Third Person POV
He hissed, his eyes red and glowing, dragging his long nails down the stone wall, clawing away, gouging deep tracks into them. His clothes were torn and ripped, his hair shaggy and mussed, his expression one of pure rage. How dare they place him in such a dank and disgusting place. How dare they treat him, a Prince no less, like this. He growled, grabbing the reinforced bars of the cell and shaking them in anger. The guards watched impassively, their arms folded across their chests, staring him down, slightly apprehensive. They, like the servants, did not like being near the Prince if they could help it, aware of his temper and lashing tongue, having been on the receiving end more than once. None of them particularly liked this aspect of the job, but it was their duty as
