Though Frey was well-behaved for the first part of the ride, Asbel had no awareness of the prince beyond the steadiness of the young man that served as his anchor to the dragon. Asbel could, of course, have used the saddle, but a human body seemed more reliable than any amalgamation of leather and metal, and even Frey, most likely, wouldn't be so unwise as to hurl himself down to the ground far, far below.

Cassius dipped, and Asbel closed his eyes against the wind. He should have thought to tie his hair back: he could feel the gale tearing through it, surely tangling it beyond repair, and (vain though it was) he prayed he would be able to tame it before anyone noticed--

A yelp cut through the roar of the wind and a sudden weight slammed into Asbel's chest. As instinctive as any other person in his position, the phoenix wrapped his arms around the prince's waist to hold him steady. He caught the prince's gaze, momentarily as surprised by the accident as by his own reaction to it. And at Frey's unguarded expression, the phoenix suddenly felt as embarrassed as the prince. Two things struck him at once:

First, that there was more to Frey than he had first thought. The prince was shocked -- sheepish -- utterly human. Somewhere behind the hatred and the directionless rage, Frey was a human being.

Second, that this was a side of the prince he was not supposed to see. Gingerly, as if the prince were made of glass, Asbel slid his grasp away from Frey's waist and eased him back into his own seat on the saddle. "Are you alright?" he asked, almost too softly to be heard over the wind, and preparing already for what would surely be the prince's rude reply.

Frey, still in a panic, panted quickly in an attempt to regain his breath. Augusting hardly noticed, most likely dubbing the potential catastrophe due to Frey's unruliness. The not, however, didn't even notice. As he was trying to achieve calm, warm hands suddenly wrapped around his waist and the prince's pulse began to return to normal, in spite of himself.

He looked back to realize dazedly it was Asbel who held him tenderly yet firmly. It was a rather pleasant feeling, and Frey felt as if Asbel's hands held fire as they burned imaginary holes through his traveling shirt. As Frey stared into his nemisis' emerald eyes, he couldn't help but think how strong his gaze was. Perhaps it could even rival his own.

He knew the phoenix was handsome, and even now, he didn't even think about doing anything intimate. With nightmares every night, it was difficult if not impossible to fantasize. Though he had never though about Asbel in that way, being held by the phoenix made him blush out of both embarrassment and slight, nearly nonexistent attraction. Not love, not lust, not fondness, but attraction.

At these strange, unfamiliar emotions, Frey wanted to shout at the Phoenix and demand to know if he had spiked his food or something. However, he couldn't bring himself to; it was too hard to pretend when you were so hurt and scared. "I'm fine... I hope you are, as well." Frey murmured back, trying his best not to look back but at the last moment, Frey turned around. He wasn't smiling, and wasn't snarling. He simply gazed, with his cheeks tinged slightly from the sun and his 'affection'. Perhaps it was gratitude.

Asbel almost didn't believe the words that floated back to him, and he stared with outright confusion at the back of Frey's head. Well-wishing? From Frey? What trick was this?

Suspecting that the momentary kindness was quickly to be followed by some cruel prank, the phoenix maintained an unblinking stare even as the prince turned around to stare likewise. The prince's face seemed flushed, either from the weather or the lingering embarrassment of the accident, and Asbel's non-existent feathers ruffled under the observation. He almost preferred Frey's antagonism -- at least that made sense and was, in some ways, predictable. Kindness and such an open expression... Asbel had never seen Frey look so like his older brothers, and the shift set the hair on the back of his neck on end.

"Stop that," he ordered, forgetting for a moment that he spoke to a member of the royal family.

Augustine, finally realizing that his two younger companions were oddly still and silent, hazarded a glance over his shoulder. "Everything alright back there?" he called, frowning in preemptive disapproval. "Don't tell me you're fighting already."

Frey felt like saying something else to express the thankfulness he harbored for not being thrown off of the dragon, but he was cut off. As Asbel quipped with attitude, Frey huffed out in annoyance. When he was mean to the phoenix, he was chasited. When he was kind to the phoenix, he was told to stop. He was going to lose either way! It was like Asbel was a married woman, just looking to be angry.

"Listen, flame-brains, I was trying to say 'thank you'! Damn, and you wonder why I'm mean to you!!" Frey shouted over the wind to make himself heard as he brushed Asbel's hands from his waist. He couldn't help but feel cold after that. "You need to get over yourself," Frey began, realizing this might be his only chance to lecture someone. Plus, since they were airborne, Asbel was trapped!

"You get to be worshipped by so many people just 'cause you're a Phoenix. You get defensive when I was teasing you, but now that I try to say something nice you tell me to stop! What's your issue?" He hissed before glaring forward to Augustine. "Shut up! You have a damn dragon to drive, so eyes forward, you toy soldier!" Frey jested.

After that, his regular demeanor was back, and Frey was more irritated than ever. However, his bad mood was the least of their worries. They were close to the Snap Spires, but there was a big storm that stretched from one edge of his vision all the way to the other. Every so often, lightning would drop down. The clouds were incredibly dark and heavy looking. It looked like... it was alive, and going to zap them!

"Excuse--" Asbel snapped his mouth shut in sudden embarrassment and turned as pink as Frey, if for different reasons. "You've never been nice before -- what was I supposed to think?" he retorted. If Frey really had been making an attempt to be sociable -- and in hindsight, Asbel felt inclined to believe this was so -- then the phoenix may have ruined the only chance he had of being not-enemies with the hated prince. But the prince was back so quickly to being sharp that Asbel could not help but bristle in response.

"It takes more than one nice word to make you trustworthy." With that final word on the matter, the phoenix let go of Frey's harness and rested his hands on the saddle instead, even if that made the ride more tumultuous than pleasant.

Augustine, meanwhile, had learned to brush off Frey's spitfire responses. The words still stung like barbs, but they were not so sharp as to make him cry as they had when they were younger. Besides, Frey had not matured even as Augustine had, and the elder prince found that easy grounds for dismissing Frey's insults as meaningless tantrums.

The storm clouds, anyway, were far more concerning, and the general watched, brow furrowed, as they loomed closer. "Descend, Cassius," he ordered, touching a hand to the side of the dragon's neck in soft concern. "We don't want you hit."

The dragon rumbled in response and rolled forward in a steep dive -- and despite himself, Asbel yelped and caught again the back of Frey's harness as the earth tilted beneath them and rose far too fast.

Frey gritted his teeth as the hot, uncomfortable feelings of anger and hatred ate at him. He should just take Asbel by the hair and hurl him off Cassius. It would be rather humorous for someone to die in such a lame way. If someone died by falling off a flying mount, they would probably be the butt of jokes far and wide for centuries! Things like that would never be normal.

Before Frey was able to do anything crazy, there was a sudden dip and the prince heated the general declare they were headed down. "It's not lunch, you ninny!!" He screeched as strong arms latched onto his harness. Bracing himself, Frey closed his eyes and prepared for the worst. It was as if he had forgotten he was riding a living creature, and Cassius would not be stupid enough to plummet to the ground as if he was a stone in the sea.

Once they gently landed and the cold winds died down, Frey felt to make sure none of his coat buttons had come off. Roughly, he grunted and snapped his harness open, and looked around. They were lucky to have landed in a clearing of some sort in the Snap-Spires. As Frey ignored any objections, he snickered and slid off the dragon's scaly back and scampered off to check it out. What he found was surreal.

Not wandering more than twenty feet, Frey had a good look at the world around d him. The trees were black in color, and were unimaginably tall with few branches. There was some sort of white moss on the trees, and there was the scent of sap in the air along with burning firewood. Odd...

Cassius did indeed land gently, his wings flaring as he slowed the descent and settled on the grass like a great, scaly, over-sized feather. Augustine laughed again as the swirl of wild air around them settled, and he raked a hand through his hair as he slid down from the dragon's back.

Asbel moved more slowly, stiff with the cold from the higher altitude and half-hopeful that he might be able to cling to Frey again, as much a brat as the prince may have been. At least he was warm and steady and was back to being an understandable, prickly young man. And whatever else Frey was, at least he wasn't a dragon.

But the phoenix tucked his arms around his pack again as Augustine likewise began to move the luggage from the dragon's back to a heap alongside. "Let's get you turned back to a man, Cassius. You're enough of a lightning risk as a human being, but better that than a too-big reptile."

Cassius rumbled in veiled displeasure, but Augustine patted him gently on the neck and the dragon began the slow melting back into the dark-haired, sharp-featured man he'd been earlier in the day and took the spare clothes from the elder prince.

Asbel took that opportunity to further examine their landing place, and to glance at Frey to make sure he hadn't wandered too far. The younger prince, twenty feet away, could yet not be trusted to stay with the group (as far as Asbel was concerned), and the phoenix trotted over with the intent to herd him back toward the others. "Maybe the lightning frequently strikes the trees," he suggested by way of apologizing for his earlier standoffish. "How far do you think we have to walk?"

Frey turned back to looks hard at Asbel. The prince's eyes were cold and calculating. If Frey's words and eyes were weapons, he would win every fight. Sighing in irritation, the silver-haired prince put a hand against the rough, peelin bark of a gnarled black tree. It looked like something you would see in a massacre painting, and made him uneasy.

For a moment, Frey was about to actually respond. If he was to travel with Asbel, he may as well be civil. Suppose he caught a cold and Asbel was his only means of recovery? Nevertheless, the young man recalled what Asbel had done to him not a full hour ago. He inched closer to the phoenix, until their faces were mere inches apart. "Stop that." He echoed before walking around Asbel and back toward Cassius and August.

Why didn't he do more than simply repeat what was said to him? Frey had just eaten toast, so Asbel could most likely smell the orange marmalade in his breath. There was still some of the gooey sweet substance on is teeth, and he licked at it thoughtlessly.

Frey noted the huge bags the general and dragon carried, but didn't make an offer or move to help. "Can we get moving?"

Asbel blanched beneath the prince's withering gaze, and his arms tightened around the pack held against his chest. That the prince could move so seamlessly from shocked and apologetic -- almost soft -- to frigid and inhuman was a terror in itself, but the phoenix refused to shudder. He had suffered Frey's antagonism long enough, and with Augustine and Cassius so close by, the young prince would dare not do anything dangerous.

All the same, it took every spark of resolve in him to stop from leaning away from Frey as the prince drew so near. His breath reeked of sugar and old citrus -- and Asbel was so busy holding his breath that he almost missed the young prince's antagonistic response.

Stop that.

Green eyes narrowed in confusion and disapproval, but already Frey was gone, headed back to the others, and Asbel relaxed -- as much as was possible. Had the retort been born of wounded pride -- genuine concern scorned -- or was the prince rejecting any further attempts at a peace treaty to their ongoing war?

Thus puzzled, and in no small way offended, Asbel followed Frey back to the other half of their group. Cassius was dressed by now, Augustine adjusting the buttons on the now-human's jacket. "Grab what you can carry," the elder prince ordered, looking pointedly at his brother. Cassius, shirt buttoned, hefted one of the largest bags in one hand and slung it over one shoulder.

Frey sighed as he weighed his options. He could either carry a semi-heavy bag or love to his reputation and be a brat. However, though it would entertain him, there would be little other point. Perhaps if Frey was kind or at least tolerable, his brother would let him sleep in the woods somewhere. Wordlessly, Frey grabbed ahold of a medium-sizsd pack and tossed it onto his back. "Fine." He said fiercely.

With a look that could probably kill someone, Frey began following his brother and his dragon. Cassius knew where he was going, and they walked in silence for several hours. How exactly he did it was beyond the troublesome prince. Perhaps he had cleared his mind of all thought.

But soon the thunder was becoming too much and the bag far too heavy with a grunt, Frey suddenly dropped it. "Whoops." He taunted before yawning. "Should we look for shelter?" The prince asked as he picked the bag back up. While he had no plans of falling asleep, perhaps he could rest his body for a little bit... in a cave, preferably.

It then began to rain and the prince cried out in frustration. Yup. They would have to take a break, at least for the night. At least the trees above them were a bit leafier and blocked some rain. "Tents..." He murmured as he unbuckled the bag.

For the hours that drifted slowly past, Asbel followed close behind Augustine and Cassius, his attention alternating between the back of the elder prince's head and the surrounding forest. For his first foray into the real world, the phoenix would have picked nearly any landscape but this. The trees were tall and bare and black with seared bark, and the sky above had lost all color but the grey of the thickening storm-clouds. The smell of the place, too, now associated with the sickening marmalade jam from Frey's breakfast, had no merit either, and the whole forest assailed him with the reek of sap and burnt wood and impending rain.

Ahead of him, Augustine chatted amiably with Cassius -- meaning that Augustine occasionally spoke and Cassius did nothing but nod and, once in a while, rumble a reply. Even though he felt as though he were eavesdropping, the phoenix trotted nearly in their shadows, anyway: better there than anywhere near Frey.

The first drops of rain startled him, though Asbel managed no reaction but to glance up in puzzlement. He had not expected rain to be so cold, and he sympathized with Frey's yelp of irritation some distance behind. Was this ran going to be a frequent occurrence?

"We brought tents for a reason, Frey," Augustine called back as Asbel tugged off his jacket and covered his head with it to keep off the rain. The general and the dragon, meanwhile, tossed down their supplies and began to unpack as Frey was doing. "Cassius, you help Frey with one of them; Asbel, you stay with me."

Turning pink despite the new chill in the air, the phoenix approached and meekly followed the general's directions: canvas here, pegs here, and so on until the assorted pieces resembled something that could be slept in. And just in time, as the rain came down harder, swept into Asbel's face by an errant wind.

"Finished just in time," Augustine announced, surveying their accomplishment with obvious satisfaction. "You can take this one, Asbel. You and Frey will share; Cassius and I will take the other and take turns keeping watch."

The phoenix tensed. He would not speak against Augustine, not for anything, but even so, resistance to the idea of being alone with the demon prince for an entire night froze the breath in his lungs. "Is that... is that wise, Your Eminence?"

The general surveyed him for a moment through the rain, hair plastered to his scalp, eyes agonizingly thoughtful even in the inclement weather. "You will be fine," he promised, and he sounded so sure that Asbel almost believed him. "He's been cooperative today. But if you need help, either Cassius or I will be awake at any time during the night." The prince flashed a smile that doubled the phoenix's pulse and turned toward the other half of their party. "Cassius," he shouted, "when you finish, go inside and get the supplies dry; I'll take first watch. Frey, you're over here with Asbel!"

The youngest prince of Vallance did his absolute best when assisting Cassius. That is, his best to make problems. He didn't do as he was asked; it was too late and too wet for that. He didn't help find a clearing next to the other tent. That was way too much work, and didn't the ground look the same anyways?

The dragon was forced to erect the tent single-handedly while Frey, spoiled brat as he was, crouched nearby and watched. After what seemed to be forever, Cassius finally finished. "Took you long enough, Cassi." Frey chimed with his ridiculous nickname. Since the dragon had to do it all by himself, it looked more pathetic than the one Asbel and August put up. "I'm sure you and August can fix it up later." Frey offered as the general called him.

Against the merciless rain, Frey began to make his way to the other tent. That was, until he heard the rest of what his brother had to say. "What? Are you mad, you idiot?!?!" Frey snapped angrily. He looked at Asbel. The Phoenix. "You can't expect me to sleep with a bird! The damn thing glows!" The Frey paused. Wait... Asbel GLOWED. How would he fall asleep if Asbel was right next to him, being well...himself?

With a snicker, Frey grinned. "Okey, guess there's no fighting you, brother!" He said perkily as he all but hopped into the tent where there were already two pillows and a blanket. He laid down, deciding to catch his breath. As Asbel walked in, Frey glared at him. "Chicken."

With his mouth a thin, stoic line, Asbel waited for Frey's outburst to be over and for the prince to disappear into the tent he had originally been so reluctant to enter. Of course the prince would agree to the arrangement only after he realized that the phoenix was a natural talisman against the dark. Nothing else suggested quite so clearly that Frey truly was afraid of the darkness: the only reason he would agree to sleep in the vicinity of such an otherwise-useless thing was if the thing was a glorified lamp. Already, as much as he now didn't want to, as the last shreds of light vanished in the rain-filled dusk, Asbel's light was already becoming more pronounced: a soft, ethereal glow so like candlelight.

A thing. After seventeen years of taunting and nearly-deadly pranks, a few insults, none of them new, should not have been so bothersome. But they caught in Asbel's throat all the same and the phoenix gritted his teeth to keep his eyes dry. Always a thing, always a tool. The alchemists thought so, Frey thought so -- everyone thought so, except for Bacchus and Augustine. Two people in all the castle.

Augustine wandered through the darkness towards Cassius, but that was all the sound Asbel heard from that direction, so he entered his own tent and returned Frey's glare. Not even the relative comfort of a small, enclosed space allayed the fact that Frey was the one sharing it with him.

"Royal brat," he snapped in return, voice nearly cracking, and with that he turned his back on the prince and sat as far from Frey as possible. Nothing else needed to be said. The forest was horrid -- the prince was horrid -- the rain itself was horrid. To be wet was a misery all on its own, and Asbel tugged off his jacket and shirt, bare skin still unpleasantly damp and chill. He bundled the discarded clothes in his hands and sent heat through them to dry the waterlogged fabric before he resigned himself to sleeping beside a demon.

It was so hard to keep calm when his only source of light began to diminish. Though he hated the phoenix, he needed the light. As Asbel began to fall into slumber, his light began to dim and Frey gritted his teeth. He had no other choice than to try to keep himself up. But it was futile. In no time at all, Frey was locked in yet another nightmare.

It always felt so real. Never did he think for one moment that it was all a dream until he woke. It was different all the time, but it was always dark and shadowy. This time, he was running at full speed from something. It wasn't visible to him until it caught up.

Frey began to pant, his sleeping form twitching as tears fell. He looked like something was tormenting him and curled over. This was usually the time he would curl up into his pillow. His sleeping form reached for te closest thing, which happened to be Asbel. The cursed Prince hugged his nemisis while he was being trapped by monsters.

The most difficult part of falling asleep beside a strange, Asbel decided, was dealing with the invasive presence of their very breath. The phoenix, alone at night since shortly after hatching, had kept company in the evenings with summer breezes and the occasional fall of rain. The rustling breath of another person beside him was almost too loud, too unfamiliar to fall asleep to.

Exhaustion had stolen him into sleep long enough, but Frey's midnight panic woke Asbel in an instant, and the phoenix froze, dizzy with a similar alarm. Were they in danger? He lay stiff and silent in the near-darkness, lit again, but with his back to Frey, Asbel could not (and would not turn to) see what harried the prince. A nightmare -- that was all. If the brat had a bad dream tonight, so be it: after his attitude, the young man deserved nothing else.

Asbel closed his eyes to force himself to sleep again when arms coiled around his waist -- and every nerve in his body lanced alarm through his body. He did not flare, did not burn, but did not dare to breathe, either. Frey was still asleep, apparently, and what was presumably his face was pressed against Asbel's bare shoulder and left dampness there: tears in the dark.

"Your Highness," he whispered, half-hoping Frey would wake up, half-hoping he would stay asleep. The phoenix squirmed, trying to dislodge the arms around his waist and steady his own racing pulse. "Your Highness, let go. You are in no danger."

The funny thing about a nightmare was that the more you want things to go away, the more they stay. And Frey really wanted to be left alone. It was terrifying to go to sleep every night, but at least in the castle his life wasn't in danger. Now, however, he could very easily die. Though he wasn't thinking about the real world, he did register and understand he was in grave danger.

As the prince stumbled about in the shadows, a tendril wrapped around his stomach. It had think plant hairs that pickled his bare skin. It tightened around him, and the prince screeched in pain. Slowly, it began to lift him off the ground as Frey friend and pounded and even cursed at the monster. It seemed to all be in vain. Frey screamed one final time before the monster put him in its mouth and sharp teeth pierced him like arrows. He coughed up blood as he began to wake.

Frey's eyes fluttered open, and he covered his mouth with both hands before bolting up and running out of the tent. He spit out much blood. This wasn't a good sign; he could have died! Though he knew he had held on to Asbel. Frey didn't have the time nor energy to speak with someone who hated him right now.

The prince felt like he almost had died. If it wasn't for the bright light that woke him up, he wouldn't be breathing anymore. Sucking in a deep breath of wet, rainy night air, Frey was suddenly filled with a sense of dread. Was that a tendril he saw in his own tent?!?!?!?!?! Clamping both hands around his ears, the youngest prince began hyperventilating. Blood continued to leak out of his mouth as Frey began to shout and scream in the dead of night.

I'm in danger.

He ran away, fleeing into the dark forest. It was easier to just run away. Even if he died' he isn't want to be eaten by monsters. The tired and fatigued prince ran like he was missing a leg, stumbling and dropping constantly. His robes were tattered, though his skin continued to be flawless. After a few minutes, the young man let out another cry as he tried to step in the air- there was a hill! He tumbled down it, mostly rolling before landing in a splash in icy water. He couldn't see anything.

"There's blood everywhere!?!!!"

As Frey pulled away from him in the tent, Asbel sat up and turned to face him -- just in time to see the young prince cough up a mouthful of blood into his cupped hands. Disgust turned his stomach, and Asbel recoiled with a wordless exclamation of horror. What was this? No nightmare would do that!

"What are you--" The phoenix began, but his concern was cut short as the prince dashed from the tent, and Asbel followed before he realized he'd moved, forgetting proper clothes or protection from the rain in his haste to follow. Nightmares he understood all too well. He'd had them, too, of course: dreams that threw him into the frigid darkness of the abyss between one incarnation and the next -- that dead-black emptiness all that he ever remembered of his lives before. But whatever happened to Frey was not just a bad dream: Asbel had seen the blind panic in the prince's eyes. Something had hurt him.

The rain beyond the protective shell of the tent struck Asbel like pellets of ice, but through the gloom the phoenix managed to see the prince only a few steps away. He started to call out, to call the prince back inside, but Frey began to scream that chilled him in a way that the rain could not, and then there was no shadow of the young men in sight, only the thrash of torn branches and sodden grass as the prince fled.

Asbel threw himself after him, following the sounds of the half-conscious prince even as shouts rose from the other tent: a confused and alarmed Augustine calling his brother's name. But Asbel couldn't speak, so focused did he have to stay on following Frey through the near-blackness of the forest, and he was not so mercifully spared the myriad attacks on his body: he stumbled through the woods, clothes cut, face and bare chest and bare ankles bleeding from scratching branches, hair caught and pulled with every other step, bare feet frozen and cut by underbrush so like blades and so different from the soft carpets of home.

Another cry disrupted the crashing ahead, and the phoenix nearly tumbled down the same hill, so close was he at last on Frey's heels. He scrambled down the steep, soaked hill and -- without no thought but one -- waded into the rain-gorged stream into which the prince had fallen. Trembling with the cold and the pain of a thousand stinging cuts and with the effort of finding his breath and with the effort of finding Frey, Asbel slid his arms around Frey's chest, hooked beneath the young man's arms, and slipped on the stream bed in his efforts to haul his delirious companion back to less dangerous ground. He could hear, faraway, the clamor of Augustine and Cassius coming in search of them.

His glow was weak, hardly there at all after the onslaught of the rain, and he was panting so hard he nearly couldn't speak, though he tried all the same. "Your Highness -- get up, please get up."

The water felt thick and heavy to the terrorized prince as he struggled to keep his head above water. It was a horribly helpless feeling, and Frey felt as if he actually did die and he was in the belly of a monster. It felt like black blood, that stained his clothes and tried to corrode his skin. He screamed at the top of his lungs, blood ripping out of his mouth in a horrific display of fear and despair. The dirty pond water stung his few cuts. Though he had been wearing woolly socks, they had done little to protect the tender bottom of his feet. There were so many thorns, but Frey barely noticed his tattered sleepwear and fatigued body. There was just so much blood. He continued to scream and cry and cough up blood. The rain only made the situation worse, making him feel like the wind froze around him. His teeth chattered.

"Stop it... Stop it..." He begged aloud, wanting the bleeding and the shadows to stop. His hair was matted and wet and his eyes were crazed and yet sleepy at the same time. This was the second time such a thing had happened to him. Before, it wasn't as bad; he had just woken with a scratchy throat. This time, he was putting his life in danger. He could die, especially since he spread his arms and legs. "I feel so cold..." He murmured absently before letting himself go and sinking in the water. It was too hard to want to stay alive when you were in so much pain. It was numbing, and it felt like he was being crushed from the inside out. It was dark and cold and quiet, but the pain didn't stop. Angrily, the prince curled up into a ball. "Stop it, stop it, stop it.." He muttered, not caring water was going into his lungs.

Then... there was light. In the darkness of the cold, cold, water, Frey opened his eyes and saw a dim glow. To him, though, it was a beacon of light. He didn't recognize Asbel, and chances were he wasn't very recognizable either. Frey felt so weak, but maybe if he clung to this... this star, it would dispel his nightmare. Desperately, the prince flailed his arms and tried to reach for the phoenix but found his arms weren't strong enough. Asbel was farther than he seemed. Coughing up a few more droplets of cherry-red blood, the young man closed his eyes. The next he knew, he was gasping for air and getting the water from his lungs. Frey was waking up.

In the next few moments, Frey clung to Asbel and teared up,sobbing into the phoenix's shoulder, still unaware it was his archenemy. it took him a few minutes to get his orange eyes open. They were clear but still held an unguarded fear. Slowly, Frey realized his savior was glowing softly. Pulling away slowly, the cursed prince of Vallance looked into Asbel's eyes. His expression was unreadable. He moved, as if to get up, but instead just sat against the grimy, muddy bank next to Asbel to get off of him. Frey's skin was being relentlessly stabbed by the cold rain, and his skin also hurt from the small cuts on his body.

He then crouched over Asbel, in an attempt to shelter him from the rain. What was this strange feeling? He felt like crying all over again, but he wasn't sad. The prince could have only been thinking one thing- and it was something he never would have even dreamed of.

He came after me. Why?

Frey could ask about this later. Just then, a bolt of lightning struck the pond, making the prince glad he was out of the water. With one final bloody cough, the young man cradled Asbel gently. What could he say? He wasn't in an angry mood, but he wasn't elated. It was a strange foreign emotion. Frey shook his head, causing droplets of water to come out of his hair. The seventeen-year-old then bit his lip nervously. "Th-" It was difficult saying something like this, to someone like that. Someone he had called a tool and a bird countless times. "Thank you." He said gently, but was audible over the thunder.

By the time Asbel had hauled them both to the relative safety of the muddy bank, he no longer had the energy to care about what was going on. For whatever reason, Frey had nearly killed himself, screaming the whole time, the sound scratching the surface of his mind and embedding itself there forever. For whatever reason, the prince was weeping against his shoulder, and Asbel let him, too exhausted and confused to push him away. The prince's eyes, when open, were sane -- thank goodness -- if terrified, but at least Frey had been found in more ways than one, and might be brought back to the camp in one piece. Never mind that, for the second time in as many days, there wasn't a shred of mischief or hatred in the young prince's expression. For the second time in as many days, Frey was looking at him with an expression that couldn't be deciphered.

The streak of lightning jolted the phoenix back into himself, and snapped his eyes away from a wary appraisal of Frey's person. His heart slammed into his throat, and with a whisper of surprise, he scrambled away from the lip of the pond as electricity crackled across its surface. They had nearly been killed. And if Asbel hadn't come, Frey would be dead -- either drowned or electrocuted. They might die still, out here in the cold and the damp.

Frey's arms around him, then, were a strange, welcome shelter from the bite of the rain and from the growling hatred of the thunder overhead. Frey was soaking wet and bleeding, and the front of his nightshirt was streaked with blood, but there was a stillness in the prince -- a welcome quiet after the wild panic of before. And while Frey had always represented danger and near-death (and did so still, it would seem), the arms around him seemed protective, not antagonistic, and Asbel settled cautiously into the embrace. Wariness took more than one touch to break, but for now, so tired and cold and wet, someone's closeness was a warmth much needed.

Thank you.

Asbel glanced up, surprised and suspicious, but the words ached with sincerity, and the phoenix nodded once in understanding. Anyone should have done the same, and he'd had no thought but to help, as anyone would have done, but if Frey was grateful, Asbel would not shut him down as he had before.

"What will you tell your brother?" he asked softly, as the crashing of Augustine and Cassius drew nearer, and as Augustine's voice called again for his lost little brother. But Cassius seemed to know where to go, and they had only a few minutes left before they would be found and rescued.

Frey's facial expression stayed peaceful even as Asbel spoke. A quick wetting of his lips and a quirk of his brow were his only responses. However, Frey was relieved his rare kindness hadn't hit a brick wall. Even if it was not appreciated, it was accepted. And that made the young prince a little happier, despite the fact he was bleeding.

Frey had never used one of Asbel's feathers before, but it appeared he had little other choice than to use them. He might get scars or something. Frey had been told that you had to be kind to use Phoenix feathers, but since the corrupt nobles from visiting counties used them just fine, the prince doubted it was true.

Sighing once out of exhaustion, Frey shrugged. "I'll tell him I was being attacked. It's the truth." Frey said sincerely. However, he wouldn't reveal his secret. Not for as long as he lived... Thinking of Augustine and Cassius made his stomach rumble. What would they think? Could Frey get away with lying?

He could hear the general's voice, but his throat was too sore to shout back. Cassius would find them, anyways. Frey hugged Asbel tighter, to get away from the cold. Even now, Asbel was warmer than the unforgiving rain. "Why... Why did you follow me?" The prince asked slowly. In a moment, his brother and his dragon would come.