Cefaris had briefly paused in the open doorway when Asra had called out to him. He didn't bother to give her a parting glance, he continued on his trek out of the tower. 

'Of course, your grace.' He replied, using their same wordless method that the pair had used for their first conversation. With the griffin out and about, this ability would be amplified, allowing them to communicate at greater distances. Not simply that the griffin was a magical vessel, but that it had come from his own magic, essentially a part of himself, which allowed a few various other perks. As long as the griffin was with her, he would know her location at all times. This could come in handy at a later time whether it be to come to her aid, or well, more pernicious actions. Her decisions would dictate which response he would provide. 

Walking was bothersome and this castle was a land in an of its self as he idly navigated the corridors. Eventually, Cefaris found the room where Gyther had been secured. He went and prepared himself for her usual response; a torrent of curses and a blade stuck in his body somewhere. All the pain, but never to bring him death. Maybe one day he would find his rest, but until that day he would continue on as he always had... with copious amounts of sarcasm. 

Providing the door with three sharp knocks, he entered, "Darling I'm home!" Without delay, he felt the cold sting of a dagger slipping between his fourth and fifth ribs. Next came the feeling of suffocation as his lungs pooled with blood. Suffocating was his second to least favorite way of dying, drowning was first for obvious reasons. 

As soon as the dagger was withdrawn, his body began repairing the damage done. Spitting the remaining mouthful of blood from his lips, he wiped his mouth along the back of his hand. "Do you ever tire of this?" Cefaris questioning the femme fatale. Gyther only shook her head pursing her lips in a feigned innocent manner. 

"No, not really. Why? Do you?" Gyther managed a deviant laugh, seemingly taking pleasure she could inflict as much pain and torment upon Cefaris and all he could do was grin and bare it. "Are we alone?" Gyther asked curiously as she prowled closer to Cefaris. 

"Indeed we are." 

"About time." Her next motion, while not as violent, still reeked of dominance as she pressed a hand to his chest, forcing him to sit before promptly straddling his lap. A slender index finger came under Cefaris's chin to tip his gaze to meet the assassins. "I'll assume your ward is still in place?" 

He remembered the ward he had placed on the room earlier to prevent sound from leaving the room as well to keep others out. "Correct again." Cefaris replied just as her lips came down to meet his. No passion, just raw, untethered desire, more so on Gyther's end. For Cefaris, it was merely something to do to pass the time, to sate her and keep her ambitions aligned with his. 

Cefaris had concocted yet another scheme, this one involving Vandran's pet assassin. Their little rendezvous lasted only as long as needed, leaving Cefaris feeling empty once again. But, that's how it was. It was either attempts on his life, or intercourse, no in between. If there was an in between, it was only to plot Vandrans death, so that Gyther could usurp his Kingdom. Cefaris had, however, convinced the malevolent woman that it would be far more beneficial to have Vandran seize control of Lucios Kingdom first. The trade off being that Cefaris could get his hands on his hearthstone. 

"Did you learn anything about the Princess?" Gyther inquired. Cefaris only rolled his eyes, securing his britches about him. "Not really. She's your run of the mill entitled little brat, nothing significant. Should be easy enough to get her to bend to your will when the time comes." 

Another scheme, another lie. Asra was far from run of the mill and was not easy to manipulate, that much was true. However, Gyther didn't need to know anything else about the Princess, and as the griffin was bound to Asra, Asra was yet a being of the arcane one of Cefaris's own. Whether he knew it or not, she would come to control him as well.

Incidents likes this were frequent with Gyther. Cefaris pondered the idea of the numbness of the action. No feeling, no emotion, just a simple instant pleasure that left a vile taste in his mouth. Perhaps he had more in common with working girls rather than the sorcerer he was.

"Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on the princess?" Gyther's hissed words interrupting his thoughts, only adding to his perplexed mood.

"Right, and shouldn't you be indulging Vandran next, or perhaps Lucio?" Cefaris's feet gave out from under him, having been effectively paralyzed from the waist down. When his face thudded against the floor, that was when he realized Gyther yet again plunged her dagger into him, this time in his lower vertebrae.

"Do you have to be such a prick..." Gyther snapped. But Cefaris couldn't contain his laughter, recalling that Asra had already supplied him with that insult earlier today. "I'm going to find Vandran I suggest you get back to your task." Gyhther hadn't bothered removing the dagger as she vacated the room, wanting to leave Cefaris to suffer a bit.

Cefaris laid on the cold stone floor a bit longer, before reaching behind himself and removing the dagger. With the dagger freed his ability began repairing his severed spinal cord. "Right then." Closing his eyes he found the Griffin, and what the Griffin was viewing, came into his own sight. 

Asra had pulled her boots back on, hoping to leave before her father called out to her about the way she had acted that morning. She was not yet ready to deal with his rage towards her.

She pulled on her cloak, flipping up it's hood before slipping a dagger into her boot and a second into an inside pocket of her cloak. She'd be leaving her bow here.

She walked over to her window that lead to a small balcony, pushing it open before climbing out. She clicked to the griffin in order for it to follow, or at least perch on her shoulder so she could lead it.

She pulled herself onto the metal railings of her balcony, swinging her legs over to the other side before dropping a couple feet onto another roof. She paused to steady herself so she wouldn't fall to her death before she walked along the edge, just slowly making her way down. By the time she got to the bottom, her arms and legs ached but she shook off the feeling and began her trek into the village, trying to appear as small as possible so she wouldn't run into any of the people.

She was stopped only once, but a quick dagger pointed at the throat sent the man rethinking his decision and leaving her alone. She continued until she rounded a corner to a mostly deserted street, counting the houses as she went. When she finally stopped at an old cottage, she smiled when the door was throne open, revealing a little boy and girl no older than 8 in the doorway.

"Asra!" They called, running down the small steps before throwing themselves at her, their father running to see what all the commotion was before letting out a sigh when he realized nothing was wrong.

"Jasmyne, Mason, let Asra come inside and try not to crush her." He gave her an apologetic smile as the two kids took her hands and led her up the steps.

'Ahh, the children. Wretched creatures.'

 Opening his eyes ,he severed the link, not caring to view further. If he remembered correctly, they resided in the village, and if this village was like any other, it would contain a tavern. A tavern where he could drink himself to death, and perhaps swindle some poor bastards out of their coin. "Let's get after it then."

A quick flicker of his blued irises and his attire changed entirely, something more fitting for tavern diving rather than Heir to Druinel. Black boots and breeches with an equally dark undershirt, along with a leather vest that extenuated his inked bare arms. A look he had adopted from the pirates that had inadvertently saved him from his constant death. 

The village hadn't been hard to locate. He'd gotten the direction from the growing magic as he neared the griffin. His objective wasn't Asra, though it seemed he was damned to go the same direction as her. Fate and destiny and all that shit. 

The village tavern hadn't been that hard to find eithe. The smell of ale and cooked meats permeated the air. Sounds of lute, pipe, and drunken song filled his ears, and that, well, that put a smile on Cefaris's face. 

He was promptly serviced by one of the most fiercely delectable crimson haired wenches he'd laid eyes on. If Cefaris had a type in the fairer sex, it would have to be some red headed creature with a heavy brogue accent. Aside from that, they tended to be as nearly neurotic as he. 

After his fifth pint, he was ready to try his hands at a dice game. There was a particular group of gentlemen fairing quite well, thanks to the loaded dice they were using. Unfortunately, their luck would change when faced with Cefaris. It hadn't taken long for the men to become aggressive at their turning tides. The ladies that had kept their laps warm now sat along Cefaris along with his pile of coin he had earned.

"Are you cheating!" One of his opponent's accused, standing and tossing his pint for dramatic effect. 

"Sit down you portly shitstain!" Cefaris retorted and that promptly lead to the ensuing melee.

Asra had spent time with the family as the sun had begun to set, her quickly realizing that if she wasn't home soon, she would be in more trouble than she was already in. She stood, much to the two children's distaste, and reluctantly left, but not before dropping a small pouch into the father's hand. She smiled at him, although briefly, before flipping the hood of her cloak up and returning home.

She thought she had gotten away with sneaking out scot-free, but of course, she was wrong. A guard was waiting for her reappearance before informing her that her father had requested an audience, only to find that she was not in the castle.

Asra grimaced as she made her way through the hallways before stumbling into the throne room and seeing the one man she had attempted to avoid all day.

He beckoned her forward and demanded that she kneel at her feet. She did.

"What is one of the only rules that I demand that you follow, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩?" He all but hissed at her.

She kept her eyes cast to the cold, marble floor that her knees were placed on, glaring at every individual crack but miraculously keeping her emotions in check. She was used to this treatment from him by now. Nearly 20 years of it, every single day, without fail. He wouldn't change. "Not to leave the castle unless on orders."

"And what did you do?" She heard him shift in his throne, sitting back in the metal chair. She faintly wondered where the hell Cefaris' king was and why he was not with her father, keeping his attention off of her.

She sighed, closing her eyes in distaste. "I left the castle without permission. My apologies, my lord." The words burned in her throat. She made it a point to never apologize if she didn't mean it, and here she was, doing just that to placate him for the time being.

Lucio reached forward and gripped her under her chin, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. Instant panic, and if anyone looked close enough, it was obvious she was struggling to reign it in. Thankfully, Lucio didn't care to notice or didn't care at all.

Too close. He was too close, he was close enough that she could feel his breath on her face. He was touching her with no barrier and her mind began running wild. She took a deep shaky breath, slow enough to conceal it from the man still gripping her chin.

"Your punishment will be ten whip lashes. I expect you in my chambers tonight once everyone has turned in." He seemed pleased with the outcome, or maybe he was just as sadistic as Asra had believed, but she was thankful that he didn't remember the way she had behaved that morning, or she was sure to receive a worse punishment.

"Thank you, your highness. You are most merciful." She could vomit right there. She was ready to leave. All of her instincts were screaming at her to run as far as possible, just flee, but she was bound to this man, and for that, she stayed calm.

'𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵.' He finally dismissed her, releasing her chin with a harsh flick of his wrist, and Asra quickly left the throne room without another look back, her skin prickling with goosebumps.