The click of the door awoke her.
Nestled amongst the satin covers, Rhaena listened as someone pushed open the door then moved quietly inside, pausing before the door then closed behind them. So Ilyan was not true to his word. She should have known. His charms and stories at supper had all been a ploy to encourage her to lower her guard. Unluckily for him, Rhaena was not so easily fooled. She could not say she was surprised. He was a man after all, and he himself had said he was hot-blooded. With a woman on board his ship, how could he not fall to the temptation, and Rhaena knew all too well that she was desirable. What did come as a surprise, however, was the sense of disappointment she felt. She would have liked it if Ilyan had kept his word that no harm would come to her, but here he was, creeping into the room he had gallantly given to her in the dead of night, no doubt to force himself upon her. What if he had slipped something into the wine? Rhaena would never know. Her magic burned through poison and drugs so quickly they did not have time to take effect. She was grateful on that count.
As the man continued to creep forwards, Rhaena began to frown to herself as the shadow became more distinguishable. He seemed shorter than Ilyan, and the sound of his footfalls not so firm upon the carpets, but sounded more like a shuffle. The man brought a sour scent in the air with him, raising Rhaena's suspicions further. Ilyan had not smelled sour. He had smelled of see salt and cloves. This man was not Ilyan. Oddly, Rhaena felt a strong surge of relief and gladness, strange as it was. The man lingered by her bedside for several minutes, seemingly contemplating his own actions. If he chose to go, Rhaena would let him and make no issue. Any man could make poor decisions and regret them later, even change his mind before damage could be done. She would not begrudge a man the chance to redeem himself, however this man, apparently, had no such intentions to repent. When he reached out his hand through the darkness in order to feel for Rhaena's body, she had acted. Seizing the wrist, Rhaena whirled herself around to crack her foot down against the pirate's throat and push, choking him as she gripped mercilessly onto his wrist and, with a single twist, snapped the bone with a sickening crack which caused him to cry out in pain. His other hand swung, to beat Rhaena off him but another kick sent him flying backwards and Rhaena pounced after him, striking his face with her fist before grasping hold of his shirt and hauling him to his feet.
Slamming the intruder against the wall, Rhaena then flung him so that he landed with a crash against the table, knocking it over with a loud clatter that would most likely have woken the dead. Drawing herself up, Rhaena waited to see if her intended assailant would rise to his feet, but instead he remained sprawled upon the floor, whimpering and moaning in pain as he nursed his injuries. A rather pathetic display. Not long after Rhaena heard the clattering of running feet from above, the rattle of the door being hastily unlocked and thrown open before Ilyan Xenos strode inside whilst carrying a lantern, bringing light with him so that he could see what was happening to cause so much noise. He looked first to Rhaena, seeing her calm if a little dishevelled, and then to one of his own men upon the floor, bloody and quite clearly broken. Rage flared within him, and Rhaena watched curiously as his eyes took on a dangerous hue. Behind him, a tall and thickly built man who must have been born from the Summer Isles glanced inside then retreated back to inspect the other rooms in the cabin before returning. "One of the widows was pried open. That is Duran, he climbs well. He must have scaled the outside of the ship and slipped in that way." Ilyan was shaking with so much anger that the light and shadows danced around the room from the lantern trembling with him.
When a soft hand came to touch his, however, all the building fury within him melted away like snow before summer, and Rhaena gently took the lantern from his grasp and set it down. Taking a deep breath to control his temper, Ilyan nodded to his First Mate. "Seize him." Shouldering his way inside, the man grasped hold of Duran and hoisted him up, locking one thick arm around the smaller man's neck. Now that Rhaena could see him, he only seemed all the more pathetic. "My sweet princess, are you hurt? I cannot apologise enough for my man after I gave you my word that you would come to no harm. I warned the crew that you were not to be touched…how should you like him to be dealt with? To apologise for this, you may demand any punishment you like." All too aware that the First Mate's eyes were watching her carefully, Rhaena exhaled softly. Glancing towards her assailant, she then turned her face away.
"He is your man. Do with him what you will. He did not touch me, but I am afraid I have broken him." Once more surprised at the princess who sparked a thousand questions, Ilyan nodded his head and decided that this one needed to be made an example of.
"Barbaros, throw him into the brig. In the morning, in front of the crew, throw him overboard." Duran immediately began to wail and beg for mercy but Barbaros, the First Mate, dragged him away like he was nothing but a babe under his arm, taking him away so that soon enough Rhaena could no longer hear his sobbing. "Are you certain you are alright?" Continuing to sound distressed and concerned, Ilyan lifted one of Rhaena's hands in order to inspect her knuckles to see if they were bruised or grazed. After a moment, she deftly removed them from his grasp.
"I am not helpless, Captain. You will know soon enough that I do not flaunt my words." Drawing away from him, Rhaena picked up the lantern in order to offer it back to him, meeting his gaze unwaveringly. "Now if you would be so kind, I should like to return to sleep." A little perplexed by her calmness and unaltered attitude, Ilyan took the lantern from her and found himself being ushered out of his own bedchambers where the door was firmly closed in his face. He stood there, staring. She was most certainly nothing like Ilyan had imagined a princess to be. They were always told to be fair maidens who gave their hearts liberally and wept at the slightest provocation or hardship. This princess was more than fire, she was cold steel and calm water. She was the intense sun and serene moon at once. Nothing that Ilyan had ever seen before compared to her, and now that he had found her, he found himself wanting to learn more of her. What had happened that had so tempered her spirit? Who taught her to defend herself so well? What other secrets was she harbouring, and could he persuade her to part with them? All these questions rattled inside his head. Ilyan, who never before had struggled to have any woman he wanted, and yet the first woman who had driven any form of genuine interest from him was as cold an impassive as stone. It made him want her all the more, his princess of a thousand enigmas.