Hiya.

Nothing to say here. Enjoy. ^_^

…
Chapter Two.
...

Green eyes flickered before opening for a second and snapping shut just as quickly. The touch was light at first, but then all Sakura could feel were rough hands all over her body. She wanted to lash out, remembering the lascivious expression of the enemy commander as he talked down to her before their fight; furious and horrified what he might be doing to her while she slept. For a moment, she was frozen in shock, but a tittering sound broke the illusions of groping—it was feminine. She opened her eyes tentatively, realising she was actually being manhandled by several women; one was obviously a teenager, another was in her late twenties, and the last appeared to be over forty years old. Lady-in-Waiting types.

Sakura had never seen someone so old before. Her people were lucky to live to thirty, because they were unprotected from the wilds, were forced to live dangerous lives to survive, and had little in the way of medicine.

Must be nice.

She'd always wanted to learn to heal instead of kill.

Sakura jumped as though startled, her instincts finally kicking in.

She realised belatedly that someone had definitely drugged her while she slept, probably to avoid this very scenario. She bolted out of the cot they'd had her in and pushed the offending hands away from herself, ignoring the tutts of annoyance from the oldest of the women.

"Lady, we must clothe you. Be still."

"What the hell?" Sakura looked down, realising she was half naked. Her breasts were unbound and exposed, and the armour she'd been wearing was on the floor; her only dignity was in that they'd only been able to unclothe her upper torso. Arms wrapped protectively over her chest, she stepped away from them.

"Don't touch me."

"But milady..."

"I'm nobody's lady," Sakura snapped.

"You are under his Lord's protection," the teenager said. "The Commander has bidden us dress you like a lady."

Sakura slapped away her hand as the maiden attempt to grab at her again. "I said, don't touch me."

"But..."

"Leave me alone."

The pinkette turned away, looking for the shirt they'd stolen only to find they hadn't bothered to remove it properly. She bent down to pick it up, frowning at the torn fabric. While it was true that this was no fine silk or whatever the nobles were wearing these days, she'd grown fond of it—it was one of the last things her mother had given her before the plague took her. No longer falling under the protection of the Fire King due to "lack of resources", their village had been neglected in every atrocity since his abandonment. Life and death were entwined in the wilds and they were used to fending for themselves.

Even a sliver of clothing could mean the difference between survival and any number of excruciating deaths.

"Milady?" The older woman reached for her again and Sakura pushed her away violently before storming out of the tent. She wasn't thinking about her state of undress (holding the shirt to her breasts was the best she could do to cover up), angry and fuming as she was. Sakura paused to look around her, ignoring the surprised looks from Wind soldiers. The largest and most pompous tent would be his so as soon as she spotted it, Sakura made a beeline for the Commander's tent.

A few whistles followed her, but she ignored them. Anger, embarrassment, and frustration boiled up inside her. This was not what they'd agreed upon!

"I think we should shore up the western lands before returning—"

The commander's general broke off mid-sentence as the half-naked woman stormed into the tent. The guards had been too shocked at her state of undress to stop her, or so she assumed by the looks on their faces, so she entered unannounced and unimpeded.

"You!" She snarled, pointing at Gaara who just stared back at her silently. If she'd been in her right mind, she'd have noticed the other soldiers whispering behind their hands, some blushing, and the General pinching the bridge of his nose.

If she'd paid attention to Gaara instead of fuming at him, she'd have noticed his own pale skin had a tinge of pink to it. The only person in the tent unaffected by her exposed skin was her. She readjusted the shirt over her breasts, drawing every set of eyes in the tent to the visible parts of her creamy skin. She was dirty from the fight, but she was still a woman.

"You have some nerve, bastard!"

Gaara swallowed heavily, cleared his throat, and stood up. "Sakura—"

"No!" She snapped. "What is with the twittering women and ripping my clothes. I am not a toy or lady! You don't get to—"

"You agreed—"

"I didn't agree to be your dress up doll!" Sakura shouted. "And I don't appreciate being woken up half naked!" She deflated slightly at the catcalls from his men, but half turned from the obnoxious redhead to glare at the officer who was making lewd hand gestures at her. The man was not intimidated in the least.

She growled at him and turned back to Gaara. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself? Why—"

Gaara interrupted her. "You stink."

"Stop interrupting me!"

He sighed. "We don't need an agreement for you to have a wash."

"Ugh!" Sakura turned and stormed away from him, her face warming at the laughter of his men.

"She's a spit fire, commander! Better watch out! She might bite and scratch you!"

Sakura grumbled to herself as she made her way back to her tent. Due to it being in visual range of his, there was no way for her to get lost. She threw open the flap of the tent and marched in, then stopped and closed her eyes as it fell shut behind her. Trying to calm herself, Sakura remembered her teacher's rants about her temper.

"You'll catch a nasty gremlin if you keep that up. One day, someone's going to knock your block off for being this annoying."

His disappointed voice and refusal to budge when she raged at him was good at calming her down. Eventually.

She sighed and opened her eyes, realising the twittering maids were all watching her, still standing in the same positions she left them in. She begrudgingly admitted she DID need to clean herself.

"You must bathe." The woman who touched Sakura gently on the shoulder was the other one; the one in her twenties. She looked calmer than the other two. "We have drawn a bath for you."

Sakura frowned. Drawn a bath? If she wanted to wash up, she would just use a watering hole. What were they on about? The older woman indicated to a tub in the corner of the room and suddenly, Sakura remembered she was in a foreign tent, among foreign people with foreign customs. This was a strange place.

She peered into the tub, sniffing at the steam rising from the water. It looked clean enough. And it had been a while since the last watering hole. Sakura nodded. That was all the permission they needed; they converged on her and she instinctively struggled against their pushing and pulling. But they were stronger than they looked (they've done this before) and the pinkette ended up standing stock still, her face red with embarrassment as they tore the rest of the clothes from her body.

She wasn't normally one for caring about modesty, and she was no stumbling virgin, but the only people in her life who'd seen her naked adult self were only long-time friends who didn't take to unclothing her like she was a child.

I'm going to make that arrogant redhead pay for this.

...

Who rides a horse in a dress?

Time on the road was wasted on those who had never travelled before. Sakura had never even seen a horse before now, let alone ridden on one, but her father had told her stories of them. They were used to cart people and goods all over the kingdoms and were incredibly smart for animals. And expensive. After the first day she was so sore she swore her head off for hours after dismounting. The bath that was prepared for her had been heated and the maids supplied her with a weird concoction to wipe on her bruised skin that—surprisingly—worked wonders on her aches.

It was beyond embarrassing.

And then there was the matter of not being very good at steering the dumbass equine. She fell off a few times, to the laughter of the soldiers, and almost fell off a dozen times more. And, whether it was from chivalry or annoyance, Gaara seemed to decide she was better riding with him.

The days bled into one another; she dismounted with as much dignity as she could muster, only accepting her captor's aid when she felt her balance begin to sway. They camped for the night and Sakura retreated to her personal tent set up away from his but still in sight so that he could easily send those annoying women to hassle her out of her clothes and into a tub of steaming water. She was fed twice a day, given a new outfit every morning, and left to wallow in her boredom for the rest of the time.

The boredom was so real, so painful, that it became her lullaby to fall asleep every night.

The highlight—so to speak—were those moments while travelling, when Gaara's hands were clasping tightly to her body. She rode, sitting aside Gaara, in a saddle that wasn't designed for side saddle riding; he had to keep a very tight hold of her to keep Sakura from falling off. And he was very good at it.

At first, Sakura blanched at being this close to him, but his hands held her so tightly to him that she couldn't help but be very aware of the hardened body supporting her. It was distracting enough to keep her boredom at bay, and she whiled away the hours wondering what he looked like underneath all his armour. His annoying personality wasn't contingent on the firmness she felt every time he pulled her up to the saddle and fidgeted until they had both worked into a comfortable position.

She was still a woman, after all. And it didn't mean anything in the long run, so why not admire him while she could? The warriors from Wind were very fit, indeed.

When they finally arrived at their destination, the sounds of a parade welcoming back the favourite son of the king and the tall walls of Suna City looming in front of her (the capital and jewel of the land), Sakura found herself relieved knowing the hassle of the day to day routine of this expedition was all but over. She knew she was heading to a cage that would be harder to escape than the embrace of her captor's arms on horseback. She knew this gilded cage was impending doom. But the tediousness of the ride and constantly battling with her desire to either punch or grope Gaara was finally grating on her and she needed some space from her Commander.

From his intoxicating smell.

She wasn't the most experienced woman from her village, but she'd had a couple of tumbles in the hay. This arrogant, annoying man was invoking the same reactions the village boys had done; the difference back then was they had actually been her friends first. She didn't like being attracted to a stranger—not that she'd met many strangers. She didn't like that this distraction had gone from fascinating to mental images of him throwing her down and ravaging her. It would not do to get too attached to her captor.

After all, Sakura still had a score to settle with that pompous arse.

She waited impatiently as they moved slowly through the city streets, keeping her eyes averted from the curious looks from the onlooking crowd as they passed, and gripping the saddle of Gaara's horse like a lifeline. They made it to the castle gates without incident and the pinkette found herself the centre of attention once more as the greeting party all gaped at her. At the head of the group, a blonde woman with four pigtails was also smirking. Sakura noted she was dressed like a warrior, but in fine clothes that denoted a high status.

Interesting.

Gaara had seemed surprised when Sakura met him, to find a warrior woman. She wondered what ever gave him the idea it was such a rare occurrence.

"What's this, Gaara?" The blonde girl's smirk grew wider. "Did you find yourself a concubine? Is my little brother finally—"

"Temari." Gaara's angry reply sent vibrations through Sakura's body, tingling her in … a few unexpected places. Her face flushed in embarrassment at Temari's assumption, even as Sakura shared Gaara's anger over it. She had not agreed to be Gaara's sex slave.

Temari waved her brother's fury aside. "Whatever. You want someone to play with for a while, that's your business. Kankuro's going to flip though. You know he's been assuming you were gay or something. I should've taken him up on that bet."

Gaara sighed and made a few motions to his soldiers; there was a flurry of movement as his personal guard left the scene. Even Baki trotted off, though reluctantly. Gaara slid off of his horse and reached up to grab Sakura; she let him help her down and then quickly drew her arms close to her body in a show of defence. Unspoken commands were being issued as they started walking through the open doors and into the receiving hall, Sakura falling in step behind the siblings, pretending not to notice as the blonde stole a few more looks at her: what she was smiling at, Sakura didn't want to know.

"She's pretty, though. You chose well."

"Shut up."

They continued to bicker as the annoying Ladies-in-Waiting started fussing over Sakura, tugging on her to move faster and casting nervous glances at Gaara.

He looked back at Sakura, smirking at her annoyance, his eyes slowly travelling over her body as he seemed to be contemplating something; the biddies waited with bated breath for his command.

"Take her to the V.I.P. quarters in the north." There was an evil glint in his eyes. "And bathe her."

She glared at Gaara, fury bubbling to the surface, hands clenching as she was dragged away. His laughter followed her down the hall.

This fight isn't over.

...

Sakura screamed into the soft pillow as the doors closed, finally, and she was left alone. Left alone in a too huge room, decorated with the weird carvings of the nation, and with nothing to do. After bathing again at the hands of women who didn't know the meaning of the term "personal bubble", Sakura started to worry what Gaara had even brought her here for. He'd appraised her body, nothing more. Not her skill as a fighter. Not her knowledge of the land he was trying to infiltrate—though admittedly, that knowledge was second hand.

Am I a concubine?

She shivered. No way was he good looking enough to excuse doing that to her. And he was definitely marble sculpted by the gods. But … ugh. She screamed into the pillow again. He was driving her crazy and he wasn't even in the room!

Sakura stood up and decided to tour the quarters she'd been dumped in. She'd already visited the connecting bathroom and wardrobe but hadn't noticed a small library or balcony that overlooked a good portion of the city that this palace loomed over. It was beautiful. But that bed… she'd never slept in anything so comfortable and wasn't sure she could fall asleep in it. Years of low cots and forest floors did not prepare her for the soft warmth of those sheets. It felt nice but also … wrong.

An hour later, Sakura's stomach grumbled right on time and she put down the book she'd been reading from the library and answered the knock on the large doors to her room.

"Milady." A scullery maid stood there, curtsying as Sakura took in the sight of the covered serving tray in her arms.

Food!

Sakura stepped aside and let her in, closing the door when she left, after placing the tray on a table near her bed. Her stomach grumbled again, and she sat on the floor, in front of the table and got stuck into the food: roasted pork with rice and steamed vegetables. She washed it down with the jug of wine, feeling better than she'd felt in days.

Sakura woke up hours later, not realising the food had made her sleepy. She didn't remember falling asleep. But the food was gone, and she'd been moved to the bed.

Weird.

She jumped at the knock on her door and scrambled to open it.

This is going to take some getting used to.

"Milady."

The woman was imposing, over a head taller than Sakura, with a stern expression.

"Yes?"

"I am your tutor."

"Tutor?" What was that? "Is that like a teacher?"

"Yes, Lord Gaara wishes you to learn Wind customs."

Sakura frowned. "Why?"

The woman shrugged. "It is not my place to question. I am ordered, so here I am. May I enter?"

Like I have a choice.

She felt her anger bubbling up inside her but pushed it down. She'd promised to do … whatever it was Gaara said she had to do. But tutoring in Wind customs? She hadn't expected that. What good could ever come of that? He was crazy. What was going through that idiot redhead's mind?

"I'd like to start with the basics."

Sakura had a healthy appetite for information, but the woman really knew how to prattle on. They started having these sessions every third night and Sakura's new maid—thankfully replacing each and every one of those biddies—encouraged her to keep it up.

"You never know," the girl said, winking at Sakura. "He may be prepping you for life in high society."

Sakura scoffed. "I'm a peasant girl from a village he considers backwater and backwards. I doubt he's looking to train me for something so outlandish as—" (she threw air quotes up) "—high society."

But the traitorous thoughts in her brain told her she didn't mind. Oh, she still needed to get him back for beating her in that fight, humiliating her, and practically groping her on that horse, but there was time. Time to punish him and figure out a way to convince him—or someone else—to let her train with Wind soldiers. That idea had come to her in the days she'd spent pressed against his chest. If he felt that well-defined and was so fast and strong, then perhaps she could be too.

Alas, it seemed her captor only had thought to teach her wasteful information such as what Wind's largest import and export was.

But I'll show him.

Eventually. And somehow.

She glanced at her maid, who was humming to herself. The night air coming through the open balcony was cold, but Sakura had started to like this breeze. Two weeks had passed since her arrival, with no sign of the redhead, and every question she'd made regarding her village and the fate of the warriors went unanswered.

"Tell me something."

"Hm?" The maid looked up at Sakura, pushing a strand of blonde hair out of her face and smiling.

Sakura liked her. A lot. This girl was someone she could consider on levels of friendship. And she was genuine.

"What's your name?"

The maid smiled. "Ino, milady. Ino Yamanaka."

"Ino doesn't sound like a Wind name."

Ino shook her head. "I was born in Fire, just like you. My father lost his position in court due to backstabbing and horrid rumours and I was taken by the Fire King shortly after."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Nobody here has raped me or tried to sell me off to some old pervert, so I'm doing fine enough."

Sakura flinched at Ino's brashness over such a sensitive topic.

"I do miss home, though," Ino continued. "And dad. And mum. And my idiot friends, I guess. When I get really home sick, I watch the clouds."

"Huh?"

"My best friend spends his free time cloud watching."

"Oh."

They fell silent. Sakura wasn't sure what to say. They had a lot in common. It made her feel closer to the blonde. She watched Ino folding the laundry and wondered.

"Why don't you run away?"

Ino paused. "I could… but I have no idea where I'd be going. And it wouldn't be easy getting past the security in this place." She played with the frayed end of her shirt, distractedly. "And if I was discovered, I'm just a lowly servant. The king kills for less."

Sakura clenched her fists. Kings were ruthless, so the stories went, but she wasn't knowledgeable enough to make an opinion on Ino's situation.

Our situation.

She wondered what her own escape attempt might result in, if she got caught. Would Gaara have her executed right there? Or would the king come down on her? Maybe the redhead would use it as leverage against her, or actually chain her in some sort of dungeon? It was a curious thought.

"She's here," Ino said, rolling her eyes at the knock at Sakura's door. The pinkette had nothing personally against her tutor, but every time the woman said, "it's pronounced eer-jay," she wanted to take the elastic strap out of her hand and slap her wrist and tell her, "it's pronounced however I damn well I want it pronounced."

Sakura tutted at Ino in a perfect mock of the tutor just before the maid opened the door, forcing Ino to burst out laughing, earning her a disgruntled glower and admonishment from the stern woman.

Ino's punishment didn't compare to the glare she sent the pinkette for setting her up.

…

XXX

...

Please review. :)

R&R

...