Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, Masashi Kishimoto does.
Gambit's Crown
...
:
He looked tall, even as he kneeled inside - glistening in rain-spattered armour - midway through unlatching his gauntlets - pitching his mud-soaked boots by the flap of the tent - and every bit enough to curl the pit in her stomach.
"Sasuke?" She set down her steaming cup of tea, peering up at him, brows dipping. "You're b-back, already?"
"Aa." Lean, long fingers slid over to the curve of the king's shoulder, peeling back the suit of armour, albeit half refused to fall.
"Tch."
It should have been off already, tossed alongside the other pieces at the threshold of the tent -
But the cold from outside must have numbed his fingers, she reflected, dipping a spoon into her tea, as he settled upon one of the lush pillows strewn about.
She should help - or at least offer to - but she couldn't bring herself to be so close to him, not when the fresh smell of earth and wind tussled his hair, things she hadn't tasted in so long - things he'd stolen from her.
"How was it?' She asked, busying herself by clasping the handle of the teapot, and pouring him a cup. "I thought you said you would be gone for six weeks?"
"I did." He answered, finally succeeding succeeding in tearing off the coat of chain-mail, in favour of the embroidered tunic tucked underneath. "Yachi surrendered within a fortnight. We walked through the gates."
The kettle slipped.
Hinata fumbled, plunking it down rashly before the porcelain could shatter - and paid little mind to the droplets of scalding tea that splattered against the wood of the table - and across the silk of her lap - wide-eyed and daring as she strained forward: "Nothing happened, then?" She swallowed. "No - deaths?"
Back home, the streets had been littered and awash in the rotting stench of corpses for days after his soldiers stormed through her tiny town, and she'd recognised most of the bodies - the baker's boy, the tavern wenches, even the neighbours' eldest son - as soldiers who'd never wielded spears or swords a day in their life, until the Uchiha's army came knocking on their door.
"None." He asserted, corners of his lips uptilting whilst he leaned in, reaching for the kettle and the sprinkle of tea leaves near its side: "Satisfied?"
Executing a delicate nod, she let out a simple, stern, "Hai," - although the wobble skirting her tone nearly betrayed her.
Nearly betrayed how - in spite of the steady shhhh! of Earl Grey running, steaming the table, brimming his cup, and clinking! down quietly - she was not satisfied.
Glad, and grateful, to be sure - but not satisfied.
How can I be?
Too often, she'd heard how Sasuke's war councils bordered on domineering - trialed by tried and true strategies too aged or too tame or too dormant - against the bolder, greener tastes of the young king.
Now, she was to believe he'd so easily cast them aside - where before he'd only done so for the sake of sharper, more innovative ideals from the likes of fellow councilmen, like Naruto or Shikamaru?
I am no Nara or Naruto, though...
And she'd been speaking on behalf of lives, not strategy.
Swallowing, she pressed, scrunching up a pair of pale, pearlescent pools. "I-I didn't think you'd listen."
Amidst scattering a couple leaves in, stirring and sipping and brooding, he relinquished, "Hn."
And pale, pearlescent pools fell back.
She'd truly no right to be so wounded: what more did she expect, from a man - from a king - of so few words?
That he would open up, share truths, like an equal - to a thing he'd seen and seized, waiting for the right moment to mount?
I'm still so foolish...
And more than spoiled, if stories of Yachi's benign surrender - a great development for the country; an even greater development for the people, and a greater blessing than anything she could ever ask of him - were overturned by such mild musings.
So, what did the nature of his reasons matter - in the name of forgone casualty?
Why should she even pry?
Why did she even feel the need to do so?
"Why-"
And why was she?
"-Why did you?" She found it spilled out - so breathless and quick and precise - that her tongue couldn't regret not reeling back in: not even as the even sheen painting across inky pupils she'd long deemed oh-so-daunting, hitched and snapped and bore right into her own.
"What?" Still so daunting, even in a time she'd deigned to be undaunted.
"Why did you -" She swallowed, clearing her throat and squaring up her gaze. "Listen, I mean?"
Could he truly have granted Yachi, a continental stronghold - the opportunity to surrender without fear of waiving their rights, or falling prey to plunder - through sole virtue of a few of her words?
"Why wouldn't I?"
For a mere possession, had she underestimated her value?
"Demo..." Her thumbs twiddled. "...I didn't t-think you thought about what I said."
A wicked upturn of lips. "You're all I think about."
"A-Arigato," she murmured, bringing her cup of tea up, and swilling it back to lapse from the swelling, feverish temperature.
Charming, he was, but charming he had to be.
Uchiha Sasuke was a conqueror and she was simply the next conquest.
"Ano..."
It would do her well not to forget it, when the passion of pursuing the newest flame snuffed out.
"...I'm very grateful."
When she snuffed out.
"You are?' He said, almost dryly: "Prove it."
Don't.
Getting a rise out of her, always rewarded him something she couldn't understand; but remained equally unwilling to give.
Keeping her focus trained upon the flecks of tea pooling at the bottom of her cup, the bluenette piped up:
"P-Pardon?"
"Show me." He reiterated, canting his head to the side. "How grateful."
Entrapped within the fringes of his tone, this time, however - ran something thick, and rich - something textured, like Kiri velvet - and curiously sifting, like Sunanese sands - something altogether too grainy to put aside.
"A-Ano-"
But sentenced here, inside the tent he owned and the army he'd built - was it not wise to bow her head and swallow her tongue, in place of decorating herself like a piece of meat?
"Hyuga are the butchers, not the meat." Neji had told her that once, hadn't he?
Her jaw set.
He told me a great deal of many things, back when I'd been heir.
Now, she barely qualified as prisoner.
So, sentenced here, inside the tent he owned, and the army he'd built -
I am the butcher, not the meat.
No, she shook her head - nonsense, all nonsense; she'd lost the name.
But I will always bear the blood.
Laying her cup down, Hinata took in a deep breath, swivelling her gaze up to meet him squarely in the eye:
I am the butcher, not the meat.
"Your Grace, are you suggesting what I think?"
"What do you think?"
The blood boiled in her cheeks, although her steely tone refused to falter. "I think you promised me you would wait, until I wanted to - "
"And I am."
"Then st-stop this." She pleaded, wringing the silk of her skirts, and ducking back down to her cup again. "It's torturous."
A snort. "I could say the same. "
She wasn't sure why it was her - why it had to be her - or what he saw in her - that kept him dragging her along to every camp, quartered in his tent, well-fed and guarded - yet he'd wielded a patience she'd been surprised to find in a conqueror, and one she'd been appreciated on more instances than she could count, during the times she found herself wrapped and warm in his arms, and once, during a particularly cold night, in his bed.
He was kinder than she'd expected.
She wasn't naive enough to believe his sense of honour would last long - it was a only a matter of time, until her novelty wore off, or he tired of biding his time, and simply took what he wanted - the way his men did - outside these camps, and in the towns and cities she'd seen - but she would focus on the stability and peace he provided her for now, and put off the thought - and the struggle - for what was to come for as long as she could.
This was more than she'd gotten in a long time.
"Tell me, what happened then, in Yachi." She interjected, readjusting the lapeled cushion squeezing out from underneath her, and skimming over Sasuke's nearly mischievous tilt of head. "Please."
"It was fine." He shrugged, running his fingers through the mane of unruly locks. "They were refusing negotiation at first; Shikamaru was preparing for a siege, but then Naruto came -"
"N-Naruto?" She breathed out, tampering down the blood threatening to spill into her cheeks. "Naruto is back?"
"Aa." Sasuke's fingers enveloped the cup she'd poured him, as he blew out the steam billowing upwards. "He interceded on my behalf; convinced the daimyo to accept our offer. The troops should be moving into the city by next week."
She beamed.
Of course, he did.
That was the only Naruto she knew - the boy unprecedented enough to be her only ally, in a camp of foes that were his friends - and marked to be gone for a little more than a good month.
Time she'd barely survived.
"Will we be moving to Yachi, too, then?" She broached, drumming her nails against the table.
Her days of war camp already felt too long and too cold - curtailed by the confines of this tent and the whispers of handmaidens; alongside the tiny bits and pieces Sasuke brought back of the world to cling to.
But to upstart from here to one of Gakure's Great Cities - to upstart from anywhere to Yachi - regaled to be nothing short of tall, gilded castles, and enamelled, lantern-lit walls, and painted blue, blue skies - a city of summer: tenderly footnoted in between the presses of her schoolbooks; back when she'd been a babe who'd known nothing except for the glittering winters of Hyuga north, and the world seemed this wide, marvelous thing - and now, to journey there - felt like the first, real semblance of visiting someone she'd long had to leave behind.
And perhaps if she was fortunate enough, too - if she dared to think - or believe -
Naruto will be there?
"Yachi?" Sasuke's gaze flickered up; coupled by a sharp, steely, glint that was more than enough to snap her back into a sobering focus. "Do you want to?" He added, steepling his fingers together.
How stupid was she?
Sasuke was listless, no doubt, but he would never be exhausted enough to lose his keen sense, and what she harboured for Naruto was a secret she couldn't afford to reveal.
Especially to him, of all people.
"I want whatever you want, Your Grace." Her tone came off colder, and more clipped than she'd intended; even alongside the polite smile she leveraged out.
"Don't call me that."
"R-Right, Your - Sasuke -" She ducked her head, warily eying the cup of tea he'd yet to touch. Hers was now empty. "I'll try to remember."
"You shouldn't have to try. " He bit back - in a sharper, icier tone: one he'd used when they'd first met, not the gentle cadence he'd fallen into ever since; and before she could stop herself: Hinata flinched.
"S-Sasuke, I am just - "
"Hinata," He interjected, amending back to his subdued timbre. "What do you want?"
Many things.
Naruto. Home. Her family. Her clan.
None of which he would give her - or could.
"Hinata?" Sasuke cut in; sitting the cup down quietly, leaning in, - ebony orbs gleaming . "What do you - "
"-Freedom."
It was the first word that came to mind, tactless - for sure, and something she'd bear in mind for later - but not too fatal.
She couldn't say Naruto, but surely, he wouldn't be cross over this?
"Is that all?" He replied, leaning over to cup her cheek in a deceptively tender manner.
She could only trust herself a nod.
"I could give you that."
It was not yours to have taken in the first place.
She swallowed; lowering her gaze to her lap this time.
This masquerade was her only weapon of survival, and her sincerity threatened to surface: it was time to steer the focus from herself. "What do you want?"
His thumb pressed into the hollow of her cheek. "You, in my bed."
Blood encroached upon her neck, and she swiftly recoiled back, shaking her head furiously.
He'd never been so upfront before - and aside from the curl tugging at the left corner of his mouth - he seemed rather...expectant.
"Sasuke, y-you aren't - I mean, you can't be... ..."
Carefully, she dragged her opal gaze up to comb through his own - searching for some sort of flicker - or the beginnings a smirk - a small smile would even do - or the dismissive flick of the wrist - or somethin -
"I am." Again, the expectant look.
She flushed.
Expectant of what?
Bracing herself, she challenged: "For h-how long?"
He wouldn't take her as a wife - as his queen - not the forsaken heiress of a clan who'd yet to cede to his cause when other, more prominent daughters from high-born families waited in the wings - oaths of fealty and a thousand swords sworn at their backs - but perhaps, if he found her captivating enough, she could toil at being his mistress? - bear him bastards and live out the rest of her days, wanting for nothing, well-off and prosperous, even after he traded her in for younger, more beautiful women?
Could she be content with that?
"Hinata," her name fanned the shell of her ear in a single breath, and she blinked furtively towards the Sasuke whose nose was now half-nuzzled against her cheek, left a little stunned and mortified by her woolgathering (1) - since when had he gotten so close? "Is that what you're afraid of?"
She wanted to scoot back - to bridge an ocean between them - but he was already buried in the veil of her hair - and coiled around her waist - and dug into the lines of her hips -
" - You just want me to be yours," she thumbed over the striped pattern of his tunic, admiring the black brocade, and murmured. "Because I don't want to be."
His teeth grazed the skin of her ear. "Do what you want, Hinata, you're already mine."
(1) yes, woolgathering is a real word. Google it. It means getting lost in your thoughts, which was the phrase I was originally going to use until I stumbled across woolgathering and found it hilarious, so I used it instead.
Sunanese is the possessive term for Suna sands.
This is an idea that's been battering around in my head for a while. It's a one-shot, but if you guys like it, I can continue?