Her mourning dress was perfect, of course. He remembered other colors on her from when they'd first met. She did not mean to be radiant today, when there were so many familiars dying, she wanted to be a shadow, but how could she be? Except himself, she was the most important person of this celebration. Feathers on her head - how fitting. A big smile for her when her cheek was taken from his little offered peck. He turned to the side, eyeing her in a way that could both have been interested and warning. Tthe light of the sun made the scars on his neck glitter, when they were otherwise invisible. It revealed him as the demon people said he was, a collector of the living and the dead, wearing an untouched face. Human head resting on monster limbs.<br/><br/>His attention stayed on her, black dress and black hair, as her father was set on his knees. Aerill touched her temple with admiration, as though he was enjoying his newest mare and marveling over its pedigree. Ilona had such capacity for poise, but he could see the minute shifts that gave away her inner life. Her wrathful breathing and haunting eyes, they were spoiling him with such a delicious display. He particularly liked how she huffed as he turned her. Newest toy, playing whatever tune he wanted. And then, when he'd fed her the secret that had toppled her family's land, and she looked down at her proud father, he could see the doubt in her. The fact that her defiance and trust in her own useless army, and the armies that had promised to come with aide, was poisoning her. It made him lover her deeper.<br/><br/>He moaned quietly, like she'd let him taste something honeyed and brittle and well baked, when she tried to insult him. "I am vile, yes, that's my nature." The executioner lifted the ax as Aerill touched the low of her back. The sun laid on the metal where it wasn't stained with blue blood. He pulled her against him. Her father looked up at his daughter with the man that had orchestrated the downfall of Lamenwood. "And your nature is noble. But somehow you directed me like a burning arrow at your own kingdom." he reminded in her ear while they were both looking down at the throneles former regent. "Doesn't that make you worse?" he posed and unknowingly petted her birthmark over her dress.<br/><br/>The arms and chest of the colorfully dressed executioner flexed, ax on high, but just as the crowd took a breath, and the blade started descending, Aerill lifted his hand not around her. The man stayed his attempt at killing the former king, an expert stop mid-strike. The crowd was miserable in the suspense. "Perhaps you would like to barter for your father's life?" he said as the ax was brought back to position. Hope blossomed everywhere. Aerill touched his nose to her ear and smiled like a wolf. "Just kidding." he admitted and turned her face by holding the back of her head, so her lips were his but her eyes were still on her father as the weapon came down fast, again. Aerill kissed her deeply just as her father's head came off its perch on his neck, the last image inside his severed skeletal bowl of his daughter being fed the tongue of the conquer of his lands. Whatever after-here her father believed in, he was sent off toward it with a rather unpleasant picture.<br/><br/>Aerill drew the affection out, and the crowd roared for both the killing of their once beloved king and the claiming of their beautiful princess's mouth. He was allowing their baser, darker natures, and they worshipped him for it. Folk are simpler in a crowd, and there is nothing simpler than human gravity toward murder of the flesh, and the taking of it. He pulled out of her - her first kiss, perhaps - still clasping the back her head, before shoving her dismissively, as though she was the one who'd gone for the kiss. The people became livid, applauding and screaming, drunk of blood-theatre and drinks. He laughed as though he was coy, flattered by their love, and bowed deeply, one arm out toward her, his co-actress.<br/><br/>"Do you think they'll be as happy to know when I've put their next heir in your?" he asked, waving at his new subjects. "Perhaps we'll let them watch?" he suggested and winked at her, like he was a dastardly charmer, who hadn't just had killed people she loved and ravished her birth-right. His oakwood stare ate up the sapphire details to become solid black when he ran her through with his gaze next. "You have better behave, yes? I'll let you run your people like you want, if you're friendly with me."<br/><br/>Nobody would know what they were speaking about. But they would know there was some intensity between Aerill and Ilona.