Media: Fic
Title: Solar Winds (Avatar: The Last Airbender Fusion, 11/?)
Rating: PG-13 for innuendo, some swearing.
Spoilers: None for either series that I am aware of.
Warnings: Cursing, innuendo.
Word Count: 5558
Summary: Kurt Hummel, the current Avatar, finds a Firebending teacher in the young Prince Blaine. Is that all he finds? Or will circumstances conspire to push them into becoming more, to the world and each other?

Author's Note: Here it is, everyone! The night of nights. A happy, fluffy Klaine reunion… followed by a series of plot developments and actions sequences and me being mean to everyone. Especially Blaine. Remember what Darren Criss said about introducing a character as seemingly perfect? Well, ladies and gents, it's time for the fall of the king. And he is going to fall hard. ;) Hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER 11 Reunion


"So, when do we get to meet her?" David says out of the blue, clearly trying to throw off his concentration. The three of them are in the courtyard, playing a rather ill-advised game of three-man fire juggling. Starting with one fireball, they bend the ball around between them, periodically adding more fireballs to the mix until one of them fumbles and gets blown up.

Hey, it's Firebending. Getting singed and/or exploded pretty much comes with the territory.

"What are you talking about?" Blaine says, guiding the fire around his back and passing it to Wes.

"The girl you are so blatantly pining for," Wes says, spinning the flame around his arm before tossing it to David.

"The one you're in love with," David adds, trying to catch him off guard by passing the flame as fast as he can.

"I'm in love?" Blaine asks with a grin. "Awesome! Tell me more." He slings the flame at Wes, who catches it easily and conjures up a second fireball.

"Don't play dumb with us," Wes says, juggling the small sunbursts. "Excellent as you are at that particular emotion…" He arcs both balls to David, who uses some impressive handwork to orbit them around his head.

"You increase the frequency of your midnight escapades threefold, you walk around with this little smile on your face like someone spiked your tea with Si Wong Cactus Juice, and you dance when you think no one is watching," David easily lists off the rather damning evidence against him, before puffing up his cheeks and blowing the fireballs at Blaine.

Feeling a little cocky, Blaine loops one around his arm and another around his foot, utter nonchalance seared onto his face as he twirls the bright, burning orbs. "Guys, I swear, I am just as lost on this subject as you are. You'll meet this mystery girl as soon as I do. I can't wait—she must be amazing for me to fall for her so quickly," he says, passing his foot-fire up to his arm before taking a deep breath, and breathing a third fireball into the mix. "I hope she likes me."

When Wes's face goes slack-jawed, he takes the opportunity to pass all three flames at him. To Wes's credit, he recovers admirably and only has to lean back a little to keep himself from dropping them or setting himself alight. "When did you learn to do that?" Wes asks, annoyed.

"Dad taught me yesterday," Blaine replies.

Wes shares a significant glance with David, before conjuring a fourth fireball. "Look, Blaine, I know we tease you about a lot of things, and not without merit, but if you've met someone…"

He passes two of the balls to David, who begins juggling them himself. "We just want to make sure you're keeping decent company."

"Mostly we want to make sure she isn't going to abduct you and hold you for ransom," Wes adds.

"Or worse," David continues, "convince you to elope."

In somewhat of a scary moment of synchronization, they each add a fireball to their mix and toss all six of them at Blaine at the same time. The Fire Prince responds by catching and bending them in horizontal orbit around himself, making him look like an inverse solar system—a big planet orbited by several small suns.

"Okay, I'll admit," he says, "I have met someone. But we're not dating. I can't really tell you any more than that. Just… you know what? You'll meet him soon enough."

Of all the reactions Blaine expected to that statement, a fist-pump from Wes was not one of them. "I knew it! It's a guy! David, you owe me ten silver pieces."

"Damn it," David growls.

"…what are you guys talking about?" Blaine asks, still swinging the fire in circles.

David continues to pout. "Wes said it was a guy, and not a girl. He thinks you had the biggest crush on that boy who runs the aviar—"

He abruptly cuts himself off as he notices Blaine's shocked expression, but it's too late—the Fire Prince's lapse in concentration causes all the objects in his orbit to spiral off in random directions. Wes throws himself to the ground just in time to avoid losing his eyebrows. The three boys wince in unison as the projectiles impact various objects and detonate. Not enough to cause any serious damage, but definitely enough to piss off a lot of people depending on where those landed.

"…we have to find a better place to practice this," Wes sighs.


The master bedroom looks like the victim of a rogue closet bomber. Every surface is covered in pants, robes, tunics, shirts, vests, belts, sashes, scarves, and even hats. "Kurt," Mercedes says. "Honey, what did that closet ever do to you?"

"It stole my sense of style!" Kurt replies from within as several more articles of clothing fly gracefully from the opened doorway.

"I don't think you're gonna find it in there," she comments easily. "Probably flew out along with the… girdle?" Mercedes says, a little baffled by the strange item hanging off one of the bedposts.

"OH MY LA," Kurt shouts, rushing out of the closet. "That's exactly what I've been looking for!"

The Earthbender can't muster up more than a quirked eyebrow in response to that.

"Now, I just need to find that purple feather boa I tossed out… I threw it pretty hard, but it's not terribly aerodynamic, so it probably—"

"INTERVENTION," Mercedes declares, dragging him out of the room by the back of his collar.

"What," Kurt asks, "am I doing that requires intervening, exactly?"

"Kurt, honey, I know you worship at the shrine of Avatar Gaga and all, but seriously—you're supposed to be trying to blend, boo. Feathers, fabulous as you might look in them, is a shortcut to all the negative attention you could ever want from these people."

Kurt sighs. "I know, I just… I want to wear something that… you know, highlights me. I don't want Blaine to think I'm drab, or dull, or uninteresting, or—"

"He doesn't think any of that," Mercedes says. "And if he does, he's blind as a wolfbat and doesn't deserve your time anyway, do you understand?"

The Avatar takes moment to calm his proverbial tits, before nodding. "Okay. Yes, I understand." He waits a second before adding. "I'm… not sure I can trust my own fashion sense right now. But I will jump naked into polar waters before I allow someone else to dress me… could you maybe just… give me some advice?" he finishes sheepishly.

She takes a quick look at him. "I'd go for sleek. Something smooth and just tight enough to emphasize your curves. 'Cause sweetie, you have some fly curves."

"Sleek, and strong," Kurt says, nodding. "Like a tigerseal." He tries an experimental growl. "Rrrrrawr," he growls, clawing at Mercedes in a way that seems less tiger and more playful kitten.

"You're gonna eat that boy alive," she smiles. "Now go put your stripes on."

Kurt answers with an excited hug and a quick kiss on the cheek, before dashing back into the room to change.

When he emerges, he is wearing a sharp red-and-gold ensemble that is surprisingly form-fitting, even if it doesn't seem that way at first glance. It's not too attention-grabbing for those at a distance, but once you're close enough, you see it much more clearly, and… well, what has been seen cannot be unseen.

"Now you're making me all hot-and-bothered," she teases.

"Mercedes, you are the absolute best. You are a diamond among coals," the Avatar whispers in her ear as he grabs her in a hug. "Okay," he breathes as he breaks away, taking a second to gather up some spare breaths to make up for all the ones Blaine is inevitably going to take away. "Wish me lu—"

A cacophony of smashing, scraping, breaking, and scrambling suddenly echoes up from downstairs. "It wasn't us!" Finn says, immediately defusing all suspicion with his mad denial skills.

"I'll give you something better than luck," Mercedes says. "I'll drag blockhead and gravelbutt out of the house and make sure you and His Royal Hotness have plenty of alone time. Get that slow burn," she adds with a wink.

"May La and Tui bless you and shower you with delicious seafood forever," Kurt exhales with wide, grateful eyes. "Alright… I'm going."

"Knock him dead, boo," Mercedes smiles.


"Blaine, I just don't understand it," David sighs. After cleaning up the minor shit-fire they started, it was close to go time, so the three of them have retired to Blaine's room so the Prince can prepare to part.

"What, that I like guys?" the Prince asks pointedly.

"No, that you fell for the bird guy of all people!" David is indignant.

Blaine's blush comes too hot and fast for him to hide completely. "It was just a crush. He had… interesting hair."

"Interesting? Interesting! A baboon-boar's butt is interesting, but that doesn't mean I want to put my lips on it," David scoffs.

Meanwhile, Wes is sitting to the side, grinning like he won the lottery, and the prize was his own island populated entirely by sex-starved warrior women. "David is just jealous."

"I am not," he says in a pout so obvious, his envy could be seen from a mountaintop.

"You are! Your entire reasoning behind your ridiculous idea that Blaine couldn't like boys was that he had never had a crush on you. You wounded his ego, Blaine."

"Awww, David. Don't feel bad. I totally love you… just, in a…" Blaine pauses in the process of getting dressed to search for a good way to put this. "…vertical manner."

"Vertical?" David asks.

"As opposed to horizontal," Wes clarifies lasciviously.

"Well, there's a mental image I will spend the night diligently scrubbing away," David shudders.

"I mean it. You guys are like… my big brothers," he says, charm smile set to full blast.

"And you are the annoying little brother we cannot legally give up for adoption," Wes says fondly. "Blaine, I don't care who you like…"

"I question your taste. Loudly," David interjects.

"…but I maintain an extravagant amount of concern for mine and David's personal safety should your father ever learn about this."

Having finished dressing in his casual 'civilian' clothes, Blaine pops out of the closet and regards his two best friends carefully. "Guys, I'm telling you right now—if tonight goes the way I plan, we will never have to do this again."

Wes and David look like they've just seen a pack of lion squirrels tearing apart a beloved family pet. "Oh no," Wes gulps.

"He has a plan," David says, looking halfway between barfing and fleeing (and quite likely to attempt both at once, overachiever that he is).

"You laugh," Blaine says, jutting a finger at them as he heads toward the window. "But just you wait…"

He skitters up the wall, taking a moment to pose dramatically in the window before leaping out into the evening light. "Tonight is going to be spectacular."


He exits the same way, every time. There's a specific section of the outer wall that encloses the Palace grounds that drops into a small patch of land with a few trees on the edge of a small lake. The Prince thinks that if he times it right, no one will notice him drop from the high wall and land easily in the tree.

He is wrong.

Santana's smirk as she watches him slide to the ground could make a man's heart burst out of his chest and run away screaming. The messenger hawk she rented already has her pre-written message in its claws, so all she has to do is open the door to its cage. "Go. Lady Sue Sylvester, Chi-Ryu Academy."

With that, she turns to her snoozing roommate, rolls her eyes, pulls out her whip and lashes it so that it snaps right next to his head.

The sound Puck makes upon being woken up fits squarely in the area between a squeal and a yelp.

"Wake up," Santana orders. "We've got a Royal Brat to bust open, and we need to keep track of him."

"I'm up," Puck grunts. "'bout time I got some action. The Hills know I'm not getting any from you."

The dark-haired girl rolls her eyes. They can't strike until they get the word, but she has no doubt it'll be coming soon. It won't be long before the bird arrives in the Lady's office with the message that will tip the first domino.

The fairy has flown.


The rapidly fading sunlight is totally throwing off his color scheme. There is only so much orange light can do for someone. Kurt is doing his level best to rock the look, making up for the unflattering lighting by taking on a bad-boy slouch underneath an awning, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. It's intended to say 'don't mess with me,' but it really comes across more as 'pouting because I've been stood up.' Which is ridiculous. He knows Blaine can't sneak out until sunset at the earliest, and it probably takes him a while to walk here. There is no reason for him to feel so put out.

It's just…

The longer he stands here waiting, the longer he is alone with his thoughts. And his thoughts, apparently, have every intention of sabotaging the evening in a variety of colorful and painful ways before it even begins. What if he says something stupid? What if he starts choking on a breadstick and accidentally spits food in Blaine's face? What if he loses control during their training and accidentally burns all of Blaine's hair off? What if Blaine trips and falls during his crazy rooftop antics and breaks his neck and dies before he even gets here?

"…I'm telling you, any minute now, the Fire Lord is going to start rounding us up to be judged. I can just feel it!"

"It's all over the city. The Avatar has come to judge us, and the Fire Lord is helping him…"

…what if he is outed as the Avatar?

The tension in the air is thick enough to gag on. Everywhere he looks, the people seem on-edge and suspicious, jittery and nervous, irritable and snappish. Not unlike himself before a date, really. Not-date. Whatever.

His thoughts come to a screeching halt when he feels a warm shoulder press into his own. He knows who it is without even looking, but look he does—and like the shadows faced with the sunrise, all of Kurt's dark thoughts melt away and vanish to the other side of the world.

"Hey," Blaine says.

"Hey yourself," Kurt replies.

And when Blaine smiles at him, all he can think is that the wait was worth it. Nothing in the world could darken his day now.


"…so David has to cram himself inside the oven before the head chef gets back there, and firebend through the eye of the stove so he would think that Reggie had been cooking the entire time."

Kurt can't help but chuckle a little. "Ah, the perils of workplace love affairs."

The Prince's grin turns sly. "Yeah, making out with kitchen girls is a favorite pastime of his. But he was just expecting a quick check-up to make sure everything was okay. He wasn't expecting the chef to stay and have an extended conversation with Reggie about how he could improve his Ash Banana Soufflé. David had to keep that firestream going for ten minutes. He was drenched in sweat by the time the guy left, and I'm told the oven still has a faint musky odor to it once you get it going."

He has to concentrate very hard to keep from shooting tea out of his nose when he laughs. "The things we do for love…"

"Or lust," Blaine adds.

As he starts coughing from the liquid going down the wrong pipe, it occurs to him that drinking never used to be this hard. Blaine makes him stupid.

"Are you okay?" he asks, eyebrows curved in concern.

"I'll—" he sputters, "—be fine."

"Here, let me help," Blaine says, scooting around the table to pat Kurt on the back, which just makes him cough harder. You and your touching, Kurt thinks. Honestly, he goes for years where people seem afraid to lay a hand on him and all of a sudden, here's this guy who acts like he will shrivel up and turn to dust if he isn't in physical contact with Kurt at least once a minute. The mind, it boggles.

"Do you need some water?" he asks. "I'll get the waitress." His hand shoots up, and he politely requests, "Excuse me, is Jen available? My friend here needs some—"

"OZARK!" a thick, merry voice shouts from nearby.

Blaine's eyes bulge so wide that Kurt kind of wants to tilt his head back so they don't roll out of his skull. "Oh, crap," he whispers.

Before Kurt has even the tiniest chance to ask him what's going on, a stout, bulbous man appears next to their table, sporting a pair of round glasses, a wooden cane, and an impressive grey mustache that looks like it could lift you bodily off the ground should the need arise. "I thought I recognized that voice…" the man says. "Is that you, Ozark?"

"Hey, Barry!" Blaine says with a smile that is only slightly fearful. "Long-time, no see!"

"I'll say!" Barry chuckles. "I'd ask where you've been, but I can see you've been spending your time wisely," he says, with a rather obnoxious wink. "And who is this lovely young lady?"

Now it's Kurt's eyes that are perilously close to dropping into his tea. "Excuse me," he starts to say, but Blaine jumps in before he can finish.

"This is my friend… ummm… Truk!" he says, his eyes begging Kurt to go along with the charade. The glare Kurt turns on him could strip the finish off genuine Earth Kingdom woodwork.

"…pleased to make your acquaintance," Kurt seethes gently, offering him a hand to shake. Words cannot encapsulate his disgust when the man raises his hand to his lips and kisses it. Ewww, eww, eww.

"The pleasure is all mine, miss," Barry says, a giant grin on his face. If only you knew, Kurt desperately wishes to say.

"Barry is a friend of mine," Blaine says, using those expressive eyebrows to apologize to Kurt.

"I was down by the docks one day, carrying boxes into my shop, almost knocked the boy into the sea," Barry chuckles.

Blaine waves a hand in front of his eyes and mouths 'Blind as a badgermole.'

Oh, Kurt thinks. Well, that makes the gender confusion… slightly less offensive.

"And what does this kid do?" Barry asks. "Why, he offers to help me carry 'em! Helped me move a whole boatload. I tell you, Ozie, they don't make kids like you anymore. You're a good one, m'boy."

Blaine's smile is genuine, and Kurt warms to Barry ever-so-slightly. "He actually paid me for the help," Blaine says.

"And I've still got plenty of work for you, if you ever need a silver piece or two. Maybe to buy a gift for this pretty young thing," the large man adds with a wink.

Blaine activates his polite smile (though Kurt doesn't really see the point, as the man can't see it) and gently changes the subject. "So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Barry? We're a long way from the harbor."

"Haven't you heard," the man leans in. "There's trouble brewing 'round here. Big trouble."

Blaine looks a little taken aback, so Kurt jumps in for him. "What kind of trouble?"

"The sickness is coming," the pudgy man says, sounding rightfully afraid. "Word on the street is the Fire Lord invited that damned Avatar to the city, gave him a nice house and everything. He's gonna let that bastard infect us all, so that only the worthy can survive." He spits. "Who does he think he is that he gets to decide whose worthy?"

The Prince sends another apologetic glance to Kurt, looking a little stunned himself. "Surely you don't believe that," he says. "That doesn't sound like the Fire Lord. And why would the Avatar be spreading a disease?"

Barry shrugs. "They're saying it all over," the man says. "There've been outbreaks of the sickness all over the Earth Kingdom since the Avatar showed up. And as for the Fire Lord… well, he always did seem a little off-his-rocker after his lady died. Hasn't been seen outside the Palace in years. They say he's been fortifying his defenses, so none of the sickies can get to him once it starts."

Blaine's face looks like he just watched the man step on a puppy and only stop to wipe its brains off his shoe. He seems so shocked and hurt that Kurt's hand reaches out to grab his before his brain even realizes it wants to. "Who… who is saying all this?" Blaine barely manages to ask.

"Lots of people," Barry says easily. "It's all over town. Now, usually, I wouldn't put much stock in lady gossip, but… I've got this feeling in my bones," he says, holding a hand to his chest. "It's been getting worse and worse lately… something bad is on the horizon, and I don't want to be caught off guard." His voice lowers to barely a murmur, and he leans in. "Me and a few other fellows are having a meeting about our course of action. You're welcome to join if you want. We could use a strong lad like yourself."

Blaine is so flabbergasted that he can't seem to form words. The way his mouth moves with no sound coming out reminds Kurt of a fish out of water.

"We have plans for the evening," Kurt says pointedly. "Tonight is a very special night for us, right?" he says, elbowing Blaine in the ribs.

"R…right," Blaine agrees. "Sorry, Barry, not right now."

"Ah, don't worry about it, lad," Barry says agreeably. "'twas my mistake to try and drag you into this miserable business. You're young and in love; you shouldn't have to worry about nonsense like this. Miss Truk," Barry says, "I apologize for trying to steal this fine young gentleman from your company."

"It's quite alright," Kurt says, primly. "But we really must be going now," he continues as he rises, grabbing Blaine by the hand and pulling him up.

"Ah, puppy love," Barry sighs. "It warms an old man's heart. Whatever comes or doesn't come, I pray to Agni it passes over your heads while you sleep and don't disturb you one bit. Ozark, Miss Truk, you kids have a wonderful night."

"See you, Barry," Blaine says, having regained the use of his voice.

"Wonderful to meet you," Kurt says, even though it definitely wasn't. With that, he ushers the both of them out of the restaurant as quickly as he can without drawing attention. Outside, the sun has fully set, leaving just a little bit of pink and purple on the horizon. Kurt wraps an arm around Blaine, who still seems a little stunned and unstable.

After getting a decent distance away from Breadsticks, Kurt breaks physical contact to look at Blaine directly. "Are you okay?"

The Prince takes a breath in an attempt to gather some composure from the night air. "Yeah," he says. "I'm just… surprised. I didn't know people felt that way about my father."

"They're just rumors," Kurt says, trying for a reassuring smile. "They don't mean anything. Soon enough, they'll be proven false, and people will forget all about them and move onto something else crazy and equally unbelievable."

"I suppose you would know about dealing with hurtful rumors," Blaine says as his sad eyes seem a little more at ease. "Maybe… maybe we can do something about it."

"Like what?" Kurt asks.

Blaine steps towards Kurt, grabbing his hands. "I want you to meet my father."

The Avatar's eyebrows clutch their metaphorical pearls. "…really? I mean… are you…"

"I've been thinking about it for a few days," Blaine says, "and I really think he could help you. Actually meeting you in the flesh, the actual Avatar, I know he'll see past all the lies people say about you." He grins. "Plus, I think he's less likely to kill me if you're in the room when he finds out what I've been doing at night."

"You're confessing to that, too?" Kurt says, a little shocked, and a little flattered.

"It's going to be kind of hard explaining how I met you otherwise," the Prince says with a sly smile. "My father has invested a lot of trust in me lately, and I think it's time I return the favor. No more lying or sneaking out."

"Wow," Kurt says. "I'm impressed. It takes quite a bit of courage to just… come out like that."

"Well," Blaine says. "What can I say? You make me feel brave."

"Why?" the Avatar asks.

Blaine's hazel eyes lock with his own. "I believe in you, Kurt," he says. "I believe you can save the world."

Kiss him. Kiss him, you water-lily! Kurt's brain shouts at him, but he is paralyzed until the moment passes, and Blaine smiles at him and steps away. "I," Kurt starts, his voice rough. "I'd love to meet your father."

"We can do it tomorrow," Blaine says. "Just come to the Palace. Some friends of mine will be expecting you."

"Why not tonight?" Kurt says, arcing an eyebrow.

A gesture which Blaine responds to by wiggling his own. "You said it yourself: tonight's a special night for us." With that, he starts walking again, and Kurt takes a moment to catch his breath before catching up.

"Sorry about Barry," Blaine says as they continue along the path out of town.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Kurt says. "I've had people with eyes make that mistake before. It's nothing new. I'm just wondering…"

"What?" Blaine asks.

"Ozark?" Kurt queries.

The Prince gives a wince. "It was… kind of a spur of the moment improvisation at the time. I couldn't go around using my real name, so I came up with an alias. Everyone in town who knows me, knows me as Ozark."

Kurt ponders this for a minute. "Kind of an odd name," he decides aloud, "but I suppose it works. Much better than Truk," he adds.

Blaine winces even further. "I'm really sorry about that. I was really caught off-guard. Your name backwards was the first thing I could think of."

"If you're just going to rearrange the letters in my name," Kurt says, "Turk rolls off the tongue just a bit better."

"Turk," Blaine tries. "You're right, it does hit the tongue a little better. Not nearly as good as Kurt, though," he says, gently nudging Kurt with his shoulder.

Kurt smiles and nudges him back. As they turn a corner, he catches the Royal Palace out of the corner of his eye, and all he can think is that if the Fire Lord is half as amazing as his son, Kurt can hardly wait to have him on his side…


The Fire Lord sighs as his attendant reads the report; a fairly long list of things that are making the quarantine difficult to undo. He has no doubt that each of these things can be dealt with—it's the sheer volume of them that is exhausting him. Not since he accidentally knocked over a hive of scorpion bees in his youth has he seen so many little things add up to so much pain.

"Sir!" a guard calls out from the far end of the throne room, running in with a small, wrapped scroll. "A messenger hawk just left this. It's addressed to you."

"Who is it from?" the Fire Lord asks tiredly.

"No return address," the guard says, sounding a bit nervous.

"Put it on the pile," he sighs. "I'll read it later."

"Sir, it says its urgent."

"Well, bring it here, then," he says to his attendant, who retrieves the scroll and hands it to him.

And then the Fire Lord gently unfurls a message that chills him to the marrow of his bones…

It's after dark.
Do you know where your son is?
Because I do.

He rises from his throne immediately, stalking out of the room.

"My Lord! My Lord, where are you going? Sir…?"


Another low wail echoes through the closed door, comparable to the sound a baby komodo rhino might make if it were being strangled to death.

"I'm telling you, I just can't understand this instrument," Wes says from inside the Prince's room.

"Then why do you insist on continuing to try and play it?" David sighs.

"It vexes me," Wes says simply, "and I don't like to be vexed."

The young guard opens his mouth to continue the banter when suddenly his blood is peppered with tiny chunks of ice from the sight that approaches him. The Fire Lord stalks down the hall towards him, looking like a man possessed.

"My Lord," David says, loudly, pointedly, so Wes gets the memo. "What are you—"

"I need to see Blaine," the Fire Lord says, barely acknowledging him. David makes what is perhaps an ill-advised attempt to impose himself between the ruler and the door.

"Blaine is… indisposed… at the moment, he—"

Without even a word, the Fire Lord brushes David aside with enviable ease and bursts into the room. Agni protect us, we're boned.

David rushes in to find a terrified Wes and a Fire Lord who looks ready to call the wrath of the entire Sun down upon their heads. "Where is he?" he demands.

"My Lord, please," David stammers.

"WHERE IS MY SON?" the man roars like an erupting volcano.

"We don't know," Wes says, sounding only slightly less ready to wet himself than David. "He didn't tell us."

"You don't know!" And now Wes is pinned against the wall, looking nearly ready to cry, and David would help him if he wasn't currently paralyzed by terror.

"H-h-h-he sneaks out," Wes says in a pitch David would've never thought possible. "He used to tell us where he was going, but…"

"Sir, please!" the Fire Lord's chief attendant runs in after him, along with a smattering of concerned guards. "What is going on?"

Lord Anderson releases Wes, who falls to the floor in a heap, and presses his head to the ground. He turns to stare at David, the anger in his eyes nearly enough to incinerate him on the spot. "You don't know where he is?" the man seethes, awaiting confirmation.

"He sneaks into town," David says, his voice pleading. "That's all we know, my Lord, I'm sorry, he didn't—"

The Fire Lord turns to his guards. "Arrest them," he orders, and David's heart nearly bursts and kills him on the spot.

"My Lord," Wes says from the ground. "We'd tell you if we knew, I swear, but we don't. Why are yo—"

"Because someone else DOES!" the Fire Lord bellows, pulling him up and shoving a piece of paper into his face.

The boy's unsteady eyes scan over the page as the other Guards move behind David and restrain him. "Oh no," Wes whispers, before looking directly at David. The horror in his eyes has skyrocketed to a different level entirely, and suddenly David knows that this is much worse than a simple cause of being caught covering for a friend.

"Gather every single guard, on duty or off, in the square at once. We will scour every inch of this city until we find him," the Fire Lord orders his attendant, who scrambles off before he, too, faces this fearsome man's wrath.

"And as for you two," he says, turning back towards the two frightened boys. "You had better pray that we find him before they do, because if we don't, you will be the ones to suffer for it."

He storms out of the room, which the guards take as their cue to begin dragging the two of them towards the holding cells. It's a little difficult to see, but it doesn't take much longer of studying Wes's expression of abject terror for David to understand what was in that note.

Blaine… he prays, please be okay...


The fluttering of the hawk's wings is music to her ears. Setting down her binoculars for the moment, she reaches up to untie the scroll from the creature and send him on his way. The letter is exactly what she wanted to read.

End him.

It's go time.


TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N: So, the thing about losing reviewers is that I never actually know why they leave. I have to assume that it's because the story is boring them, so I hope this will win a few of them back. Yes, I know, I'm an attention whore, but there's no point in being dishonest about it. I love feedback, so if you have something to say, good or bad, please, let it be known! ;)