Pet. The nickname had never bothered Asbel before. He'd been able to shrug it off as the snide remarks of a young man who was of little importance. But tonight, something in the prince's acidic tone dug beneath the surface of skin like a tick. The itch was slight, but as Frey spoke again -- Nothing but a pet -- Asbel bit back a flash of deepening irritation.

Frey didn't care about anyone but himself. Of course the brat would complain and expect everyone else to fix his problems for him. He was spoiled, selfish, utterly unfixable. What a bully -- what a monster.

Heedless of the young man's brief stint of near-politeness, of his half-visible worry, Asbel lurched forward even as Frey freed himself from the phoenix's grasp. Green eyes nearly glowed with anger as he seized the prince's arms, pinned them to his sides.

"All this because you are jealous of rooms?" he hissed, calm tone lost at last. "You care so little for anything beyond yourself that you are bothered by the state of your room?" Smoking fingers burned into the fabric of the prince's shirt. "Your family would love you, if you gave them reason. You would have servants, if they gave you reason. But you are petty and rude and selfish and I may be the same age as you, but I will never be so stupid as to think that I am all that matters in this palace. I give you and your family immortality, and I might very well take it away, you deserve it so little!"

Something sparked in his thoughts, then -- a lightning-strike of understanding. The dark -- was that really what had so spooked Frey when he entered the room? Was the prince afraid of the dark? Of all things, the dark?

"When you stop being an insufferable brat, I will turn the lights back on," he growled, his own glow flickering. "I could take away all the light in this whole palace, you know. How patient do you think I'll be if you continue to insult me?"

The prince smiled smugly as he broke free of Asbel's hold. However, his confident expression soon turned to one of fear as Asbel reached out and held his arms in place. Instinctively, golden eyes glared back at angry green ones. Both were obstinate, they weren't about to back down. The young prince's gaze faltered as he felt heat on his arms. The fool phoenix was burning his sleeves! With a hiss, Frey prepared to strike the other male in the stomach in order to get him away. At this rate, he would have burn wounds on his flawless skin, and he didn't want that at all.

The silver-haired boy didn't speak, for Asbel threatened to turn all the lights off. A terrified gasp escaped Frey as he pondered the very mention of the idea. It would be awful, just like in his nightmares... "You can't do that!" Frey snapped, tightening a hand into a fist. He would smash this boy's face in, if he needed to. Frey was taught, mostly by himself, to fight for what he wanted. Currently, he wanted the lights to be back on. Though his fist was balled, he hesitated. He didn't want to assault anyone physically- it wasn't satisfying or fun, just pointless. However, before he was able to do any more, there was a blinding flash of light in the doorway.

"What in the name of all that is bright and beautiful is going on here?" A strong female voice demanded. Quickly, Frey whipped his head around to see the speaker. It was the castle's oracle, Lady Blanchette, more often called 'Mighty Oracle' by most of the palace and surrounding buildings. She had been alive for decades, serving as a healer and prophet not for the king and royal family, but for the very nation. As such, while she followed the laws, she had no real reason to- everyone needed her more than she needed anyone else. Her plethora of power greatly outshone that of Bachus.

She had light skin, and a young, doll-like face. On either side of her head, were two golden, intricate golden braids. Her petite figure looked strangely imposing as her whole body radiated with white light. At once, the lanterns in the room were lit. Bright blue eyes narrowed at Frey and Asbel. Her big, fancy dress had many layers and she struggled to keep her skirts up. Though she was very virtuous, she enjoyed living the high life, much unlike her mother, who was the kingdom's old oracle. "B-Blanche..." Frey began. She was one of his only real friends, but was genuinely pissed.

"Silence!" She screeched. "Unhand each other at once! Frey! I thought you pledged not to cause as much trouble anymore! You promised your family!" though her eyes burned, they were soft, as if she knew something nobody else did about Frey. Which she did. With a distressed sigh, she turned her attention to Asbel. "And you, Asbel! To assault a prince? What's gotten into you? Nevertheless," She continued. "You two will be facing some serious punishments." Frey's heart sank and he shrunk away from Asbel.

That was it! He was afraid of the dark!

He need not threaten lightly, then, if Frey's fear of the dark was all Asbel would be able to hold over the head of the prince. But before the phoenix could take back his threat, the door flew open with a flash of light and, startled -- as always -- by loud and sudden sounds, Asbel leapt away from the prince and ducked behind him to guard against the veritable explosion in the doorway.

But, ah, the newcomer was only the oracle, and Asbel relaxed enough to release his new death-grip on the back of the prince's now-seared shirt and to retreat with the deference due one of such repute.

Just behind the oracle, much taller than her and at least a head above his youngest brother, came the eldest prince, and Asbel could not help but relax, even though the twenty-four-year-old man gripped the pommel of the sword at his waist with the determination to use it if necessary.

The young man boasted the same beautiful orange eyes and silver hair of his youngest sibling, but his skin was darker from his long hours spent outside, and where Frey's smile was always one of cunning and ill-concealed evil, Prince Augustine radiated kindness even when (as now) his expression was pinched with concern and the anticipation of danger. Still dressed in the silver-enameled armor of the knights, and with the heavy starlit-blue cloak thrown back over his shoulders, the general must have just returned from a day of training.

"Are you alright, Frey?" the man asked. His grip on the sword loosened, though his pose grew no less relaxed. "Cassius thought you might be in trouble. He felt something wrong and told me you were here. What's happened?"

"My apologies, Oracle and Your Highness," Asbel murmured, though his voice felt too soft in the wake of her aggressive entrance. He ought to, perhaps, have condemned Frey as the instigator of the incident, but such a claim would be only half true: Asbel could have reported Frey sooner, or avoided the altercation altogether. To complain now would be an act of pettiness, which he was certainly above.

But punishment? He glanced, uncertain, at Frey, but the prince's demeanor was nothing to go by: even a spell of washing dishes would probably prove to be too 'serious' for the devil of a prince. And what could the royal family do to Asbel that they did not do already? Already he was more or less confined to a single room; already he was subject to minor and constant irritants; already he forfeit any hopes he had of flying, exploring, learning.

Prince Augustine may have been thinking along the same lines; his gaze (more copper than orange, perhaps) drifted from Frey to the phoenix and back again. "What punishment do you have in mind, Mighty Oracle? One is my brother and the other is my family's responsibility. If they need discipline, I ought to be the one to provide it."

Frey made a face as he saw Augustine, his oldest brother, as well as a general in the kingdom's army. Together, with his dragon Cassius, the prince had quickly risen the ranks and held one of the most esteemed honors. Similar to the rest of his siblings, Augustine regarded his youngest brother kindly. Frey couldn't stand him. That wretched dragon and his superior senses! Frey knew about them, for they were the reason he was still alive. Cassius could sense danger hours before they happened, which was part of the reason he was so powerful. In fact, Cassius would disappear when Frey looked for him while he was angry, knowing better than to simply let himself be defeated. The younger prince crossed his arms. Now that the lights were back on, there was nothing left to be afraid of. At this, the oracle smiled slightly. So, the prince though she would go easy on him, eh? Too bad, so as, as the saying goes. "Frey. Asbel." She said calmly, looking at them each and then back to Augustine.

"Your highness, you gave me a grand idea for a punishment. Listen up, you two. General Augustine has decided to... partake in your punishment." Frey bit his lip a bit nervously. That glint in Blanche's eye couldn't bode well for him. He already had a small room, with the only worse accommodation being a broom closet or something like that. "We've been having issues with parties on the Northern territory. They claim to have been ignored by the king. I want you to travel there and console these poor souls, who are members of our kingdom as well."

"What?!?!" Frey shouted almost at an earsplitting tone. Blanchette blinked in a bored fashion before she continued.

"And to show them our support, we shall have Asbel come along to give their livestock the gift of longevity. Make sure not to leave any feathers behind, though. You see, the monarch that takes care of things in that region, has fallen ill. You need to mend her sickness." She said slowly.

"But there is a mountain range that separates our territory and the North. To traverse these mountains is no easy task, I hope you know. So in order to ensure you survive, Augustine and Cassius shall be accompanying you! I'm sure you'll have a..." She giggled. "A grand old time."

Frey just stared dumbstruck. "Please... no!" He begged. He wouldn't mind the task, but he would have to be with Asbel AND August! This wasn't going to be good...

"You depart in the morning. Get a good rest, boys." With that, the Almighty Oracle disappeared into him air.

The North? Asbel repressed a shiver at the very idea. He was a desert creature: he wanted heat and warmth that blazed as hot as he did. The North would be cold and full of rain, and the sun, if it rose there at all, would be perpetually under the thrall of storm clouds. And to be sent as a tool -- a breathing medicine kit. Of course that as what he would be wanted as, and of course such a trip would be labeled as punishment.

But at the same time... the phoenix felt the smallest stir of excitement in the pit of his stomach. He would be able to leave the castle, if only just this once. He would be able to see what he must have seen in lives past -- the mountains, for one, and other cities for another. And even if he was terrified of Cassius, he would be able to fly! To see the world from above, as it was meant to be seen! Not even dragging Frey along as dead weight could diminish that beautiful promise.

"I will go," he agreed, though the Oracle had, by then, already vanished. Augustine heard him, though and cast him a politely surprised glance; Asbel colored in embarrassment and pressed his lips together in silence. Traveling with the esteemed older brother of his tormentor, well... that would be a challenge, perhaps.

"That is all settled, then. Asbel, meet us by the gardens after you have breakfasted." Augustine bowed and turned on his heel to begin his exit of the room. "Frey, come with me. I will walk you back to your room."

Was Blanchette pulling a crazy streak? Prince Frey still couldn't believe her punishment was to force him out of the kingdom and into the Northern Territory, where not even the bandits would flee to. He shot a glare at Asbel as the phoenix spoke. "I will go..." Frey taunted in a high-pitched avian voice. With that, he absently brushed imaginary dust off of his clothes and, as slow as he could, made his way to his armor-clad brother. He could feel Augustine's honor and power radiating off him in waves, brighter than any flame Bachus could conjure up. This was the reason so many looked up to him. Young girls wanted to marry him, young boys wanted him as their older brother. Frey shot a backwards glance to Asbel before getting any closer to the General.

"...Sorry..." He said after a long period of anxious staring. Now that he was to be traveling with Asbel, it was in his best interests... to back off. The Snap-Spire Mountains had their name for a reason. There were countless legends about them, and the only safe way to traverse the natural barrier was the Sky Bridge that had been crafted by magics. Unfortunately, the bridge no longer existed and their only option was to go over the harsh land. In such a scenario, Frey knew he wouldn't die so long as Asbel and Cassuis were there. With that he turned back to his brother with a scowl. "General." He addressed coldly before putting both hands behind his back and strolling out the door like he was a classy, well-mannered prince. As the castle knew, he was princely only by appearance and not conduct nor attitude.

Frey thought of running away, but bit his lip and leaned against the wall before his brother came out. There were a few tears forming in the corners of his eyes and he gasped softly. He wasn't afraid of the mountains, he was afraid of leaving the castle. What was so safe about it? Well, the Almighty Oracle had the power to veil the castle in a protective spell. While Frey still suffered from his curse, he could not die from it. As for what that curse was... Few others than Blanchette and Bachus even knew. Though Frey had a feeling others knew something was... off, they didn't know what was going on. He knew his brother wanted to speak to him... Perhaps, for once, he would cooperate.

Asbel returned Frey's glare, though he was more wounded then angry, and turned his back on both the brothers as they left the room. One perk of being holed up in the castle was that he had very few possessions and essentially nothing to pack. As such, he waited until both princes were safely out of the room before he relaxed and dimmed the lights again -- this time for his own benefit. Sleeping now would be safe; his nemesis would not, surely, be bothering him again tonight.

As such, the phoenix slid into his mess of cushions and blankets and curled up beneath the soft flannel. He glowed, softly, in the dark -- the soft and golden halo of an infant star, but Asbel was used to that, had been used to it since before he could remember, and he fell asleep despite the continued luminescence.

The morning would be daunting -- a challenge as yet insurmountable. Weeks' travel with Frey and his insincere apologies? Ah, but at least Prince Augustine would be coming, too..

---

Augustine followed his brother out of the room and touched a hand to Frey's shoulder in hesitant comfort. He did love his brother, for all the hell that the younger boy put him through. And he was not so blind these days to his siblings' moods that he would miss the beginnings of tears on his younger brother's lashes. Cassius always implied (with impossible vagueness) that there was more to Frey than what met the eye, but even the wise, wise dragon was difficult to believe on that count; not even tears could fully shake Augustine's impression of Frey as an inveterate troublemaker.

"What bothers you?" he asked, speaking softly, amber eyes gleaming with concern in the dimly-lit hall. Even as he asked, he began to steer Frey away from the phoenix's bedroom and back up toward the proper floor. "You can speak to me, brother. I know you do not often leave the castle and I did not mean the Oracle's orders to come so suddenly or as such a shock."

Hesitantly, Frey met his eldest brother's gaze. Though there were tears, it was as feisty and stubborn as ever. The prince scowled, as if to say, 'Don't you dare even think of laughing, you over-sized pig...' Though in reality his lips moved not once. Gritting his teeth as a strong hand was placed upon his shoulder in a comfortable way, Frey shook. He didn't need his brother's pity or care. Once they competed for the crown, Frey could leave for good. There was no point in him sticking around after he found the Dream-catcher...

Huffing out in annoyance, the young man clenched his fists and suddenly sidestepped, in an attempt to make his brother's hand fall off. He opened his mouth to speak. Strangely, his tone was soft and genuine. "I'm... fine." With that, he began to walk to his room with the older prince trailing him. "And we'll have plenty of time to speak when we're traversing the Snap-Spires." He suggested, not wanting to say much about himself when he was this tired. Realizing he wasn't close to his brother, Frey sighed. "But if you wanted to speak to me now, that's fine. I don't leave the castle because..."

Orange eyes narrowed as he thought about it. When he was but an infant, Frey had been cursed by the demons who lived to the far North. The curse wasn't targeting Frey in particular, but the whole castle. Blanchette had blessed everyone in the castle except apparently Frey. Most found that strange, since Bachus also assisted in Frey's protection spell. The curse could not be cured, only prevented. It was a ghastly hex that caused the victim to have a horrid nightmare every single night. However, if they died in the nightmare, they would die in reality. While Frey was in the castle, Blanche would protect him from dying, but even she could not stop the nightmares. Perhaps it was because of this curse Frey found it hard to be nice to people.

"Never mind."

As close as Frey seemed to confessing, Augustine bit back the urge to press him. The prince would confess in his own time, and Augustine could do nothing to prompt him -- not without driving a deeper wedge between them than there was already. Whatever Frey had to say, the young man would speak in his own time. The prince-apparent could always have asked the Oracle about his younger brother, as the woman clearly knew more than she let on, but such an invasion of Frey's privacy was more than Augustine could consider. Even if he was a brat and a rotten egg most days, Cassius knew there was a lighter side to the boy, and Augustine trusted the dragon's judgment.

So as Frey fell back into an awkward silence, Augustine again rested a hand on his shoulder and pressed it gently before letting go of his own accord. "We will have time to speak," he agreed, voice low and soft. "And when you are ready, I will listen. I will protect you beyond the castle walls, and Cassius will, too. Between us, you and Asbel will be just fine." The prince tried for an encouraging smile, though Frey's mood seemed darker than he would be able to lift alone. "Try not to worry about tomorrow. Get some rest, and I will see you at breakfast."

With that, and with one final pat on the shoulder, the elder brother left the younger, his own room close by in the adjoining wing.

Being silent for a short while, Frey nodded before carefully clicking open his door and stepping inside. The window was still broken, and his bed was a bit unmade. Sighing, the prince kneeled next to the like of broken glass. Cupping one hand, Frey swept the broken glass into his palm with his fingers. Once he was sure he had all the glass, Frey walked to the window and turned his hand upsidedown, causing the glass to fall to the castle's garden. As the glass pelted against bird baths, they made soft chiming noises.

Frey took a deep breath of nighttime air before lying on his bed and pulling the covers over his head. Time for another nightmare. There was some comfort in knowing so long as he was in the castle, he could not die. However, Frey had developed a technique to surviving these terrors. Simply run away from anything he saw. As his mind drifted into slumber, Frey heard his brother's voice. "...worry about tomorrow..."

The next morning, Frey awoke with a gasp, as he did most mornings. Luckily there weren't any people who slept near his room, so it didn't brother them unless Frey happened to scream at the top of his lungs. Sometimes a servant was walking by the hall, but ignored Frey's cries. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Frey looked out the still-broken window. It was early morning, and Frey would have to eat. His eyes trained to the rope next to his bed. It was part of a system that notified the servants he needed something to eat, and there was even a little speaker.

Puling it twice, Frey told the thing, "Bring me breakfast." Then he laid back down with a grumble. After he had been brought his breakfast of marmaladed toast, Frey streched and decided to dress. He walked to the bathroom a few rooms away from his own and washed his face and teeth before heading back to his own room.

Making a few faces at his mirror, Frey slowly clothed himself in a vest with a movable, durable undershirt and pants, complete with a small cape-like coat. He didn't own any weapons, and shrugged at the handsome male in the looking glass. With that, he hardened his lips and stomped out of his room, and strode outside. Outside his wing, and out into the pens.

The pens aren't what we may think; in fact, they are rather lavish rooms for the creatures that can assume the form of a human. He stopped when he arrived at Cassius' pen. The closed door was very lustrous and mirror like in appearance. Frey knocked, saying, "It's me..." softly.

Meanwhile, Asbel had his own visitor right outside his door. Kicking it open and nearly off its hinges, clearly upset, was Bacchus. The old sorcerer had a soft scowl on his usually 'gentle' and 'wise' face. He marched over to the phoenix. "Asbel, the prince came back didn't he? I have heard of your punishment. Curse that woman... Nevertheless, we cannot go against her. I can only wish you luck."

As usual, Asbel woke with the sun. The eponymous rosy fingers of dawn reached through the half-parted curtains to touch his eyes and coax him awake. He rose without a word. Uneasiness would do him no good; uncertainty would do him no good. Getting ready and joining the others at Cassius's pen -- that was all he needed to do. Whatever happened after that, would happen, and there was certainly nothing he could do to avert the disaster anyhow.

He owned very few possessions, and what he did posses was not designed for adventuring. Asbel's entire life was supposed to have been spent in the palace, in this sumptuous square of a room. The phoenix gathered what he could -- a shirt with long, flared sleeves and a scarlet waistcoat. There were soft leather boots tucked in a chest beneath his bed, never worn, and these he pulled on with (ugh) socks as well. His pants would have to suffice, as would the short traveling coat he had been given that was more artistic than functional: the bands of gold and copper thread skirting the edges turned what should have been a practical item into a sunset. But ah well. He would not remove his earrings, either, and if they were attacked on the road, he would doubtlessly be the first one targeted.

He was halfway through buttoning the waistcoat when Bacchus slammed his way into the room, and Asbel startled, green eyes wide with surprise. But, yes, it was indeed the sorcerer, and Asbel returned to dressing himself with a shrug. "I would not go against the Oracle, Bacchus," he replied in polite resignation. "But I thank you for your luck. I regret that I cannot supply you with any last-minute feathers: I have been told that the leader of the Northern lands is ill and will need my assistance."

---

Augustine, taking care of a few final arrangements before he left for the pens, was not present as Cassius opened the door to the youngest of the princes. Unlike Asbel, the dragon did not like wearing his human form, but housing him as a beast would have been too expensive, even for the royal family. As such, he opened the door with a human hand, faint scales on his wrist and cheek all that marked him as once a reptile. His black hair was cut short, as short as Augustine's military cut, and his mouth was as somber as the eldest prince's was smiling. Dark brown eyes took in Frey's traveling clothes (he did so resemble his older brothers), before the dragon stepped aside to allow the prince entrance.

The room was far plainer than some of the other dragons' abodes, but even so, it was beautiful. If Cassius had one weakness, it was a taste for color, and the stained glass windows high up on the curving walls glowed with morning light, cast pools of blue and green onto the wide, well-carpeted floor. The bare stone walls, otherwise grey, were shot through with glowing stones from the western caves, and the lights, altogether, cast strange hues across the black and brackish green clothes Augustine had arranged for him. For furniture, there stood only the bed, neatly made, and a wardrobe for a sparse collection of human clothes. Bags and packs waited near the door, as did the flight harness and necessary saddlery for the first (and only) portion of the trip to be made by air.

"Prince Frey." The dragon nodded once as a good morning, and closed the door behind his first visitor. "I am pleased to see you unharmed."

Bachus nodded only once, but his point was clear. He cared about Asbel, and didn't want him harmed in any way. The Snap-Spires posed a mighty threat to entire armies, let alone a dragon and three young men. Even more concerned was the sorcerer about Frey. In his opinion, Frey wasn't cursed; he was born a curse. The four elder siblings were already superior- Frey could never hope to even dream of ever so much as touching the crown. Bachus scoffed a bit whilst thinking about it. Frey didn't even know what dreaming was! Alas, he believed his humor to be quite grand. "We are fine here; we have much of your feathers, so there is no issue. Be sure you do not die. I have alerted Augustine of your importance."

Nodding once to Asbel, the sorcerer knew he would be in capable hands. The General and his Dragons were forced to be reckoned with, as Augustine wasn't a generally in the royal army just because of his nobility. Augustine, too, had a legacy. When he was only eighteen, the young man had saved the village of Theory by reasoning with the fae in a nearby forest, convincing them to stop their mischief. With a clap on the back, the middle-aged man lumbered out of the room with a straight face. He could only hope something would happen to Frey while they were on the road. Perhaps Augustine or Cassius would lose their patience with the evil little prince and end him. Smirking as he thought of how much the prince would suffer without the cursed woman to protect him.

---

Frey smiled slightly at his friend, even knowing that he was doomed to suffer every night for a long while, as long as the wise dragon was there, he needn't worry about his safety being in danger. He would have to be very careful about the hours he was asleep, and somehow ask either Cassius or August to wake him up at certain intervals so he wouldn't have to worry about being locked in a nightmare for hours at a time. Ever since he was young, Frey had been taught to recognize certain types of foods and roots that increased his energy, as to minimize his sleeping time. Even though he had been living with the curse for as long as he could remember, it wasn't something you could get used to. Even now, the fears had never subsided.

When he was younger, Frey would try and not go to sleep. He would get even crankier, and it didn't help that Blanche was the only knew who realized his actions weren't out of the blue. Perhaps Frey found his main pleasure from tormenting other, no different than the strangely pleasurable sensation some of us might get from dipping your hand in a bag of raw beans. It couldn't really be justified, it was just something that one did. It relieved his stress, so he continued to do so. Though it has earned him a poor reputation, he wasn't beyond being kind to others. It was just less desirable, because there would be voices telling him to lash out.

"I'm scared." Frey said as boldly and softly as he could. The dragon, he felt, understood him to a certain extent. Wise as he may be, the dragon probably wouldn't imagine for all the things he did to others, he was attacked mercilessly in his sleep every single night. Frey did realize that there would only be two tents, and it scared him. If he slept beside August, Frey was convinced that his brother would laugh and jest about his weakness. Imagine, the castle's current tyrant, a bed-wetter! He didn't actually 'go' in his sleep, but that was beside the point. If he shared a tent with Cassius, then he would have to either confide in the dragon or lose his trust forever. And if he had to share with Asbel... Frey shivered just thinking about it...

The prince sank as he sat on the floor most casually. "I'm so, so, scared..." He repeated, eyes softening as he looked at the dragon.

Asbel, too, was well aware of Augustine's reputation, but as the priest bid him silent farewell and left the room, the phoenix felt his heart kick its way up into his throat. The eldest prince and the youngest were so different. Even after seventeen years of living with them, of growing up with them, Asbel couldn't quite believe how different the two were. Something had clearly happened to set Frey on the wrong track, but with the wreck of a conversation last night, Asbel was no closer to knowing what that was. He was afraid to find out: what if, for example, there was nothing that had turned Frey into a monster and the young man had simply been born sour? What then? There was no hope for someone like that, and if the kingdom ever fell to him, then... the gods help them.

But the phoenix shouldered his small shoulder-bag of possessions and, for one of the few times in his life, left his room. He knew approximately where the dining rooms were, and there had been no time for any of the servants to bring him breakfast, so he would have to improvise.

He pushed into the heat and bustle of the palace kitchens and sidled through crowds of servants in search of fresh fruit or vegetables or even bread, if they had nothing better. He found nothing, but after long, uncomfortable minutes trying to slip through the crowd without touching anyone, a hand grasped his arm and tugged him sideways, and Asbel found Augustine.

"Good morning." The eldest prince smiled in easy kindness, and Asbel (despite himself) flushed pink. Thankfully, Augustine did not seem to expect a response, and he dropped an apple into the phoenix's hands and, a hand still on his arm, guided his new travel companion out of the kitchen and into the castle proper and toward the gardens that would, presumably, lead to the dragon pens.

"I am glad I found you, Asbel. I didn't have time last night to arrange for travel rations, and I was worried you might not know where to find us this morning. Fortuitous that I bumped into you before you got lost. I am sorry you haven't had more time to eat this morning; if you are still hungry, I have some extra supplies packed. You will not go hungry today."

Gradually, the phoenix relaxed in the midst of the ice-breaking conversation, pleased that his attack of shyness was not as awkward as he had feared, and that Augustine's hand on him was so warm and light -- again, so unlike Frey's aggressive attacks.

---

Even after years of Frey's company, Cassius never knew quite what to do with the boy. Frey had such fierceness in him, but also such fear -- an Achilles's Heel that could drop him in a moment. Certainly that was what had happened last night, when he'd felt Frey's brief plummet into anxiety like a tickle on the back of his neck. Now, with the boy so near, the gathering panic caught in his own throat like an improperly-swallowed seed.

"Scared for what?" he asked softly, or as soft as he could manage with a voice that invariably rumbled like a minor earthquake. He folded himself across from the youngest prince, hands in his lap, leaning forward with unblinking brown eyes to return Frey's fixed gaze. What could the prince be afraid of, that his brother and brother's companion could not protect him from? And what could frighten the little demon, who fought so stubbornly and with such strength against the entire world? "This is a small errand, whatever the oracle has said. It will be a good trip."

Frey kept his gaze strong. Sometimes, in moments such as these, where even about to cry he appeared to be fearless, he looked like a real prince; he appeared to be someone who had a claim to the throne. Even with the odds stacked rediculously against him, the silver-haired prince knew that the only one he would have to defeat in order to take the crown was... himself? Perhaps.

When Cassius questioned his fear, Frey exhaled sharply. There would be little point in telling a lie, as the dragon would probably be able to sense it. It wasn't as if he was going to tell the truth either, however. "I'm not telling you." Frey breathed at last, then slowly got to his feet. He then coughed. He would have to pack lightly, since it would just be the four of them. "What's it like to fly?" The prince wondered aloud.

There was then, after the dragon had plenty of time to respond. A little whole later, the door opened softly. Frey turned to look. Augustine and Asbel, as it seemed, as arrived.

At the question, Cassius smiled, but did not answer directly. "You will see soon enough what flying is like, Prince Frey."

The change of subject was neatly timed, however, as Augustine entered moments later, Asbel tagging along behind.

"Good morning brother, Cassius," Augustine began by way of introduction. He smiled at both, and half-turned to give the phoenix behind him the pack he had been carrying. "I have our provisions and supplies sorted, and all that remains is to get going."

Asbel hovered uncertainly in the doorway, anxious to stay close to Augustine now that a dragon and the demon of a prince were so close by, and his gaze skated nervously in Frey's direction once and then again, though he refused, for the moment, to speak to the prince when they had ended on such poor terms the night before.

Either oblivious to this or disinterested, Augustine hefted the flight harness. Cassius moved to join him, and between them, they managed to carry the leather contraption out outside. Asbel hesitated: he would rather have followed the prince out, but if he was going to be trapped with Frey for the next few weeks, something had to be said, and now, while they were alone, was a better time than later.

The phoenix squared his shoulders and tilted his head back to disguise his internal uncertainty. "Frey," he began, voice low and steady, "if your family does not know that you are afraid of the dark, I will not tell them or exploit you, but please, I--" the please caught in his throat-- "please do not... startle me."

As the door opened, Frey's eyes lost their wonder and his smile fell. Asbel and Augustine had arrived. Frey yawned, not bothering to return the general's greeting. It wouldn't surprise anyone; Frey didn't usually do greetings unless he wanted something. Silently, the youngest prince watched Cassius and Augustine leave the room so they could make any final preparations.

At last, Frey's orange gaze rested upon the phoenix. His eyes burned like the sun, and held strange, twisted strength. He seemed like he wanted to say something extremely innapropiate and cruel, but held his tongue as Asbel spoke. At last, he couldn't help himself any more. "I'm not afraid of the dark, you ninny!" Frey snapped, crossing his arms and all but spitting on the direction of the redhead.

"And it's your choice if you want to be startled or not, not mine. For all I know, you can think.... strawberries are frightening!" Frey said angrily. "'No, Frey, get that thing away!!! Too many seeds!!'" The prince mocked in a pitchy voice that was meant to be Asbel's. "Quite honestly, though, I suppose I shouldn't do anything I'll regret. So if fruits do startle you," Frey began, thinking of the Kimp fruit. "do tell."

With that, the prince stuck out his tongue irately and marched out of the room, and to his dastardly older brother and dragon. He put his hands in his coat pockets boredly as he watched. "Hurry. It. Up. Before one of you keel over and die from old age or something." The prince grumbled.

Compromise, then, was evidently not an option. Asbel closed his arms all the more tightly around the pack in his arms and bit down on the slow tide of anger that began to burn through his veins. What did Frey gain by being so rude to someone who was trying to be politely friendly? And why such mockery? Always, []always[/i], why such mockery?

But the phoenix kept his mouth closed and refused to rise to any of the baiting so abundantly set forth by the youngest prince. He was correct -- surely he was correct -- in his assessment of Frey's fears. There had been, for a moment, so much anger in the prince's expression; those eyes had burned like wildfire (a beauty -- and a danger -- not lost on Asbel). So whatever snide remarks Frey made about strawberries, Asbel still retained an upper hand.

Perhaps that was what bothered the prince: the fact that someone had found him out. But revenge seemed petty now, with such a monumental errand looming ahead, and Asbel shrugged off, for now, thoughts of an abuse of such power. Frey was a tyrant, but Asbel would not lash out in anything but self-defense.

He followed Frey outside and found his heart lodged in his throat. Beyond the pen, Cassius had already shifted into the much larger, green-and-black winged behemoth that was his natural form, and the dragon stood patiently while Augustine fastened the harness into place and tied their packs to the creature's sides. "Climb up," the eldest prince insisted, taking from Asbel the last pack and nodding at the saddle in place on the dragon's back. "I'll sit in front, you two sit behind."

"No bickering," Cassius added in a deep, deep rumble, fixing Frey with one large brown eye. "And be patient."

Dragons always made Asbel uneasy, though he did not quite know why, and Cassius had never paid him much attention. Surely this was... this would be just a harmless flight. The phoenix took a breath, hauled himself up onto the creature's back, and sat stiffly at the far end of the saddle. Augustine leapt into place at the front, and pulled his harness on before twisting to help Asbel with his. The phoenix sat as still as one of the sacks of provisions, as wary of those nearly invasive hands as he was of the dragon.

"Come on up, Frey," the general called then, turning again to his brother still on the ground. "You sit behind me. You both should have an excellent view."

Frey nodded with a grumble at Cassius. It would not be wise of him to start trouble. At least, not before they even got off the ground. The prince knew that Cassius was hardly botherd by his words, but Augustine was a different story. Though now, he appeared to not care, Frey had made Augustine cry a few times. Once, when he still dined with the rest of the family every night, Frey had lost his temper against his oldest brother. This was before he was appointed a general, and was still rather soft. He recalled the time with bitterness.

Augustine had made a jest about Frey crying in his sleep, and in response, the prince jumped up on the great wooden dinner table. He took into his hands a big pitcher of ice cold milk and dumped it on the to-be general all while screaming how much he hated him. When the king shouted for him to stop, Frey yelled back and pitched the pitcher at his father's face. Of course, Blanchette had waltzed in at the very moment and stopped what would have been a terrible, though most embarrassing royal procession. That was the reason Frey didn't eat dinner with the family anymore, unless there was a visiting noble, and he would be forced to 'play nice' with whatever royal problem child from another kingdom his parents thought suited him.

There was a fluttering feeling in the boy's stomach as he climbed up on Cassius. He had never flown before, so this was a big deal for him. He shot a glare to Asbel as he sat down, with knuckles white from gripping so hard onto the saddle. Didn't Asbel know how to fly...? What were all those fancy looking feathers for, or did they serve no other purpose than to act as a medicine? Nevertheless, the boy exhaled irately and clamped his eyes shut as he felt the wind begin to rise. "Is this even safe?" He shouted over the gusts.

"Of course it's safe," Augustine replied, fighting the giddy urge to laugh as Cassius surged into the air. The great wings stirred on either side and wind ripped past so quickly Augustine almost couldn't breathe -- and he did laugh, then, as thrilled as a five-year-old. He would never tire of flying, or of the sickening lurch in the pit of his stomach at each ascent, and the summer greenery rolling away like an emerald carpet far below never ceased to be beautiful. Yes, this was a good errand to bring Frey on. Anything that prompted Frey to think beyond himself was a worthwhile pursuit, determined though the boy was to hate everything and everyone.

Asbel, on the other hand, gasped as the dragon soared up and up and up -- and while he managed to keep from putting his arms around Frey's waist, he did twist his finger's into the flight harness at the younger prince's back, knuckles just as white as his rival's. He'd never flown before -- and certainly not this high. With the sorcerer's plucking his flight feathers, he'd only ever been able to hop and flutter like a glorified barn rooster. This height was dizzying, and the sun seemed brighter and warmer, even as the wind threatened to flay the skin from his bones. The ground flew past in a flurry of flowers, trees, and picturesque houses as small as child's toys, and despite himself, Asbel redoubled his hold on Frey's harness and leaned sideways to have a better view of the kingdom as he'd never seen it before.

"We'll be up here until after lunch," Augustine called over his shoulder, "and then we walk, so enjoy the ride while it lasts."

If someone in the castle had been told Frey had been trusted to fly alongside both Asbel and Augustine, they would probably try and find a way to bring them back down before Frey did something. Poke Cassius with a sleeping needle while they were airborne, or attempt to kick the general off and send him to a splattering death, for example. Surprisingly, Frey wasn't so much as thinking of doing anything of the sort. He was simply struck by the beauty of the kingdom. Normally fiery and furious eyes softened and strained in awe as the boy tried to get a closer loom at some of the landmarks the capital city in the great kingdom of Vallance was known for. There were the countless housing complexes made for the members of the the government, and from above, they looked like the wing of a Pegasus, the official national mount. As Cassius soared higher and higher, Frey registered his brother's laughter but didn't react to it. It was only when the entire city, with all of its buildings, trees, and surrounding landmasses fit into the palm of his hand that Frey realized he wanted to be the ruler of everything he could see and preserve it, as if it was his duty.

He had the sudden urge to stand up and peek even further, as of the many things he had been terrorized by, heights were never one of them. Strangely, his judgement chose that exact moment to show itself, and Frey didn't stand up on a moving dragon whilst in the air with the wind pushing against him, and fall to his doom. Instead, he simply watched peacefully, and if someone gazed at him for that moment, they would have seen the boy Frey could have been. With a serene smile and wise, sympathetic eyes, Frey would have been loved by most in the castle. Instead of befriending monsters and saving villages through means of power, force, and strength, Frey would have become the apprentice of Blanche until he realized one day, he had a power. A power that could potentially unite the peoples that had been banished from Vallance, and restore the magic of the land to what it once was. Frey would have kept his crude sense of humor, but he would have been very different...

Nevertheless, it was pointless to think about what could have been, because it was too late to change what had already happened. It lasted only for a second, and in the next moment, as there was a sudden dip, Frey's trademark mocking smirk was present. "Until lunch? Okey, then..." Frey responded as he let go of the saddle with one hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes. What would happen if he fell from here? He could die peacefully, and nobody would ever tell him all the things wrong with him again. If his life could be cut short, would he do it? For a few moments, Frey seriously debated it. But then he wondered what could happen if his body landed on someone else, killing them in the process. As such, he decided against it.

Suddenly, there was a sudden dip, and Frey let out a low cry before his grip was shaken loose and he roughly fell back onto Asbel. With the wind knocked out of him, Frey fumbled to find the handle once more. He looked back at Asbel, his expression was soft but not apologetic. It was... sheepish, perhaps even embarrassed!