[center] [h1] • Griffin • [/h1] [/center]

Mairwen’s pinched features were so familiar to the Prince. In his younger years, the stewardesses’ disdain had been best avoided and he would often dread the very look she fixed him with as he returned to the castle. That subtle disapproval transcending her features by osmosis, her wrinkled lips a sharp line etched across her weathered face. The Prince levelled Mairwen’s gaze with his own, unrelenting in the presence of her not-quite-maternal concern. She was loyal. Hardworking. Dedicated. Griffin did, beyond the mild irritation at her attempts to tame the wild in him, respect her implicitly. But Mairwen was his father’s Seneschal. She answered to him, first and foremost. This made her relationship with Griffin naturally strained, his free-spiritedness so juxtaposed to her love of order. But the two of them had an understanding, an unspoken agreement formed over her many years of service. Mairwen had aided Griffin, albeit incredibly subtly, in navigating the complexity of the King’s demands. She understood the formalities, the expectations of the King’s sole heir and the committed stewardess always managed to guide him when it came to official summons.

This time, however, Mairwen did no such thing. 

[quote] [i]“His Majesty would like a word, at your earliest convenience.” [/i] [/quote]

She was terse. Clipped. Griffin’s amber eyes scanned her face for the whisper of a tell. Alas, Mairwen’s face remained the picture of neutrality. Just the shadows of disapproval cast over her shallowed gaze. The Prince resented every summons. His Father never sought him out, never left his throne room to find him personally. They didn’t share that kind of proximity. Instead, the ever-noble King sent his royal subjects to do his bidding. All of them, Griffin included, often utterly ignorant as to the purpose of his calling. This occasion was no exception. 

Mairwen dismissed the Guard in her most withering but professional cutting tone. He’d approached the pair of them, puffing obscenely, with the already-relayed message that the King called upon his only son. Griffin’s brow furrowed. He bit down on his lip quizzically, turning his attention back to the hardened castle Seneschal. Lip opening and shutting like a goldfish, Griffin went to ask her what this summons was regarding. She almost held a hand up to stop him in his tracks. 

[quote] [i]“Your father did not say the nature of the meeting.”[/i][/quote]

The Prince closed his mouth abruptly and folded his arms across his chest. He watched Mairwen’s face again, wishing she’d at least hint at what lied ahead of him. But still, nothing. An exasperated sigh huffed from his lips, chest moving with the effort of the hefty exhale. Griffin abhorred any exposure to his Father, even at the best of times. His energy, his aura, it eroded at Griffin’s sunny disposition. Leaving the King’s presence left him drained from the efforts of being muted. The part of his spirit that shone with a zest for life? For people? It was locked away in the King’s company. And this time would be no different.

Rolling his shoulders, Griffin readied to follow the Guard whose laboured breaths caused the Prince’s mouth to twitch in amusement. He turned to Mairwen, forcing a polite smile, and inclined his head in a respectful farewell.

[quote][i] “Mairwen. The pleasure is all mine, as always.”[/i] [/quote]

And with that, Prince Griffin took his leave. Passing the Guard whose arm was extended, gesturing onward, his strides were purposefully lengthy and confident. Those intentional steps left the Guard trailing, somewhat lagging, behind him. For a moment, all that could be heard were the echoes of footsteps through the castles main chambers, heading toward the Throne Room. Griffin pushed any anxiety as to what he was walking into far down into the pits of his stomach. He didn’t waste energy on the hypotheticals. Instead, the Prince focused on schooling his expression, smoothing his facial muscles into false neutrality. 

Arriving at the looming double doors to the Throne Room, Griffin lifted a dismissive hand to the Guard, relieving him of his escorting duties. The Prince placed his palm flat on the heavy door and pushed, grunting at the effort, and revealed the familiar grandeur of the room his Father spent so much of his time. Candelabras flickered, framing the walkway on approach to the throne. Griffin strode through the centre of the room, his eyes fixed on his Father’s face. Next to him stood Hywel, Head Guard, his physical presence inferior to the gravitas he exuded. The Prince continued along the walkway, immune to the palpable tension that rippled through the castles airwaves. Halting at the foot of the stairway to the Throne, Griffin bowed. He leant deep, keeping his back rigidly straight as he had been raised to since he’d first learnt to stand. 

[quote] [i]“Your Majesty,”[/i] Griffin purred, slights of facetiousness dripping from the words. [i]“You summoned me?”[/i][/quote]