While the alchemists froze at the invasion of the prince, Asbel reacted only with a new tension across his shoulders -- a new wariness in his emerald eyes. He knew, as did his keepers, that Frey never brought good news with him. All the spoiled prince ever wanted was to cause trouble, and between being peppered with toxic arrows, pushed out of windows, harried and harassed beyond measure, Asbel had learned to never associate Frey with anything save unpleasant near-death experiences.

The other royal siblings he liked. The two oldest were as handsome as they were regal, and the phoenix felt safe in the presence of the princess, as if she could easily chase away any monsters that endangered him. Even the princes' dragons were oft too imposing to deal with, and the one pleasant outcome of perpetual imprisonment was that Asbel very rarely had to deal with the towering brutes.

Frey, on the other hand... Asbel sat up and folded his hands in his lap as the prince became his only companion. The fruit in the young man's hand he studied with open suspicion, and a glance up and down the prince's figure confirmed that the young man had not, spontaneously, grown up: his eyes still gleamed with the devil's fire, his smile maintained its mischievous hook.

But this was a child of the royal family. As much as he might want to, Asbel could not flare in self-defense.

"No, thank you," he replied, tone low, as polite as possible. With two fingers, he pushed away the proffered fruit and the prince's hand. Nothing about the delicacy looked appetizing, and Asbel had certainly learned not to trust anything the youngest prince offered him. "I am not hungry. You ought to eat of it first."