Amorra Week, Day 2: Illusion
Okay, I forgot how much I love writing twisted things. I guess I'm doing three pieces a day for the rest of the week.
Together, they present the image of a perfectly happy couple. She was always his ultimate end goal. With the Avatar supporting the Equalists, who could oppose them? Every citizen of every country had been told since childhood that the Avatar had all the answers. She knew exactly what he was capable of. If she destroyed the illusion that he had carefully built, he would have everyone she loved in his power within a day. So she smiled and hung off his arm as they walked through the city, but there was always that anger that was hidden in public, but open in private. One of his greatest pleasures was kissing her while they walked the streets, knowing she would have to force herself to return the gesture.
She tried to run. She tried to fight. It was all helpless. Really, this couldn't have worked unless he'd caught her at such a vulnerable, half-trained stage. She had no grasp of airbending, had never achieved the Avatar state. He had almost expected that, and he'd been prepared to kill her if the need arose, but she had less sense of the spiritual than he could have hoped. Bloodbending and carefully measured threats, that was all it took to break her to his hand.
He did admire her spirit. She never stopped trying to resist him, and sometimes got tantalizingly close to actually escaping. One memorable night she'd actually seduced him, and in the heat of the moment tried to kill him with a blast of fire. Only reflexes and instinct had saved him that time, and after that he'd treated her with more respect. The seductions continued, but he never gave her another opening. He never made the first move, and it was always her that knocked on his door in the middle of the night and slipped wordlessly into his bed. If she hoped he would forget to keep his guard up, she would be waiting for a very long time.
Sometimes, he couldn't help thinking that she was capable of running faster, fighting harder. When she was on her knees before him and he gripped her chin so she couldn't look away, was she flushed and breathing hard from the battle? Those times he pinned her to a floor or wall, was she arching against him or struggling to get free? When he lifted her with bloodbending and her limbs twisted unnaturally, he could almost imagine that her little gasps weren't from pain, precisely. The cycle of attempted escape and capture was endless. Her situation was plainly hopeless, but she never stopped trying, and he would have been hard put to describe the emotion in her eyes as she stared into his. He often smiled behind the mask in pleasure from the power he exerted over her, but was she smiling quietly to herself for the same reason?