A/N: Unalaq's attempt at a little fun turns on him in the most unusual and slightly arousing way. Ming-Hualaq. I read another fic where there was one chapter with Ming-Hua/Unalaq. I looked to find anymore fics of this pairing and couldn't find any, so I tried one for myself.
Disclaimer: I do not own LoK.
His mind was elsewhere as Zaheer droned on and on about the spirits. While this was his idea as well, he was not that interested in every single aspect of the spirit and Airbender teachings.
His eyes landed on the waterbender sitting on Zaheer's right. He could see that she too wasn't listening to a word her colleague was saying and her eyes were currently focused on the cracks in the stone ceiling of the small room.
She had fascinated him from the moment he met her - a waterbender with no arms. Whereas others would think she was weak and disabled, he had seen with his own eyes she was anything but. However, society's perception of her had driven her to be cold, bitter and uncaring to form a protective barrier around herself.
He had an idea to make this meeting a bit more interesting and to see if he could rile her up. He smirked as he moved his finger slightly, willing the water from the waterskin at his side towards her. It deepened when he noticed her jump, her knees hitting the table they were all sitting at, when the water finally touched skin.
"Ming-Hua?" Zaheer asked the woman, halting his monologue to show concern for the woman.
She looked at Zaheer, then at him before shaking her head. "Nothing," she muttered.
Zaheer just nodded and continued his speech. Did this windbag ever run out of air?
Then he hissed, a cold sharp feeling tracing a long deep line down his calf. Zaheer raised an eyebrow, looking perturbed by the second disturbance. The woman kept her face expressionless.
With a grimace, he rose from his chair and extended his hand, "As much I enjoy this conversation, I am expected back at the Northern Water Tribe. We will keep contact by messenger hawk."
Though annoyed, Zaheer rose as well, shaking his hand and nodded. His colleagues began to file out of the small room except for one. The woman gave him a wide grin as her eyes travelled to his calf. He looked down and noticed the slight line of blood there from the icicle she had dragged across it.
She came to stand near him and he could feel his heart rate speed up. Never before had he felt such a mixture of fear and desire, and it was all because this woman before him. She leaned in to his ear, her own voice like ice itself, "A little something to remember me by," before she left him there.