So, chapter 3 is done. It was certainly a lot of fun for me to right! Fun, at least, for most parts. It is, I warn you, sometimes intense. I want to thank mike50333, 3DG, and zutara-luvin-gLeek591 for taking time from thier amazing stories to review mine! Also, big thanks to Katsu Lover and SilentVenom-n-BlackRoses for responding quickly to my pleads for reviews!

Because of you amazing people, I now have 9 reviews, 9 alerts, 4 favorites, and 194 hits! THANK YOU!

To 3DG: Thank you for the support, dear, as well as allowing me the pleasure of helping you out! You add new chapters nearly everyday, and that has helped when I can write no longer! This chapter is for you, most affectionately! Everyone go read A Change of Heart!

A few notes: I listen to music when I write. Therefore, I have a playlist I'd like to share with you. So far, the only song is Ringa Ringa by A. R. Rahman. The song is i nHindi, but you can look up the lyrics. The song is meant for Courtesans; I felt it appropriate. Also, please don't kill me for this chapter! I PROMISE Zuko will have a chance to explain himself soon.

Enjoy (and please review!)

~Writingschizo101

I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, nor any of its characters, aside from our favorite prostitute, Areida!

EDIT: 8/7/10- I fixed a big typo pointed out to me. Hope it'll make everything a bit more clear.

His body weight landing upon me was staggering in the sheer force and aggression behind it. I flew backward, forced to sprawl on the bed. On instinct, I went limp, resolving to how there would be no business dealt and no money today. I closed my eyes, biting my lip against the cry lodged in my throat.

Prince Zuko shifted suddenly, both rolling off to my side, and pulling my body against his at the same time. Confusion struck for split second before I realized what was happening. I felt an inexplicable surge of pure relief at knowing I would not be harmed in that way . . . and then the hot metal of a knife bit into the tender skin of my throat. Against my better judgment, I tensed, and then I felt his hand slide behind my head and grip a handful of my hair, yanking it back so swiftly I saw stars.

As he whispered, his lips caressed my ear, and I shivered involuntarily. The knife bit harder, drawing a thin line of blood. "You will tell me what you know of the Avatar," he demanded yet again, ignoring my whimper. "I saved your life, girl, and I can take it just as easily. Unless you do as I tell you. You owe me that much."

"You destroyed my village," I spat. "I owe you nothing." In response, Prince Zuko tightened his hold on my hair; the knife blade burned hotter against the wound in my throat. Both of these brought tears to my eyes, though I tried to tell myself I'd suffered far worse.

Before he could speak again, I began to wonder, to drift ever so slightly. The heat of the knife was not normal; metal was cold. So . . . he was doing this, and the increasing warmth was further proof. Even through his clothing, Prince Zuko's skin was abnormally warm, his hand too hot against the back of my skull. I did not know much about Firebenders, only they were able to create flame from their chi, draw it from their own flame carried deep inside. Anger fueled this, too, and Spirits knew the Prince was pissed. So why wasn't he Firebending the crap out of me now? Why bother with a knife when he could shoot fire out of his freaking hands?

When he spoke, the anger was ever-present, but beneath it was undercurrent of what sounded like desperation. The same way I remembered hearing him speak to his uncle about not knowing where the Avatar was . . . Oh, shit. "Your life?" he gave me a few seconds to ponder this, but I'd already realized what he was doing—trying not to harm me too visibly. He could have given me the same scar he bore, or worse. Yet the Prince must have respected his uncle and his wishes. Thinking back, I thought I heard a hint of uncertainty when he said he needed to leave . . . was he asking his uncle's permission, or was I grasping at straws? How was I so sure the uncle wasn't as bad as his nephew? Well . . . the way he spoke to me about tea and waking up . . . it was nice. He'd healed me as I slept. Was that nothing?

In the dark, on a soft bed with a Firebending soldier I did not know, I took a chance. "Yours to take if you wish."

The ensuing pause was agony in which neither of us moved. Suddenly, the knife was gone. My eyes flew open in surprise; I turned my head to see the candles glowing softly once more in the corner. Prince Zuko stayed absolutely still for a moment, and did not move again until I met his narrowed eyes. Before I could blink or question his motives, he swung one leg over me, pulling himself above my body in the most fluid movement I'd ever seen. Bracing himself on his hands and knees, he lowered his mouth to my ear once again to be sure I heard his next words. "You are protecting him."

"No."

The Prince pulled away abruptly, looking at my face to see if I was lying. His eyes widened for a split second, and then he shook his head to clear it. "What could you gain from this? From helping him?"

Knowing he decided I was not being truthful, I feared the worst. Sweat broke out my forehead, trickling down my temple as those smoldering eyes refused to let me go. His body was far too warm, too close for comfort. Memory flickered and died, brought on by the proximity; I was not sure if I wanted it back or not, but the entire thing frightened me beyond reason. "Please," I whispered pathetically, unable to stop myself.

I expected surprise, but it never came. Prince Zuko only starred at me for a moment . . . and smiled. Really smiled. He knew what I was asking him not to do, and that was the most dangerous thing to beg for in a captor's hands. Knowing what I wanted, would he still do it? Could he hurt me more than he already had, all the while hoping to gain information? Would I give in? My shaking body told me I might do just that before he ever touched me. It dawned on me then just how good this was for him— he knew I would not fight and there would be little evidence of this silent torture. His uncle may never find out.

"Please," I tried again. "I know nothing of Avatar Roku. I was told he died a very long time ago."

"Wh- what?" Prince Zuko rolled away from me yet again, and there shone pure panic in his eyes when he sat up.

I sighed warily, confused and too startled to move. "I told you— I don't know shit about your precious Avatar."

Astonishingly, Prince Zuko closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall and soft red cloth festooning the dreary metal, bearing the bright Fire Nation emblem. The position looked almost relaxed, but I was not foolish enough to miss the tension in his muscles. Like a sleeping lion with another pride in his territory. Always, he was on the alert, something I could relate to on a slightly less violent scale. I wondered if it had more to do with his terrible scar . . .

The next action was somehow more off-putting. He raised his hands, balled into fists, and pressed them into his eyes, letting out a small groan. Almost like a child who didn't get his way and simply could not resolve to the outcome. This Zuko did not appear a Prince or warrior or even a Firebender in that moment.

And I was terrified of him.

If drunken men could fight back when they did not have their way, and sober men could bribe or blackmail me into submission, what was a warrior Prince capable of? I tried to tell myself I've been proven right when he took away the knife, that the blood on my neck and blouse were the worst of tonight's happenings; he would not kill me because he needed information, and he would not burn or beat me because his uncle might see. Yet he threatened rape only a moment ago . . .

Able to take this no longer, I sat up. Let him have his way with me and be done with it. Hell, forget pay. Just let me out! I shivered, knowing what I was relenting to in exchange for freedom. I did this all the time, though, did I not? I willed myself to forget how there would be no pleasure and no money, only pain. Worse agony if he demanded I fight. Oh, this was not helping . . .

"Stop this nonsense," I commanded, my voice sharp, but a tad too shrill to be considered confident. He dropped his hands and glared at me, his eyes glowing in the light of the candles. "Do you want to cry over the dead Avatar, or do you want to fuck?"

Prince Zuko was on me so quickly I could not be sure he heard what I said. He lunged for me like a starving panther, snaking one arm around my waist to pull me toward him, like a lover would, and then catching my face in both hands when I tumbled forward, gasping in surprise. I thought for a moment he would steal a kiss, but the Prince simply stared into my eyes, like some romantic theatrical performance.

"I don't believe it," he whispered, almost to himself. "You're Fire Nation?"