Though he sat on the floor at the foot of his bed, listening with all his being, Asbel did not hear Frey's arrival until the prince was halfway past the threshold. The phoenix leapt to his feet, and nearly bolted for the open window, as much good as that would do. But no-- no. If he did not hold his ground, this would never end and Frey would be completely out of control forever. There was a possibility, a very real possibility, that Frey would only stop when Asbel was dead.

So the phoenix rose as Frey strode closer, his expression stone and his body still. Then a hand-- a hand on his shoulder, and Asbel closed his fingers around the prince's wrist to forestall further contact. The lights, with a gesture, he extinguished and the room plunged into darkness. Only his own glow, as faint as distant starlight, could he not put out.

"Tell me what you want from me." His voice, though soft, was not gentle. No longer as tame as a hearth-fire, he would brook no further assault. His hand warmed around the prince's wrist, though not yet hot enough to burn. "I will not hurt you, but neither will you hurt me, Prince Frey."