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Prisoner of War	By : Looneyluna Category: Avatar - The Last Airbender > Het - Male/Female Views: 8511 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
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Chapter Ten—

Panicked thoughts consumed reason as Azula fled down the rock-strewn path. She had somehow managed to get her clothes and boots on. Her heart skittered in her chest as blood pounded through her veins. Why hadn’t she burned his clothes? Why hadn’t she burned him? Why hadn’t she killed him?

Now was not the time to question decision or indecision. She had to find a place to hide, one where she could regroup and think. Azula slid on loose rocks, pitching forward and catching herself on a large bolder, which shifted away from her in an unnatural way.

It levitated next to her, seemingly without a source of power. She spun around, unable to see Qiang anywhere. Patches of thick mist blocked her vision. Crouching low, she inhaled sharply and did a round kick. Bright blue flames shot from her foot in all directions, seeking to devour any target within reach.

Mocking laughter echoed off the earthen walls, and the boulder nudged her roughly, knocking her over.

“Coward!” she shouted, jumping to her feet and shooting long arcs of fire in the direction of the laughter. “Show yourself!”

The boulder dropped with a loud thud, startling her and giving her hope. Maybe she had hit him!

Wasting no time, she leapt into the mist and sprayed the area with a volley of fire bursts. The ground cracked beneath her, and she sprang toward an outcropping of ragged rocks. Winded, Azula clawed at the bare surface and tried to pull herself up, but she felt herself being dragged down. Something had hold of her feet.

A growl of frustrated anger bounced off the rock walls, and her tenuous grasp broke. She heard the bones breaking before she felt them, the sickening crunch of her arm sending a burning pain into her shoulder. The pain was so bad it made her sick, and she gagged. Pebbles and dust landed around her.

A human fist emerged from the mist, grabbing hold of her crumpled tunic and hauling her to her feet. Her vision blurred, and the world around her grew dark.

Cursing, Qiang hauled her over his shoulder and winced. He would press a hand against his wound, but his skin was blistering, and he didn’t want to risk an infection. The damn, Firebending witch was going to pay for this. He should put her out of his misery and haul her carcass back to Ba Sing Se for the reward money, but the promised whispers of peace played in his mind, strengthening his resolve.

Groaning, he shifted her weight and made his way back toward his clothes.

--

Smell was the first sensation that alerted Azula to her new surroundings. The smell of manure wasn’t a scent anyone ever wanted to awaken to. Pain was the second sensation that greeted her, the burning flashes of her broken arm rudely reminding her of her failed attempt of escape. Taste wasn’t far behind. Bitterness and sand was the meal for the day, and her stomach growled in protest. Azula opened her eyes, not surprised when she saw an ostrich-horse in the stall next to her. She shook her head, clearing the fog of her memories. The sound of hammers hitting wood was faint in the distance.

Rolling over on the wide cot, Azula winced as every fiber of her being protested. A chill consumed her. Her stomach heaved, trying to eject its contents. Fortunately, there were none.

“Welcome back,” a serene voice greeted her from the stall across the barn, startling her, for she thought the ostrich-horse was talking to her. The door to the stall she was in opened, and a woman sidled up to her, offering her water from a skin. “Drink this,” she instructed.

Water splashed onto her lips, and she opened her mouth.

“The fever has broken,” the woman stated, tipping the skin and giving her the water. “Your husband will be pleased. It’s a miracle that both of you survived the blizzard.”

Pushing the skin away, Azula shook her head, and the room began to spin. She’d never felt so helpless… so defeated. The woman tried to offer her more, but Azula shoved it away.

She had rarely admitted defeat in her young lifetime. In fact, she had only done so once before. She had been sparing with her father. She hadn’t realized he’d been holding back, and she had become arrogant. Her father tempered her arrogance by pulling her whipping girl into the arena and burning her. The whipping girl’s punishments had rarely bothered her, but she would never forget that lesson.

The girl hadn’t survived.

Her screams echoed in Azula’s nightmares, chipping away at the armored resistance of her soul. She would never forget the horror on her mother’s face when her mother had discovered what had happened. The death of her whipping girl had been the wedge that had driven them apart.

She remembered overhearing a conversation between her mother and her great-aunt. Though her great-aunt had assured Ursa that Azula had been born lucky, her mother had replied, “She may have been born lucky, but I fear she was born without a soul.”

That was the day… the chink in her emotional armor. That was the day that had changed everything. That had been the day her father had defeated her. That was the day she renounced her soul, embracing the darkness that kept her from feeling.

“Your husband will be back once the sun sets,” the woman announced reassuringly. He’s helping my husband rebuild our house. We were fortunate the Fire Nation did not burn down the barn. At least we have this small measure of comfort during the winter months.”

Azula blinked, her cheeks flushed with shame as she looked around the ramshackle barn. She embraced the cold, dark void where her soul used to be and reminded herself that the woman before her didn’t matter. The barn didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

Not even her own survival.

The outer doors blew open, and two men struggled to close them. She caught a glimpse of blinding whiteness and caught her breath as the bitter cold from outside seeped through the blanket that covered her naked form.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Qiang stomped the fresh snow from his boots and started removing the layers of his clothing. As had been his habit since he and Azula arrived at this farm, he glanced toward the stall. His breath caught in his throat when he saw that she was awake.

She’d been in and out of consciousness for the last two days, and the guilt over her injuries had started to take its toll.

He should have known better than to trust her. It could have been a fatal mistake. It almost had been. He had underestimated her resolve. She was the enemy. It was time he accepted it.

Qiang wasn’t going to lie to himself. He was too old to start now. He had enjoyed their interlude in the hot spring, and had forgotten himself. He had intended teaching her a lesson, but it had backfired miserably. He’d had a difficult time realizing how she had removed the metal shackle from her ankle. It looked as though she heated up the metal long enough to bend it. The blistered, infected skin of her ankle was proof of her desperation.

He was surprised he was still alive. Why hadn’t she killed him?

The blessed goddess must have been watching over him, whereas Agni must have deserted Azula.

Sitting on the cot next to her, he moved to touch her cheek, and she shied away.

“Come on, Edun,” the matronly woman said. “Let’s give these young people some privacy.”

Qiang bowed his head, thankful for the elderly couple’s discretion. Once they were out of hearing range, he spoke.

“They don’t know who you are,” he murmured, his green gaze lingering on her cracked lips. “And they don’t know who I am. Fire Nation marauders burned their house down two weeks ago. A new blizzard has started, and you’re in no condition to travel.”

He paused and moved the blanket from her leg. He shook his head. “Your trick almost cost you your life, your highness,” whispered Qiang, regret etched into his features. “If I had known you wanted to get away from me so badly, I would have taken the shackle off your ankle sooner.”

Azula kept her eyes downcast, refusing to rise to the teasing quality in his voice.

Peeling the bandage away from the blisters on her ankle, he managed not to cringe. “You’re also fortunate you did not lose your foot. I’m still trying to figure out how you heated the metal beneath the water as you pleasured me.”

Her cheeks flushed red, and her gaze met his.

Qiang smirked. “Either way… With your broken arm, your injured ankle, and this blizzard, we aren’t going anywhere any time soon. I was unable to procure more civilized lodgings. Lin Wu and her husband Edun were gracious enough to let you recover in their bed. It is all they have left since the band of marauders burned down their house.”

His smirk turned into a frown, and he cupped her chin gently. “I should kill you for who you are. Fire Nation.” He made no effort to conceal the contempt in his voice.

“This is what the war is, Azula,” he hissed close to her ear. “Not some goddess-forsaken mountaintop that no one has heard of. The innocent suffer as the prideful elite sacrifice them for sport.

“Is this what you want to be remembered for?” Qiang asked. “You have the power to stop this, yet you continue to hate. Why not be remember for something better?”

Azula jerked away from him, making no reply.

He sighed. “I’m Olan and you’re Ling-Ling. We are hunters, and we were hunting on the mountain when we were trapped by the blizzard.”

“Ling-Ling is a pet’s name,” Azula protested softly.

Adjusting her blanket like a loving husband, Qiang cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder pointedly. “Azula is a Fire Nation name. Once this blizzard passes and you are well enough to travel, we will make our way to Ba Sing Se.” So that you may meet your fate.

“So why change your name?”

“General Shen isn’t the only one looking for you,” he replied, leaning closer. “Those marauders… It seems your brother is looking for you too.”

--

TBC

Author’s Notes—Thanks to all who have reviewed. All mistakes are my own.
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Prisoner of War