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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.

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Chapter Three –

Her back ached. Her knees hurt. For the first time since she was a small child, she had hunger pangs. (She had learned at a very small age to eat what was put in front of you.) Most of all her hands hurt. Or they would hurt if she could feel them. But she kept digging and plotting of ways she was going to kill the general and everybody in his camp who had threatened to piss on her.

She’d spent a couple of hours sitting there, being silently observed by the guards. Once her captor had returned and had realized she was not complying with his order, he had threatened something worse than digging a latrine. He had threatened her with being the latrine. The thought of being pissed or defecated on had not appealed to her in the least and she had carried out his original order.

Azula stared at the ground, feeling the unfamiliar prickle of tears at the back of her eyes. Taking a shuddering breath, she willed them away. Tears were weakness. They were pointless. She would rather die before letting that bastard break her. He was going to die a slow and painful death before she was through with him.

A single tear streaked down her cheek as she watched the day cede to night. The sun was setting and so was any chance of escape. She would have to wait until sunrise so that she would have the advantage. Perhaps she would be able to hide the spade in the folds of her robe and kill the bastard general with it. Oh wait, she was going to kill him slowly and make him suffer. That wouldn’t work at all.

Hearing the crunch of gravel behind her, Azula tensed. Her tormentor had returned.

“Take a break,” he snapped at the guards, setting a bucket next her.

The guards walked away without looking back at the dirty Fire Nation princess.

Licking her dry lips, she eyed the water longingly.

“Drink,” he commanded, nudging the bucket with his boot toward her.

She tried to grab the ladle, but it slipped from her cramped fingers and fell into the bucket, causing water to splash on her filthy trousers. She tried with her other hand, but met with the same end. Desperate to quench her thirst, she tried again.

Squatting next to her, he grabbed her arms and inspected her blistered palms. He cursed softly. “Why didn’t you stop digging?”

Her eyes flashed with a bright fire, and she did not answer him, lifting her chin high and staring at a spot over his shoulder.

Qiang shook his head, scooped some water into the ladle, and held it to her lips. “Drink.”

Oh, how she wanted to knock the ladle from his hand and cram it down his throat! But thirst overrode pride, and she did as she was told. The cool water was too good to pass up. She gulped it, afraid this was a cruel joke and that he would take the small luxury away from her.

Some of the water fell past her lips and dribbled down her chin and onto her tunic, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about the mess she was making or the spectacle. She only cared about taking what she could. She only cared about surviving this nightmare. Once she had survived it, heads would roll…literally.

“You’re a mess,” the general announced.

“I wouldn’t be a mess if you had just left us alone,” retorted Azula.

He threw his head back and laughed. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Azula glared at him, but held onto the ladle with the backs of her hands.

“You are aware we are at war, right?” he asked, gently extracting the ladle from her hands.

“Yes,” she hissed.

“And you are aware that you are a prisoner of war, right?” he continued in a taunting voice.

His words rankled her. She wanted to kill him, but she nodded her head anyway. “You needn’t remind me.”

“You’re right,” Qiang replied. “I needn’t remind you, but I will. I will remind you that you are a prisoner of war. As such, you are nothing more than property to be bartered, used, or executed. Should you fail to catch the ransom I suspect to collect for your pretty little head, I’ll sell you and get some use of your miserable hide before I execute you.”

His words affected her more than she let on. It was difficult having one’s future spelled out in such harsh terms. The man before her had no idea that Zuko would never pay the ransom. She was chattel to him, a bargaining tool in which to use against her brother. In a way, she appreciated anyone who went up against Zu Zu. However, the idea of being a concubine, and then being summarily executed did not appeal to her in the slightest.

Setting the ladle and bucket to the side, he stood and took hold of her elbow. He tried to pull her up, but she sank to the ground as her legs gave way. With a disgusted grunt, he hooked his arms beneath hers and tossed her over his shoulder. “Smells like you need another bath.”

“I was about to say the same thing about you,” Azula grumbled against his back.

Carrying her toward camp, Qiang wiped the smile from his face. Normally he would accept such an inadvertent invitation, but he knew the woman across his shoulder would never welcome his lustful intentions.

The son of a prostitute, he was very familiar in ways of the flesh. He was also familiar with the concept of rape. He would never forget the look on his mother’s face as she begged the man to stop. He was ill with fever and she had asked for time away from her duties. She had always tried to shield him from her life of shame, making sure that he never had to witness her degradation.

She pleaded with him to look away, but it was too late. The wealthy man had taken what he had paid the madam for. He didn’t care that the prostitute’s son was lying ill next to them. He had even joked about having him next.

That was the last joke the disgusting pig had ever told.

Once the pig had finished, his mother had gathered the folds of her robe around her, calmly climbed off the pallet, and walked out of the room.

Qiang hadn’t seen his mother kill her customer. The fever had taken hold of him and he had slipped in and out of consciousness. By the time he came to, he was being shipped to an orphanage.

His mother had slit the man’s throat and had committed seppuku so that the man’s family could not demand her son’s life in exchange for the life of the man she had murdered.

Rape was for the weak and cowardly. He had never raped anyone and he wasn’t about to start now. But Azula did not need to know that.

Unfortunately, there were men under his command that did not feel the same regarding the young Fire Nation princess. Most of them were honorable men, but there were some that weren’t. Perhaps capturing her was more bad luck than good.

She was his ticket off this Goddess-forsaken mountain. Unfortunately, he had to keep her alive and well while he waited for the messenger hawk to return with a response from the Earth King.

Goddess, he’d been so young and stupid. He’d spent his entire life, working his way through the ranks of the Earth Kingdom army. He’d had a promising career, earning his promotion to general at the tender age of thirty-two.

That was four years ago.

Six months ago, he’d stepped out of line and had called out a higher-ranking general after an important battle. The bastard was supposed to provide supporting troops to his, but they had never shown up. He had lost so many men that day due to that general’s lack of integrity and honor.

The general’s brother, not liking or appreciating the Qiang’s tone, had consigned the rest of Qiang’s regiment to the very ends of the Earth Kingdom.

He had dispatched a messenger to the Earth King, bypassing the normal chain-of-command, telling of Princess Azula’s capture. He just hoped that the Earth King didn’t order her immediate death. It would be a shame to waste such beauty.

“Maduk!” he called to an older man as he neared his tent. “Follow me.”

The Waterbender followed him into his tent, the gleam in his crystalline eyes lacking any warmth or compassion.

Dropping Azula onto his bed with little ceremony, he turned toward Maduk. “Heal her hands.”

His soldier quirked a black eyebrow at him. “Shall I spit on her or am I allowed to use water?”

Rolling his eyes, Qiang walked out of the tent to fetch the bucket of water. “I’ll be right back.”

She had little choice but to hold her hands out for Maduk’s inspection as the man took hold of her wrists and turned her hands palm up.

She winced as the skin on her right hand split and started to bleed.

“So General Qiang did break you,” the Waterbender stated solemnly.

So that was the general’s name. She made no reply. Instead she schooled her features and looked over Maduk’s shoulder. She wasn’t going to look down. She wasn’t going to play servant to the healer. It was bad enough that she had been subjected to what she had been subjected to. She wasn’t even going to wait for the sun to rise. She was going to kill General Qiang as soon as she could.

“He is wise to keep you in his tent,” Maduk continued, seemingly unperturbed by her lack of response. “You’re safe with General Qiang. There are some men in the camp that wouldn’t think twice about--”

Qiang walked back into the tent and set the bucket next to the Waterbender. “There’s more water on the way. It shouldn’t take too much to bathe her.”

Maduk gave Qiang an incredulous look. “I’ll heal her, but I’m not going to bathe her.”

“I’ll bathe myself, thank you very much,” Azula bit off.

Cupping the back of her neck, Qiang bent toward her and hissed against her left ear. “Learn humility, Princess Azula, lest I teach it to you the hard way. I would have thought you would have learned something from your day of hard labor. Apparently, I was wrong.

“This isn’t a luxury spa for your enjoyment. You’re getting a bath because I wish it. I do not wish to bed down with someone who smells as you do. You’ll eat when I eat and you’ll sleep when I sleep. You’ll bathe…after I bathe!”

She looked down, markedly accepting her low position.

“Heal her hands,” he instructed Maduk. “Then leave.”

“Yes, sir,” the Waterbender replied, bending water from the bucket and focusing it on her raw hands.

Feeling the cold water caress her palms, she sighed in relief. Yes, there were other parts of her that ached, but she wasn’t about to give Qiang or the Waterbender the satisfaction of knowing.

Finished, Maduk gathered the bucket and exited the tent.

The general circled the bed like an angry predator.

She kept her head low, not easily capitulating to his authority.

“There is no escape, Azula,” he rasped. “Accept your fate and stop struggling. It will be easier for you if you do as you’re told.”

She smirked, hearing the husky quality of his voice. He was angry and unbalanced. Unbalanced equaled weak. Brazenly, she reclined on the bed. “Do I look like I’m struggling?”

He pounced, pushing her into the pelts. “Don’t make an offer you have no intention delivering on, your highness.”

Taking her hand in his, he pulled it against the thick bulge of his pants. “I may decide to ignore your protestations and take what is rightfully mine.”

She tried to pull her hand away, but he was relentless. The newly healed skin on her palms was sensitive. She could feel the flex of his muscles beneath her hand and felt shame heat her cheeks. “I will never belong to an Earth Kingdom bastard.”

He lowered his head as if to kiss her, but rubbed his whiskered cheek against hers, effectively marking her as his.

“Never is a long time, princess,” he whispered, his breath caressing her cheek. “Are you sure you can hold out that long?”

--

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Prisoner of War