As much as he liked the fearful, disbelieving words coming off her lips, it was her wrathful eyes that looked at him, and the silence that came in the corner he'd forced her into that made him the happiest. It wasn't any kind of lie, her emotion, since she'd not had a card to play at the very start of this. If it was a surprise to her then that was her own fault, or possibly that of her educators. Had she been taught poetry when they should have given her history lessons? The reason other princesses were either obedient or by-passed by him was because they knew it. Ilona had not.<br/><br/>Very well. She served herself up to be forced. It was good, but he didn't think it was good enough, especially when there was a matter of impulses and teeth. She could be her defiant self, but he had to enforce his rules. They were entwined now, and he'd make the effort. Aerill kissed her face with the bulge she wouldn't acknowledge, and then simply let her go. Would he have expected something else, would her tongue be tight? Pretty princess with her tits out and her chasm bound up in metal weave. There was healing magic, so what's to say he wouldn't cut her legs off, high, and put them back on without that infernal protection? He thought that exotic price might be worth it. Maybe she'd even be grateful to have her legs back after some time without strutting.<br/><br/>"You're not convincing, older sister." of younger brother in the dungeon. He frowned and stabbed her once in the gut again, this time with the tip of his boot. It was a royal pleasure to manhandle and abuse the princess too. Like breaking everything, it's about the application of appropriate force. "For that you'll not get to look or comfort him while he reminisces on writing letters by himself, or scratch his own nose." he liked the drama of it, and was already thinking of what he might do with the boy's arms, once they were off his shoulders. It was partially to rouse her, all this. Posturing. He'd stop it all if she begged him to, but he had to stay firm until then. She had to say it.<br/><br/>Aerill turned and started his way from her, picking up his sword belt on the way. Somewhere here he'd put his shirt. He looked for it half heartedly, perhaps waiting for her to come around. It was a courtesy he'd extend, at least, shirt on to see the boy off when his sister couldn't. "Chances are I'll do it myself. My executioner is drunk, and his axe is heavy." he muttered to himself, as though she'd been malicious in her disobedience just so that it'd inconvenience him to carry out the mutilation with his own back. He shrugged at the though when he found a tunic among the rubble she'd strewn around.<br/><br/>He was stomping for the door before the garment was fully on, arms high and slender waist still visible in the light that danced for its life, hoping to survive the night so that it could light the misery of the princess it served. Aerill put his hand on one sword as he reached for the handle of the door. It was not such a bad night, to have made her strip and to have her pay her brother's health for her pride. Tomorrow was a new day wasn't it? And he had an entire kingdom to play with. Some of that sentiment was in his disappointed eyes when he turned to look at her.<br/><br/>"Tomorrow, then, when you brother can't wave at you from the dungeon window, proud princess."