(tw: non-graphic implication of past child abuse/sexual abuse)

After another whole day of riding, Shikamaru was certain his body was broken beyond repair. His poor bay horse had put up with his inability to ride for the entire stretch northwards along the ridge, stopping in the middle of the day to shelter from the most extreme hours of the Land of Wind summer. The group had continued to sing to pass the time, faces veiled, but the fear of what awaited the hostage hung over him like a shadow that seemed to grow heavier and heavier the more miles they put beneath their hooves.

It wasn't until the walls of the Hidden Sand Village came into view on the horizon that the enormity of Shikamaru's situation began to sink it. They were coming to the end of the day and the sky was just beginning to glow orange towards the west. The walls were low on the horizon at first, looking small with distance though they must have been many kilometres across. The trail they followed was almost a true road now and other paths joined theirs, coming together like estuaries of a river as they flowed inevitably towards the Village. With every few hundred yards they travelled, the village walls grew more and more huge in front of them to the point where Shikamaru lost all sense of scale. Only when the walls stretched as far as he could see in both directions and towered gigantic above them was he able to pick out the sight of human figures patrolling the heights.

Directly ahead, there was a chasm in the wall, a crack linking the innards of the Village to the expanse of the Land of Wind. It was around this chasm that many of the patrols centred and towards it that the squad and their prize were headed. Anxiety churned inside him, calling him stupid for not trying harder to escape back to the Leaf Village while he could, that he should have jumped off that cliff into the sea when he had the chance. It told him he should try to turn his horse around and run now, though of course such a notion was ridiculous: even if by some miracle he was able to escape his captors, the desert would kill him. When he had played King of the Wind on the riverbank as a child, the little sand walls they had built were nothing, easily destroyed by a child's kick. The reality seemed ancient, impenetrable. As impossible as it seemed that he might ever see the Leaf Village again if he passed into this fortress of Sand, he had no choice but to wait and hope that Temari's plan would work: that Tsunade would release Gaara in order to bring Shikamaru home. The only way he could go was forward. His horse walked steadily on, his hips rocking in rhythm in the saddle.

The five of them reached the mouth of the chasm: Temari and Kankurou, Hakuto and Isago, and Shikamaru. A gong sounded from somewhere on the wall, announcing their approach. The chasm which had looked like nothing more than a crack from a distance was actually easily broad enough for the five of them to have ridden through it side by side with room to spare, but before they could enter, they were met by a band of patrolling Sand-nin. The Princess dismounted from her stallion and walked towards them, speaking with the one who took a step forward ahead of the rest of the patrol. After a short interchange, she nodded to her comrades who rode forwards into the chasm. Shikamaru's horse began to follow its kin but Temari halted it, gripping the bridle.

"You need to wear the hood," she told him.

Shikamaru wasn't a fan of the hood. There was still dirt on it from him face-planting the ground a few days previously and the inside smelled of dried blood. He was back to following her blindly on foot without being able to see what was around him. With no rope around his middle, she guided him by way of slipping a hand to the inside of his upper arm and he focused on the feeling of her touch to keep his composure.

The chasm they passed through was so long that the air was cold and stale as though they were underground. The sound of hooves clopping as the horses were lead ahead of them echoed strangely as they walked.

The echo faded and the air warmed again as they passed into the Village and Shikamaru noted the sound of the horses getting quieter as they were being lead away. He presumed that he was being taken some secret way to whatever dungeon they had waiting for him but he could still hear a little of what was around him, slightly muffled through the fabric of the hood. The ground beneath their feet was dusty and something smelled sweetly of almonds. After the air being decorated only with song for the last portion of his travel, the sound of bustling citizens was strange, even at a distance. He listened to the hum of voices carrying out normal conversation between themselves, both in the lilting cadence of the Wind tongue and familiar drawl of the Common, probably having no idea that he was even there or of the significance of his capture. They were probably entirely ignorant of the political intricacies of their Village, just as the Leaf citizens were. He could hear children laughing. It was strange to think of children of the Sand as anything other than soldiers like the stories told.

The sounds grew quieter, more distant, until a single voice spoke directly at them. Now that he had spent some time around native speakers, his ability to translate the spoken word was smoother. Temari told the voice where she was going and a reply came in a male voice, telling her that the Kazekage wanted to see her first. He felt her hesitate before refusing to take her prisoner to the Kage's Office.

Not the office, said the voice. Interrogation.

Anything else the man might have said was drowned out by the sudden pounding of Shikamaru's heartbeat in his ears.

He followed her up a flight of stone steps, spiralling the ascent until his thighs ached. As they climbed, he felt her slow before he sensed what they were headed towards. He could feel a huge chakra radiating above them and Shikamaru knew exactly what it must be. A shinobi of the Kazekage's calibre could have easily subdued his chakra so as not to be so distracting, but Rasa had chosen not to bother. He was trying to be intimidating; and it was working.

"He knows you're mine," Temari told him in the stillness of the stairway, keeping her voice low so that only he could hear. Her hand squeezed around his bicep. "I won't let him touch you."

She spoke of protecting him just like she had been doing since he met her, but Shikamaru felt her steps slow and heard her breath shallow. Whenever she had mentioned her father up to now, she had done so with resentment, with anger. She hadn't admitted to the fear, but it was very much there. How much of who she was was an act? How much of who she was was borne from fear?

A breeze hit them. They had peeled away from the staircase onto a flat area, outside in the open air. Shikamaru could feel the bitter heat of the Kazekage's chakra radiating from just ahead of them. He mentally recited the torture training he had received when he took on the position of advisor to the Hokage and hoped he would find it within himself to be strong for his Village. He had to force himself to breathe.

You did well, the Kazekage addressed his daughter, his voice deep and clear. I didn't expect you to get this far.

Did he expect her to die?

Let's see him, then.

Temari removed his hood and Shikamaru was granted the privileged of sight again. His eyes adjusted to the light before his brain could process what he was seeing. They were high up, on a balcony near the top of this tower, with multiple doorways leading off into different sections of the building. The bustle of the Village was drowned out by the snap of a wicked wind at this height and everywhere was gleaming in the low evening sun. The balcony wall hid most of the village from view from where they stood, but he could see the few close buildings on this level and above, the furthest low districts at the edge of the Sand and the huge Village walls which stood between them and the desert horizon. Where the buildings in the Leaf were wooden and angular, the Sand architecture was sandstone and stucco, rounded and painted white to reflect the sun. But that wasn't what struck him the hardest: everything around him was was glass and gold. The white walls of the tower were set with huge glass windows on every level, many of them elaborately coloured, each one with cames and casings of gold. Gold edged the top of the balcony walls and even made patterns between the pale flags of stone under their feet. The tower was the picture of opulence - the picture of opulence in a Village defined by the poverty that the Land of Wind's daimyo had plunged them into.

And in the middle of all this was Lord Fourth Kazekage: Rasa. He wasn't a particularly large man in body, but his presence was huge. There was something about the way he held himself and the expression on his face that made it obvious he knew he owned the Village, that he owned her. He stood with his arms crossed, mesh armour visible across his chest between the wrap of a dark cloak. He wasn't wearing the ceremonial hat that was associated with the Kage and Shikamaru could see how he had similar hair to his middle son, though he was darker around the eyes. Those eyes were watching him now, like a cat watches a mouse. Shikamaru was very aware that he was wearing this man's daughter's hair-tie in his hair.

That's the correct one. We can begin bhuain tonight.

The word meant to harvest, but the Kage wasn't using it to refer to any crop.

"No," Temari told him. The plan was to keep him whole. If we take his secrets he won't be worth enough to exchange for Gaara.

His intelligence will be worth more to us than Gaara was, the Kazekage said to her. Shikamaru saw something in her temple pulse as she gritted her teeth. She was looking at her father's feet, not meeting his gaze.

You told me I could be in charge of this project, Lord Fourth. She referred to her own father by his official title. I've already sent the hawk to Konoha. We should at least see what the Hokage has to say.

You'd disadvantage the Village for the sake of one of your silly little projects?

He raised his voice almost imperceptibly but it was enough to make Temari flinch. This was a woman who was driven enough to come up with this plan to rescue her brother, cunning enough to break past the Leaf Village security, strong enough to take on six shinobi by herself on a wounded leg but when it came to this man, all it took was the slightest indication of aggression to turn her back into a child. This was supposed to be her home; she was supposed to be safe here.

He didn't even think about it: Shikamaru pooled chakra into his hands.

The blast hit him in the chest before he even saw Rasa glance in his direction. It was a truncheon of glistening sand, flown from Rasa's fist into Shikamaru's chest in a blink, throwing him backwards onto the stone floor of the balcony and skidding until his body hit a wall and slumped. He couldn't breathe. His vision blurred as he tasted vomit in the back of his mouth and exhaled, exhaled, exhaled, unable to fill his lungs. The pain of the hit radiated around his body, shards of ice stinging through his veins. Temari's eyes were tightly shut. Only when he at last was able to take a breath did Rasa address him from where he stood.

"That was stupid."

He didn't want to look at them. He stared down at the pale sandstone of the balcony they were on. The very mortar between the flagstones was flecked with gold, reminders of Lord Fourth's power completely inescapable.

Lord Kazekage? A new voice joined them on the tower. It was Kankurou. Rasa turned his attention to his middle son and Shikamaru saw Temari begin to breath again. I'd like to give report tonight, if you're available to meet me in your office shortly.

Rasa gave a sharp nod before leaving his daughter with a final comment. I heard you lost two good ANBU. You'd best make sure he was worth it.

Shikamaru thought he caught a look between the two siblings before the Kazekage swept away with his son at his heel. He was left alone on the balcony with Temari but she didn't move from where she stood for a long time, simply staring ahead at where her father had been. His body still ringing, Shikamaru tried to get to his feet on his own, but his efforts were interrupted by her hand being offered to him. He gave her his arm and she hauled him to his feet.

"It's this way," she said, cocking her head towards another staircase leading downwards. In silence, they walked together to the hold.

His cell could have been worse. He had heard of the Suna holds being nothing more than chains, a pile of straw on the ground and a bucket to piss in, but the modern reality was rather more sanitary. There was a cot to sleep on with a thin blanket, a small trough of water in the corner to drink from and clean his face with, and a camera watching him from the ceiling so that he could be monitored from the guardsroom and also from the security wing of the Kage tower. The door to the cell took up almost an entire wall: a iron grate behind a sliding shoji screen. The result was that a guard could slide open the shoji to observe a prisoner directly without them being able to sneak out. Of course, he wasn't being held in a standard jail but in the cells specifically for shinobi and political prisoners and as far as he could tell, he was alone there. There were no windows, so he had no clue if he was being held above or below ground, and no way of telling night from day.

Shikamaru didn't like the guard. He was an older man, bald and unblinking in a way that reminded him of Ibiki. It was unsettling. When he first arrived, this guard had stripped him of his old clothes and made him change into loose-fitting, flint-grey linens. Shikamaru didn't much mind the change, aside from the fact that it meant him losing the lighter which had remained in the pocket of his pants. He doubted he would ever see it again and hoped that it would be the only thing he might lose while he was imprisoned.

But by far the most uncomfortable part was the chakra suppression field. The hold in the Leaf Village had one as well, but Shikamaru had never experienced being under its effects for more than a few minutes at a time. It took about half an hour to reach its full effect. He hadn't noticed it when the grate had first been lowered and locked behind him, and he had wondered if he was experiencing some kind of panic attack or cardiac event before recognising that the feeling was his chakra being artificially curbed. The field's sole purpose was to the suppress the chakra of shinobi held within the cells here and it was exhausting, like trying to walk under an increased force of gravity or breathe in an atmosphere of low oxygen. It ruined what might otherwise been a prime opportunity for a decent nap.

When she first came to visit him, it was only one sleep after they had arrived in the Sand Village, before the days began to blur. It might have been morning; Shikamaru couldn't be sure. He first heard her footsteps trotting down a staircase, then her voice as she addressed the guard. The man's harsh demeanour didn't seem to soften in the Princess's presence but luckily, without her father around, she was back to being the brutal kunoichi he had known on their travels.

No items, he told her in their native language. Shikamaru was sat on his cot, listening through the closed door.

She addressed him in Common. "I outrank you, Satetsu. He's my prisoner. Get out of the way."

"Just because you're wet for some Firefolk cock doesn't mean you can break the rules, Princess." He spat her title as though it was an insult, mocking her.

"No," she agreed. "I believe the kunai I have resting against the base of your spine means I can break the rules."

Shikamaru held his breath through the silence that followed, until the shoji door began to slide open. He hadn't expected her and didn't know why she had come, but he was glad to see her. She sat on the stone floor on the other side of the grate and he came to sit opposite her, the thick squares of iron between them slightly rusting with age.

It was the first time he had seen her out of her combat gear. She still preferred dark tones, but now it was in the form of a yukata. In the lowered light, he thought it was black but as he came closer, he realised it was actually a deep purple, hemmed with pale lavender-threaded embroidery and with a matching obi fitting snugly around her middle. It was tailored to her shape, draping around the plumpness of her breasts and her hips, airy sleeves hanging off slim wrists, making her appear feminine for the first time despite the muscle which he knew sat beneath the soft covering of flesh. The smooth southern skin over her collar bones was showing. This is what she looked like when she wasn't a Suna ANBU agent; this is what she looked like when she was the Princess of the Wind. He wasn't sure which version he preferred. She clearly hadn't felt the need to bring her tessen with her down here, but she still wore a base-layer of mesh armour and when the hem of her yukata shifted as she sat, he saw where a kunai pack was strapped to her good thigh. Some habits die hard.

"You're still here," she said.

He exhaled a short laugh. "Where am I going to go?"

But he knew what she had meant. She hadn't been concerned about him escaping - that was an impossibility. She had been concerned about him being taken for interrogation. Her eyes were red and he thought for a moment that something may have upset her until he smelt the stale smell of wine still on her breath. She looked as tired as he felt. Not upset: hungover.

As he averted his gaze in the awkward quiet, he noticed that she had brought some things with her. One was a long, rolled up piece of material and the other was a waxed pouch, just bigger than his fist. Seeing where his eyes went, she slid the pouch through the metal grate into the inside of his cell. This wasn't allowed. He didn't take it at first, until she nodded to him to proceed.

Inside was was a selection of foods: candied chestnuts and chunks of cheese and stuffed figs and smoked meats. Shikamaru still wasn't sure if he would ever grow to like the local Suna cuisine, but the smell of these treasures wafting up to him as he opened the parcel was enough to remind him that he was hungry, especially seeing as he had expected nothing more than dry bread to sustain him while he was held captive. If he was being poisoned, he didn't care.

She waited until he had started eating, accepting her gift, to speak.

"I told you I wouldn't let him touch you," she said. Her tone was apologetic. He couldn't imagine her ever saying the words "I'm sorry" to anyone in her life - this might be as close as it got. But of course, she had protected him. If she hadn't fought, Rasa would have taken him. He had no doubt of that.

He put a sweet chestnut into his mouth and chewed as slowly as he could manage so that he didn't have to verbally respond.

"How's your chest?"

Shikamaru swallowed and used his sticky fingers to lift his shirt and show her his bruise. It was an impressive colour which would probably look worse after another day or so, but he didn't think there was any real damage done. He had had ribs broken once – the day Asuma died – and that wasn't what this felt like. "I've had worse. Anyway, it looks like you might be feeling rougher than I am."

A flush of colour ran across her cheeks at his comment. "If you survive an S-rank mission, you have to drink your bodyweight in wine when you get home."

"Let me guess, it's Suna tradition," he teased her. Of course, her mission wouldn't truly be over until her brother was home, but Shikamaru was beginning to understand the hedonism of the Wind people.

Shikamaru had never been drunk. He told her so.

"Let me guess, it's one of the Konoha prohibitions," she teased him, and went on to describe some of the very enjoyable recreational poisons that Kankurou had been working on. She offered to teach him to dance one day.

He continued to eat, barely even tasting anything now, aside from something disgusting that she called an olive which he almost spat out, much to her amusement.

"Do you always spoil your prisoners like this?" he toyed with her. He hadn't expected an answer but she offered one anyway.

"My prisoners aren't usually like you."

"What am I like?" If anyone was to define Shikamaru, it might have included the words lazy or serious or intelligent or pragmatic. None of those things warranted her attentions.

She stared at him for a moment. "You're kind."

He had finished eating now and his stomach churned, but she made no move to leave. They had been sat for a while and she was close enough to his cell that she should have been feeling the effects of chakra suppression field, but it didn't seem to be bothering her. Perhaps she had spent a considerable amount of time under one. He supposed that training under a suppression field would be an effective way of strengthening chakra, just like training in taijutsu with weighted wraps. He had a lot of questions for her but was very aware that Satetsu might be listening to everything they said.

"Your father seemed surprised you returned," he began tentatively. "He knew you might not have made it home but he let you go anyway."

She shrugged. "There was never a risk of me not coming home. I don't fail."

"You might have done. Everyone fails sometimes."

Her eyes were bloodshot but her gaze was hard as stone. "I can't."

He took a breath to absorb what she was telling him, the pressure she was under, but that hadn't been his point and she must have known it. He told her as much, trying to get the conversation back to Rasa.

"There was love in him once," she admitted, "before my mother died."

Shikamaru tried to remember the history he knew of the Kazekage's family, even though he had only been a child himself when it had happened. "It wasn't Leaf shinobi, was it?"

"It was Gaara," Temari sighed. "It wasn't the poor kid's fault, just bad luck. But losing her changed him."

Shikamaru was silent, sitting cross-legged on the cool stone floor of the cell, watching her absently trace a finger back and forth along an edge of the iron grate that stood between them as she talked. "Obviously, he resented Gaara fiercely. He mostly ignored Kankurou when he wasn't pushing him to fight, and things only turned bad for me when I grew old enough to start reminding him of her."

Shikamaru felt sick. Maybe it was the olives.

"I can get you out," he told her, as though he weren't the one behind bars. "You could come away with me."

She shook her head, rolling her eyes dismissively at his comment.

He continued. "I'm serious, Temari. If you need an escape, I can find a way to make that happen."

"Don't say things like that." Her tone was stern, a warning. She let her gaze slip poignantly to the ceiling, to the camera that looked into his cell. Someone was listening.

When she was gone, Shikamaru had all the time in the world to dwell on his situation. There was nothing he could do but watch the walls and wait: either for word that a bird had returned from Konoha and his release was to be arranged, or to be taken by the Kazekage for reasons unspeakable.

The rolled piece of material she had brought him was an extra blanket – she thought it was cold down in the cells and even though Shikamaru much preferred the temperature here to the heat of the desert, he appreciated the additional comfort. Each time he slept, he didn't know if he had been dreaming of home for one hour, or three, or ten, but she continued to visit him even when she didn't have an apology to make and he used her visits as a way of counting his days in captivity.

She even brought him a few books to keep him occupied and help him practice the language. There was a fictional series about a Thief of Sandstorms which featured some enjoyable action despite the mysteries being easily predictable. Another was a book of poetry by someone called Karura which was emotively written and very beautifully illustrated. The last was an old text, a Suna traveller's accounts of journeying across the Great Nations, long before the current unrest. The author described the Hidden Leaf Village as being friendly and hospitable and it left Shikamaru feeling betrayed. Things had been good between their Nations once. His lifetime was simply an unlucky one.

The guard - Satetsu - was still a thorn in his side. After one of Temari's visits, Shikamaru heard him singing what must have been Sand Sister, in a blatant display of disrespect.

On what might have been the fourth day, she was growing antsy. They should have heard back from the Leaf by now and she was becoming impatient, doubtful.

"Do you think it'll work?" she asked him. The conversation came after he finished some food she had brought him, as was their new routine. Today's meal had been a bowl of goat's meat and apricots that was too spicy for his palate, though he tried not to show it.

"I don't know." His mouth still felt on fire. "Tsunade doesn't have her chief strategist with her. Things are… unpredictable."

The Princess had brought a pillow to sit on to save her bottom from the stone floor, and was fussing with a loose string at the corner of it. "You're important to her though, right? She'll need you back in the Leaf. She'll do what I'm asking."

"Asking?" He raised his eyebrows at her. "Temari, you broke past Leaf security and took out an entire clan to kidnap the Hokage's advisor and hold him for ransom. Wars have been started over less."

"It won't start a war," she scoffed, though he could see genuine concern through the facade. "I never meant to start a war."

By now, Shikamaru knew that all she wanted was to get her brother back, but he also knew how her actions might be perceived by the Konoha elders. The success of her infiltration was a humiliation that they might not wish to let slide, regardless of how valuable Shikamaru was to them. "Do you think Tsunade knows that?"

The loose string at the edge of the pillow had become a hole through which small feathers were escaping. She picked one out and used a little chakra to make it dance in the air in front of her face. "What will happen to Gaara if it doesn't work?"

"I don't know," he told her, honestly. He knew that there had been discussions as to whether the young Prince should be destroyed. Shikamaru had been against the idea simply due to the political implications of such action before, but now that he had more sentimental reasons to protect Temari's brother, he was completely powerless to do so. As a captive himself, the same discussions would need to be had over his own fate. "What will happen to me if it doesn't work?"

"It'll work," she decided.

He didn't know if he admired her faith or resented her denial. He wet his stinging lips with his tongue but it only made them burn more.

"She knows what it's like to lose a little brother," the prisoner told his captor. He watched her suddenly lose interest in the feather she had been toying with and it fluttered slowly to rest on the stone floor. "Maybe we can use that."

Shikamaru was attempting to reread the Land of Rivers chapters of the traveller's chronicles but found his eyes sweeping across the same paragraphs over and over without any of the information sinking in. All he could think of was what might be written in the scroll making its way to Suna by hawk right now. What would Temari do if Tsunade refused to release Gaara? What would happen to both of their Nations if she did? How could he protect her from her father's wrath if she refused to leave her Village? The chakra suppression field kept him physically weak while the isolation kept him intellectually powerless.

He had far too much time to let his mind wander, day dreaming of the horrors that were, and of the beauty that might have been.

The guard yawned loudly. He didn't usually stay very close to Shikamaru's cell, choosing instead to busy himself by pacing the corridors or resting in the guardsroom. Not exactly company, but perhaps better than nothing. A source of information. Manipulatable.

"It's Satetsu, right?" Shikamaru addressed him for the first time. He didn't expect to get very far, but had no idea how long he would be here for. He might have time to chip away at this guy, little by little, to earn his trust and use it to his – and Temari's - advantage.

Maybe he could learn a little more about Suna and their alliances, from a shinobi's or even a citizen's perspective. Temari had mentioned in the forest that there were organisations who thought they had a better claim to the title of Kazekage than Rasa did. Maybe he could learn more about who people follow.

The guard, unsurprisingly, didn't answer. So Shikamaru continued, knowing the man could hear him.

"I'm guessing from her tone with you that you're not one of Temari's guards."

He heart footsteps on stone as the guard approached and could soon see the silhouette of his figure against the thin shoji door. She door slid open so that only the iron grate was between them and they could see each other clearly. The guard wore a reinforced leather vest and mesh armour. There was a kunai pouch around his thigh and a metal truncheon strapped to his belt.

"What's your Kage like to work for?" Shikamaru kept his voice steady, casual, despite Satetsu's stern expression inspiring his heart to beat a little quicker than normal. "Mine can be kind of a drag. Maybe we could share tips."

"You're a long way from home, Leaf boy." Satetsu said, ignoring the prisoner's attempt at conversation.

There was a loud creak of rusted iron as he pulled on the chain that made the grate rise, lifting it high enough for a person to cross the threshhold.

It was at that moment that Shikamaru realised the grate had not only been protecting the Sand shinobi from their prisoner, but also protecting him from them. Shikamaru stood from his cot and backed against the wall as the guard let himself into the cell. There was nowhere to hide.

"They need me unharmed," he protested, beginning to panic, but the guard just laughed.

"Only your mind. Your body's not important."

Guards weren't supposed to be unnecessarily violent and Shikamaru had bet on Satetsu respecting the Princess's demands. He had bet wrong. His eyes flashed up to the camera that looked into the cell, a gesture reminding the guard that his actions would be recorded.

"That's not a concern." Satetsu took the truncheon from his belt. "I want your little girlfriend to watch this."

Author's Note:

5 and 6 were originally going to be a single chapter until it got so long, so the next one is almost ready to go. I'll aim to publish it on Christmas.

Parts of this chapter are unpleasant but hang in there - Rasa isn't scared of the dark yet, but he will be.

Cinder x