Gaara would come for many moons before he would receive his answer.

There were times when he was restless, accepting no sleep and nothing but a twinge of heartache and thoughts provoking him to leave, leave, leave! There were times when he almost did—leave, that is—he would ready his stallion in the middle of the night, cranky from being woken of its slumber, settle himself in the saddle and make it, maybe, twenty feet before deciding this is stupid, I have to go back, I need an answer or my family will be so ashamed.

There were times when he was ashamed of himself. What was wrong with him? He was very, very intelligent, maybe not as smart as her, but his mind was thought-provoking! He was handsome, or so he was told, with rusty hair, large green eyes and a strong stature meant for a king. He was pleasant, more-or-less, and had slowly grown into his skin from an unsettling young boy to a comfortable young man, with a warm, albeit small smile, a calm personality and a toned form and yet, he couldn't get the girl with the blossom hair, the heated heart and the fiery disposition to be his wife, to wed not only their hearts, but their countries in matrimony.

Every day, she would greet him for breakfast, offer him the tea she brewed for two and a cheeky grin, settle into the chair three seats down and dive into her eggs as if it were her last meal. She would then disappear into the study for hours upon hours, lost in books about physics and neurology and things he didn't understand and probably never would. She was provoking, beautiful, majestic like a stallion and everything a husband could want.

He was even summoned to leave three times to visit his family; they missed him and wondered why he'd yet to get his answer. He'd travel moon after moon just to give them the negative and run back to the girl who'd never love him.

Upon his third arrival to the castle, she was waiting patiently by the gates, dressed in a pink summer dress that hid everything but her slender arms, mouth set in a grim line, book by her side and emerald eyes wide with nothing nothing nothing.

Perhaps this was it, he thought, she'd finally give him an answer and he could go on with his damn life, but that was untrue, of course. All he received was a greeting and his mind went into a flutter—it was her mother, of course, who forced her to stand outside, interrupt her reading and greet him, something she obviously did not want to do, and it made his heart burn and scream and hurt hurt hurt—and he passed by her, like it was nothing.

Only to turn around a moment later in a fit of rage. "Miss Sakura, may I have a word with you, please?" he stated as calmly as he could, but she caught the fire in his eyes.

"Gaara-kun, of—of course," she stammered and took the hand he offered.

He stalked off toward the garden, nearly dragging her behind him, and ignored the looks that the paupers and maids around the castle cast him. He was, finally, on a mission—a mission that would probably end his time here, end his time with her—and stopped when they were in a space in the garden free of servants, free of maids, free of paupers, free of gardeners, free of parents, free of Sasuke-kun Sasuke-kun Sasuke-kun! "You owe me an explanation, Sakura."

Her pink eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I do believe I owe you nothing, Gaara-kun."

So she did know what he was talking about. "I have waited here a year-and-a-half, Sakura, that's over a year—"

"Yes, I know what a year-and-a-half is, Gaara—"

"Do not interrupt me," he cut her off, eyes suddenly a forest green, his voice forceful and unfamiliar, piercing through her heart like knives. "I have waited far too long to say this. Sakura, I am falling for you, I think this has been established. It is very rare when royalty is lucky enough to fall in love with a person they actually have a chance marrying," he was very angry, she could tell, flustered and confused and he looked so young and helpless, "I want to be with you, to build a home with you, to father your children and love you until we are old and have many pets and learn your favorite foods and wake up to your pink hair every morning and give you as many books as you want," he explained in one, harsh breath. "So... let me."

She had become teary-eyed. "Gaara, I—"

"I can wait no longer, Sakura, dear," even he had begun tearing up, to her surprise, "I would like an answer, please don't put me through this any longer."

She bit her bottom lip to fight back the unrelenting tears. "Gaara, please."

He nodded his head, gathering himself into the posture he was taught and offered her a watery smile. "I understand," his voice was suddenly so soft, the one she was used to. "Thank you. I'll be on my way."

One step turned into two turned into full-on running and suddenly he was at the gate before he heard her scream. "I'll marry you!"

And somehow, he did not taste victory just yet.


heartstrings
theeflowerchild

part two


Sasuke wasn't born into the most privileged family in the world, not in the slightest.

His father was nothing more than a merchant; he sold weapons, the best, so the income was stable and, as far as he can remember, his father was happy: a nice, older fellow with a warm smile, but a stern reprimand. His father knew everything there was to know about weapons and taught him all he could, and Sasuke was interested, in both learning about the proper usage of different swords and impressing his father.

His mother stayed at home and cared for the house, his elder brother and him. He'll never forget her cooking; she made the most amazing onigiri and dango even he would eat, despite his opposition for all things sweet. She was kind, loved to garden—a skill he picked up from her, though rarely admitted to loving just as much as weaponry—and never passed an ill phrase about anybody; the forest-covered town they dwelled in held a certain fondness for the woman.

He had a brother who dreamed only of serving for the imperial army of the King and Queen of the Leaf Kingdom; he was smart, well-mannered, equipped with looks that made all the town-girls swoon and, though incredibly quiet, was kind and cared for Sasuke more than anybody or anything else in his world.

Sasuke was a happy child, with a bundle of friends, a lovely family and a smile that could light up the Sakura festivals of the spring, but that candlelight was fiercely blown away one horrible night.

His entire village was brought to death upon the whims of a tyrant down in the Southern kingdoms, with a body like a snake and eyes that could kill more than any sword could dream. Each man, woman and child was slain by sword and warrior in the most vicious way imaginable. The stronger men would merely snap the necks of the children and woman while senselessly stabbing and maiming the men and teenage boys. His brother had stowed him away under their home and took each and every blow for his parents; he died a warrior. When Sasuke came up that morning, he found his elder sibling nearly torn to shreds, his corpse laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.

His parents were much cleaner, but murdered, nonetheless, his father on top of his mother as if trying to shield her and a sword stabbed through both of their hearts, left for somebody else to clean up.

The next day, the King and Queen came to visit the fallen land, the woman in near shambles as she fell to the ground in front of Sasuke and held her tight against her bodice. He was the only living creature left in the town, doomed to roam the world as the soul survivor of the massacre. He never, ever thought he'd see the sun again.

The next day, he met Sakura.


"Mother says I must wear white," she began, twirling a strand of pink hair between her pointer and middle finger. "But I'd much rather wear ivory... It's prettier, don't you think, Sasuke-kun?"

He sighed deeply. "I think you will look beautiful either way, Princess," he explained, digging his hands into the garden. "Now, as I've asked you before, do you think your mother would be happy to see you out here? Especially now that you are betrothed?"

"And, as I've explained before, do you really think I'd care?" She knelt beside him, careful to not show her undergarments, a habit she'd formed since a child and a blush she'd caused nearly a thousand times on the brunette beside her. She plucked a small, albeit ripe tomato an began examining it with wide, emerald eyes. "Why do you like tomatoes so much?"

He raised an eyebrow in return. "Why does it matter?"

She shrugged. "I guess I am just curious. What makes Sasuke-kun tick, hmm?" She giggled furiously, taking a bite of the tomato, followed by a long grimace, her face sour. "Disgusting."

"Bite your tongue, princess." He grabbed the remaining tomato from her hand and polished it off in his own mouth. "I enjoy tomatoes because... they are sweet, but they are surprisingly... tart, if you will, but not bitter. They are bright and add beauty to everything they touch, be it a salad or a pasta." He gazed softly at Sakura, unbeknownst to her.

She nodded. "They are a very pretty vegetable—"

"Fruit," he corrected her and she raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Part of such a sweet breed, but just another surprise, aren't they?"

"I guess so," she agreed reluctantly under his judging stare. "I... enjoy tomato sauce."

"I know." He smirked. "With little pastas shaped like bow-ties. It's your favorite, if my mind serves me correctly."

"It always does, doesn't it, Sasuke-kun?" she mocked before grabbing for the strawberries, plucking a few, sweet babies and slowly snacking on them. "Will you be at the wedding, Sasuke-kun?"

He began delving back into his work at the sudden question. "Of course, my lady; I'll always be there for you."

"Will... Will you join me in Suna, Sasuke-kun?" she questioned nervously, fiddling with her thumbs, a nervous-twitch she had picked up from one of the maids she'd grown up with.

"If you so wish it, Princess." He stood up and brushed off his pants. "Would you like to help me with the escarole, my lady? It's very hard, but you're a very quick learner."

She dropped the nervous fidget and smiled softly. "Of course, Sasuke-kun."


They had set the wedding for mid-March, Sakura would turn seventeen ten days later.

The cherry-blossom trees would be in full bloom, blossoms littering the spring grass, vast across the meadows of the kingdom. Flowers would grow tall among the greens, all different colors blooming, like reds, yellows, pinks and blues. The sun would burst from the cerulean sky, not a cloud in sight, despite a fluffy, cotton one—for ambiance, of course—and not a breeze to bare. It would be perfect, her mother told her constantly, with the approval of her husband-to-be.

Her king.

Every day would be the same; she'd wake up no later than nine o' clock, ready herself for the dreaded day to come, then stumble into the kitchen to eat a healthy breakfast with her fiance. He would leave her when she was halfway done to practice his swordsmanship in the gardens and she would leave her half-eaten breakfast to disappear into the libraries. She'd manage to, always in the most coincidental manner, run into Sasuke-kun, they would stalk off to the garden to pick tomatoes and strawberries and escarole and, now that he'd taught her, fresh watermelon. They would talk: about fruits, about schooling, about weddings and dresses and food and maybe even a little gossip among the maids, and he would tell her how beautiful she is, how smart and talented and deserving of the world she is.

And she would linger on every word like a bear to honey.

Then, he would walk her back to the castle when darkness began to fall and the moon began to show its face; he would join her for dinner, as he always would and then walk her to the thrown room for a discussion with her mother about weddings and red-headed-boys and children, even. He would wait for her outside of the double-doors, patiently, and then see her to her chambers for sleep. They would talk comfortably for longer, afraid to let go, but not a single, implicating word would be exchanged. They would talk like the best friends they were.

Sasuke would leave and she would stare at the wall, perhaps weep in confusion at what they were, who she was and what she (they) wanted to be.


The kitchen table was already set with food when she had made her way to the dining hall. Dressed in baby-blue—Sasuke-kun's favorite—and hair pulled back in a messy braid, she looked just as beautiful as ever.

Gaara, per usual, was taken aback. "Good morning, lovely Sakura. How has the night treated you?"

"Fairly," she replied, finding her seat across from her. "And yourself?"

"Well," he agreed. "It will be much better when we are finally able to share bed, don't you think? We will both sleep easier when in each others' arms."

There was a chorus of "awe"-s from the group of maids cleaning the cart of rubbish.

Sakura smiled weakly, nodding nervously. "O-of course, Gaara-kun," she stuttered. "If you'll excuse me, though, I'm not quite hungry today. I came to simply bid thee good morning."

His smile fell slightly, but he nodded. "How kind of you, Princess. It is lovely to see your beautiful face, as always."

She held down her blush; always a sucker for kind words, she was. "Thank you, Gaara-kun. I will see you at dinner, enjoy your training," she offered and rose from her chair.

Once she thanked the maids for completing their duties, she began her trek off toward the library—at least half an hour earlier than usual—to, perhaps, get some work done, something nearly impossible for her on some occasions.

The minute she saw Sasuke, she knew she wouldn't be getting anything done. "Good morning, Sasuke-kun. What brings you here?"

He lifted himself from the book he had delved into, seemingly a novel about weaponry. "Good morning, my lady. You are quite early."

She shrugged. "I don't really have a routine, anyway. What brings you here?" she asked again.

He sighed, shutting his book quietly and giving his full attention to the pinkette in front of him. "I figured I would get some reading done, like every other morning, and yourself?"

"I wasn't hungry."

"I bet Sir Sabakū was quite upset, no?" he inquired softly, not to stir anything. "Is there anything you find unsettling this morning, Sakura?"

She sat beside him rather than across. "That's my name, isn't it?"

He smirked, noticing the flush in her cheeks and the warmth in her stare, albeit her face blank. "You've always liked it when I called you that, since you were little, right?"

"Right," she agreed. She sprawled her fingers on the book he had left on the table in front of him, reading the title and nothing Sasuke's idea of leisure reading. "Weapons?"

"Ah, weapons." He sprawled his fingers gently on top of hers, earning red on the tips of her ears in reply. He nearly smiled. "They've always interested me, you know."

"I did know that, actually." She snatched her hand away cautiously, not to offend him. "You like to garden, too."

He flushed slightly, retracting his own hand. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Sakura."

"I know you a lot more than you'd think, Sasuke-kun," she explained earnestly. "I pay attention, Sasuke-kun, I always have. I care about you."

"Ah." He stood, tucking in his chair. "Will you be gardening with me today, Princess?"

"It's Sakura," she corrected. "Why don't we just stay here for today, Sasuke-kun? Please?"

He rolled his eyes. "I have duties—"

"I am one of them, am I not?" She pushed a lock of pink hair she had been twirling behind her small, flushed ear, a nervous habit he noticed immediately.

He nodded. "I guess you are. If you would like me to stay, I will, but you will be the one answering to your mother if she gets upset. I will not refrain from throwing you under the carriage, Sakura, dear." He sat down beside her once again, laying the book gently on the mahogany. "Is there something on your mind?"

"No," she answered quickly, then bit her lip, correcting herself, "You."

He raised an eyebrow in genuine confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

"You," she repeated. "I remember when we first met, Sasuke-kun."

"What's bringing on all this reminiscing, Sakura?" he questioned, sincerely curious. "I'm not going anywhere, you know. There's no need to look back on..." he thought for a second, "the good old days?"

She laughed. "You were the prettiest boy I had ever seen, so dirty and broken. I never did find out why my mother had taken such a fondness to you, not that I'd ever question it... I'm so very lucky, Sasuke-kun."

He clicked his tongue against his teeth, thoughtful. "I'm very lucky too, Sakura. You are..." he trailed off for a second, color flushing to his dainty cheeks. "You are one of the best things to ever happen to me."

She didn't even flinch. "Is that so, Sasuke-kun?"

"Do you know anything of my past, Sakura?" he queried.

"Do I need to know anything of your past?" she countered. "It is what made you, Sasuke-kun, but it is not you."

"You are very philosophical today, aren't you, Sakura?" he joked, the sort-of tenseness of the situation lifting to a comfortable air. "Such a smart girl, you are."

"I know," she teased back, flipping a lock of pink hair behind her shoulder with a giggle. She offered him a small smile. "Thank you for staying with me, but if you'd really like to garden, I won't stop you."

He shook his head in the negative. "There is no place I'd like to be other than right here, beside you."


The date approached quickly, something Sakura expected.

Suddenly, it wasn't January and the snow was starting to melt into a cool February, hearts littering the kingdom to celebrate the coming of St. Valentine's day. The fires were still burning in their places, smoking blowing from the chimneys and polluting the air with smells of burnt wood. Wedding plans were made nearly every day, invitations were being sent out across the lands, dresses were chosen and flowers were being planted to harvest for the day.

"In one month, Sasuke-kun, this will no longer be my home." She sighed loudly, cradling her chin in her palm and leaning against the table. "These will no longer be my books."

He laughed gently, sending an unannounced shiver down her spine and causing a smile to tilt on her pink-painted lips. "I'm not surprised that it is the books you will miss the most, Sakura."

"They mean a lot more to me than I'd like to admit, Sasuke-kun," she ousted, and then added, "among other things."

He did not push on the subject. "Do you think you are ready?"

"Is anybody ever ready?" she countered, easily. "Perhaps I am a pessimist, but I am not looking forward to the eighteenth of March."

"I think you will make a beautiful bride, Sakura," Sasuke began with a weak smile. "You will make Gaara very happy; you have touched many people in your life and I like to think that Gaara is almost undeserving of you, but that's not really my place to say, is it? It is my duty to tell you that you will be happy and I will always be beside you."

She held back a dry laugh. "And yet, you tell me anyway."

"It is my duty to be honest as well... I'm torn," he offered, honestly, something she'd gotten used to recently.

In the months between the acceptance and the wedding, if Sakura thought she was close to her Sasuke-kun before, their relationship at that moment must have been unexplainable. Perhaps it was the short amount of time she truly knew they had together, the amount of time they had to speak honestly, earnestly and heart-breakingly to each other was coming to a close and they would only have these little moments between breakfast and duties to share together in a library they'd visited since she was a little girl.

She, too, was torn; they both knew where they stood, never to mince words or truly share their feelings with one another. "Sasuke-kun, can I be frank with you?"

"I'd rather you not, Princess," she knew he used the proper name to hurt her or take her aback. "But when have I ever stopped you?"

"I don't want to marry Gaara," she told him bluntly, albeit softly. "In fact, it is the last on my list of things I want to do." She always found a way to add comic relief to the situation, much to his abatement.

He sighed exasperatedly. "Sakura, either way, you're going to have to get married; you are a Princess, you cannot just simply not marry."

She allowed herself to let out a dry laugh. "Now, I never said that I don't want to get married."

It took him a second to realize her words; she was always such a cunning, confusing girl. "Sakura, please—"

"Please, what?" she cut him off, beginning the argument they had almost weekly. "Sasuke-kun, I understand this may not be the smartest thing in the world to speak of, but you can't keep trying to stifle me—"

"I can and I will." He stood from his chair, quickly pushing it into the table. "I have duties to attend to, Sakura, please, enjoy your book—"

"Sasuke-kun," she ground out his name through gritted teeth. "Sit, please." It was not a command, but a plea.

He removed the chair once more, sitting comfortable next to her, taking in her familiar scent, like every morning, every seating, every day since he can remember. "We do this at least once a week, Sakura. Please do not put me through this."

"Put you through this?" She almost laughed. "Why am I the only one who wants to be honest between us, Sasuke-kun?"

"Now, you know that's not true—!"

"It's true," she corrected him. "It's absolutely true. You're right, we have this discussion every week and, perhaps, it means nothing to you, but all I've ever been trying to tell you since the first day that I saw you is that.. I'm totally in love with you," she finished with a huff, cheeks blazing red and emerald eyes flaring with nervousness, but relief.

It felt like finally to him. "I... I..." he stuttered, cheeks the same color as the girl's hair. He stood. "I cannot reciprocate the feelings."

"Cannot or will not?" Her lips fell into a grim line. "Sasuke-kun..." she began correcting her tone. "Do you love me, Sasuke-kun?" she questioned softly.

"I cannot, your highness," he repeated. He sighed loudly, in disappointment, from what she could tell.

She nearly rolled her eyes. "I didn't ask if you could or could not," her voice fell to the stern, sure one her mother had taught her. "Do you love me, Sasuke-kun? Like I love you?"

He pursed his lips and, for once, was completely honest with himself, with her. "More than anybody will ever allow you to know."

Her heart fluttered viciously in her ribcage. "You will show me then, won't you?"

He blushed furiously. "Sakura, I can't—"

"You will... You want to." She pondered for a moment, her eyes resting on the beautiful face she had loved since she was a little girl. The face she had questioned for hours in her chambers, what was he to her? "Not here, though. You will meet me after dinner in the third guest chamber in the Fire Wing; at seven o' clock, the maids are across the castle. Cross the gardens, do not walk halls, and fall into the end door surrounded by the roses."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off once more. "This is not a command, nor an obligation... It is an offer. Your answer will be your showing up." She stood gracefully, pushing in her chair and offering him a polite smile.

He watched her walk off, heels clicking against the marble floors and felt himself smile; what a woman she had become.


When the finally, finally, finally kissed, he felt like he was alive again.

He thought his life had been perfect just meeting her, but now that she was his, her heart was his, her soul and even her body, he'd never felt more alive in his short, twenty-one years of life. This pink little thing that he thought saw him as a brother-figure... She was his.

He never got tired of her kisses; her lips were always warm, tasted of all things sweet and gave him chills he never thought he'd feel. His heart would always flutter, his mind would race, his knees would turn to jelly and butterflies would race through his stomach, leaving him breathless and red-stained from the tips of his ears to the height of his cheekbones.

He got some sort of satisfaction in stealing her first kiss, her first live and her first time only weeks before her wedding to a boy he'd hated from the start. He had to hide the smirk he wore every time the three of them were in the same room.

Or, worse, just Gaara and him.

It wasn't until a week before the wedding that he realized, no matter how much he loved her, kissed her, claimed her body or her heart, spent time with her, expressed his feelings to her, it didn't matter.

He had lost.

And there was nothing he could do about that.


FIN?


WOWOWOW what a cliffhanger, right? I'm kind of a bitch. Anyway, that's the end. Maybe I'll make an epilogue if I get enough reviews or whatever.

Please, leave reviews, let me know what you think, it helps me improve and makes me happy! Even if it's just a "good job" or "ewwwww." Let me know if you want an epilogue, too. :)

Peace.