Attacked? A frown of confusion crossed Asbel's mouth and forehead. Attacked by what? Some demon in a dream? There had been nothing in the tent, nothing chasing the prince. The cuts on the prince's body came from the forest, not from any storm-born monster.

But there would be time for other questions later. For now, the phoenix tried not to remain so tense in Frey's embrace, though the prince's arms felt more and more like bands of steel the longer they sat together. So much sincerity was difficult enough to understand, but the earnest contact was stranger still. Frey was not honest, nor was he affectionate, and Asbel did not return the embrace, even if that would have warmed them further.

And as the prince spoke again, the phoenix averted his gaze, kept his eyes on his hands folded in his lap. "You were afraid," he replied, speaking just as slowly, just as softly. "Anyone would have followed you."

"Frey!" The shout cut through the rattle of rain around them, and Asbel glanced up in time to see Augustine careen out of the darkness and drop to his knees beside them. The elder prince pulled his brother into his arms and held him tight against his chest, and Asbel found himself awkwardly caught in this new embrace as if he, too, were part of the mismatched family.

"What happened? Brother, what happened?" The hug broke, but the general seemed loathe to let go, and he touched Frey's face, checked his cuts for depth and damage, smoothed back the soaked hair from his forehead. He didn't seem to care that the two enemies were seated together, one's arms around the other. That they were alive, blessedly alive, was enough. "Are you alright? Is anything broken?"

Cassius dropped down to gently peel Asbel out of Frey's arms, and the phoenix felt so limp and exhausted after so long a scramble through the woods that he did not struggle, and he allowed himself to be picked up as if he weighed no more than a child.

Frey shook his head slowly, drops of water falling out of his soaked hair. "You're wrong, Asbel. Many people wouldn't have." He responded before Augustine burst through the darkness and the young prince squinted through the heavy rain. It was then Frey sighed in pure relief. He didn't like his brother, or even love him. However, he was a general and would keep him safe.

Too tired to pull away from the hug, Frey let his form be held by the eldest prince. The sharp-tongued prince normally would say something could and unyielding, but he had been through enough for one night. His stomach bled and Frey cough wetly once more, but t the side as not to get blood on the general. As Asbelnwas pulled from him, Frey's orange eyes locked onto his brother's.

Why was he so weak, tired, wet and cold? Frey was far from dead, though.

Not feeling enough energy to form a complete sentence, much less an explanation, Frey fumbled with his sleepwear and pulled up his shirt. On his stomach was a circular puncture wound, caused when Frey had been bitten by his nightmare. Though the cuts on his body came from the forest, this wound most certainly did not. It was throbbing just a bit, and his shirt was drenched in blood.

"Here..." The prince croaked. He hoped that August would use a phoenix feather or something to help him out.

Augustine's expression sobered at the sight of the wound, and he brushed a hand across the injury to be sure of its scope and shape. "What bit you?" he asked, already retrieving a vial from his coat. He'd been on watch, thankfully, and he knew better than to venture anywhere unprepared. He tipped a handful of drops of the golden contents onto Frey's stomach, and with minor smoking, the skin closed and all that remained was the smear of fresh blood.

Asbel, still tucked into Cassius's arms, tensed at the sight of the injury. When had the prince been bitten? In the tent? By what? There was nothing there that would have harmed the young man. Unless he'd been bitten in the stream after he fell in, there had really been no chance for Frey to be hurt.

Though the cause escaped him, the healing process did not: the phoenix could not mistake the work of his own feathers. How odd -- to see some part of his body do such good so quickly. No wonder the alchemists were always ravenous for more of his feathers. He squirmed in Cassius's arms, eager to be set down so he could walk of his own power (he would not be a burden or a tool still), but the dragon's grasp only tightened around him.

"There was nothing in our tent," he supplied then, in case Augustine thought anything sneaking into camp was his fault. "I was awake, too, and there was nothing in the tent with us."

Augustine nodded, though his eyes did not leave his brother. "We can sort this out when we're back at camp." He half-rose, arms extended to help his younger brother up as well. "Can you stand? Can you walk?"

Asbel's feathers, which had composed the tonic, burned like fire. Frey supposed this was why phoenixes had power over flames and light. The prince grunted in pain. It hurt a lot more than he was expecting it to. As his skin closed, the silver-haired prince finally sighed in relief. It appeared that the worst was over. Seeing as there was still a glob of blood, Frey frowned and wiped it off. The newly grown skin was only a little bit more fair than the surrounding tones. Nevertheless, Frey couldn't help but feel a bit sad, and much more scared. Something had given him a material wound from inside his nightmare. What could have done THAT? Not even the victim knew what the creature was or how it had harmed him.

Ignoring Cassius and Asbel, Frey slapped away his brother's hand in helping him up. He felt less like a victim and more like an antagonist once more. His wound had healed, he was wide awake, and until he slept again, he was safe. Safety was always his first priority. "I can stand and walk just fine, so lay off." He said through gritted teeth as he struggled to stand. Perhaps it wasn't the wisest thing to do, but Frey had already endured a physical wound. He wouldn't stand for wounded pride.

It took effort, but eventually the boy mustered enough energy to stand, though he had to push off the ground in order to gain the momentum. "Well, none of us are going to sleep tonight anymore. Why don't we keep moving?" Frey offered bluntly, examining his tattered sleepwear. He would have to change..

With his brother again so recalcitrant, Augustine turned toward Asbel with a pleading frown, and the phoenix spoke with an apologetic glance at Frey: "There was nothing in the tent. I don't know what hurt him. I only heard him sc-screaming, and when I followed him down the hill, I found he'd fallen in. So I... pulled him out."

He said nothing, of course, of the blood or the unbelievable state of panic Frey had woken in. But even with such a halfhearted explanation as that, Augustine visibly relaxed and managed a shadow of a grateful smile. "You saved his life tonight. Thank you." Such sincerity alone was enough to make Asbel flush despite the rain, but the general shrugged off his coat and tucked it across the phoenix's bare chest as a temporary blanket. "Of all of us, you are the most ill-dressed to be outside," the eldest prince admitted with a grimace of apology. "Stay warm and dry -- and rest if you can."

Cassius's arms tightened again around the phoenix as the quartet headed back to their abandoned camp. Augustine walked with his hand on Frey's shoulder whether the younger prince liked it or not, and Cassius fell in step behind them. Asbel passed the time by shivering and studying the back of one brother then the other. Broad and square-shouldered -- smaller and defensive. And while Asbel still could not fathom how two such different men could be related, he no longer found quite the distaste for Frey he'd held before. After the vomiting of blood and the screaming and the panic and the quiet moments on the bank of the stream, Asbel could no longer assume Frey was so one-dimensional as to embody nothing but hatred and vanity. Frey was frightened by more than the dark, and judging from the bite on his stomach, he had goo reason to be afraid.

And... and Frey thought no one cared about him, but three people had gone blundering through the dark to rescue him from gods-knew what. Despite all the hell the prince put Augustine through, the man still loved him. Why was Frey so endlessly cruel in pushing him away? If someone cared about Asbel that much, he certainly wouldn't spend every waking moment trying to keep them at arm's length.

Between the steady gait of the dragon and the shield of the prince's coat against the rain, Asbel could not keep his eyes open. He fell asleep before they were halfway back to the tents. As he slept, he began to burn, though the heat was not enough to bother Cassius's calloused hands. His cuts and scrapes from his run through the forest began to steam gently in the rain, and -- slowly, as the phoenix shifted in his sleep -- the myriad scratches closed and faded. He was, however, not so lucky as Frey, and the cuts shrank to thin white scars that would vanish only after a week or so.

By the time the four of them reached the camp again, Augustine knew better than to wake Asbel from the heart of his healing process, and steered his brother gently toward the tent the young prince had inhabited for half the night. Cassius had already settled his charge within. "We need to stay in place here until Asbel wakes up. Get dressed in dry clothes and get something to eat. Cassius and I will take apart the other tent and get ready to travel. If anything attacks you, I'll come as fast as I can." He placed the healing vial in Frey's hands. "And keep this with you just in case."

The rain didn't seem as harsh and cold anymore, though it was still far from welcome. The firm hand on his shoulder was enough to remind the younger prince that he was being closely watched. Was it for the best? Frey didn't think so. He was minutely grateful for Augustine and Cassius coming to his 'rescue'. Frey wasn't wearing shoes, but the disgusting squishing of damp forest under his feet didn't bother him as much as it should have. In his own mind, no one had saved his petty existence. Not even Asbel, who had followed him first and whose feathers had closed the bite wound.

No, it wasn't someone coming to his rescue, it was luck that he didn't get killed right away by the monster made of nightmares. Actually, perhaps it wasn't luck but careful planning. What if the monster's plan was to keep him alive so he could be further tormented. From now on, Frey would call the grotesque creature 'Tentacles'. The thing had never spoken to him, and though it terrorized him his whole life, Frey had never seen the creature's entire body. He had only seen the shadowy tentacles, and the large mouth full of gleaming black teeth. In the monster's throat, there was an eye.

Though he was deep in thought, the prince looked around cautiously as they arrived back at their encampment. Frey rolled the cork-capped vial around between his fingers. "Don't tell me what to do! Shut up!" He hissed hostilely. His heart pumper furiously, as he was a bit paranoid something would come popping out of seemingly nowhere. Nevertheless, the young man did little than snarl and then slowly part the opening of the tent. Once inside, he changed his clothes, and after rubbing some of the feather-potion onto his bare soles, slipped on a new pair of socks and his hard traveling boots. Vaguely, he wondered why he even owned a pair of traveling boots and traveling clothes.

After he had neatened himself up, the prince shuffled back out of the tent with his typical better-than-you rebellious look. The dawn was quickly approaching, and Frey's gaze softened as he looked up at the sky through cracks in the topiary of the forest. It was a cerulean blue, and the stars were dim but visible. The storm clouds seemed to have blown away, but there was still some water that dripped from the pine needles. The moon still was clearly visible, like a single eye in the sky. Frey was used to the dawn, as he tried his best to wake up early in order to minimize sleeping time.

"Hmph. Let's hurry this process up, damn it! Traveling with you guys is terrible! I hate it!" He snarled to no one in particular, despite his earlier near-kindness to Asbel.

Frey's latest shouts of irritation woke Asbel from a restful sleep, and the phoenix rolled onto his face with a groan. Even with his myriad of minute scratches healed, he still felt sore from the adventures of the night before, and he was in no mood to walk in company now. Nothing had changed, no matter what had happened the night before. Frey was, from the sound of it, back to being as bratty as he had been before the midnight incident, and Asbel wanted nothing to do with him. Frey would be mouthy, Cassius would be closed-off, and Augustine would be... far too nice.

With the stiff movements of a clockwork mechanism, Asbel dragged himself upright and squirmed into the clothes he had abandoned the night before. Everything was, as hoped, fully dry, and even the boots were not as tight and uncomfortable as they had been the day before. But his hair, oh, his hair... The phoenix ran a hand through the tangled mess and bit his lower lip. He had not thought to bring a brush, and he could not go outside with such a snarled mess.

He left the tent with his small pack and, with only the barest of nods toward Augustine, crouched at the edge of the campsite with the nearly-useless needle of a dagger he'd brought from his spare belongings under his bed. While the general and Cassius pulled down the one remaining tent, the phoenix gathered long strands of once-lustrous golden hair in his hands and hacked them off. The knots and tangles gathered in a pathetic heap on the dirt until the phoenix sported an untidy crop of short hair, a spray of new feathers.

Thankful, at least, for new tidiness -- and for the absence of rain -- Asbel returned to the other three and accepted his share of the supplies without a word. Augustine's concerned morning greetings he responded to with a shadow of a smile, and as the day's march began, trailed behind the other three with his eyes on the terrain underfoot.

The younger silver-haired princed looked up as Asbel came toward the small group. His eyes widened in mild surprise. Asbel's hair was cut short! The young man wondered why the phoenix would do such a thing. Ah, well. He looked better with short hair anywyas. Narrowing his eyes in disgust he would even think that, Frey scoffed, unlike his brother. "Tired of your girly locks, birdie?" He mocked rudely before wiping his hands on the ankles of his pants and following Cassius.

Frey could smell it again, even as they continued to walk for hours. It was the smoky, wild scent of burning wood. The trees were tall and mostly barren, though at the tops, pine needles seemed to cover the surface of the branches. They were a very rich black color. The storm clouds were back, but they seemed quiet rather than angry today.

The irregular ups and downs of the Snap-Spires made it difficult to navigate. There was no path- they were relying almost completely on Cassius' acute and accurate sense of direction. Frey did have an off amount of faith in the dragon, and didn't worry about getting lost. He only watched for thotns and other sharp objects. Soon, however, Frey began to feel a strange feeling on the back of his neck. Augustine, Cassius, and Asbel must had felt it as well.

"Are we nearing the mountain..?" Frey asked aloud, feeling some kind of energy. It was a raw, pure energy.

Ah, yes, Asbel thought with an inward grimace. Nothing has changed at all. The events of the night before had evaporated with the worst of the rain, and if Frey was going to return to being a cruel little thorn in everyone's side, Asbel would presume likewise. If the prince needed help, he ought to ask for it, not insist his only comfort was to antagonize anyone who happened to be around him. And if he was going to act as though there had been no kindness between them at the waterside, then so be it.

The rain had stopped, but Asbel simmered in his own personal storm as they walked. Augustine, again, held conversations on and off with Cassius, though their talking was strained, as if both of them were unsure of their footing now that such strangeness had accosted Frey in the dark. But the dragon never led them astray, and Augustine never faltered in his vigilance, so the phoenix allowed his attention to wander.

"Stop." The general's order called him back to the present more quickly than Frey's question, and Asbel halted at once. He blinked owlishly at the surrounding forest, and raised a hand to pull at his hair, only to find it gone. The back of his neck prickled, though from the expressions on the faces of his companions, he was not the only one to feel it.

"What do you think that is, Cassius?" Augustine asked. The dragon shrugged, and Augustine cast a wary glance at the sky. "It feels like gathering lightning. We should have brought a weather mage with us." He began, still cautious, to shrug off his pack and settle it at the side of their makeshift path. "Time for lunch, I think."

At the words, Asbel sank gratefully into the rough brush and ankle-biting grass. "I am not hungry," he insisted, and though he had eaten nothing since the night before, the words were true.

"Nonsense," Augustine countered, pushing an apple and a crescent of bread into the phoenix's hands. "You're worn out already. You must eat something. Come here, Frey; I'll give you your rations, too."

Frey accepted the apple with a grumble. The weather was so muggy. It was making his already bad mood worse. The silver-haired prince chomped into the piece of fruit angrily. Gnashing his teeth together fiercely, Frey was preoccupied with wondering what was in the forest and how he could survive.

His nightmares would only get worse. He knew that much. Obviously staying up wouldn't be a solution. He needed sleep, especially since he was trekking. The dreamcatcher wasn't anywhere close to where they were now. What he needed was someone who had enough magical energy to create a forcefield around him. Even if he did have horrid nightmares, he could live.

He was in an even worse mood. Not even thinking about the three kind souls who went after him, Frey could only think about the monster that had attacked him. So long as he was away from the castle, he was in very real danger. And he would suffer alone. His brother and his dragon were both strong' but had never fought nightmares before. And Asbel was a sheltered creature who could mend his body, but not his soul.

Frey was so engrossed in his thinking, he almost missed something scale a tree. He let out a surprised yell. "What the hell?!" The young Prince shouted, pointing to the top of the tree. Whatever the thing was, it was small and limber. Very, very limber. And if the scratchy notices were anything to go by, it had friends.

He didn't get a good view of them, but didn't want the creatures falling him. In a fit of fear, Frey began to yell. "Come on down here, you bastards! Stop playing chicken! Bastaaaaaaaaards!!!" He screeched foolishly. However, it did seem to have some effect- it made the creatures angrier!

Frey's shouting startled Asbel, who leapt at once to his feet, ready to chase after the prince if this new bought of screeching had anything to do with another attack. Augustine reacted the same way: he rose at once and drew his sword, halfway to his brother's side before he realized there was no otherworldly danger threatening the young man.

"Leave them, Frey," he groused, sheathing the sword and shooting his brother an openly-irritated look (the first Asbel had seen since the trip began). "You need not harass the native wildlife."

Asbel, shaken from the shouting and the evident unimportance of the tree-high creatures, scattered part of his bread into the underbrush. Surely they ate harmless things, bugs and fruit, not people. An anxious shiver of fire fluttered across his skin, but surely there was nothing to worry about. Cassius, still seated, was watching the treetops carefully, and nothing so small -- however numerous -- would pick a fight with a vigilant dragon. Nevertheless, the sooner they got where they were going and the sooner they could go home, the better.

Frey's eyes were like a wild man's. Crazed and bloodshot, twin orange orbs trained to the treetops, the youngest prince needed to find whatever was tormenting him. He imagined them to be small imps the color of the dark pines, with countless rows of sharp, needle-like teeth. Not dissimilar to monsters that appeared in the realms of his darkest, most profound and dangerous nightmares. And he wanted them all gone. Frey balled up his hands. He was losing it, and fast. Becoming increasingly more dangerous by the second, as his only echoing thought was to kill the creatures that lived in the trees. Such dark, ugly thoughts...

And then there was his brother's voice, giving if only a small piece of clarity. The seventeen year old paused, the hatred in his eyes shattering. Licking his chapped lips, the prince nodded slowly. "Alright." He said dryly but with acid, obviously restraining himself. There was still the chattering that came high from the trees. Whatever the creatures were, Frey seemed to be mature enough to stop himself from terrorizing them. He looked at his three traveling companions, knowing that he was safe, at least for the time being. Shutting his eyes, Frey tried to get rid of the urge to beat Asbel until he agreed to smoke out the creatures.

"But..." He began, but trailed off. No fighting... Nothing like that would help him. He needed to convince himself that. Shaking in an attempt to will himself away, Frey clenched his fists together so hard his nails dug into his flesh and drew blood. But the delusional and hallucinating prince was far from caring. "Get me the hell out. Now." He demanded, eyes still closed. There seemed to be a roar in the forest that shook the leaves and trees... But to the to the others, it was just a gentle breeze.

As Frey stood tense, eyes gleaming like an animal's, Asbel stood likewise frozen. The phoenix had been terrified the night before, but even that confusing amalgamation of sensations did not quite fit the fear borne of this. Last night, at least, the necessary action had been clear: catch Frey, rescue Frey, keep Frey from drowning. But this was a prince frightened near to violence by nothing more than a handful of harmless animals screeching at him from the treetops. He was frightened. This Frey, so wild and so panicked, was drowning, too, and Asbel realized, with a flood of ill-concealed horror, that he could do nothing to help this time.

Cassius, too, seemed on edge: Asbel could feel the dragon's awareness prickling the edges of his consciousness. The dragon had some sort of connection with the youngest prince, didn't he? If Cassius was wary, what did that suggest for the rest of them?

"Get you out?" Augustine, of course, spoke first, though he glanced at Cassius with open apprehension. Asbel knew, without asking, what passed between dragon and rider: they could not turn back. They were on a diplomatic mission and to give up now would be to leave the northern kingdom to its own fate. Such an act would look like abandonment. The political turmoil would be impossible to unravel.

"We have to keep going, Frey," the general admitted at last. He turned to his brother with an apologetic frown, eyes dark with concern. "You might... you might feel better once we are out of the mountains. Let's keep moving."

Augustine picked up his allotted supplies and began to lead the way deeper into the woods. And while Asbel did not want to be too far away from the general, he hung back anyway, and edged closer to the younger prince. He could see blood leaking between the young man's fingers, and without thinking, tried to take the prince's hand in his own. He touched Frey's palm with his fingertips and, with some effort given how tightly the prince's fingers were embedded in his own flesh, managed to worm his fingers between those of the prince, gently and carefully twisting their hands together.

"Asbel!" The shout startled the phoenix and he jerked his hand away at once, palm streaked with Frey's blood. He caught his breath in time to hear Augustine call again: "Walk up here with me. Cassius, stay with Frey."

Saved from making any sense of what in heavens name he had tried to do, Asbel ducked away to retrieve his pack and hastened to catch up with Augustine. He cast no glance behind, but he knew Cassius was already beside the prince in his stead, grumbling some low words of reassurance.

The boy's eyes flickered as Augustine and Cassius exchanged glances. The prince then moaned softly in anguish as the general's verdict was revealed. There was no escaping this hellhole, at least not anytime soon. And that was assuming they would make it through. Though his brother was undoubtedly one of the best generals in the kingdom, what use was a king without subjects? As of now, the four only had each other and the vicious mountain that, Frey was convinced, was making him lose his mind.

Gritting his teeth, the adolescent nodded. "Let's hurry up then!" He snapped, feeling something in his throat tremble as he raised his voice. Then, more hoarsely, he added. "Please..."

As Augustine and Cassius hurried ahead, Frey followed. However, before he was completely out of the area, he felt something hard hit the top of his head. It wasn't until after whipping his head around to see it, did he realize it was some sort of pinecone. Abesntly, the prince rubbed the spot where the pinecone had struck him. It was sore, though other than that, was hardly damaged.

Regardless, Frey felt his blood heat up as he flushed with fury. Too sore to scream anymore and too tired to strike anything, he simply whispered, "Scum..." before leaning against a tree and hurrying to catch up to the others. He left too soon to see that he had left a bloody hand mark on one of the trees. The burning sound it made almost concealed the maniacal laughter of the unnamed creatures.

Dragging his feet sulkily through the dark forest floor, Frey 's eyes flickered up curiously as his hand was fondled and, for a brief period, held. He had no resistance, but at the same time, no eagerness. The prince's fire had not been extinguished but rather doused. And, for whatever reason, Asbel's warm hand made him feel the least bit better. "Th-" He had meant to give some gratitude, voice his thanks, but he hadn't a chance to. Augustine, for whatever reason, had decided to speak to Asbel about something, leaving Frey's hand a bit emptier. He didn't try to sink his fingers back into his flesh, though.

Frey then trudged in the wet forest along Cassius, and the next six or seven hours passed with a gray tint. After a while, everything started to look the same, and his feet were wet from the water soaking through his boots and wooly socks. Frey wanted nothing more than to just strip the socks off; they were an annoyance more than anything else! Cassius wasn't a very vocal person, and Frey was in no mood for his usual snarky, unnecessary commentary.

"We're close to the North' aren't we?" Frey nearly pleaded.

As soon as he stepped forward to join Augustine, the general began to speak in low, worried tones. "You must tell me what happened last night, Asbel. Frey might be standoffish and rude at home, but he has never been paranoid like this. Do you know what's causing it?"

Despite the earnest quest for illumination, Asbel bit his lip for fear of saying too much. Frey had never done anything to encourage a relationship between himself and his older brother, and yet Augustine cared about him with an obviousness that was painful to witness. The younger prince ought to tell the older what had happened of his own accord, otherwise nothing would ever breach the trench between them. And how much more, really, did the phoenix know about what had happened?

His hand was tingling, rather more than he would have expected from the oddity of touch, but the feeling abated as he rubbed his hands together and managed to get most of the prince's blood off of his palm. "There was nothing in our tent," he maintained. He spoke softly, though as Augustine leaned in to hear more accurately, the phoenix edged away, tinged pink, and spoke a mite louder. "Frey was having a bad dream, I think, and he woke me. I asked him what was wrong, but he ran out of the tent and ran screaming all the way to the... to the water. I pulled him out. That's all. Something must have attacked him in the water."

Augustine's expression, then, when Asbel glanced up from his folded hands, was difficult to read. Did Frey usually suffer nightmares? Was that why he was afraid of the dark? Did Augustine know what frightened his brother?

But "You need not sleep in the tent with him again tonight," was all the general said by way of reply, and Asbel bit his lip again. "You were so brave in doing what you did last night, and I owe you a debt I can't even begin to repay, and I would not send you to suffer the same struggle tonight if Frey panics again. Cassius will watch over him tonight. He's the best-suited to keeping away anything dangerous."

Asbel's first instinct was, of course, to agree. Frey's been a nightmare himself. You owe him nothing. He's harassed you for nearly your entire life. Let the dragon keep the little brat company; let the dragon try to keep him out of trouble. Asbel was not there to babysit his arrogant, prickly enemy. Frey thought him a tool, and why bother giving the undeserving young man any reason to think otherwise?

And yet... there was more to Frey than that. The prince had hugged him in desperation to escape whatever bad dreams tormented him, had sobbed into his shoulder immediately after his rescue, had embraced him to keep him safe from the rain and to keep them both warm in the cold. Frey was frightened -- terrified out of his mind -- and of course he would lash out. Certainly he still had no excuse for being such a terror to others, but his defensiveness and unwillingness to connect with people made sense at last, if nothing else. Frey was not a monster.

And Augustine not for a moment treated Asbel like a tool. He studied the phoenix with open concern, recognizing without a doubt the humanity of his most reclusive traveling companion. Cassius, too, he had always treated as a friend, and the general's compassion made the phoenix's chest ache.

"Whether or not he needs a... a bodyguard, I think that's Frey's choice," he murmured. "If he wants me to stay with him, I will."

They exchanged no further words for the rest of the walk, and as Frey began to complain, Augustine slowed to a halt and began to unpack the tents. "We should be able to fly again tomorrow night, Frey," the elder brother promised. He handed Asbel one of the stakes for the tent, and the phoenix moved at once to help as he had before, as the general continued: "We're nearly through the pass, and then it will be a day's flight to the northern kingdom. Help Cassius with the tent again, would you? Please?"

When he woke up last night from nearly getting killed by... whatever it was that lived in the cold recesses of his heart, he had expected the clear world of reality to be an annex of safety. Why did he expect that much? In all seriousness, he had met the day with walking. Though Frey was fine walking in only warm socks in the marble floors of the palace, the disgusting landscape of the forest was a different matter entirely.

"I don't think I could ever call myself an outdoor person..." Frey complained rather bitterly. That was good, because since he had enough room to think about himself, he couldn't have been that crazed anymore. At least, not for the time being. Though he wasn't happy about having to help the dragon pitch a tent, it was better knowing that the next day he would be able to get out of the forest.

The blood on his hands had already dried away, and for once the young prince didn't care that he had been wounded. He recalled his youngest brother once telling him that taking a bath in a tonic made from Asbel's feathers would remedy scars. Though entirely cosmetic, Frey had been interested in the stuff. Of course, Frey hadn't shown his excitement, and merely told his brother to go screw himself and get out of his room.

While trying to get the pegs of the tent into the ground with a mallet, Frey hit his own hand by a slip of the finger. Grunting in muddled pain, Frey's eyes held a malicious darkness as he stared deeply at Cassius, clearly displeased. Gritting his teeth together angrily, angry, ugly thoughts raced through his head. They were about one of two people he dared to call a friend: Cassius.

Damn him. He's so stupid. Stupid dragons. We shouldn't even have them in our home. They're animals for hell's sake. What do they need with a high class pen? This idiotic reptile has a better room than me. I hate him. I hate him... I hate him... All he's good for is riding, anyways. It was normal for Frey to look impish, but never unnerving or scary. It wasn't the fact that he was still clutching the mallet, but that his nearly empty, ghostly gaze hadn't wavered for a moment.

This... was all Cassius' fault, it was his fault he was cursed. Though it obviously was not, that didn't stop Frey's racing, clearly falsified track of mind. "THIS IS YOUR DAMN FAULT!" The youngest prince roared as he hurled the mallet at a nearly blinding speed straight at the dragon! It spun like a throwing axe in the air! Eyes glinting evilly and teeth bared only slightly, he was more monster than man at the moment. There was fear in Frey's eyes, even though he was the one who had caused the danger.

What if he hit the dragon, but didn't kill him? And then the dragon killed him? That would be most unpleasant. He didn't think for even a second that he could have seriously injured a friend. But it seemed Lady Luck was on the dragon's side today. Due to Frey's lack of military training, the mallet missed Cassius, and instead grazed the hair on top of his head. It made a loud -THWACK!- as it sunk into the hard bark of a tree. He had certainly tapped into his fury.

Realizing he had missed, the prince cried out in anguish and anger. He sunk to his knees and entangled his fists into his hair. He was so frustrated. Slowly, as the muddly soil of the forest lung to his pants, Frey was able to calm down. Taking steep pants, he then realized he might have very well given Cassius a skull fracture of maybe a concussion!

Though he was the sole target of Frey's abuse, Cassius did not even flinch as the mallet went whistling over his head, dusting the ends of his short hair as it went. His impassive gaze marked the younger prince's irritation, but made no like reply. He could recognize subject-less anguish when he saw it, and Frey was surely no more mad at him than he would have been at anyone else who had caught his eye after such a miserable night and day. Certainly the prince would not be so foolish as to deliberately pick a fight with a dragon.

Augustine, on the other hand, heard his younger brother's howl of rage and turned in time to see Frey hurtle the mallet at Cassius. Without pause, without thought, the general surged forward. Frey dropped to his knees of his own accord, and Augustine slammed into him, knocking him forward into the dirt and pinning one of the younger prince's arms behind his back.

"Don't you dare," he gasped, trembling. "Don't you dare touch him, Frey! If you hurt him-- If you-- I don't care what you do or say to me -- abuse me all you like, I swear it -- but if you ever think that Cassius is just a victim for you to torment, I will smash your face into the dirt. Do you understand?" The young man's fingers tightened around Frey's wrist and shoulder. "I don't care if you don't have any friends or any appreciation for the people who care about you, but Cassius is my friend and you will not hurt him. You will not--"

The prince broke off as Cassius caught his arm and hauled him upright, but still Augustine glared down at his younger brother with eyes aflame, shaking with unexpressed indignation. "I'm fine," the dragon growled, dragging Augustine farther away. "Let the boy be. He's hurt." Augustine made no reply, only gritted his teeth and tried to shake his arm free from Cassius's grasp.

Asbel, hanging back with heart hammering at the confrontation, only now edged closer. He had seen Frey angry before, if only that morning, but he had not known that Augustine had it in him to be so blindly aggressive. Perhaps the two brothers were not so different after all, and, afraid now of all three parties, the phoenix twisted his hands together and hovered on the other side of the tent from the hate that poisoned the air around the others.

Once moment, Frey was sinking to his knees and the next he let out a shocked scream as he was tackled. Augustine was strong, and it didn't seem like he took down the young prince any different than he would do to an enemy soldier. Frey closed his eyes on instinct, though his cheekbones were numb from the mere impact. Frey was never used to getting slapped around, so this was more of shock than anything else. He felt numb inside, though his mind cleared as the anger melted away. He had thrown a mallet at Cassius. He had tried to kill the dragon. He had tried to kill his... his friend?

That is, if Cassius even considered him a friend anymore. As the youngest prince's face was pressed against the cold, wet oil of the forest, he felt like crying but couldn't bring himself to. He never would have thought Augustine had it in him to be so explosive. In that way, his reaction was similar to Asbel's. Even after his elder brother got off of him, Frey felt the weight of the general heavy on his back and the angry grip on his wrist and shoulder. Feeling tears well up in his eyes and his wrist and shoulder throb, Frey shot a wounded glare at Augustine, who was being restrained by Cassius. He blinked slowly, then opened his mouth as if he was about to say something. However, he closed it right away as he ground his teeth together angrily. Then, looking to the ground angrily, not believing what had just happened. Augustine's words hurt nearly as much as the pulsating pain of his take down.

Biting his lip, Frey shakily got to his feet but didn't look once at his brother, his brother's dragon, or the phoenix. Suddenly, turning slowly, Frey ran the opposite way into the woods, and into the darkness. Night was falling fast in the forest, but the young man didn't care. He just wanted to get away. Frey didn't look back once as he ran deeper and deeper into the woods, until it was so dark he couldn't the trees a foot away from him. Was it midnight?

Curling up into a ball and feeling helpless, Frey's orange eyes darted around, hearing sounds everywhere. There were howls and scratches. His legs felt like pudding and his throat like sandpaper. Slowly, his eyelids began to flutter. "W-What? N-No... C-Can't fall asleep..." He murmured stubbornly, lightly slapping his cheek. However, much like his running blindly into the woods, it was pointless. The prince slumped over as he fell asleep and found himself trapped in yet another nightmare. Little did he know, ever since he had been attacked, everything had changed.

Watching Frey rock himself back onto his feet, fully cognizant of the tears pricking the younger prince's eyes, Asbel's first instinct -- first by far beyond the rest -- was to put his arms around the young man and pull him away from Augustine and Cassius. Frey wasn't going to break down, not in front of them, and if he needed to get away, then Asbel would go with him and let him cry as he had before, let him weep until everything washed out of the prince's mind and the young man could be at peace.

So as the prince turned and fled into the trees, Asbel surged forward to follow--

"Asbel -- stop."

And stopped. At the order, the phoenix froze, panic a blade in his chest. But Augustine, behind him, though trembling still with indignation on his dragon's behalf, spoke with self-control and more anguish than anger:

"He can't keep doing this. He can't keep running away as if that's going to fix everything. He can't lash out like that without dealing with the consequences. He can't--" The general broke off, and Asbel realized he was gritting his teeth and blinking back tears in the same way his brother was. Cassius, who had let him go, touched the prince's arm again, this time in reassurance, but Augustine shook him off all the same.

"If I can't keep track of him, I can at least keep track of you two." The prince fixed Asbel, then, with a gaze that still caught him through the chest like an arrow. "I'll take Cassius into the air, Asbel. He might be able to sense Frey from the air, and you may search by foot. We should be able to see your light from above, but if anything threatens you -- especially if it's Frey -- I want you to fly straight up and we'll come to you. No arguing."

"No, sir," the phoenix agreed, brimming with relief that they would be searching for Frey after all. But of course they would: even if they fought, Augustine wasn't going to let Frey get himself killed out in the woods somewhere.

So the young man plunged into the woods as fast as his exhausted legs would allow, following by the light of his own aura what glimpses of a trail Frey had left behind. "Prince Frey!" he shouted. "Frey!" He could hear the rush of dragon wings above, and rustling in the trees, but there was no screaming as there had been before, no crying, no audible clue at all to reveal the prince's location.

He pressed on as darkness fell, and eventually he glowed like a fallen star in woods otherwise devoid of light. "Frey," he continued to call, though the occasional howl of hunting animals could not tempt him to shout as he had before. "Frey, where are you?"

Usually it was foggy, but this time, everything was clear. Normally, Frey saw himself from third person- but this time he was seeing with his own eyes. Or... rather, as close as he could to his own eyes when he was in a dream. Most frightening of all was that Frey was splashing around in a sea of thick black water. Or, judging by the way it felt, was more tar than water. The prince struggled to stay afloat.

Soon, the tar began to burn into his skin. He screamed, but in reality barely made a peep. His skin began to bubble, as if someone was pouring hot oil onto it. "You know not what true suffering is... Prince Frey...." Chorused several deep voices in sync. He felt something wrap around his leg and pull him down, screaming all the while. And then... he stopped.

Why bother struggling? The outcome would be the same. Frey felt a deep sense of insignificance. There was no point in struggling. No matter what, he would always be cursed. No matter what, he would always be seen as a monster... a brat. Even in his nightmare he could hear Augustine and Cassius' angry voices, telling him never to come back. There was no point in disobeying... The tar began to smite him, and Frey didn't so much as twitch.

And then there was clarity. To hell with this 'acceptance' bullshit! He was the one and only Prince Frey! He who had enough guts to disobey the king, and who survived every night, despite the fact he met monsters. He had never been one to lie down and take it, so why start today? That was just who he was- a rebel, a fighter, a prince. Flailing frantically, Frey registered the pain, but fought anyways. It wasn't long before he began blinking his eyes open, feeling wet.

Frey's skin was normal, and he wasn't in any pain. However, he was soaked in water. Had it rained again? Frey's orange eyes met gleaming golden ones. The prince flinched as he took in the strange creature. Though appearing an nearly every aspect a boy no older than he was, he had shadowy grey skin and sharp fangs. His hair was a shiny white color. Most distinct were the big pointy ears the other male had. He wore a tunic of some sort and in his hands held an upside down urn. It was then Frey realized that this thing- whatever it was- had poured water on him.

The prince jerked up, eyes aflame and fists clenched. "You little shit! You drenched me!" He shouted. The other boy flinched and backed away a little, but kept his stony expression. Then, Frey realized something. If this male hadn't poured water on him, then he would still be trapped in a nightmare. His gaze softened and Frey flushed from embrassment. "Ah, thank you. I apologize..." He said as regally as he could. The other male only nodded.

Then he touched their hands together and Frey heard a voice echo in his mind. Happy to be of assistance, your majesty... It was a very deep voice, one that the male didn't look like he had. "You're an elf, correct? Do you live in this forest?" The elf drew back his hand and shook his head. Frey noticed how dirty the almost black elf was. "Then... why are you here?"

The elf stared at him for a painfully long time, and looked like he was going to cry then, suddenly, he spoke. His voice was much more youthful and not as deep as his telepathic voice. His words were duty and unsure, as if he hadn't spoken for a long, long time. "I... am a dark elf... your kind helped the white elves destroy us..." Frey's eyes lit up in realization. That's right, the human kingdoms drove the dark elves into the northern countries, to where they could not survive. They weren't built for such things. The dark elves scattered into different parts of the world, in hiding...

"Then why the hell did you help me?" Frey demanded rudely, not caring about being kind. The elf, who was roguishly handsome in a scary kind of way, shurgged emotionlessly. "You... needed... help... and I .... I want a favor from you...." Frey scoffed, but his eyes were soft. "Will you... will you... Will, you..." The elf couldn't seem to get it out, frustratedly, he touched his hand to Frey's once more. "Will you give us a home?"

Frey was silent. "I'm not the king, I'm only a prince."

"But surely you will inherit the crown." The young man laughed weakly.

"Not likely, elf,"

"My name is Sverre. You smell of royal blood."

"I am Prince Frey. And I make no promises, dark elf. After all, it was your kind who released a plague into my kingdom centuries ago."

"That has nothing to do with you and me."

Frey bit his lip. "Alright, I'll think about it. But that's even considering that I become king." Then, yanking his hand free, Frey began to walk away. Sverre began laughing hoarsely before catching up and laying a palm on Frey's back. "Your highness, do you honestly believe that you are capable of traversing the forest alone? If you are unsure, you are in dent to me. The curse you are under is very visible to me. If you promise to give me and my people a home, I will serve as your guardian." Frey rolled his eyes mockingly.

"And what would I need a guardian for?" He asked, unsure if Sverre could protect him from his nightmares.

"You are a poorly behaved prince. You will need me if you even hope to inherit the crown." Frey bit his lip, but saw where the dark elf was coming from. "I see. Alright, I'll let you tag along." He said, akin to his nature, rudely. Then, the dark elf perked up, as if he heard something. "Frey, I hear someone calling you."

"Take me to whoever it is. " He demanded, feeling ready for anything.