Noticing and relishing in the phoenix's anger and shock, Frey reached and ruffled the bird's hair and tugged at his shoulder roughly. "Chicken."

Snickering in an impish way, Frey let go of the abundantly warm bird. Making a gagging noise as he let his arms loosen. It nauseated him to have to try and pull a fast one, unaware it was hardly effective at all. The prince combed a hand through his hair arrogantly, the silver color radiating in the dim evening sunlight. Chuckling at the sorcerer, who had conjured a raging wall of fire behind him. The look in his eyes was a dangerous one. Seeing that Frey had released his precious treasure, Asbel, the sorcerer let his spell disperse. There was no need to harm the prince, if he didn't aggravate the phoenix. In his opinion, Asbel was worth more than Frey ever would be. All the prince was was a monster. A failure. "So like a curse..." The sorcerer taunted. 

Frey knew he was no match for the sorcerer, Bachus. He had been there ever since his eldest brother was born. No one was really sure where he came from, but he had his own tower at the far side of the castle. Bachus had cured the queen of her illnesses while she was pregnant. Because of this, most people of the kingdom came to see him as an extremely important person. But Frey hated him, even more than his siblings, parents, and servants. It appeared Frey was one of the few people who could sense Bachus didn't mean well at all. Nevertheless, he was in no mood to be beaten to a pulp. He just smirked. "Keep running your mouth, old man."

"The disrespect-" He began, but Frey cut him off. 

"I. Don't. Give. A. Damn. Now, go play with your little pet over there, old man." Ignoring the fumed of the old sorcerer, the prince whistled as he walked out of the room, a mischievous glint in his eyes. But before he was completely out, he looked back. "I'll be back to hurt you later..." Frey sang, not caring the sorcerer was listing. 

"Do not fret. I will make sure that... filthy... rat never touches you again." The sorcerer promised. 

Meanwhile, Frey had made it back to his room. It was much smaller than Asbel's. In all truths, it was a servant's room they had put a new bed in. The ceiling was high and the window was small. His bed was covered in a slippery silk. It looked most uncomfortable. It was. He sat on his windowsill and sighed. It was tiresome, sometimes. Sometimes he wished he could run away, far from the castle. He wouldn't have to be compared to anybody anymore... 

"Man, I hate that stupid bird... I hate everyone...!" He grumbled angrily as he suddenly pressed his hand against the glass, shattering it. He didn't care his knuckles were torn by the glass.