Come Back Alive to This Place – Chap. 3

Warning: A little limey at the end.

(Originally posted 9/22/11. Edited 9/24/11 to place Aizen in period costume; thanks to rootali for the suggestion.)

XxXxXxX

Orihime found her voice. "Release me at once, you wretch!" she cried, trying to yank her arms free from the man who held her like an iron vise. He did not budge an inch.

Aizen had seated himself again on his chair. His face now wore a faint smirk as he watched Orihime's struggles. "Ulquiorra. You may release her. She can't go anywhere from here, anyway." He rested his chin on his knuckles and regarded her. "My dear Lady Inoue. Whatever are you doing here?"

She glared at him as she was released from the other man's grip. Her mind was still reeling from the double shock of discovering the supposedly trustworthy Lord Aizen in a clandestine meeting, and then being discovered and captured. She rose from the floor with as much dignity as she could manage, dusting off her velvet gown, which was much the worse for wear after being rolled over the dirty floor. She adjusted her shawl and stood very straight. She wavered between anger at Aizen's betrayal, fear of her own situation, and distress at the combination. So Aizen had been deceiving everyone all along. From his association here with the people in this room, it was clear that he was engaged in criminal activity.

She knew if she looked at the group of menacing faces all around her she might give in to her fear, so she focused only on Aizen's somewhat familiar face. It was, however, no longer kindly and mild. Perhaps it was a mistake to look at him, for what frightened her most of all was that the kind, welcoming expression was gone, replaced by a glance of arrogant, careless power. His face was suddenly much more handsome without the spectacles, but also much more intimidating. She realized, as well, that he looked a great deal younger. Could this be Sousuke Aizen's younger brother? Then she realized, as she stared into his eyes, that no, it was the same person.

It slipped out before she could stop herself. "How old are you?" she wondered. "You don't look thirty-five."

Aizen regarded her, and then said, "No. I'm twenty-six."

"But you—"

"I… misled the council ten years ago. Surely you have heard the tragic story of how the previous Lord Shinji and so many of my family members died in a terrible accident, requiring the family to turn to a distant cousin to lead the estate?" Aizen said in a calm voice. "I was underage at the time, only sixteen, so in order to succeed to the position, I said I was twenty-five." He sighed mockingly. "Spectacles do add that air of maturity. I assured the council that it must have been clean living that kept me so youthful in appearance."

She stared at him, suddenly wondering if he had been responsible for that accident that she had indeed heard of. But could he truly have arranged such a horrific crime at only sixteen years of age?

"But you haven't answered my question," he repeated calmly. "What are you doing here?"

She decided to go on the offensive. "I saw you sneaking out of the palace gardens, so I told my maidservant, Tatsuki, that I was going to follow you and see what you were doing. If I don't return soon she'll sound the alarm."

Aizen's smile only broadened at her threat. His eyes flicked to the silver-haired man standing beside him. "Gin. Return to the palace at once and find this Tatsuki— and kill her." His voice was as casual as though he were sending the man to buy a loaf of bread. His eyes returned to Orihime's horror-stricken face.

The thin man bowed his head, his grin never wavering. "At once, Lord Aizen." He turned and started walking toward the door.

"No!" she cried. Horror swept through her that she might have risked Tatsuki's life. "No, don't do it! I wasn't telling the truth. I snuck out after you without telling anyone! No one knows I'm here! Don't hurt Tatsuki; she doesn't know anything."

"Hold," said Aizen, straightening in his chair, and Gin immediately stopped and waited. Aizen raised his eyebrows. "How do I know you're telling the truth now, Lady Inoue, when you admit that you are quite willing to lie to save your skin?"

Orihime's cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry." She faltered, then regrouped as she found her anger again. "You scared me!" She looked around the room. "Here I thought you were an honest, upstanding man, and now I find you sneaking out in the middle of the night and threatening to kill people. And what is this meeting all about, anyway?"

A man with hair an unlikely shade of blue muttered, "Aizen, honest and upstanding?" and there were a few snickers from around the room at her outburst, but when Aizen held up a hand, they immediately quieted.

"I believe I was asking the questions, Lady Inoue." He gazed at her steadily. "I'm going to trust you this time, and will spare the life of your maidservant."

Orihime let out her breath. The words "thank you" were on the tip of her tongue, but she refused to speak them in the face of her dawning horror. "How can you do this?" she asked. "The Sousuke Aizen I knew would never have threatened to kill an innocent woman."

The smirk on Aizen's face appeared to be perpetual now. "The Sousuke Aizen you knew, my dear, was an illusion."

"So what are you then in reality?" she asked. Her blood chilled. "Are you the traitor who is working with the King of Las Noches and his pirates?"

Aizen's smile widened as he rested his chin in his hand. "Oh, no, my dear Lady Inoue. I'm afraid it's much worse than that. You see, I am the King of Las Noches, and my pirates work for me."

XxXxXxX

Orihime wasn't sure how much time had passed. It was still dark outside, as she could tell from the tiny, high window in the small room that had become her prison cell. Aizen had ordered Ulquiorra to bind her and "keep her safe."

Before he had had her led away, the brown-haired man had mused, his eyes on Orihime, "You've created quite a conundrum for me, I'm afraid. You see, tonight is an important night, and your presence here interferes with my plans."

Orihime scowled at him again. "I'm glad to be interfering with them." She beetled her brows. "Why don't you just release me?"

"Oh, I couldn't do that, my dear," he said smoothly. "I have a limited number of choices as to what to do with you." He stared at her for a moment as her heart pounded and her knees felt weak.

"I could kill you," he said carelessly as he watched her reaction. She could feel the blood draining out of her face, but vowed to herself that she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of showing fear. "That would be the most logical choice, I admit. Alive, you're only a hindrance and a nuisance to me. There would be the constant danger of your escaping and revealing my plans to my enemies."

She stared at him, feeling as though all the strength had been sucked out of her body. This was the pirate king of Las Noches, she realized anew, the man who already had so much blood on his hands… She thought of all the coastal villages that had been sacked, all the ships sent to the bottom of the sea, their crews lost… surely he would think nothing of killing one more small woman.

Well, if that was how it was going to be… She raised her chin. She was an Inoue, a proud member of an ancient family. She would go to her death with dignity. She faced the man she had thought she trusted. "Very well then. Kill me. But before you do, at least explain to me why you're doing this. You're a powerful member of the ruling council of Seireitei. Why would you stoop to piracy?"

Aizen shook his head with bemusement. "Curious to the end, Lady Inoue. Has anyone ever told you that curiosity killed the cat?"

Orihime took a deep breath. Now that she knew she was going to die, she felt an odd calm steal over her. She sighed ruefully. "Yes, Aunt Rangiku was always warning me about that."

He chuckled. "You should have heeded her."

"I don't know. She was wrong about other things. She said I could trust you."

Aizen laughed out loud at that. "You're quite amusing, my dear. It would be a shame to end your life so young." He regarded her once again. "Very well. I'll let you live—for now. You're to be my prisoner. I suggest that you not attempt escape." His gaze was level. "Your friend Tatsuki and other members of your family will be hostage to your good behavior. Should you try to escape, or to sabotage my plans in any way, I will send assassins to your home to eliminate Tatsuki, your Aunt Rangiku, and any other relatives and friends of yours I deem appropriate. Do you understand?"

Shivering, she had nodded.

He had then issued orders for Ulquiorra to tie her up and lock her in the small room.

Alone in the darkness, with her wrists and ankles uncomfortably bound, hungry and thirsty, in the room that was none too clean, with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company, Orihime felt burning regret at her foolishness at running off the way she had. Tatsuki, Sora, Aunt Rangiku all rose up in her feverish brain to chastise her once again. She was far too reckless, and in the past it had usually led only one person into trouble—her. Now, all her family members were at risk due to her stupidity. She blinked tears away from her eyes. She had led a comfortable, halcyon life with nothing worse than an arranged marriage on the horizon. But now, everything was over for her; she realized that it was unlikely that Aizen would ever release her. He could not let anyone know he held her, so any hope of being ransomed was in vain.

She wondered why he had chosen to spare her life. As he had said, the logical action for him to take was to kill her. Her heart chilled as she realized that he must have some use for her in mind, and that it was not likely to be pleasant. Determinedly, she turned her mind away from those thoughts.

Eventually, despite the discomforts of her body, she slept.

XxXxXxX

She was awakened by the sun streaming into the small room through the dirty window. Her arms and legs were cramping in their unaccustomed positions, and the bindings were cutting painfully into her flesh.

The door rattled, and her captor from the previous evening entered. The man was slight, with shaggy black hair, piercing green eyes, and odd markings on his completely expressionless face. He walked in without greeting and stooped to cut her bindings.

"Thank you," she said, rubbing her wrists and ankles to get the circulation started back in them. "What is happening now?"

"You are to be taken elsewhere," the man said, his voice completely neutral.

"But where?" asked Orihime, her voice rising with her insistence. "What is going on?"

He ignored her and continued with some preparation she couldn't see. As she twisted around, he brought a pungent rag to her face and held it over her nose and mouth with his inhuman strength. Chloroform, she realized as she gasped and sputtered. Too late, she tried to hold her breath, but instead she fell into darkness.

She awoke with a pounding headache in a much different room. Her wrists and ankles had been bandaged, and she was still wearing the same blue velvet gown; however, looking down at herself, she could see that it had been brushed clean, although there was still a long rip down the side of the dress and a matching one in her petticoat. Her shoes and stockings were gone and her feet were bare, and she blushed at the thought that someone had removed her stockings and garters while she lay defenseless. But as she mentally checked herself internally, she noted with relief that she was uninjured except for the chafing at her wrists and ankles and a few bruises.

She tried to lift her head and regretted it immediately as the room spun about her. She lay back down on the pillow, and realized to her surprise that she was lying on a soft and comfortable bed. The room was rocking back and forth, and it took a moment for her to understand that it was not an artifact of her befuddled brain. The bed she was lying on was indeed rocking, and the light entering the room came from a small round porthole covered with thick glass at one end of the room. She could hear creaking all around her. She opened and closed her eyes a few times, and as she looked once again at her surroundings it became clear that she was on a ship.

She pushed herself to a seated position slowly, and then stumbled to the porthole over the pitching floor. They were out on the open sea, the deep green waves rolling gently off to the far horizon under a brilliant blue sky. Off to one side were three other sailing ships keeping formation with the vessel she was on. She peered at the flag on the closest one: it was black and white, and the wind was whipping it back and forth. As her eyes focused on it, she saw that it depicted a reversed crescent moon on a black background.

Her heart clenched in her chest. So it had all been true. She had fallen into the hands of the pirate King of Las Noches, and was now a prisoner on one of his ships, somewhere on the open ocean. She took a deep breath.

She looked around the cabin once more. Although compact, it was paneled in beautiful woods, the walls covered with cunningly wrought, overstuffed bookshelves and trim cabinetry built into the walls in every available cranny. A chased silver lamp swung from a chain attached to the ceiling. She ran her hand over the coverlet beneath her, bearing a rich and complex embroidered pattern over satin sheets. This was no prison cell; it was quite a luxurious cabin for a sailing ship. She sat up straight, her blood chilling at the thought of whose cabin it might be.

She swung to her feet and went over to the trim door at one end of the cabin. Placing her fingers on the handle, she was surprised when it turned and the door swung open on well-oiled hinges. Beyond was a narrow but tidy corridor. A man standing on guard outside the door looked up as she opened the door and met her eyes, coming to attention and placing a hand on the sword that hung at his belt. Firming her lips, she closed the door again and retreated into the room, sitting on the bed once more to regroup.

Her eyes lit upon a silver pitcher, a small metal cup, and a plate with an assortment of bread and cheese, and her stomach growled. She was ravenously hungry. She carried the food over to the bed and sat down to eat.

She was cleaning up the last bit of crumbs when the door opened again. She was not surprised to see Aizen enter the cabin. But he was dressed quite differently from how she had last seen him. He was wearing a black crushed velvet shirt, laced in the front, with puffy satin sleeves and frothy cuffs at both slender wrists. A sword hung from a broad black belt encircling his waist, and his long slender legs were enclosed in black trousers tucked into tall black boots. He paused in the doorway and regarded her with the expression of a predator about to swallow its prey. He deliberately ran his gaze along the length of her body, lingering on her full bosom peeping out from under the lacy neckline of the blue velvet gown, his eyes then traveling lazily down to her small waist and one shapely leg visible through the tear in the gown. She felt heat rising on her face at his scrutiny and self-consciously pulled the two panels of fabric together over her legs. He raised his eyes back to her face and smiled again. "Greetings, Lady Inoue. You are quite beautiful, my dear; your portrait didn't do you justice."

She shook her hair back from her face and glared at him defiantly, her heart pounding in her chest. He inclined his head at the plate on her lap and said, "I trust you found your accommodations and cuisine satisfactory? We live more simply here than you are no doubt used to."

He did not wait for her answer, but opened one of the cabinets near the door and folded down a wooden bench, which he then straddled, facing her. It was still something of a shock for her to see him like this, so different in appearance and personality from the man she had thought he was, with his thick brown hair swept back from his face, only a single curl hanging between his deep brown eyes. The laces on his shirt were partially open, exposing a goodly amount of well-muscled chest; several gold chains hung about his slender throat, winking in the lamplight. His casual outfit, so unlike the formal costumes men of her class usually wore, drove home again to her that this was a dangerous man, a pirate and murderer. Nevertheless, she found herself unconsciously eying the movements of his slender, muscular legs beneath his trousers. She mentally slapped herself. What was she doing?

She tried to shake the dizziness and confusion out of her head. She would need all her wits about her now to deal with this man. She met his gaze evenly. "Where am I? And what are you going to do with me?"

He smiled at that. "Direct as always. You're not one for small talk, are you?" He tilted his head and ran a hand studded with gold rings through his hair as he regarded her. "You're in the captain's cabin on my flagship, the Mirror Flower. We're sailing to our next rendezvous with the remainder of my fleet. You'll forgive me if I don't give you every detail of my military plans at this moment, since you are technically still the enemy." He gave her a charming smile and bent his gaze on her with full intensity. "I hope to change your mind about that," he murmured, reaching one long-fingered hand to her face and stroking her cheek delicately.

She gasped and drew back. Her face had tingled at his touch, but fear was rising in her at this confirmation of her suspicion of what use a pirate might find for her. "You wouldn't…" she choked out.

Aizen's glance turned dark. "My dear Lady Inoue," he said silkily, "you should consider your position. You are here, on my ship, my prisoner. No one knows you are here; they don't even know if you're alive or dead. You're surrounded by my men and by the open sea. You have nowhere to run and are utterly defenseless." His smirk widened. "Indeed, you are completely at my mercy." His eyes glittered and she could see something burning deep within them. "I can do with you as I please and no one will know or care."

He swung up from the bench and sat on the bed beside her as she shrank away. She could feel the warmth of his firm body as he pressed himself against her, could smell his faintly woodsy, briny scent as he leaned over her and plunged both hands into her thick hair, stroking it back from her face and making her shiver. "No…" she said, bringing her small hands up to his chest to push him away.

He drew back briefly and contemplated her. "You continue to resist. Did we not have an agreement, that you would cooperate in return for your friends' lives?"

She summoned all her will to glare at him ferociously. "Cooperation as in not trying to escape or sabotaging your ship. That's a far cry from assaulting me."

He raised his eyebrows. "Assault? What a strong word. Here I invite you into the comfort of my own cabin, provide you with creature comforts that my own men do not receive, and all you can do is verbally abuse me?"

Her eyes narrowed. "It seems to me that the abuse was about to go the other way. If you will not respect the law, at least consider common decency."

He smiled and cupped her cheek with his hand again. "Such harsh rebukes. I am offering you a favor that many would beg for, my dear. And perhaps I should remind you that a pirate has no use for either laws or decency."

She stiffened under his touch. "No matter that you have chosen to lower yourself to becoming a criminal, you were born a noble and so should understand our ways. I am not one of your servants or playthings, Lord Aizen. I am at the very least your equal by birth and as such deserve respect."

He had continued to smile throughout her short speech, a look of polite attention on his face as he waited for her to finish speaking. He had not moved from his spot on the bed right beside her. His face was very close to hers now, and his fingers were at her throat, delicately running along the neckline of her gown. She could feel the heat rising in her face— and in her core. She could not deny that he was strikingly handsome, and the strong, leanly muscled body pressed against her was making her feel stranger than Aunt Rangiku's most salacious stories ever had. Her body was tingling all over and she felt an odd electricity at her core.

He said softly, "What you deserve and what you want may be two different things… Orihime." He leaned forward and one hand slipped around the back of her head as his lips brushed against hers. She shivered as his lips skimmed warmly against her own. The sound of her given name spoken by his deep voice made her feel like her center was turning into molten gold. She took a deep breath and her chest heaved. One of his fingers traced a line down her throat to her neckline, where it slipped underneath her dress and teased the sensitive skin of her bosom. She blushed at the wicked thrill of his touch like lightning forking up and down her body. A lady in her position did not do such things; it was wrong, so very wrong.

Aizen was nibbling gently at her lower lip, and she realized that both her hands were flat against his chest but she was not pushing him away. She could feel the play of his muscles underneath the black velvet against her fingers, and to her horror she realized that she wanted to touch him more, to explore more of that beautiful body as he was now exploring her. She knew she should be fighting him, but her body felt completely paralyzed. She took another deep, shaky breath as his lips caressed the corner of her mouth and then laid a line of gentle kisses along her jawline.

A loud buzzer sounded in the room.

Orihime started and Aizen drew back from her with a frown. There was a slight flush over the smooth, translucent skin of his throat, and his breathing had accelerated. But within a second or two his face was once more composed. "Please forgive me, my lady," he said formally as he stood and picked up a speaking tube hanging on the wall near the door.

"Yes?" he asked, and then listened to the reply. After another few moments he said, "On my way," and returned the speaking tube to its holder.

His face once again calm and betraying no emotions, he turned to Orihime with a gentlemanly bow. "I am truly sorry, my dear, but my presence is urgently requested on deck. I will leave you now, but I promise to return at my earliest convenience." Not waiting for a response, he swept out of the room, leaving Orihime alone and feeling oddly let down. The room seemed suddenly empty without his larger-than-life presence filling the small cabin.

She probed her own thoughts, a flush of embarrassment suffusing her face. Surely, she had not wanted him to have his way with her. She was a virtuous woman, promised in marriage to another, regardless of her current situation. Her honor demanded that she defend her virtue.

But she found herself wondering what she would do when Aizen returned. She felt confused. It occurred to her that although she might be a prisoner here, in some ways she was free of certain strictures of her past life.

Her hand went up to toy with the neckline of her gown, and she slid her own fingers beneath the fabric, stroked the sensitive skin there, slipped her fingers into the valley between her breasts where recently those long, elegant, warm fingers had caressed her… and she remembered that tingle she had never felt before in her life. Her breathing quickened, and a tiny, traitorous voice whispered in her mind that no one could blame her for cooperating, given her situation, and especially since her friends might be in danger… she really didn't have any choice, did she?

She closed her eyes and sagged back onto the bed.