Chapter One: Enough is Enough.

New story.

This is a plot bunny that refused to be ignored and is getting it's 15 minutes in the limelight while I also work on other things. I have a longer idea I'm working on, but in the meantime I hope you all love this enough to read, fav, alert and review. :)

Summary: AU GaaSaku. Because war is coming. Because a king needs a queen. And because no-one warned him his most dangerous opponent would be the one warming his bed.

-o-

Death was such a final affair. It couldn't be undone, bribed away, or blackmailed to disappear. Fighting it was a delay tactic at best, and denying its existence was detrimental and foolish.

It was also, sometimes, the only thing that made sense.

"The king is dead!"

The voice came from outside the mausoleum, but echoed through the building like a doomsday proclamation.

Death made sense.

Except the fact that sometimes it didn't. Sometimes it made no sense whatsoever. He was struggling to understand how he had come to be standing here, looking at this particular coffin, feeling these… feelings; guilt, regret, hatred, love and sheer terror.

What kind of omnipotent being let murderers, rapists and other sundry evil men live, but took away a broken country's last ray of hope? The sky was already darker than it should be at this time of the day, so what was the point? Why was he here, mourning, when so many others deserved it more?

"The king is dead!"

Yes, he'd died this morning; the blood in his bedchambers had yet to be cleaned and the redhead staring at the coffin in front of him could still smell the stench of it, hours after having found the body.

Sabaku no Gaara lifted his arms, his eyes travelling over the lines of the palms of his hands. It all seemed so arbitrary.

"The king is dead!"

He growled. Would someone shut that person up?

The words that echoed within the walls of the mausoleum (despite coming from outside), haunted him and he wished they would just die too.

He had never felt more confused, more foolish for believing that death itself would not touch these hallowed halls. He should have seen this coming. It was his duty to his king, to his family, and to his country.

'The king is dead.' He reminded himself.

And yet somehow, those four words were more comfort to him than he'd ever felt.

Gaara was still torn, however. He hadn't hated the fool, though the older man had given him every reason to. They were family… once upon a time.

But the children of the Sabaku clan had been scattered to the wind when their country fell into civil war. Who would claim the throne? Who would kill their own flesh and blood to get on that throne? And who would be forced on bended knee?

Ultimately, the answer had been: no-one.

And so the war raged. For three years; for three years their loyalists fought for and alongside the sibling they wanted to see crowned. People died then too. And then the outsiders invaded, taking advantage of the chaotic state of affairs; more death had come to them, and the estranged children were forced to put their disagreements aside to force the invading harbingers out of their lands.

And they won.

Gaara stood stiffly, glaring down at his brother's coffin.

'Why did you have to die, stupid fool?'

It was Kankuro that the people had wanted when the dust settled, and for once, the trio siblings had sat down and listened to the voices around them. It was Kankuro's cheeky face that was plastered around the royal home, the royal city, and pretty much the entire kingdom. The people didn't even know him personally, but somehow he had the kinder face of the Sabaku children, and they trusted that dorky smile.

Gaara groaned inwardly.

And the truth was, they weren't wrong. He had his foul moods just like anyone else, but Kankuro had been the better sibling – the nice one. Even in the heat of battle; Temari could scare a battalion with a glare and he… Gaara didn't have to try, he just naturally terrified all.

But who would the people want now? And how long would that person hold the crown before they too, were betrayed?

Even now, other nations were circling the borders like vultures, sensing their weakness. How long would it be before death visited them all again?

For three years, Gaara had fought his siblings, thinking he wanted to rule. He might not have been the first born, like Temari, or as well-liked as Kankuro, but there was no denying his power. If he wasn't meant to defend their people with that power, then why had he been born with it?

The gods were laughing at him, he was sure of it; give an ant the ability to conquer every ant hill, but deny him the spoils.

"Gaara!"

Temari's voice broke through his thoughts and the redhead looked up to see her striding into the mausoleum, flanked by two guards. She waved at them and they halted, letting her approach Gaara alone. She looked determined.

"The people are going to riot," she said. "Advisor Yura believes we cannot sit on this; the people will want retribution."

Gaara stared back at Kankuro's coffin. This was not how he had intended to celebrate his twenty-first birthday. It seemed so long ago now, that Kankuro had been slapping him on the back and questioning his sexual orientation, given that Gaara hadn't wed any of the noble ladies yet. He was the only sibling without a significant partner.

'I have standards.' His monotone reply had been met with a laugh and a giggling confession of his brother's own sex life.

Kankuro's widow crept into his head, and Gaara sighed. He felt sorry for her, mostly. She was too kind hearted a person to do what needed to be done next.

Gaara himself didn't want a kind woman. For most of his life, he hadn't wanted a woman at all (he liked them, but only when they didn't talk). He was twenty-one now, and had never held down any kind of relationship. He'd rarely partaken in sex and still had little idea what he was doing – which only added to his desire to avoid sexual situations. He found it too hard to let everything go and open himself up in front of anyone without the pressure of pleasing another person, let alone himself.

He was too easily impressed by feminine curves to trust himself in the sight of them.

It was a free life, but also a lonely one.

"We have to get out there." Temari stepped up next to him. "We have to tell the people that this treachery will not go unanswered."

The warm hand on his shoulder reminded him yet again that he wasn't as alone as he felt.

Finally, he'd been on good terms with his brother, and now this?

He couldn't stand it.

The pain was going to tear him up from the inside and he didn't know how to stop it.

"Gaara?" His sister's voice was soft, almost cautious.

He shook his head slightly. "How could he?"

Temari frowned. Was he asking how Kankuro could die, or die and leave them behind? She sighed.

"He loved you. Even when you were at each other's throats – even when we were all trying to kill each other. Kankuro… never stopped hoping we would all come back here someday. He loved you most of all."

It still didn't make any sense to him.

He didn't get it.

Making his decision, Gaara squared his shoulders and turned to face the guards who had been dutifully waiting for them to finish their conversation. He stared into their faces and they stared back. Loyalty in this country meant equal footing – even a servant deserved to be treated with respect.

He nodded to them. "Tell the advisor to gather the people. It's time to make a stand."

A wide grin spread over the faces of the guards and they rushed to obey his command.

Temari clasped her brother's hand, feeling the same desire for revenge rush through her. Gaara squeezed her hand back, though he didn't feel as confident as he'd sounded. But he was determined: he would not let anyone take advantage of his people again.

-o-

On the other side of Sunagakure, green eyes raked over the city hungrily, taking in every detail.

Silk curtains wafted over her face, falling against her body gently, highlighting the contours of her petite body; she loved the feel of it, but more than anything, she enjoyed the cool breeze drifting in – a sign that even balmy summers in this city could be gentle on the wind. She was taking a moment to admire the beauty of the foreign city beneath her before letting the reality of her situation sink in. Sunagakure. Her new home. It had seen better days – at the height of its power years ago, it had stood as a beacon to distant travellers – but even now it still retained a regal air about it.

It was… entrancing.

Sakura Haruno was the heiress to the last of the nomadic tribes that had come to Sunagakure to parlay with king and request permanent residence, only to hear the news of the man's untimely death. They were a proud people, brave warriors and healers, but they were dying. Country borders were closing in light of the new political tensions, and it was becoming impossible to safely traverse the old travelling roads they loved so much – in just this last month alone they'd lost fifteen people in their caravan to brigands and foreign soldiers mistaking them for spies.

This couldn't continue.

Most people thought they were just gypsy nobles who were hardy and interesting enough street entertainers when they were short on money, but the truth was that they were the descendants of the Kiraaku – a Yakuza-like clan that had once been infamous for manipulating their way into powerful families. They'd literally fucked, manipulated, and murdered their way into the noble court.

But things changed when Sakura's great-great grandfather gathered what was left of their clan (after an assassin killed their patriarch) and turned them into nomads. Slowly, the legend of the Kiraaku died down, and very few knew of their bloody past. Their history was dead. And yet they themselves, survived.

Sakura turned away from the balcony and looked at her sleeping father; she had come to his chambers, hoping he was awake, but now hesitated to disturb him. He was dying, and there was nothing she could do about it. A sickness picked up from a neighbouring country had infested his body and now he had very little time left. Kizashi was all she had left of her mother – the woman who'd been kidnapped, raped and murdered by brigands before Sakura was even old enough to talk. Mebuki had been a beautiful woman, and it was her exotic looks that the pinkette had inherited.

But enough was enough.

They needed to find a new home if they were going to prevent these things from happening again. And her father had a plan to make that happen.

In this country, the daughters of the smaller tribes were highly valued in buying and selling for marriages with nobles because of their exotic looks and rumoured, unique skills. It was a fetish that made her uncomfortable, but what kind of Kiraaku descendant would she be if she didn't take advantage of it?

"Sakura?"

Her father stirred, reaching out for her as she ran to his side.

"Daddy?"

"I knew it was you."

His sight was failing, along with his internal organs. Even she, with all her medical prowess, couldn't save him, and she hated herself.

"Don't cry."

Her tears trickled down his arm as she kissed the back of his hand.

"I can't help it, daddy."

"You can't cry yet."

She nodded. "I know."

"Yuri can lead our clan now, but you need to do something else for them."

"I don't know…"

"Do this, please? For me?"

Sakura tightened her hold on his hand. "I will, daddy."

She had no problem with seducing the richest noble she could catch the eye of. They were all rolling in dough. If they fell for her charms, it was their own fault. But her father had higher dreams and, upon news that the king had died, had expressed his desire for her to aim much higher.

The youngest Sabaku…

He had more wealth than your average noble, and the power he wielded in battle was too much of a temptation; she may not agree with the way her ancestors had hurt people, but the blood of the Kiraaku ran through her and she couldn't deny she really wanted to see this living legend in the flesh. His people mostly feared his power – though they revered it too – but if the rumours were true, he was headed for that ivory throne.

Even if she failed with him, there had to be someone in that court that would find her attractive.

Sakura kissed her father's forehead as his eyes closed and his breathing evened out again, indicating he was asleep.

She would marry into wealth and restore her clan's honour by taking that crown (or similar) by whatever means she felt necessary. But first, she needed to play the marriageable woman. She needed to show off her exotic looks, her unique skills, and charm the pants off that man.

-o-

I've got so many GaaSaku ideas roaming around in my head right now that it would feel wrong not to share.

So share. The love, I mean. ;)