Slave to Her Passions

Part 4; A New Resolve

Bleach; Ichihime AU

Word Count: 5225

Warning: T+, cursing

Disclaimer: all characters herein belong to Kubo Tite

~o0o~

Afternoon shadows marched unnoticed across the tile floor. The only sounds were the burbling of the courtyard fountain and the faint voices of other women living further inside the harem. It was quiet and peaceful, on the surface at least. Ichigo leaned against the cool wall and stared at the unmoving body in the bed before him. Orihime slept heavily now after waking earlier in obvious pain.

When she passed out earlier, he reacted in a heartbeat, scooping her limp body from the floor and then carrying her straight to bed. With the intention of searching out her injury, he ignored his shaking fingers and pounding heart as he unlaced the girdle at her waist and carefully worked the lightweight caftan up her body.

Just as he slipped her tunic over her head, she came to. She blinked drowsily up at him before her cheeks flushed with hot color at either his nearness or the fact he was stripping her. Ichigo didn't know, or care, and dove for the knotted strings of her silken trousers. She was hurt and likely bruised after that fall, but Orihime still tried to shift away from his hands.

Ichigo tensed when her eyes suddenly went wide and she cried out like a wounded animal. His eyes dropped to see her slender fingers clench and twist in the blankets and he reached for her only to have Rukia's knee sink in-between his legs. So focused on the princess' distress, he was unaware of Rukia and Renji returning with the harem's physician until he hit the floor in agony.

Renji dragged him outside to wait. Ichigo hobbled around Orihime's walled garden and cursed the black haired termagant for laying him low, again. However, he couldn't hold onto his anger for long, his thoughts kept returning to the injured woman inside. He knew he shouldn't care. Still, something about this princess called to him. He felt driven to protect her –and that in itself was dangerous.

That didn't stop him from wondering though. Her behavior wasn't normal for something as simple as a fall. Was there a prior illness or injury that he knew nothing of?

He never got the answer to his questions though. When Renji finally escorted him back into her shuttered room, Orihime was sleeping soundly once more. And not long after, Rangiku rushed Rukia and her guard from not only the room, but the fortress as well, for an afternoon of shopping in the local market. They left him where he was now, tied to a bedpost, puzzled by the strange goings-on in this house, and waiting for his mistress to wake again and give him some answers.

Ichigo snapped out of his daze at the sound of footsteps. He turned his head to glance at the shuttered main door and realized the sound wasn't coming from that direction. A door hidden in the recessed wall mural to his left opened and Aizen stepped through.

He jumped to his feet in surprise and grew tense, watchful, as three other men, soldiers by the look of them, entered behind the lord. Aizen strode past him without even a glance, only snapping his fingers and gesturing in his direction as he drew closer to the princess.

With their gazes carefully averted from the bed and Orihime's sleeping form, the smaller blonde man in front directed the other two hulking men towards him. His eyes strayed to the bed for only a moment before Ichigo thought better of it. With his hands tied, taking on all four might be too much –even for him.

At Aizen's amused chuckle, he looked to see the lord of the house staring at Orihime's drugged form with a look in his eyes Ichigo didn't care for at all. It was hard and possessive, greedy.

"What are you doing here?" Ichigo demanded, forgetting about the others until they yanked him backwards in an iron grip.

Aizen didn't answer, or even acknowledge him. He merely picked up a long silky strand of Orihime's hair and rubbed it between his fingers. Don't touch her, you filthy son of a pig. Ichigo wanted to shout as he narrowed gaze at the lord of the house and flexed against the burly arms holding him.

Aizen's lips curved up in a mocking smile as he glanced from the struggling orange haired man to his accompanying soldier. "His services are not needed here, Tesla."

"What do you-" Ichigo's head snapped to the side as a fist slammed into his jaw.

Tesla wiped his knuckles against his already blood-stained tunic and hissed for him not to directly speak to the master. He cut Ichigo's tethers, nicking him in the process –most likely on purpose before looking to Aizen for further instructions, "My lord?"

Aizen waved his hand negligibly toward the door. "Take him to the stables."

The stables? Ichigo's head snapped up in surprise. He was the princess' slave. Or did Aizen change his mind about this ridiculous arrangement already.

Even though he resisted with all his might, the two men holding him still dragged him from the room with ease. Ichigo fought against them to the point where his shoulders were in real danger of being dislocated. However, it was just before the doors closed that his shouts grew louder, frantic and his struggles increased. It did no good though.

And the sight Ichigo carried with him was Aizen kneeling on the edge of the bed and leaning over Orihime's defenseless form.

~o0o~

After traveling through a maze –of what seemed like 300 halls, through rooms' uncounted, sun-warmed terraces, and color drenched gardens, Nel returned to where she began; the princess' lavish apartments. She was no closer to finding her brother than when she started.

Could her information be wrong –was Ichigo not a slave in the harem?

No, the talkative blonde haired woman in the harem's kitchen, Kiyone, was quick to warn her of the scandalous man living in the women's quarters as the princess' personal slave. He was described only as an orange haired man with a dark scowl and thunderous expression. It sounded just like Ichigo, Nel thought with a grin.

It was a stroke of luck she was hired to work within the Inoue house's walls and she intended to fully take advantage of her good fortune. She skirted a sunny courtyard lined with stone paths and stately trees, Nel made note of the large bubbling fountain near the arch to the princess' sleeping quarters, knowing its placement was as much for aesthetics as it was to keep eavesdroppers from listening in on private conversation.

She made note of a banded wooden door set unobtrusively into the wall, and Nel knew she would check where it led after the sun set. For now, she ducked through an arch at the rear of the princess' apartments with the intent of searching as much as possible before someone called on her to perform some duty.

Stepping through the gap in the carved wooded screen, she entered a large domed room tiled in soothing shades of blue and white. She breathed deeply of the incense-scented air and curiously looked around the luxurious room. Nel took in the comfortable piles of jewel-toned pillows scattered here and there, the marble benches and low tables dotting the airy room, and the various bottles of scented oils and pots of soap filling the many niches in the wall.

"Hello?"

Thinking she was alone, Nel spun around in surprise, instantly alert. She noticed a beautiful woman with hair, the color of sunset, kneeling in the water. She stiffened. It could be no one else but Princess Orihime of the Inoue. The person Nel wished to avoid the most.

"You're new, aren't you?"

She eyed the young woman askance and made her obedience, gritting her teeth all the while. "I am Nelliel, at your service."

Orihime shuffled through the water on her knees to the edge of the pool and leaned her arms on the white marble tiles, smiling in welcome. "I was beginning to wonder where everyone was."

Her hazel eyes narrowed and swept over the cavernous room. It was unusually for there not to be several attendants present in the hammam, especially in the princess' private bath. "You're here alone?" Nel widened her stance, feeling the deadly weight of her jimbiya pressing against her back. This was the perfect opportunity to get information, and if she had to use force, all the better. No one threatened those dear to her heart without reprisal.

The princess sighed sleepily and crossed her arms on the tiled ledge before resting her chin on her wrists. "Uh huh –but the others should be here soon."

Nel nodded slowly in understanding and relaxed. Her brother would come to her if she were patient and bided her time. "Is there any way I can serve you, my lady?"

"A drink, perhaps." She propped an elbows on the edge of the pool and grinned crookedly while Nel filled a cup with cool water. "Hanataro is sweet –but his medicines are not. I feel as if I've swallowed half the desert's sands."

She quirked a brow at the odd comment, not knowing what or who this Hanataro was, and set the cup on the floor within easy reach. and glanced around for something to occupy her time while waiting. The princess' clothes were folded on a sun-warmed ledge. Nel listened for any sign of her brother as she plucked out the jasmine and orange blossoms a servant scattered between the layers the night before. She then misted the garments with a blend of sandalwood, bergamot, and rose before laying them out for the princess to dress for the day.

Growing impatient, she refilled the princess' cup before idly organizing the shelf of scents and oils –or tried to. At every little noise, she'd watch Orihime crane her neck in that direction, looking expectantly, only to settle back in the water, looking wholly unconcerned when it proved to be nothing –until the next noise sounded.

Nel watched this play out several times and finally lost her patience. "Is there something the matter?"

Orihime snapped her wandering gaze back to Nel, her expression clearly surprised. "Um –no, not really –it's just that …" she bit her lip and shook her head, "Never mind. It's not important." She said with a smile and climbed stiff limbed from the water.

A small stack of toweling stood on a low bench and Nel snatched a cloth for the princess to use to dry off. She was beginning to wonder if she should interrogate Orihime in the time they were still alone or not. But the question became moot after taking a single step in the princess' direction. Her eyes widened in shock as she stared at the young woman's backside.

Someone beat her –recently.

Orihime noticed her stare and pulled the toweling from her lax hands. She wrapped it around her damp body with brittle laugh. "I'm terribly clumsy."

Nel arched at brow as Orihime began to babble about various accidents from the past. The princess was unsuccessful at diverting her attention. No amount of clumsiness left stripes cut perfectly into a person's skin. She narrowed her eyes and really looked at this supposed malicious woman who enslaved her brother. This was Princess Orihime of the Inoue?

The perfumed clothing on the bench gave her the excuse to turn away and she wondering if there was some mistake. Where was the greedy woman who was in league with this lord Aizen? Surely, it wasn't this awkward blushing girl.

Orihime wasn't anything like Nel imagined. She expected an immoral little princess, bored with her normal playthings, demanding a new pet to relieve the tedium in her bedchamber. That obviously wasn't the case though. Then why ruin an innocent unmarried woman by giving her a love slave –and more importantly, why Ichigo?

The petite woman from yesterday removed the princes' clothes from her hands and she jumped in surprise. Nel had been so absorbed in her thoughts; she'd been able to walk right up to her without notice.

Rukia whipped the princess' towel away and began listing Nel's chores for the day. She bowed in understanding when told to bring Orihime's meal to the main lounge first and backed from the room. Her steps faltered when the princess stiffened and glanced her way before looking to her mentor with large pain-filled eyes. It was the first honest emotion Nel has seen her exhibit after a morning full of fake smiles and forced laughter.

"I-I thought that was my slave's job?"

Nel perked up at Orihime's mention of her brother and she lingered in the doorway, wanting to hear the answer as well.

Rukia clenched the princess' delicate caftan in her hands. "Your slave has other matters to attend to at the moment." She said in a casual tone, even as her gaze drifted off to the side.

The thick blue drape dropped back into place behind her and Nel's expression hardened as she walked through the quiet halls to kitchens. Ichigo was here somewhere and that was all that concerned her. She couldn't afford to spare any pity for the princess and her problems. Ichigo came first.

She couldn't wait to reunite with her brother. Then the first chance that came their way, they would disappear from this cursed place before Kurosaki House unleashed retribution on its inhabitants.

~o0o~

The two soldiers stared down at the broken body sprawled atop the steaming pile of refuse behind the stable with disgust. The larger of the two turned his head to the side and spit on the dusty ground while his companion prodded the body, searching for any signs of life.

Someone beat the poor unfortunate beyond recognition. With bound hands stretched high over his head, his bruised features were a mystery amid the disfiguring swelling and thick blood, and dirt matted his hair so thickly, it made the original color unrecognizable.

They shared a knowing look and the older man jerked a gauntlet-covered thumb in the direction of the stable before leaning against the weathered storehouse wall, grateful for the bit of shade. The other soldier grumbled under his breath and ducked into the shadowy confines of the stable. He called for one of the grubby attendants to remove the body before it started to bloat. Receiving no response, the man shuffled down the wide stone aisle, looking in each stall as he passed.

Finally coming to the end of the row, the soldier frowned at a bare-chested slave mucking out an ankle deep stall with an economy of motion. He cleared his throat and waited, but the dirt and sweat streaked man continued to work steadily as if no one was there.

Not one for being ignored, he shoved the half-full barrow in front of the stall to its side, spilling its malodorous contents over the floor. "Have dung in your ears? I said to haul off that body."

The slave wiped the trailing sweat from his brow and leaned against his pitchfork. "I heard you the first time." His dark eyes flicked from the ruin of his hard work to the puffed-up man-at-arms and glanced away dismissively. "I'll get to it when I'm finished here."

Swelling up with righteous indignation, the soldier lunged forward. "You'll get to it now, you lazy son of a jackal." He grabbed the belligerent slave by his sweat-dampened hair and dragged him through the stable into the sun.

The grizzled soldier relaxing outside straightened from his shady spot at the sound of raised voices. His companion lumbered out of the stable under the weight of a foul-mouthed slave wielding a carved wooden pitchfork. He pushed off the storehouse wall with the pleasurable intent of helping his partner tame this disobedient vermin.

He'd not seen this one before. He must be new, and feisty -if his hair color was any indication. The old soldier gave a laugh and cracked his knuckles in preparation of hopefully a good brawl.

~o0o~

"Hisagi has sent a dispatch, my lord."

Isshin, sheik of the Kurosaki's, turned his head to the door and rose from his chair as Yoruichi strode through the draped opening. Untying the black yashmak that covered her face, she grinned in anticipation of good news and handed him the rolled parchment before taking a seat.

He quirked a brow and broke the seal. His messenger must have ridden through the night to get here so quickly. By his accounts, Hisagi successfully set up shop as a bookseller in the local souk without drawing any undo notice. Isshin nodded head in satisfaction. He had expected as much from the young man.

However, it was the next entry that surprised him. Nelliel found employment as a servant in Inoue house. That was wonderful –yet dangerous news. Nevertheless, Isshin had faith in his adopted daughter. She was a warrior at heart and quite capable of handling any situation that might crop up.

Isshin scanned Hisagi's account that Nelliel passed over the wall during the night for any news of his son's condition. He skimmed over her report of the estimated number in the garrison and placement of sentries, and instead focused on the one line at the bottom and paled.

It can't be true. He began to tremble and the parchment fell from his fingers to the floor. Lies. Isshin whispered. It had to be lies. Anyone but Ichigo, he begged as he stepped away from the deceptively innocent looking piece of paper before clenching his fingers into his thick black hair.

"My only son is dead."

From his position on the floor, Urahara jerked upright at Isshin's cry and snatched up the scroll with a shaking hand. His shadowed eyes flew across the meticulous script, searching. He blinked down at the parchment before looking to his now wailing friend.

"Wait …" Urahara gestured to the report in his hand, "Why do you say Ichigo's dead?"

Isshin stopped mid-cry and turned to see his longtime friend staring up at him with furrowed brows. Why? He threw his hands in the air in disbelief; the answer should be obvious to anyone who knew his son and his temperament. "This is Ichigo, my dense and quite possible eternally flaccid son, we're talking about." he said with tears streaming down his cheeks. "If he's not dead yet, he soon will be."

"Why, what's happened?"

Urahara glanced over his shoulder at his dark-skinned companion and smirked. "Our dear sweet Ichigo's been made a love slave to a princess!" The sound of Yoruichi's chair crashing to the ground drowned out his resultant snort of glee.

She rolled to her feet as lithely as a cat and cleared her throat before righting her chair as if nothing had happened. "Ichigo is lady Orihime's slave?" Yoruichi said with incredulity coloring her tone and muttered under breath about that being a case of the blind leading the blind.

"You know her, don't you?"

Yoruichi fiddled with silver dagger in her hand, brushing her finger back and forth over the jewel in the hilt before answering. "Yes, I was acquainted with her and her brother before –difficulties came between our houses."

Isshin ignored her veiled meaning and blew out a tight breath. "I too have heard of her –but I wonder –do rumors match reality?" His tone held out little hope as he wearily rubbed a hand over his face.

After a moment, he resumed his seat and lifted tired eyes. "Tell me what you know."

She nodded and took a minute to compose her thoughts before starting with her earliest memory of the princess. Pacing the room, Yoruichi talked in halting manner of Orihime's birth –not purposely withholding information, but due to her advent into the world being a mystery. She then broached the touchy subject of the princess' brother. How he removed his infant sister from the Sultan's palace and raised her far from court at their kindly and well-respected grandfather's fortress.

Listening intently as the tale unfolded, Isshin's mind worked furiously as he placed Yoruichi's information against what he already knew. A clearer picture of the Inoue family emerged, and his already considerable doubts over Sora's involvement with his wife grew.

He sighed inwardly and hoped that Ichigo never learned who the princess' brother was -at least not until after he had the chance to talk with him. Otherwise, his vow to avenge his mother might make him do something he would later regret. Isshin pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and wished he had been more honest with his son. If only…

Isshin blinked and looked at Yoruichi in surprise. Did she just say something about big breasts? His attention easily captured by the subject matter at hand, he forgot his earlier worries as his friend reeled off the princess' other physical attributes, her beauty, her uniquely colored hair, and her phenomenal body.

By the time she listed Orihime's unique personal characteristics, her gentleness, her compassion, and her unwavering loyalty, a smile played at the corners of the sheik of the Kurosaki's mouth.

He slapped his opened palms against the wooden arms of his chair. This woman could be the match he'd been looking for his headstrong son. Isshin was curious to meet her.

"Ichigo may yet come out of this alive." He said and shared a meaningful look with both his advisors, hope glowing in the depths of his dark eyes for reasons other than what was expected. "Even better, this lady Orihime might drain him of the bad humors plaguing his body of late."

~o0o~

The gentle scrape of a page turning was the only sound to be heard in her room. Orihime stared blankly at the new book Rukia bought her and sighed. She was bored –and lonely.

In two days, no one visited. She hadn't seen Rukia since yesterday morning's brief visit in the hammam, and Rangiku hadn't come by at all. This must surely be another part of her punishment. Orihime was in a harem full of women and she was allowed to see or speak to no one.

The main door to her apartments remained shuttered. It was an unmistakable sign she was not to be disturbed, with the exception of Hanataro, the harem physician's twice-daily visits to administer painkillers and the new servant, Nelliel, bringing her meals.

She gave another sigh and idly flicked the page edges back and forth. Orihime couldn't gather any news on her friends or her slave from either of them, one being too shy and the other unsociable.

While it wasn't uncommon for her to be alone, her solitude now grated on her nerves as never before. Her slave could be locked away in some dark airless cell, hurt or possibly already dead, and she would never know.

When she awoke yesterday morning to see his bonds cut, her stomach clenched then soared, thinking he finally made good on his escape. Until, she noticed the Damascus rose resting on her pillow. Orihime didn't want to touch the pale red petals or breathe in the cloying fragrance. She was well aware of its significance. Lord Aizen had been in her room. Her slave didn't escape; he was taken –and Orihime was sick with worry ever since.

Her first instinct was to search for him, but it was an impossible task. The fortress was huge and the areas where a prisoner would be held were prohibited to her as a woman. Orihime played around with the idea of disguising herself as a servant, even going so far as to borrow a dark colored djellabah and hiding it in her room. Except, Hanataro's medicines left her heavy eyed and drowsy. The last two days she was asleep more than awake –almost purposely, it seemed.

Her fingers stilled on the page when she heard a rustle of cloth and the creak of wood. She turned her head to see Aizen lounging in the chair set near the head of her bed.

"Bored, little bird?"

She jerked upright and rolled to her side, biting back an automatic grimace of pain. Aizen's mouth quirked up at the corner and he negligently lifted a hand, staying her. "There's no need to get up. I just thought you might like some company."

Orihime wondered what he was doing in her rooms. Did he come to taunt her with news about her slave? Her stomach churned with sudden apprehension. She closed her book, not bothering to mark her page -it wasn't as if she was really reading it anyway- and steeled herself for the worst as her eyes lifted to meet Aizen's .

"Don't look at me so." He said chidingly. "While it is regrettable that I was forced to punish you, I am not the enemy here; everything I do is with your best interest in mind. Your brother asked in the event something happened to him that I would protect you and see to your future."

Aizen watched her from under lowered brows, a hint of a smile playing about his lips. He folded his hands in his lap, the very picture of calm and restraint and continued.

"That being said, I understand that you have not yet resigned yourself to learning the sensual arts, even though your future husband will expect it; demand it. There are girls half your age who know more than you do. That is Sora's fault for spoiling you. He did you no favors by not preparing you."

Orihime sensed him watching her, waiting in silence for her to respond. However, she didn't want to talk about Sora, not with him, and not about her future. There was only one thing she wanted to talk to this man about. "What happened to my slave?"

Aizen waved away her query, a small satisfied smile pulling at his lips as if he were expecting that very question. "He's not important right now; we're discussing you fighting my efforts at every turn."

Did that mean he was still alive? If he were dead, Aizen would have told her plainly –and took pleasure in delivering the news. "Where-"

He silenced her with a look. "I have kindly given you time to recuperate, but this training is important and will go forward as planned. It will guarantee you a good match –which is exactly what your brother was working towards before he died."

She closed her eyes and sighed. Orihime knew this already. Girls were trained from birth onward to be sweet tempered, well mannered, and to put a man's care and comfort before their own to make themselves worthy in the eyes of a prospective suitor. Hinamori taught her all those things with the exception of any love play and she never thought of that as a detriment –figuring her future husband would teach her all she needed to know.

At least she thought that until the other day. When she ran her hands over her slave's tense back, she felt clumsy and ignorant, a failure, unable to do something most women did with ease. At that moment, Orihime wished she were more learned and able to give him pleasure until his scowl melted away and he smiled. With that picture in mind …

"I'm willing to strike a bargain." Her words rushed out before she could snatch them back.

She suddenly had Aizen's full attention. He narrowed his eyes and she bit the soft underside of her lip, her mind screaming in warning. Was she wrong to make this demand? Most men would not put up with her continued defiance. They would have been quick to remind her of her place, by force if necessary.

"You have very little to bargain with, Orihime."

Fear was closing its fist around her heart. He was fast losing patience but she knew she must see this through to the end; an innocent man's life hung in the balance. Aizen wanted this one thing from her but he needed her cooperation. He could force her –they both knew that, but force wasn't his style. He'd much rather have her agree to his demands willingly, to tie her in the unbreakable bonds of her own promises.

She took a deep steadying breath and stated her terms. "Return my slave –unharmed and I will fully devote myself to Rangiku's training …without argument." If she must sacrifice her innocence for her slave's safety, then so be it.

Aizen weighed her words before giving her a slow provocative smile. "I'm glad you're beginning to see reason, my little bird."

She refused to return his smile; her decision gave her little joy. "And my slave?"

"He will be returned to you when his work in the stable is complete."

"Then at that time, I will do as you ask." Orihime lowered her head, trying to hide her expression. The stables –her slave was not only alive but also not too far away. She wondered if there was any way for her to see him –even though he would probably scowl at any woman audacious enough to worry over him. Well then, she just wouldn't let him see her …

"Lord Aizen, what are you doing in here?"

The sharply uttered question broke her concentration and put an end to her planning. Orihime turned her head to see the new servant standing just inside the room with her lunch tray, staring at Aizen with hostility and loathing. She began to fear for Nel until she realized he paid as much attention to a servant as he would an insignificant gnat.

Instead, Aizen reached into his robes and pulled out a rose. He threaded the stem into her hair above her ear. His lips lifted in a pleased smile as his gaze flitted along the length of her prone body. "This is my home, is it not? I go where I please. And do as I please."

It was true. Aizen was master of all in the fortress. His word was law. None would dare gainsay him. However, Orihime felt as if he directed these particular words at her –as a warning.

"I will come and visit you again tomorrow."

Orihime watched the corner of his mouth take on a mocking slant. Aizen knew she didn't want him to visit and he took delight in her discomfort. She was trapped; he left her with little choice but to say, "You honor me with your presence, my lord."

.

.

.

"Welcome back. How was your visit?"

Aizen smiled at Gin as he entered the large airy reception hall and resumed his seat at the table in the center of the room. "She wants him."

"That was quick." Gin's lips stretched into a wide grin as he tucked his hands into his sleeves and took up his place behind his lord's chair. "Everything is going just as you expected."

Nodding as if there was never any doubt, Aizen plucked an intricately carved figure from the nearby table. "It's almost time to move my queen into position, Gin."

"What will her knight do, fight or retreat from the field?"

Aizen flicked a black jasper piece from the board and placed the queen in his hand beside the white king. "He'll retreat and leave the queen broken and defenseless –just as planned."

~o0o~

A/N: Thank you for the overwhelming support you've shown for this fic. I can't tell you how much it motivates me to continue finding time to write. Thank you!

The next chapter is already over halfway finished and it shouldn't take too much to complete it. Thanks for reading ~Rairakku