Due to the extent of his injuries, Ilyan took a fever. Rhaena expected that he would but still her persisted in maintaining command and ordering his crew until finally, he could withstand it no longer. Barbaros carried him in, depositing him on the bed and rather firmly instructed the princess to make sure he did not do anything reckless before closing the door firmly behind him. Ilyan muttered, cursing his First Mate but could not bring himself to sit up, his head ached too much. Everything hurt and throbbed, his skin burning with sweat until something wet and cool was draped over his brow. Through unfocused eyes, he was able to tell that the princess was standing over him. The fever claimed him for sleep before he could speak to her, but as he rose and fell through his fevered, unsettled rest, he knew that the princess was tending to him. She kept a cold cloth to his brow and washed the sweat from his body. She fed him light broths with her own hand, continued to treat his injuries and gave him herbs to help fight off the fever from what she found in his own treasure stores. He would have laughed had he been awake enough to appreciate the irony of the situation.
The fever broke some three days later the same day the wind returned, and the crew near enough wept for relief as a strong gale took up the sails and began to carry them swiftly towards land. When Ilyan had finally awoken from sleep, fully focused and lucid, he immediately felt the motion of the ship and knew that the wind had found them. He exhaled with relief, touching a hand to his brow before allowing it to drop to his side. When it brushed against someone's fingers, Ilyan turned his head to find the princess sitting beside him, watching quietly. He blinked, took in her lovely image, then smiled. "If it pleases you to watch me sleep, princess, then you may rest your head beside mine if you would like." Glad to see that his humour had returned, Rhaena allowed herself a slight smirk in amusement, quirking a brow at him before rising to her feet and moving away. It did not matter. She had smiled, and that was worth more than anything in Ilyan's view. Knowing that their time together was coming to an end, Ilyan sought to have as many smiles from the princess as he could until they would part ways.
The sight of land rallied everyone's spirits, and once they had weighed anchor in one of the smuggling coves, the entire crew gladly leaped into the surf and waded to shore, rushing towards the town which promised fresh ale, food and women. Their captain gave them leave to go, they had more than earned it, knowing full well that they would regale the whores with the story of the kraken to get their blood flowing and would receive a thorough night of pleasure for their troubles. Only a few remained on board, those who were not as wild and rambunctious as other members of the crew, and instead went about restocking their provisions and looking for means of trade. Barbaros was always able to find excellent rates and barter profitable deals with other pirate captains or traders, though Ilyan expected that his imposing size had something to do with it. He was not a man you wanted to refuse. Satisfied that everything was in hand, Ilyan glanced towards his cabin where he knew the princess lay within. One of his first orders had been to repair the lock and door so that he could keep her well shielded once again. It was not perfect, but it sufficed for now. Since they were near the shore, perhaps he would invite her to take a walk with him. After so long trapped on a ship he expected she would be glad to stretch her legs and feel solid ground beneath her feet again.
Later. It would have to be later, after dark. Ilyan did not want to risk anyone seeing the princess, especially considering the nature of the folk who came to this smuggler's town. Cutthroats and brigands worse even than himself. They would steal her, rape her then either sell her to slavers or keep her for themselves until she was entirely used and spent. After everything, Ilyan could not allow that to happen. He would rather let her go free than subject her to that kind of life, especially considering the experiences she had already suffered. The princess had not told him much, but what she had said and what she had withheld had been enough for Ilyan to know that the princess was not raised in silks and finery. Her mettle had been forged through pain and hardship, which only served to make him admire her all the more. The truth had first come about when he had finally mustered the courage to ask the princess about her scars, having been made curious by the ones at her neck and the numerous others that adorned her body whenever Ilyan happened to catch sight of them. Each one was a story, and none of them good.
Sighing deeply, Ilyan turned himself away from the door as it was a temptation, instead going below in order to distract himself with work which needed to be done. He managed for several hours, however when one of his crew informed him that there were people boarding the ship, Ilyan returned topside in order to see what was occurring. One he recognised immediately. Fellow pirates and their captain, each one of them as unsavoury looking than the other though none more so than Captain Alano Jervois. Men such as he had very little code and no honour at all. Even pirates had lines they would not cross, but these men did not abide by such restrictions. They pillaged, murdered and raped wherever they went. They were tolerated, but any captain worth his salt did not do business with such men. It seemed, however, that there was something that had brought them to the Stargazer, armed and accompanied by at least a dozen crewmen just as ferocious looking as their captain. Alano was smiling, revealing several chipped teeth. "Captain, I hear quite a number of tales from your men. Is it true you faced a kraken?"
"Aye, 'tis true." Grunting shortly, Alano gathered up his salvia and spat upon the deck in distaste.
"Bastard creatures. Good work killing it. One less to take our ships, eh?" Remaining silent and stoic, Ilyan ensured that his hand remained near to his sword hilt. There was something amiss here, they were not here to trade stories. "I hear another tale circling. One which says you have a princess amongst your treasures. A Dragon Princess, with silver-gold hair and amethyst jewel eyes. This tale true too?" Inwardly, Ilyan was cursing himself. Of course his men would loosen their lips once the ale and rum was flowing. He should have accounted for it. No matter his orders and warnings, ale always loosened the tongue. Ilyan did not give any indication whether or not the tale was true, remaining impassive and unmoving as the wretched captain grinned. The silence was answer enough. "So 'tis true. Salt preserve me. Well, let us have a look at her then. Such a prize as a Targaryen princess shouldn't be kept to just one man. What is she like beneath the sheets? Is it true she has wings and a tail? Are her nails like claws? Does she breathe fire?" Although some questions were outlandish even for a sailor, Ilyan could not help but think wryly to himself that in truth, the princess did breathe fire. Or at least, she could summon it. He would have laughed at himself for his own arrogance, recalling how he had warned the princess not to make trouble or she would regret her actions. All this time, she could have put the Stargazer to the torch, and yet she had withheld herself. She must have found his threats amusing, considering she had never been in any danger of anyone considering the power she wielded, even without her sword.
"She is resting. I'll not disturb her. Waking a dragon is a dangerous business." Ilyan excused, hoping that he could end things amicably, though he sincerely doubted it. Alano was here for one thing and one thing only. The princess. No doubt he had already decided that he would not leave without her, and would find a means to take her for himself.
"How unfortunate. Well then, I suppose we can only proceed to business. I'll pay you a fair price for her. Five of my best ships, including their cargo and hoard, with men to man them as well as ten thousand Westerosi gold dragons, and because I am feeling particularly generous, a chest of fine jewels." The chipped teeth were beginning to irritate Ilyan as he frowned at Alano, considering breaking them altogether. He might not smile so much then. "You won't find a better price, not even if you ransomed her. Westeros is beggared and struggling to survive winter, they won't waste coin on her. No one else will offer you such riches. Accept, and it is all yours. Deny me, well then…I shall have to alter my price, and you shall not like it as much as my first." Knowing full well what he meant, Ilyan took some time to study the men that Alano had brought with him. They were walls of muscle and strength, but rather stupid looking. Behind him, he sensed Barbaros moving closer from the shadows, his men gathering at the threat of danger with their own swords and knives in hand. Their numbers might be matched, but with men such as those, Ilyan knew that most of his crew would die quickly if they engaged in a fight.
"A fine offer, to be sure, but I am not ready to sell her yet. Find me again in a few months and we shall see." Hoping to fool Alano with a bluff, Ilyan grinned as he folded his arms across his chest, seemingly at ease before the overhanging threat. "In any case, if you knew what it was like between her legs, you would know that she was worth far more than only five ships and crew. Why, every time I'm inside her, it feels like heaven." Unfortunately, Alano was not fooled by Ilyan's words. He growled darkly, smile vanishing as his eyes narrowed, but before he could make with a retort, the door to the captain's cabin burst open and his man stepped out, dragging with him a creamy skinned woman of unparalleled beauty. With an expression of indignance, her eyes flashed in the moonlight as Rhaena quickly scanned her surroundings. There were strangers here, thick-bodied men scattered around the ship with a rotund man who was passing the prime years of his life standing at the centre of the deck facing Ilyan, however at her arrival, he had turned. The moonlight made his hair seem thin and wispy, beady eyes staring at her greedily atop a bulbous nose which Rhaena noted had a rather repulsive wart. She bared her teeth in a snarl as she was dragged further forwards.
Having been rudely awakened by this man barging into her quarters, he had sharply ordered her out of bed to come before the captain. Not having known that there were strangers aboard the ship, Rhaena had come willingly, thinking that it was Ilyan who had asked for her, but once the man had seized her wrist, she had grown irate and difficult. Thankfully she slept with Whitefyre always at her hip and since the brainless dolt had not thought to disarm her, it was securely at her side. As all eyes stared at her, Rhaena contemplated on what she should do. Meanwhile, the other captain turned and approached her, suddenly grinning. Rhaena counted five chipped teeth. "Ah! Here you are, princess. Thank you for gracing this humble pirate with your presence. Your beauty is unquestionable. I am Captain Alano Jervois. I command the Black Crow fleet, and my ship is named Ravaging Raider. Not the prettiest of names, I'll grant, but she is a beauty. You'll see for yourself soon enough." Having calmed herself, Rhaena only stared at this Captain Jervois blankly, processing his words before finally she snorted. He was a foolish man, then. Very well, Rhaena could deal with stupid men, no matter how violent and dangerous they were.
"I think not. I am quite comfortable here aboard the Stargazer." At her blunt refusal and unexpected show of courage, the captain balked. Taken aback, he stuttered for a moment before it turned into bawling laughter, the unpleasant sound echoing across the cover.
"Perhaps you misunderstand your position, princess. You are mine now. Your home shall be the Raider, and every night I will plough you like a man ploughs his fields. Gods be good, you'll whelp some bastards for me. I have plenty as it is, but none of them are of any value. Yours, however, might prove useful. I like the notion that a son of mine will be a prince after his mother." As he spoke, the captain crossed the deck with large, menacing steps. Rhaena never once flinched, watching him approach until his hand came towards her face, reaching out to touch her. "Mayhap I'll put a son in your belly by night's end…" She watched the large fingers come closer and closer to her, breathing steadily and calmly as her own hand slowly slid across to the hilt of her blade. This man will have no sons from her, of that she would make certain. However, before she could tear Whitefyre free and thrust its tip through this disgusting man's manhood, a second hand darted forward and snatched Alano's wrist, making both blink and look to find Ilyan standing there. Rhaena had not even heard him move.
Ilyan did not say anything, but he did not have to. His expression spoke all the words necessary, and as he pushed back Captain Alano and snatched Rhaena by the waist to draw her to his side, his message was clear. No one was going to touch the princess. No one but him. A long, tense silence ensued, most holding their breath in astonishment at Ilyan's action, none more so than Rhaena. She stared at him, confused as to why he was defending her so strongly. She understood that she was valuable, but she knew that Ilyan was not the type of man to risk his life for gold. His life was too precious to him. He'd rather go without than die for a little treasure. Yet as she felt his firm fingers hold her waist, drawing her flush against him where her hand had jumped to his chest to steady herself as she had stumbled, her cheeks felt warm with a slight flush as she looked upon his handsome features. Although knowing that she was looking at him, Ilyan maintained his furious glare upon Alano. Any moment now, a chaotic fight will no doubt ensue. Ilyan was correct.
Enraged, Alano gave a senseless bellow, springing his men into motion whereby they launched into an attack. Metal clashed against metal, and as half of them convened upon Ilyan and the princess, he swiftly thrust her behind him away from harm. Before Rhaena had even recovered her footing and darted for Whitefyre, Ilyan was already battling. His sword flashed in swift, sharp strikes and blows, cutting through two of the men within a heartbeat as Rhaena found herself enthralled by the scene before her, unable to help but admire Ilyan's ability. He had not been boasting when he was the best sword upon the sea. He moved like lightning, striking so swiftly that the clash of his blade could only follow after he had already made his next motion. Heat rose from Rhaena's gut all the way upwards, her ardour stirring as she witnessed Ilyan's masculine excellency. Desire began to throb within her, and no sooner had he finished off the last of the assailants, he stormed towards Alano who drew his own blade. It was over quickly. No matter how terrible and feared Captain Alano may have been, it was clear that his butchery had not bettered his sword arm. Ilyan had him on his knees within minutes, bleeding from several cuts to his face and chest with the tip of his blade pressed under the sagging chin as several whiskers drifted to the ground from where they had been shaved off from a precise, expert flick of Ilyan's sword. In the next heartbeat, he pushed his blade forwards, through the captain's throat, then left him to bleed upon the deck. The men that remained stared, watching as the blood continued to pool and spread until finally, they surrendered.
Ilyan angrily wiped his blade clean, cursing under his breath as his deck continued to be stained with that filthy man's blood. His brethren would not condemn him for killing another captain. He was entirely in the right, defending his treasure. Now, he could claim Alano's ships, his crew and all his wealth for his own. Because of a single princess, Ilyan had become one of the wealthiest and strongest pirate captains known to the seas. He turned to her now, wanting to see her. Her eyes were regarding the bodies on the deck but did not seem disturbed by the corpses or the blood. Going gently to her, Ilyan brushed his hand against her arm, drawing her focus upon him. Without a word she surveyed him. Ilyan recognised that look in her eyes, it meant that she was thinking a great many things all at once. It made him smile softly, brushing his fingers against her hair. Before he could speak with her, however, Rhaena drew herself back and walked away, returning to the cabin where the door shut firmly behind her. He sighed. Here he was defending her honour and not so much as a word of thanks.
Putting such thoughts aside, he had someone dispose of the bodies and wash the deck before the blood would become permanently part of the woodwork. Now he focused upon the princess, following after her to his cabin, locking it behind him so that they would not be disturbed. He hoped at the very least they might talk, he might even apologise for allowing her to witness such barbarism. Unbuckling the sword from his belt, he set it down before going to the door which led to his bedchamber, knocking politely but did not await an answer. It was still his cabin. He could come and go as he pleased. Stepping through the door and closing it firmly, he found the princess sat cross legged upon the bed. She fixed the hangings. Dimly noting that the curtains were up and drawn back, Ilyan moved across the room in order to face the princess who rose to her feet as he approached. "I came to see if you were well, princess, or if you were in need of anything…" Starting politely, Ilyan only stopped when he suddenly found himself being seized by the princess and thrown upon his back.
The mattress sank beneath him and threw him back up in protest, his eyes wide from shock, both for the fact that the princess had thrown him, and also because the princess could throw him. He often forgot how strong she was. Stammering, Ilyan began to sit himself upright. "That was not very courteous, princess, considering I just fought for your honour! What in the name of the gods do you think…you…" Ignoring his sharp tongued protests, Rhaena pushed her hand against his shoulder to keep him from standing then deftly lifted herself onto his lap, balancing herself upon Ilyan's legs as he then faltered, eyes widening incredulously as he stared at her. Lifting one hand to his face, Rhaena stroked at his beard as she regarded him steadily, breathing lightly with a toss of her hair over her shoulder before finally speaking.
"Thank you for defending my honour." Then with what could only be construed as a playful smile, Rhaena lowered her face to Ilyan's and captured his lips with hers. Initially he gave no response, too stunned to move even as Rhaena stroked at his mouth with her tongue. Then all at once, enflamed ardour flooded him, and his body suddenly unlocked itself. His hands darted to her waist, seizing her firmly as his eyes closed instinctively, absorbing every sensation of touch, sound and smell as the princess's presence utterly engulfed him. Fire seemed to flow through him, burning in his heart and veins until he felt he might erupt into ashes there and then. She had recently drunk spiced wine. He could taste it upon her tongue. It caused him to groan lustily, his natural desires taking over every thought and action as his hands slid up and down the princess's back beneath her shirt. His fingers followed the grove of her curves, the ample shape of her rear and the muscular tautness of her thighs. He hoped he might feel them wrapped around him soon enough, he had never been with a woman as well toned as Princess Rhaena, it was an intoxicating anticipation to discover what it may be like. An honourable man might have stopped, might have pushed her away and told her that they could not do this. Ilyan was not that honourable, and now that they had begun, he never wanted to stop. What he liked was how forward Rhaena was, unblushingly rubbing herself against him as her fingers tangled themselves into his hair and pulled back his head to more readily access his mouth, delving her tongue deep and wanton.
Gripping the back of her shirt Ilyan pulled upon it, drawing it down over her shoulders to expose more of her flesh. He kissed her neck to feel her pulse against his lips, quick and firm as she gasped and breathed. It was not enough, he wanted more. Needed more. She was as addictive as wine and sweeter still. He thought of her breasts, remembering how he had seen them through her wet shirt and how round and pink her hard nipples had been. With a sharp tug, the fabric ripped cleanly. It was his own shirt, it hardly mattered. He would gladly sacrifice a single shirt to be able to look upon Rhaena's exposed breasts with his own eyes, no barrier standing between them. Full and heavy, they overflowed from his grasp, and his hands were not small. He grasped both and squeezed, tugging an enticing moan from his princess as she rocked against him. Already she was beginning to harden, the little teats standing stiff and erect as he was. Capturing one with his mouth, Ilyan worked his tongue over her sensitive mounds, increasing the ardour and intensity of her gasps. If there was one thing Ilyan could be proud of, it was that he knew how to pleasure a woman. Perhaps a princess would be more difficult, but he suspected it would not be the case with Rhaena. It was clear she had known men before, though it was also clear that it had been a long time since her last tumble with one.
Her body was swift to answer his pleasuring and quicker still to demand more. Soon they were tumbling backwards, hastily tearing at clothing to remove it and although Ilyan wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep into Rhaena's hidden treasure, he made himself wait in order to see her entirely naked before him. Glorious. Also, no tail or wings in sight. All he need hope was that she did not start breathing fire upon him. He smiled at her, tender and warm as he kissed her again, lightly this time as she crooned against him. He whispered to her, telling her how beautiful she was, how splendid her body appeared and how much he loved to touch her. Every word furthered Rhaena's smile until eventually she seemed to be shining. Her flame burned brightly, fierce and constant as she reached out her hands in order to wind them around his neck. He loved it when she touched him too. She knew how to find his most sensitive areas, watching and listening as she explored him freely. When she nipped and pulled at his ear Ilyan had released an unwittingly loud moan, causing Rhaena to grin before she then attacked it with renewed fervour, realising that Ilyan enjoyed it when his ears were teased. They rolled together, hands and fingers pressed into one another's flesh until they were utterly drunk upon the taste of the other.
Eventually Rhaena could not prolong the building ache and pulled Ilyan over her, burying her hands into his curling locks as she parted her legs around him, flexing her thighs and arching her back as she then stroked at his face. An honourable man would have hesitated. Ilyan Xenos did not. When his throbbing manhood was aligned with Rhaena's entrance, he thrust himself forwards and thereafter, did not think again until sometime later when he spent his seed deep within her as she lay gasping with ardent cries, twitching and convulsing as his own shout gradually died against her neck. Both were exhausted, shuddering as the peak of their pleasure washed over them until it settled to a contented ache and warmth. Ilyan collapsed himself beside Rhaena, both staring upwards as reality settled upon them. He had fucked a princess. Ilyan could hardly bring himself to believe it. He had fucked a princess who might have been a queen. Another time, he might have left the satin sheets in order to boast of his conquest, but it did not feel like a conquest. Throughout, everything had been entirely in Rhaena's control, and he had danced upon her hand as willingly as a jester might cavort for his king. Still, he was oddly happy. Smiling to himself, Ilyan turned his head in order to look at his princess, tousled and glistening as she recovered her breath. Undignified, perhaps, but ever so lovely. To him, this was Rhaena at her best, entirely in her natural state and no amounts of silks, jewels and finery could compare to her in that moment. Not even if there were a crown sitting atop her head. Even as he enjoyed the sight of her, quit concerns began to creep upon him. What if this had only been an act of the body and nothing went further beyond taking pleasure of one another? Usually this would be preferable to Ilyan, but he found himself wanting more. More of her. He wanted everything of her. Her mind, heart and soul as well as her body.
When she opened her eyes and turned her head in order to return his gaze, Ilyan felt a sweep of something he had not felt in many long years. It warmed him in a different way to how she had, for she was the source and not the cause. It flowed through him, going deeper than even he had known he possessed. Caverns of emptiness suddenly filling itself with this emotion that swallowed him entirely. He held it back, however, contenting himself to simply look at her as her violet eyes gleamed. She smiled to him, reaching across to brush a kiss to his nose. That simple action finalised everything for Ilyan. Gods be good, he had found himself the greatest treasure that would ever be known to man. Wars were fought for it, men searched for it their entire lives, and many had died because of it. He kept it silent. Not yet willing to give the word power. For now, he simply gathered Rhaena into his arms, cradling her easily then fell back so that his head his the pillows and trapped her against him, enjoying the feel of her breasts and legs pressing against him as she wriggled. Not allowing her to leave, Rhaena eventually gave in, settling herself upon his shoulder to closer her eyes as their pulses continued to thunder. Both wearing their smiles liberally, they slept deeply and soundly, barring the world from their thoughts and dreams as everything that mattered existed only in that room, with a single door separating them from reality.