense into him.

Ptolemy Philip and Ptolemy Olympias rode on the backs of their slaves down the pristine white garden paths. The slaves struggled under their weight of the couple, but dared to not show it in case they are killed with a swift gun shot to the head. Philip twirled the ends of his blond bristly beard on his fat, round chin while he gazed over the gardens with his small round eyes with a bored look; his white robe almost bursting at the seams as he journeyed. Olympias sipped a glass of red wine as she leaned her round body back in her customised riding chair; her sharp, cruel eyes looked at the clear blue sky above them as she rubbed her pregnant belly with her other hand. Her pointed nose sniffed and wrinkled in disgust; she glared down at the slave she was riding and stabbed the point of her stiletto heel into his back.

"Is that your disgusting sweat I'm smelling!" she shrieked in anger, "How dare you taint my nose!"

"I-I'm sorry, my lady," the slave gasped in fear, "I-It's a really hot day. I'm n-n-not doing it on purpose."

"You little-" she snarled before she noticed the third slave, that was crawling on the ground beside them, was missing its rider. She blinked blankly before she snarled and turned to her husband, "Phillip, your son is missing again."

"Hmm?" Philip hummed, raising a single bushy eyebrow, "Oh really? That's nice, dear."

"Did you not hear me!? I said he's gone!"

Her husband tore his eyes away from the landscape and saw for himself, "Oh, I see he has. Pity. Should I send the guards to find him?"

"Mother! Father!" cried the young voice of their son, running over to them across the green grass with his hands cupped together, "Look what I found!"

"Alexander!" Olympias snapped at him, "Where on earth did you go!? And what did I say about stepping on the grass in your brand new shoes!"

Alexander blinked up at her before he smiled brightly, "I wanted to look for bugs in the flower beds," he told her before in opening up her hand for her to see, "Look, I found a cricket," he told her excitedly.

Olympias screamed in terror at the sight of the small insect and leaned away as far as she could on her seat, "YOU LITTLE BRAT! GET RID OF THAT PEST THIS INSTANT!"

"But you can hear it chirp."

"I DON'T CARE! PHILIP, DO SOMETHING!"

"Hmm? Yes, that's nice, dear," her husband sighed as he picked his nose wearily.

"WOULD YOU PLEASE LISTEN TO WHAT I AM SAYING!" she yelled at him before she sighed and shook her head, "All this stress is bad for the baby, you know," she muttered as she took another swig from her glass of wine, "Throw it away now, you brat!"

Alexander frowned sadly and released the cricket onto the grass, "Sorry. I just thought it was cool."

Olympias sniffed, "Make sure to hose yourself down before you come onto the estate," she snapped at him, "Also why are you not on your slave?"

The boy glanced at the slave that was still on his hands and knees before looking up at her, "I thought you said we're going for a walk?"

"We are on a walk!"

"Don't you need to use your legs to walk?"

Olympias glared murderously at him, "I didn't buy a slave just for you not to ride on it. It's a waste of money!"

Alexander frowned thoughtfully before he looked at the slave with an apologetic look, "Sorry if I offend you by not riding on your back."

"Errr…" the slave uttered, not quite sure how to reply to that.

"Oh for goodness sake!" she cried, finishing the last bit of her wine before throwing the glass at him; Alexander managed to duck underneath it just in time, "Just be normal!" she demanded before she turned to her husband, "Must we always have him out of the house?"

"Doctor's orders, dear," Philip drearily sighed, "Besides, we have a reputation to uphold and people will talk if we suddenly stopped bring him outdoors," his eyes gazed at her pregnant belly, "Wait until the spare arrives; hopefully they would be much better. Then we can lock him away somewhere."

"Hmmph! They better be," she grumbled.

Alexander turned his head away and walked alongside his slave, trying his best to ignore their remarks, 'It's always the same with them,' he thought sadly, 'I can't do anything right.'

"Well, hello there!" a call down the path, caught the family's attention.

Coming towards them was another World Noble; a round, fat man with dark green hair worn up in the Marie Geoise style. He had a large round nose, small squinty eyes and a round chin. Like all Nobles, he wore a white protective robe and an air bubble around his head. Alexander recognised him from family gatherings as Donquixote Mjosgard; his first cousin one removed. He was currently riding on the back of a tall, muscular fishman; an anthropomorphic fish species which come from the Ryugu Kingdom located beneath the sea and under the Red Line. Even on his hands and knees, he still towered over Alexander and any other human. He had salmon pink scales, a flat nose, round eyes dark bushy hair and a long beard. The only thing he wore was a pair of trousers and a metal a metal collar with a chain attached; branded on his chest was the symbol known as the Hoof Of The Flying Dragon; a mark used by the World Nobles to enslave others. The fishman stared at the ground as he crawled to hide his furious snarl; his eyes blazed with searing, bloodthirsty wrath, making him look very intimidating.

The Noble used a long stick to whack the fishman's head, making him stop and bent his elbows a little so he could talk to the Ptolomy family without getting off.

"How are you today, cousin?" he asked before he waved at the fishman beneath him, "Notice anything different about me?"

Olympias turned her nose up when she looked at him, "Oh, how horrid. A fishman," she sneered, making the slave snarl furiously, "Dear cousin, you have such…strange taste in slaves."

"Daddy just bought him for me," he giggled cruelly, "He put up a fight, but they finally brought him to his knees and under our heel just like the scum he is. You should get one for yourselves. They're much stronger than humans and more fun to play with," he said, thwacking the fishman on the head with his baton.

Olympias sneered at the mere thought of it, "Absolutely not. I wouldn't want a beast like him stinking up my home. Isn't that right, Philip?"

"Hmm? Yes, that's nice, dear."

"Pay attention to me!"

Alexander blinked curiously up at the fishman; this was the first time he had ever seen one. His first thought was that they were much bigger than he was expecting, but he didn't think that he looked as monstrous as the other Nobles described them to be. Despite the menacing glowering and the hate-filled glare he was sending at his master and his parent; he wasn't afraid of him at all.

As the adults talked, Alexander slowly stepped up to him and gently tapped his muscular arm. The fishman slowly turned his head to him and snarled down at him; he was afraid at first, but he mustered his courage and spoke to him.

"Hello, my name's Alexander. What's your name?"

The fishman glared at him. He didn't respond to him for a few seconds, but eventually he grumbled out an answer.

"Fisher…Fisher Tiger."

Alexander's smile widened in excitement, "You have a cool name."

"Thank you."

"I found a cricket earlier."

"Did you?" he grunted irritably.

"Yeah, it was really big and it chirped really loudly."

"Great."

"I would have shown you, but I had to let it go."

"What a shame."

"Not really," Alexander said, "I hate to take it away from its home so I think it's a good thing I let it go. I don't want it to be sad and miss its family."

Fisher Tiger gave him a strange look while the young boy beamed up at him. However, before he could say anything else, a wine glass was smashed at his feet, making him jump back in shock.

"Alexander!" Olympias yelled down at him, "Stay away from that thing! Who knows what sort of diseases he has!" she spat, holding out her hand to accept another glass of wine from a nearby slave.

The boy frowned sadly, "But I want to talk to Mr. Fisher more."

"Mr. Fisher?" Mjosgard said in confusion, "Who the hell is that."

He pointed to the fishman, "That's his name. Fisher Tiger."

Mjosgard stared at him for a few seconds before he threw back his head and roared with laughter, "Hahahaha! Dear cousin, is your son making friends with my slave?"

"He certainly isn't!"

The Noble leaned down and patted his head way too hard, "What a stupid boy, you are. Slaves don't have names. Slaves are slaves. They live only to serve us; they don't deserve such luxuries," he told him, making Alexander frown crossly, "I see what you mean, dear cousin. He is quite the dud."

"We're curing him," she sniffed, "he'll start acting normal once his treatment is done."

Alexander bowed his head in sorrow, something that Fisher Tiger noticed, 'I'm trying my best to be normal,' he thought miserably, 'What is wrong with me?'

"Bah! What do doctors' know anyway? Bunch of brainless quacks," Mjosgard muttered, "What the boy needs to embrace the privilege of being a superior race," his narrow eyes widened slightly as he thought of an idea, "Ah! I know just the thing. Tomorrow, bring him around to my estate and I'll show him how real Noble must act," he told her, making Olympias hum thoughtfully. He then turned to Philip with a grin, "What do you think, Philip? I bet I knock some sense into the boy in no time."

"Hmm? Yes, that's nice, dear," Philip mused as he continued to pick his nose.

"I'm not your wife, you fool! Pay attention!"

Slave Cells, Donquixote Mansion

Alexander had never been in a such an abysmal place before.

Situated on the ground of the Donquixote estate, was a gigantic wood and grey stone barn (about the size of a small palace) where the slaves are kept; kept hidden away in the trees and bushes so the Nobles don't have to look at it. The exterior was simple; painted wooden panels and a lead roof; but the interior, however, had cold, damp stone walls and floors and contained rows and rows of metal cages. In each of these dark cages held one, two or three slaves that was owned by the Donquixote family. They were all of from different backgrounds, species of races; there were humans, fishmen, mermaids, long-arms, long-legs, long-limbs, mink (a species of anthropomorphic animals) and even a slave who looked like a human but had a pair of small white wings on the upper back. There were hundreds of them; male and female; elderly, adults and even children around his own age. They cower to the sides of the cages on beds of straw and dirt, not daring to look at them as they walked by.

With two guards in metal suits of armour followed them behind, Mjosgard kept boasting about his and father's collection of slaves, but Alexander wasn't listening to him. His eyes remained on the poor slaves; some of them looked angry, most of them looked fearful and some of them looked as if they had given up on trying to live; they eyes holding no warmth or hope as they laid on their sides of the rough straw. Every single slave he saw, with their heavy collars and the branding on their skin, made his stomach grow heavier and heavier until he started to feel sick. Everything from the severe cuts on their bodies, to the starved looks on their faces, to the strong stench of decay and rot made him feel worse. And he didn't understand why.

Alexander knew what a slave was; he just didn't know what it meant to be one.

His parents and his family speak of them as if it was normal and they had always been there since before he was born. They were just another part of life. The ignorance of his youth had never made him really think of where they had come from or the sort of thing that happened to them when he wasn't looking.

A firm gloved hand grabbed his shoulder, snapping him out of his stupor and making him look up at the ugly face of his distant relative.

"Are you ready?" he asked with a malicious grin.

"R-ready? Ready for what?"

"For you to embrace the delights of owning slaves," he told him before clicking his fingers. At his call, one of the guards stepped up and presented him with a large wooden box and opened it for him. Inside, gleaming dangerously in the dim lamp light, were a collection of metal tools; there were pointy pokers, spiked clubs, sharp blades and whips of all length and sizes, "Ah! These take me back," Mjosgard cried out in delight, licking his lips and twiddling his fingers as if he was a child picking out sweets before he eventually picked up a spiked club, "This one was my favourite when I was your age. Such good memories," he sighed before he turned back and gave it to him.

Alexander took it but, the second it passed on to him, he was almost pulled down by his heavy it was. He tried to pick it up, but decided to give up.

"What am I supposed to do with…that?" he asked.

"What do you think?" he questioned before he pointed to long-arm man in a nearby cell, "Punish him with it."

Alexander's eyes widened in surprise while the long-arm man paled in fear, "Punish him for what? What did he do?"

"He committed the crime of being a freak," he told him, "Tell the guards to open the cell and punish him. Then move onto the next freak and then the next until you're cured," he shook his head and sighed wearily, "I don't know what your mother was thinking. Sending you to a doctor? This is the best way of curing your…whatever you have."

Alexander looked at the long-arm man in the cell. The long-arm tribe were human in appearance except for the fact that they have a second joint in their arm, hence the name. He saw the man look at him in fear, his eyes glancing at the mace and then to him as if he was some monster.

"He doesn't look like a freak to me," Alexander said, "He just has longer arms than we do."

The smile dropped from Mjosgard's face and was replaced by a cold expression that made him gulp in fear. He crouched down to his height, grabbed both of his shoulders roughly and dragged him close until they were nose to nose.

"You want to know the difference, boy," he whispered, "Freaks belong in cages while Nobles don't," Alexander gasped in pain as Mjosgard dug his fingers into his shoulders, "Now you listen here. The only reason why I'm doing this is because we're family. Because we want you to be cured of your sickness. Your mother and father are very worried about you. They want you to be normal just like us. You want to be normal as well, don't you."

The boy trembled in horror and barely managed to nod his head, "Yes, I-I-I want to be normal."

"Good good," he hissed before he pulled him closer to his lips were by his left ear, "Because if you're not normal…then that would make you a freak…and I already told you where freaks belong, didn't I?" he pushed him away, making him stumble back. Mjosgard stood up straight, brushed his tunic and turned around, "I am going to bed to have a nap. Do what ever you wish to my slaves. Injure them severely if you want, but don't kill any of them. They're expensive," he stopped in front of the two guards on his way out, "Do what the boy says and don't bother me," he ordered as he strutted out of the slave cells, slamming the door behind him.

An awkward silence fell over the cells; Alexander stood in the middle of one of the largest collection of slaves and he felt every single pair of eyes bore into him out of fear and resentment. He nervously looked around at the gaunt faces in the dark cells, feeling lost to what he should do now. The clattering of metal armour caught him by surprise and he looked around at the two guards, standing at attention.

"Young master" one of guards called out in a strong voice, "What orders do you have for us?"

"Umm…" Alexander stammered, "Nothing at the moment."

"Understood," the second guard announced before they saluted.

Alexander sighed miserably; he cast a look at the mace still down at his feet before he stepped away from it and began to nervously walk down the corridor of the slaves. He shied away from the gazes and the stares, gland flinched at the sounds of weeping and cries of horror. Despite the guards following him for reassurance, he felt uncomfortable being in here with everybody watching as if he was a bomb about to explode. He could simply order them to stop looking at him…but he somehow knew that it wouldn't calm his nerves.

He walked past a cage much larger than the other ones which contained a gigantic, monstrous-looking person. He had to be twenty feet tall with grey skin, pointed ears and sharp, piercing eyes that loomed down at him. Once he caught sight of the row of spiky teeth, Alexander backed away from the cage cautiously, but ended up bumping into the cage behind him.

The metal bars clanged when he backed into them and he felt the wet, cold metal on his back, sending chills up and down his spine. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he heard a dark, loud hissing noise, similar to that of a snake or a reptile, coming from behind him from in the cage. He gulped and slowly turned his head back to peer into the dimly lit cage…only to see a pair of emerald snake eyes stare back at him from within the shadows. He yelped and leapt away from the cage, trembling in fear at what it could be. However, before he could do anything, one of the guards slammed the end of his spear against the cage.

"Hey! Don't you dare intimidate a Celestial Dragon, you filth!" he yelled into the cage.

To his surprise, the snake eyes replied, but not in a hiss but in a scared whimper.

"S-sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Sister, don't apologise," another feminine voice sternly said in the darkness, "You are not the one at fault."

"No, sister please," the first voice begged desperately.

"You'll get yourself killed," another feminine voice whispered urgently.

The guard growled in anger and slammed the cage bars again, "Who said that!? Show yourself, scum!"

A figure shifted in the darkness before they stepped out into the dim light and revealed themselves. She was a beautiful girl in her mid-teens with long, black silky hair that was parted down the middle and pale, snow white skin. She had sharp, narrow eyes, high cheek bones and ruby red lips; despite the fact that she was wearing rags and her hair was dirty, she still looked stunning even to somebody like Alexander. She glared at the guards, but made sure to not make eye contact with him, probably to make it not seen that she was abiding directly at a Celestial Dragon.

"My sister was asleep and was startled awake when he crashed into the bars," she told them sternly, "She did nothing wrong."

"Are you blaming the young master!" one of the guards shouted at her as they both gripped their spears tightly, "You blasphemous filth! How dare you!"

"I wasn't blaming him. I was just explaining what happened," she snapped at him.

"Sister please," the first voice whispered in concern.

"That does it!" the other guard snarled, "You're coming with us-"

"Wait!" Alexander cried out, making them all turned to him, "Don't do that."

The guard looked down at him before he nodded in understanding, "Oh, of course, young master. Please feel free to punish her yourself."

He shook his head, "No. I'm not punishing anybody," he said much to their surprise. He stepped closer to the cage and looked into the shadows, "Hello? Are you there?"

"D-do you mean me?" the voice anxiously spoke.

"Yes. What's your name?"

The voice hesitated slightly, but before she could say a single word, the guard shouted at her.

"The young master gave you a command!" he barked, "Tell him your name!"

Alexander turned to the guards with a sheepish expression, "Can you…stand back over there," he asked them, pointing to down the corridor, "Just for a few minutes."

The guards stared down at him in slight confusion before they shared a look.

"Are…you sure, young master?"

"Yes," he said before he pretended to look angry, "That's an order."

The guards immediately sprinted back down the corridor as fast as they could in their armour before turning around and standing to attention. Alexander looked back at the cage, ignoring the look that the black haired teenager was sending him.

"My name is Alexander," he called out to her, "but you can call me Alex if you like. What's your name?"

Out of the shadows, another young girl crept forwards. She was much taller than her sister with long emerald green hair that reached to her back, oval eyes and a slim body. Her head was much wider and bigger than her body and a fork tongue stuck out of her mouth and flicked in the air. Like her sister, she also wore rags and her face was dirty; despite his size and his kind tone, she still looked down at him as if he was going to torture her.

He offered her a small smile, "Hello," he greeted.

"H-hello," she stammered, "My name is S-Sandersonia," she quickly glanced at her sister, "You met my older sister, Hancock. A-a-and I have a younger sister Marigold," she said, glancing back at the shadows where her last sister was.

Marigold stepped into the light as well; like her sisters, she was a slim young girl with long orange hair, fair skin and dark almond eyes. She seemed just as weary as him and kept a few paces away from the bars, trying her best to utter a word.

"It's nice to meet you," he greeted with a broad smile, "I'm sorry I woke you up. I didn't mean to."

Sandersonia stepped back in utter shock. A Celestial Dragon apologising to a slave like her. Yes, he was a child, but she's seen the other children of Nobles before; snotty, ugly brats who love to torment and hurt just as much as their parents. But the child before her was…different. Different in the way he looked, the way he talked and in just about everything. Even she, who was raised on an islands with only women living on it, somehow knew that this boy meant her no harm. Sandersonia knelt down so she could get a better look at him and tilted her head to the side.

"I forgive you…I'm sorry for hissing at you. I didn't know who you were, my lord."

"That's alright and I told you to call me Alex."

"B-but I can't call you that!"

Alexander frowned in confusion, "Why not? We're friends, aren't we?"

Sandersonia shot a look of panic at her sisters as if asking them if this was really happening. Based on their shocked expressions, she guessed that this wasn't a some sort of dream and turned back to the young boy with a nervous expression.

"Well…I don't know about friends…"

"Oh sorry," he said as he sadly looked down, "I don't really have any friends so I don't know how you get them."

Seeing how upset he looked, the green haired teenager squeaked in panic, waved her hands and gave him a sheepish smile, "Errr…what I meant to say is that…err…of course, we're friends. Really good friends, my lor- I mean, Alex."

"Really?" he gasped in excitement, "Your my very first friend!" he turned his attention to Marigold who stiffened as he looked at her, "Can you be my friend as well?"

"M-me," she stammered, pointing to herself, "Err…yes, sure."

"Yay!" he then turned to Hancock, "Can you be my friend?"

Hancock merely gave him a cold look before she turned her head away with an annoyed huff, making him frown in disappointment.

"Sister," Sandersonia whispered at her urgently.

"It's fine," he told her, "Two friends are enough. Nobody has ever wanted to be my friend before. They all think I'm weird and that there's something wrong with me."

"Oh…I'm sure not everybody thinks that," Marigold said as she kneeled beside her sister.

"My parents tell me that everyday."

"…oh."

"Your eyes are not the same as they were," he pointed out to Sandersonia, "they were more… snake-y."

Sandersonia blinked at him before realising what he meant, "Oh I see," she said before she showed him her arm. Before his fascinated eyes, her arm began to grow green scales and her fingers sharpened into claws. Her eyes once again turned reptilian, making Alexander gasp, "Wow, how do you do that?"

"I…ate a devil fruit called the Snake Snake Fruit: Anaconda Model. I am able to turn into into a snake woman."

"That's so cool!"

"And I ate a similar fruit but it's a Cobra Model," Marigold told him, a small smile on her lips as she saw the boy's enthusiasm, "It looks a bit weird, but-"

"I don't think so," he cut her off, "You have awesome powers. You must be really strong now," he told them, making them giggle slightly at his innocence, "How did you get a Devil Fruit? Can I get one as well?"

Their smiles fell from their faces as soon as he asked that. They shared an uneasy look while Hancock muttered bitterly under her breath from the corner of the cage. Before either of them could answer, he heard a loud rumbling noise from Sandersonia's stomach; she turned her head away in embarrassment while Alexander tilted his head to the side.

"Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?"

"Err… well…"

"We have already been given our daily rations for the week," Hancock snapped at him, cutting Sandersonia off, "You can stop pretending you care now."

Alexander looked around and saw the most austere meal he had ever seen…well, actually, he wouldn't even call it a meal. It was a mouldy chunk of stale bread and a cup of dirty water served on a piece of slate. He frowned at it before he turned to the guards still standing at attention.

"Excuse me-"

"Yes, young master?" the guards quickly responded.

"I was wondering if we can get some food here and something to drink."

"Of course, young master," the guard firmly said before he brought a transponder snail out of his pocket and raised it to his mouth, "Bring the young master a snack and something to drink immediately."

They barely had to wait for long before a servant rushed into the slave cells, down the corridor and kneeled before him, holding out a silver platter holding a plate of rice balls and a water jug and a glass. Alexander took the platter, thanked the servant before he pushed it underneath the bars for the sisters.

"Here you go," he chirped happily.

….

….

….

….

The sisters stared down at him and then at the platter before looking back at him. Their eyes widened when realisation settled in.

"WAIT! ARE YOU SERIOUS!" they yelled in shock.

"Yep."

Fuelled by years of starvation, Sandersonia and Marigold basically leapt at the rice balls and grabbed one in each hand. They were just about to shove them in their mouths and sate their hunger when Hancock stamped her foot, catching their attention.

"Sisters! Are you insane!" she snapped, "Why the hell would a Celestial Dragon feed us after all these years. He's obviously poisoned them just so he can see us suffer. He has been playing innocent just to fool us and then, when our guard is lowered, torture us like always," she snarled, glaring at the young boy accusingly.

Alexander frowned sadly at her words; he hadn't meant any harm at all. Sandersonia noticed his expression and turned to his sister with a pleading look.

"Sister, he's just a child. I don't think he's going to hurt us."

Hancock's eyes narrowed, "He may be a child, but he's a man and a World Noble. It's only a matter of time."

Sandersonia and Marigold sighed in disappointment as they looked down at their rice balls; their stomachs churning as if demanding for any scrap of edible food. However, before they could deny the food, Alexander reached through the bars and grabbed one of the rice balls from Marigold's hand and held it up to Hancock.

"Look," he said before he a took a bite out of it and swallowed it, "Would I eat these if they were poisoned?" he asked, earning a raised eyebrow from the eldest sister.

Suddenly, much to their surprise, Alexander's face turned a deathly pale; he doubled over with hands on his knees and groaned as if he was in pain. Hancock barely wasted a second before she pointed at him accusingly.

"See! That fool has poisoned them!"

"Oh god!" Sandersonia cried in shock.

"He really was going to kill us," Marigold uttered with a gulp.

"No…" Alexander croaked out, catching their attention, "…they're not poisoned…it's just…" he raised his head and stuck out his tongue in disgust, "I really don't like salty foods."

"THAT WAS A TOTAL OVERREACTION!" they yelled at him.

"Excuse me, y-young master," Alexander turned around and saw the giant monstrous man from the cage opposite calling to him anxiously; he didn't seem so scary to Alexander now; in fact he looked tired and afraid, "If…they're not going to eat that…c-can I?"

Alexander blinked at him before he picked up the platter, walked up to his cage and slid it under the bars for him, "Of course, you can," he told him, "take as many as you want."

The giant man reached down and plucked a few rice balls with his fingers before he tossed them into his open mouth. As he munched hungrily at the snack, a single tear roll down his cheek.

"I…I forgot what food taste like," he whispered as he shoved another few rice balls into his mouth, "This is amazing."

"Hey!" cried a slave from the cell next to his, "Don't eat them all! Give them over here. We're starving as well!"

"Shut your traps!" the giant man shouted at him, "I asked the young master first!"

"That ain't fair!"

"What's going on!? Do I smell food!?" a slave cried out from somewhere in the prison.

"Food!" another yelled, "Please if there's food, we definitely need some here!"

"No over here! My daughter hasn't eaten in days!"

"No! I beg of you! My friend is sick! We need food and water here!"

"Let them die! I'm hungry!"

"SHUT UP ALL OF YOU!"

"PLEASE! WE NEED HELP HERE!"

Alexander was astonished as more and more of the slaves wailed and cried throughout the cells, begging and shouting for sweet relief. More and more voices piles on until the cries became a symphony of desperate pleas. The guards did their best to quiet them all by threatening them with their spears, but it was no use.

Alexander was lost in the sound and the chaos of it all; he closed his eyes as he tried to figure out a plan to help the situation. Finally, his eyes snapped open and he called out to the slaves,

"Stop!" he shouted. And almost immediately, the slaves stopped their shouting in fear of angering him, plunging the dungeon into, once again, a gloomy silence. He turned to one of the guards with a serious look, "Is there more food you can bring them?"

"Umm…well…" the guard stammered, "Yes, of course, young master."

"Right," he said with a firm nod, "Then feed all of them. Nobody here is going to starve as long as I'm here," he said, making the slaves whisper in shock.

The guards shared a look, "Well, young master, how much would you like? We have just restocked the kitchen with food for a feast-"

"Good, then bring it all," he told him with a smile, "We'll have the feast right now."

In just under two hours, the slave cells, that were once shrouded in misery, had transformed. For the first time, laughter and cheers rang out through the cells from the slaves as they devoured the food that Alexander had brought for them on silver platters. Meats, vegetables, fruit, fish, wine, beer and water were abundant to all who desired it and nothing tasted sweeter.

"This is the best thing I've eaten in ages," a slave cried as he ate a turkey leg.

"Water!" another laughed as she tipped the entire glass into her mouth, "It's been so long!"

A young girl, who looked no older than five years old with light brown messy hair, consumed an entire branch of grapes, "I thought I was going to die! I'm so happy that I don't want to scrub the floors!"

"Thank you, Alexander-sama!" a mouse Mink proclaimed as he lifted his glass of wine to the young boy, "You have saved us all!"

"Our hero!"

"You saved us all!"

Alexander smiled bashfully as they slaves cheered his name loudly; he wasn't expecting such praise just for giving them something so simple. He gave them humble thank yous for their praise before he walked up to the Boa sisters' cell with a platter of chocolates of all flavours. Sandersonia and Marigold looked up at their meals and gasped when he saw him.

"Are those chocolates!?" Sandersonia asked excitedly, "I-I haven't seen them in years."

"Yep. Feel free to help yourself," he told them, before they reached through the bars and grabbed and handful of them.

He smiled happily as he saw them eat before he turned his attention to Hancock, leaning a against the corner of the cage and trying her best to seem aloof. Their eyes met each other and Alexander still saw the judging expression on her face. He blinked up at her before he held the platter of chocolates up to her as well. Hancock merely glanced at the platter for a few seconds before she reached out and took one and put it in her mouth, she suddenly turned her face away, but Alexander did manage to see a single tear of joy flowing from her eyes as she consumed something so sweet in years. He giggled at her reaction before he placed the platter by the cage and walked away; allowing her to take as many as she wanted.

"Alexander-sama," the young boy turned to look at a fishman in his cage, his webbed hands grasping at the bars as he looked down at him, "Please, since you are so generous, can you feed my brother, Fisher Tiger? He's locked in a separate cell in the back…I'm…I'm worried about him, Alexander-sama. He hasn't eaten in days."

Alexander nodded at him, "I will."

Finding a nearby platter and gathering as much food and drink he could fit on it, he headed to the back of the cell as the fishman instructed, leaving the two guards behind to supervise the eating slaves. One of the guards sighed as he looked over the slave cells and saw them consume their master's food; he turned to the other one miserably.

"We're dead once our lord finds out, aren't we?"

"Yeah," he muttered in despair.

Mjosgard's Chamber

Meanwhile, at the Donquixote estate, Mjosgard had awoken from his nap and was sat in his silk armchair. With a click of fingers, a slave, that was waiting in the corner of the room, rushed over and got onto her hands and knees, allowing the Celestial Dragon to rest his feet upon her back. He sighed in content in his large chamber, that was way too big for one person to stay in, and reached over to a nearby table and pressed a button on a mini transponder snail's back and called the kitchen staff.

"I am awake," he said into the transponder snail, "I want a snack. Bring me up my pastries."

The servant on the other end hesitated slightly, making Mjosgard raise an eyebrow in intrigue, "Of course, my lord…but…I'm sorry to say that we…have run out."

The Noble glared down at the snail, watching it quiver in fear under his scrutinising gaze, "Run out? What do you mean run out!?" he snarled at him, "Are they not supposed to be made fresh everyday!?"

"Y-yes, they were my lord."

"Well, then!?"

"It's j-j-just that…they have been taken by young master Alexander…along with the rest of the food in the pantry. T-t-there's nothing left."

"Nothing left?" Mjosgard uttered, blinking blankly in shock, "That brat has an appetite. He must have got hungry whilst he was in the middle of torturing my slaves. But it is rude to think that he can have himself a feast from my personal pantry."

There was silence on the other end; the Noble heard the sound of urgent whispering on the other end and frowned in irritation.

"Well, spit it out. What are you hiding?"

"…well, my lord…young master Alexander is not having the feast for himself."

"Hmm?" Mjosgard hummed, "Then what is he doing with it all?"

Slave Cells

In a cold, wet cell hidden at the back of cell complex, the hulking form of Fisher Tiger stared at the ground with a rage-filled glare. He forgot how long he had spent in this prison, but every single second he spent in here was excruciating. It was always the same; being dragged out of his cell, had a saddle placed on his back like some sort of animal, rode around the streets before being slung back and shackled to the wall.

That's why he didn't look up as the door to his cell opened; nor did he move a muscle when he heard the sound of hollow footsteps crossing the stone floor towards where he was chained to the wall like a rabid dog; the shackles that cut into his wrist feeling heavier as he felt the person stand next to him.

'Again? That fat bastard wants to ride on my back again,' he growled in his head, 'I swear if I ever get out-'

"Hello, mister Fisher."

His violent thoughts were vanquished at the young voice; he looked up and saw, to his surprise, the young boy who had met the previous day. He was holding a tray with plenty of food and drink on it; things he hadn't seen in months. He suspected that it was for him, to eat while he enjoys his torment, but he placed the tray down next to him and, using a step ladder he found, began to unlock the chains restraining him to the wall with the key he burrowed from the guards.

"I brought you some food," he chirped as the chains from his wrists, making him sigh in relief, "Everybody else is enjoying the feast so I brought out your share. I hope you'll enjoy it."

"Feast?" Tiger uttered in confusion before he looked rubbed his aching wrists.

He looked passed him and out of the door before his eyes widened as he saw the slaves eating and drinking in their cells. It looked as if they were having a huge party just outside. Fisher blinked in astonishment before he looked down at a smiling Alexander holding up a plate of food up to him.

"Is…is it poisoned?"

"Why does everybody keep asking that?" Alexander sighed miserably, "Another fishman asked me to bring this in for you. So, here you go."

"A fishman…asked you to do this?" Fisher questioned in disbelief.

"Yep."

"A slave?"

"Yeah."

"You're a Celestial Dragon, aren't you?"

Alexander nodded happily.

Fisher Tiger grunted suspiciously and glowered down at him, "Why are you doing this?"

The young boy frowned slightly, "Because you look sad and hungry. I wanted to do something to help."

"Help?" Fisher spat, "Why on earth would you want to help us freak, as you like to call us? It doesn't make sense."

Alexander hesitated slightly before he looked down at his feet, "Everybody calls me a freak as well," he told him, making Fisher give him a strange look, "My mom, my dad, my family. I…I don't think they like me. No matter what I do…I always seem to get it wrong. I wish I could be normal, but it's hard. Really hard. But at the same time, I want to be myself and do things I want to do, but I don't know how," he looked up at him and gave him a bright smile, "But they're not here now so I don't have to worry. I like this. I like helping others. It's a nicer then being mean and uptight all the time," he lifted up the tray for him once again, "Please eat. But promise you won't tell my parents on me."

Fisher gave him a hard stare as if detecting any sort of deceit in his words. However, when he sensed none, he gave a weary sigh, took the tray off him and began to ear his meal, making Alexander smile joyfully. As he was eating, Fisher glanced up at the open cell door and then down at the young boy who was now looking around his cell in fascination.

'I could escape right now,' he thought, 'Steal the keys, run off and climb down the Red Line as quickly as possible. Better yet, I could use the boy as a hostage. Or I can just kill him now and have one less Celestial Dragon that the world had to suffer under,' he growled in his head furiously. However, he slowly looked down at the warm food that he had gave him. This was the first time he had seen a World Noble do anything for another person out of sheer generosity. If he didn't see for himself, he wouldn't have believe it. Fisher have a weary sigh and took another bite out of his meal, 'Fine, I won't kill him. Since he's so…different,' he thought reluctantly, "Thanks…for this, boy. This is kind of you."

Alexander beamed happily, "You're very welcome," he said.

"WaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!?"

Alexander jumped while Fisher looked up as a piecing scream rang out through the slave cells, silencing the other slaves in an instant. The young boy blinked in astonishment before realisation settled in.

"Oh…that's Lord Mjosgard," Alexander muttered as he trotted to the door, "I have to talk to him. Nice meeting you Mister Tiger."

Fisher Tiger watched him leave through the cell door before he closed it behind him. The fishman sighed wearily and frowned in thought of what had just happened. He looked down at the tray of food before he noticed that he wasn't chained anymore. The young boy had forgot to put the shackles back on his wrists before he left, leaving him to be free…to do what he wanted. His eyes bored into the cell door before he frowned in determination.

He can't let this opportunity go to waste.

Mjosgard couldn't believe his eyes.

He arrived at his family's slave cells only to find that his slaves, who were no greater than the scum beneath his feet, were eating his food. All of them were. From the lowly humans they kept around for fun to the hideous fishman; all of them were consuming and gulping what is rightfully his. He was beyond outrage. This was heresy. He had never seen such disrespect before.

At his thunderous cry, the slaves were smart enough to stop what they were doing and shrink back into their cells. Even the ones that were partially intoxicated by the Donquixote's specially made wine seemed to cease and sober up and turn their terrified eyes upon the red-faced Celestial Dragon.

Mjosgard marched further down the corridor, flanked by his guards, and gaped at what he was seeing.

"That's my lobster!" he cried, pointing to a slave with the partially eaten crustacean on his plate, "and that's my beer! And my Fois Gras! And my truffles! Ah! Are you eating my after-dinner mints!" he shouted at one slave who slowly put the mint down on the plate, "How dare you! How dare all of you! I should have you all shot and quartered for this insult!" he yelled before he turned to the guards, "How the hell did this happen!?"

"Err…well…" one of the guards stuttered.

"Don't blame them," a young voice called out. Mjosgard turned around and glared as Alexander came into view and walked up to him, "This is my idea. They were just following my orders."

The elder man snarled down at him, "And why, pray tell, would do such a thing?"

He gulped nervously at the intense glare he was giving him, "You…you said I could do anything I want with them."

"I DIDN'T MEAN CATER TO THEM!" Mjosgard roared before he raised his leg and slammed his foot into his stomach, knocking him off his feet and onto the floor, "YOU STUPID BOY!"

The other slaves gasped in horror as they saw Alexander wither on the ground and clutch his stomach in pain. They wanted to help, but knew that if they made a sound or make a protest then they would be better off dead. From within their cages, Sandersonia's and Marigold's eyes widened in shock and tried to get as close as they can to him, but Hancock reached out and pulled them back by their shoulders, keeping them away from Mjosgard sight.

"How can you get something so wrong! You really are a freak! I'm ashamed to be related to you," Mjosgard spat as he loomed over him, "What am I going to now? I'm hungry and you gave away all my food. What am I going to eat?"

Alexander took a deep breath as the pain slowly ebbed away. At Mjosgard question, he stood up, brushed himself off and headed to one of the cage and used his arm to reach inside and grab something. Having retrieved the mould bread and dirty water that had been a slave's ration, he turned back around, marched up to him and held up the rations.

"Here," he angrily snapped, sending him a challenging glare, "You can have this. If it's good enough for them, then it's good enough for you!"

Mjosgard face turned from blood red to a deep purple as a vein bulged in forehead. If he wasn't livid then, then he definitely was now.

Ptolomy Manor

Meanwhile, Olympias and Philip were sat their large cushioned armchairs in the parlour room of the manor. Philip had his feet perched on a slave as he slept while Olympias read a book that another slave was holding up for her. Olympias sipped her red wine and gave a thoughtful sigh.

"It has been a while," she said to herself, "I wonder how cousin Mjosgard is doing with that brat?"

Philip snorted in his sleep before mumbling, "Yes. That's nice, dear."

"How do you that in your sleep!?"

Her attention was caught by the sound of a transponder snail ringing. She looked over her shoulder and saw another slave rush in with said snail on a silver platter and hold it up for her. She sighed and picked up the receiver and brought up to her face.

"Yes?"

"COME AND PICK UP YOUR BRAT THIS INSTANT!" the voice of Mjosgard roared from the snail, making her jump in surprise and Philip to jolt awake, "YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT HE'S DONE!"

The snail then clicked and the call ended as soon as it started.

…

…

…

"I'll go in ten minutes," Philip said before he fell asleep again.

Basement Of The Ptolomy Manor

The next day was something Alexander would never forget.

In the early hours of the morning, he was torn away from his bed by the guards and dragged away from his room, down the brightly hallways and into the basement where they used to keep the slaves. However, their slaves had been moved somewhere else, leaving the cold, wet basement (that was more of a dungeon) completely empty. In the centre of the basement, there was a round circular pit that was twenty feet deep and three feet wide. This was known as an oubliette, a cruel punishment that was given to the slaves if his parents didn't feel like torturing victims on that particular day; slaves would be kept there for days, weeks and, in more serious cases, years with smooth walls which you can't climb out of and enough space for the person to only sit down in.

Alexander was lowered into the oubliette while he kicked and screamed for them to let him go. Once he was down there, in the dark and the freezing cold, he tried his best to scramble up the wet walls, but he would always slide down no matter how hard he tried. After his fifth attempt, which ended with him falling onto the ground painfully, a tired voice called down from above.

"There's no point," Philip sighed as he peered down from above, "You won't get up here any time soon and we will finally be rid of your insanity."

"Father! Please!" he yelled as tears streamed down his face, "I'm scared! Please get me out of here!"

Philip rolled his eyes, "No can do, you brat. This is part of your treatment. You should be grateful, in fact. In order to prepare your treatment, we had to waste money on building an entire cell block outside for the slaves to live in. Your mother is not happy with the eyesore, but it's for the best. Oh…and we had your room and your possessions destroyed. You won't be needing them."

"F-father! I'm sorry!" he wept, "Please don't leave me down here! I'm going to die! I don't want to be here!"

"We can't take any risks," he snorted before he shut the oubliette with a metal lid that blocked out all the light, "You'll down here until you're cured. If you're good…then we'll consider letting you out," he sighed before he walked away.

"Father! Father! Please!" he begged as he scratched the walls, "I'll be good! I promise! I'll be good for now on!

But his pleas and begging will fall on deaf ears. Nobody would come for him.

Nobody cared.

That's it for now.

Thanks for reading :)