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.

[I]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.[/I] 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!