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They are both trembling, though their reasons are their own. For her, she trembles because she is afraid- he could kill her, he should have killed her, he did not kill her. She does not know why.
He trembles because he is lost in the whims of her dark magic, floating through the space between her whispered words without a clue as to her intentions. He knows only that his heart aches, beating and pounding against the inside of his ribcage. He thinks that perhaps it beats for her, for her touch. That thought scares him for some reason, a reason that he cannot quite grasp at the moment.
"Tell me, my prince," Alys whispers, leaning over him and sliding her hands across his chest. They must feel like spiders, creeping up and down the clasps of his doublet and picking at the belt around his waist. "Do you believe in love?"
"No." Aemond says, almost immediately. His eye flutters, as if he is shocked by his own answer.
"No?" Alys reaches up, touching the brooch on his collar. Her fingers slip over the edge of the fabric held there, and they brush against heated skin with startling ease. For the briefest moment, she feels his pulse, pounding away in his neck. She wonders if he understands what trouble he has found.
"It… it has no place in… in…" Aemond manages a vague gesture, but his arm is limp and hardly responds. The herbs and poppy milk have undoubtedly taken hold of him, winding him down from the bloodthirsty hound he had been during the fight. He has spared her, for reasons neither of them quite know. Alys knows that mercy will dwindle as this prince realizes that she is older than he thought. She may be dead by sunrise if she does not take matters into her own hands. It is easy, once she sets her mind to it. Oh, what a lovely lady she is, making a cup of tea for him…
Aemond is staring at her, his one remaining eye wide and unfocused. She may appear as a dream to him, or perhaps a nightmare. He flinches when she reaches up and brushes away a stray piece of hair that had stuck on his eyepatch. Her fingers trace the edge of the leather, marveling at how thick it is.
"Surely, this must be uncomfortable, my dear." She whispers, her voice ever so slightly musical. "Allow me to remove it."
She does not wait for a response, unbuckling the strap and removing the patch completely. It is set aside before she allows herself to fully take in his disfigurement.
"Oh, poor dear." She says, as if she is talking to a child. He nearly is one, with his lanky limbs and soft features. Even though she knows he cannot be older than twenty and five, she endeavors on. There are worse sins in the seven circles, and she was not willing to die for this one. He must succumb to her, else she end up as dragonfood along with her family.
"No wonder they have not had you married." She coos, touching his scar with a gentle hand. Her nails are wickedly sharp, just barely grazing the darkened scar tissue and wandering dangerously close to the prosthetic gem hidden beneath it. "I reckon there are not many who would stand to see such a thing every night. But perhaps I would."
She licks her lower lip as she sees her reflection in one of the sapphire's facets.
"Let me soothe your aches, my prince." Alys says slowly. She begins to unbuckle his doublet, smiling sweetly at him. He cannot make a move to stop her, not when the poppy is still so rampant inside of him. It heats you up, that she knows, as if there is a fire built in your stomach. She undresses him, hoping to relieve some of that burning warmth. His body is lean, and she does not hesitate to run her palms over the bulge of his arm or the flex of his stomach. It is when she gets to his chest that she pauses. There is a cloth band wrapped tightly around Aemond's chest. She pulls it away, and swallows dryly as two little breasts spill from beneath the wrap. They are small, not even handfuls, but they are definitely breasts.
Alys reaches down, touching one before groaning softly. She wiggles her hand down the front of Aemond's breeches, groaning a little louder when she finds slick folds waiting for her. Oh, it is over now. She has him trapped.
"My goodness, Aemond." She breathes, leaning in to kiss the shell of his ear and surround him with her scent as she begins to rub that sweet spot between his legs. "What a secret you have been keeping. It is almost as dangerous as mine."
She finishes undressing him before unclasping the back of her dress and allowing it to flow off of her shoulders. Underneath her slip lies miles of pale, unspoiled skin. She is like the foam of the ocean, born from strife and chaos. Her cock hangs heavy between her legs, and she touches it with delicate fingers. It aches for Aemond's body, aches to claim every inch of him.
"Mm…" Aemond stirs a little, struggling to lift his mind from the fog of her spell. Unconsciously, he spreads his legs a little, showing off the tuft of white hair decorating his pussy. Alys feels her mouth run dry as she watches him move. She climbs onto the bed, sitting between his thighs and folding them up and over her waist. Her cock drags teasingly back and forth across his folds, making them both glisten with arousal.
"Are you not so well behaved for me?" She whispers, wondering how deeply into his dreams he will sink. "You will take my cock so well."
She thrusts into him then, grunting at how tight he is. Aemond cries out weakly, but is nowhere near lucid enough to fend her off. He bleeds, dribbling down his thighs and staining the sheets beneath them. Alys bites her lip at the sight, and continues to fuck him. She holds the boy by the waist and digs her fingers in until she can feel where the bruises will appear later. She wants him marked and stained by her, by House Strong, by the blood he tried to eradicate.
Aemond is limp and unresponsive, but he makes a soft noise every time she bottoms out and strikes that soft, spongy wall inside of him. He leaks blood and slick all around her, welcoming her into his womb and thanking her for taking his innocence so thoroughly. He is so perfect and malleable like this, with his mind dulled and far away.
Alys takes advantage, leaning over him and whispering about their future together. She slides her hand over his belly, feeling her thrusts from the outside as she hollows out his cunt. It stretches hotly around her now, clinging to her cock and dragging her back in with lewd little noises. She thumbs at his clit, wanting to feel him tremble. Sure enough, he whimpers and clenches up, leaking more slick down his thighs.
Alys praises him, fucking into him a little harder as she feels her orgasm creep up on her. She shivers with anticipation, biting her lower lip and humming as she drives herself forward. She wants to cum inside of him, she wants to leave him swollen with child. How ironic it will be, that he bears a bastard of the line he slaughtered. She swears she will do this again and again until it takes, until he is heaving with sickness in the morning and his taunt belly begins to fill out. Alys grips the prince's hips even tighter, letting out a strangled moan as she paints his insides with cum. Her cock twitches inside of him, kissing his walls and promising to return. She will learn to crave him, she thinks, and she will not be able to stop herself from slipping some herbs into his tea and taking him like this all over…
Now that she knows his secret, the young prince does not stand a chance. He will be her puppet, and her cock warmer too. She will not die like the rest of House Strong. Not today.
Not while she has Prince Aemond Targaryen wrapped so sweetly around her cock.