Arrangement
Chapter One: The Broken Promise
Sasuke opened the door to the house that had been built for his brother. The house was now his.
He hated that he took such comfort in it, but he was weary from his travels and toils, and the smell of the burning embers from the dying fire and the warmth they emitted enraptured him, pulling him into their snares as he crossed the threshold, leaving the world outside behind.
The Uchiha heir paused, the sound of trickling water in the next room alerting him that she was still awake. Her chakra signature hummed serenely, the feel of it like warm water against the cold air that lingered in his bones.
Sakura.
Exhaling slowly, he took his time as he unfastened his cloak and untied his sandals. He was in no hurry to face her, not after seeing his father earlier that day.
His throat was dry as he tried to swallow, the words still burning deep in the hollow of his ears.
"So, you've returned."
Sasuke straightened in surprise. It was odd to have his father greet him at the gate, he hadn't done such a thing since he was a boy.
"Is something wrong?" he found himself asking.
"I need to speak to you." Fugaku told him with that quiet, stern tone Sasuke was all too familiar with.
His father then turned, walking ahead somewhere the young shinobi assumed was more private. He felt his shoulders fall in exhaustion, he had traveled all night without rest and wasn't sure if he had the energy for this.
Still, he followed.
If Sasuke was anything, he was a dutiful son.
"What is it?" he asked as they reached the bridge at the far end of the village, trying to keep his agitation at bay.
Fugaku inhaled deeply as if summoning strength from some otherworldly source to continue, making Sasuke all the more concerned.
"...It is about Sakura, " he told him.
Sakura.
His pulse quickened. "Is she alright?"
"She is quite well." Fugaku replied evenly. "She is as healthy, strong, and lovely as the day she first stepped into our home."
Sasuke's brows drew together at the fleeting memory.
The day everything changed forever.
"Then I don't understand."
"She is so well, in fact, that it is a great wonder to myself and the other clansmen that she is still without child."
Color drained from Sasuke's face. He would not have been more stunned if his father had unsheathed the family katana from his belt and ran him threw his stomach.
"I…" he found he could not think, let alone reply to such a thing.
"You are aware of the importance of this, are you not? The survival of our clan depends on an heir." Fugaku reminded him, his tone growing harsher with every reprimand. "It has been nearly six months of marriage."
"And four months I've been sent away." Sasuke countered, the fire in him rekindling quickly. "Taking on Itachi's duties, as well as my own."
"It does not take a constant presence to father a child, Sasuke."
The younger Uchiha's jaw locked tightly, lost somewhere between his anger and disbelief.
Turning from his father before he said or did something rash, he placed his hands heavily on the railings of the bridge, looking out into the torrid waters of the river beneath them, considering throwing himself in to be washed away... to be anywhere than where he was standing now.
"I don't understand it, has there been a row between you?"
"No." he muttered lowly, the heat returning, hotter than before, traveling up his neck, pulsing through his ears.
"Is she undesirable to you?"
"Must we discuss this here?" he bit out. "Now?"
"There are already rumors floating around, we cannot see a full year of marriage without the promise of a son. The lineage cannot appear weak. Her title and wealth must be procured." his father went on and on. "So, I ask again, is there something wrong with her?"
"...No." he answered quietly.
"Then could it be that she is… unhappy with these new circumstances?"
Sasuke kept his gaze firmly on the moving water. "I don't know." he told him honestly.
Fugaku managed to feel some sympathy for his second-born at that admission. Last year at this time, Sasuke was free to do as he wished, to go where he wanted. Now he carried the future of the clan upon his shoulders.
Something he had never been raised or fashioned to do.
"We're still strangers in many ways, Father," he confessed.
"...I know. I know we ask a lot from you both. I would not speak of this, I would not press this, if it was not necessary." he told him, placing a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "There must be an heir."
He watched her as she worked in the candlelight. Her long hair hung loosely, tied with a thin red ribbon half way down, swaying gently as she moved, washing each dish peacefully, lost in a world of her own.
She had been offered numerous servants by both her mother and his family to aid her in maintaining the household, but she had only taken on those absolutely necessary. She mostly saw to the house herself. From what his brother had told him, it was her request that the house be kept smaller and manageable during the construction.
She had made it her own in his absence, herbs hanging from the mantles, their strange, earthy smells wafting pleasantly, books and scrolls filling every shelf and nook.
"You're back." she murmured softly, keeping her attention on her task.
Apprehension paralyzed him briefly, just a day ago he had looked forward to seeing her again after so many cold nights alone.
With silent steps he crossed the distance between them, coming to stand just behind her. "I wish I had known." she went on. "I would have prepared something… perhaps I could…"
She paused as his hands rose to carefully caress her covered elbows, making her still in her labors.
Warmth radiated from her, the faint smell of rose water lingering in her soft tresses intoxicating him as he gently brushed them aside with his nose, exposing her neck to him.
Slowly, his lips met her pale delicate skin, hearing her breathing hitch slightly in surprise.
He had not touched her like this since their wedding night.
Scattered memories flashed through his mind, their shared quiet hesitance, the nervous energy, the slow waves of pleasure washing over him before the guilt closed in, smothering him, making it hard to breathe.
Closing his eyes he continued his ministrations, his lips just below the shell of her ear, when she turned slowly to face him, breaking the contact.
Her green eyes glowed in the candlelight, searching his tired, longing gaze.
For a moment, nothing was said. In the next, he took her face into his hands and pressed his mouth to hers softly, gently, asking.
He felt her hands, still wet from the sink water, hook in the crook of his arms, dampening the fabric there, to steady herself as she tentatively came to oblige him.
She opened her mouth shyly, like a flower at first light to his touch, and he thought perhaps she could be his after all.
It was only a moment before she pulled away, her large eyes boring into him once more, clear of any daze that his hands or lips could cast over her.
"What are you doing?" she asked him, her voice nothing but a faint whisper.
He faltered at that.
"...Is it so out of the question?" he asked, the pads of his thumbs drawing slow circles along her jaw.
Despite his father, despite his clan, despite their desperate need for an heir, he didn't expect to spend the rest of his life without her touch. He hoped someday they would not always be strangers, that his brother's ghost would not always linger so close.
Did she not long for him at all? Did she not wish to try and build a life together?
You're not what she wants. Something cruel whispered in his ear. You're not who she wants.
"No, I suppose..." her head tilted slightly as she watched him, a nervous little habit of hers he had noticed before their vows. "...did your father speak with you?"
He straightened at that, hands drifting to her shoulders, before falling limply to his sides.
"How did you…?"
"Your mother came to see me today as well." she told him quickly, color rushing to her face as she broke their gaze, her eyes finding refuge somewhere between the cracks of the floor.
And here he thought he could not be more mortified.
"I'm... sorry." he breathed out, unable to fully believe they had cornered her as well.
"She was kind and meant well." she assured him, as if reading his thoughts.
"It's still not right." he countered quietly.
This girl was far from home, married to a stranger, and yet they thought it wise to corner her, to pressure her after everything that had happened to her. Having to witness the death of her betrothed and marry another not a full moon later.
"It is what is expected of me." she shrugged her shoulders before meeting his gaze once more. "Of us." He was surprised by the sadness and pain he saw swimming there. "You'll have to forgive me, I'm tired, and duty won't be enough to spur me tonight."
She made to leave him and he almost let her, before reaching out and catching her arm, much to her surprise as well as his own.
She turned back to face him.
"I…" he swallowed thickly. "I want more than just a child."
He watched as she faltered, tears pooling at the rims of her eyes.
"I want this," he told her. "I want you."
"...Then why..." she paused, flushing deeply, making his heart stir all the more. "Why haven't you…" she swallowed a small sob, a single tear escaping, falling delicately from her thick, pale lash.
"Because Itachi's dead, and I'm alive." he confessed sullenly, releasing her arm, before gently brushing away the stray tear, letting his fingers linger there briefly before falling away. "Because I was afraid… I still am… that I'm not what you wanted." Her eyes widened as he leaned in once more, hovering close, but not touching her.
"...You were never meant to be mine," he reminded her.
Her eyes were bright and beautiful as she gazed up at him in wonderment.
She closed the distance this time, leaning up and pressing her lips delicately against his as he carefully met her halfway, drawing his arms around her, pulling her closer still. She was so warm, so soft, molding against him so perfectly, it left him just as astounded as the first time he had ever held her.
Desperate with longing, he didn't waste time, guiding her the short distance to their shared room. His hands fell to her waist, reaching for her sash. His fingers moved steadier than the first time, perhaps, but they were just as hasty, as he made to untie it, pushing the linen layers of her simple day kimono from her shoulders.
His mouth fell to her neck, her collarbone, before returning to her mouth, never breaking contact as he tore off his loose travel shirt, letting it fall to the floor.
The feel of her warm skin against his made him near senseless as her hands traveled the rigid terrain of his chest, wrapping around his broad shoulders, holding him close.
With great care, his hands slid up the smooth planes of her back, laying her down against the bed beneath him, pulling away only to breathe, broken bated breaths.
Their eyes met, hearts pressed together, beating wildly against one another.
He couldn't bear it.
The sight of her so beautiful, so vulnerable. He kissed her again, and again, feverish untamed touches, down her mouth, to her chin, her neck.
"I am though." she murmured softly, her fingers moving through his thick tresses.
He hummed against the hollow of her chest, lost in the softness of her skin.
Her hands slipped down to cradle his face, beckoning him gently to look at her. He complied in concern, lifting his head.
"I am…" she was breathless beneath his weight and ministrations. "I am yours."
For a moment, he forgot how to breathe, the weight of her words crashing over him like waves against the shore.
Mine.
The thought warmed him all the more. Made him burn with gratitude and pride, dismissing the dark shadows of his grief and shame, like a glowing beacon of light.
Mesmerized, he touched her face, his thumb running along her cheekbone. His hand was far too rough for such delicate skin, but she didn't seem to mind, closing her eyes as she relished his touch.
As the violet skies darkened, he honored her quiet vow, making her his own. The past and all its looming shadows forgotten in their passionate reunion.
…
"Are you alright?" he asked a while later, his brows furrowing as he turned on his side to better see her in the faint candle light. She had not moved for almost an hour, laying flat on her back, eyes focused on the ceiling above.
"Yes." she answered him, her tone amiable, but rather guarded.
He frowned in confusion. "What are you doing?"
"...It's something your mother said would help." she told him.
"Help... what?"
"Apparently, laying still for a while…after…" she paused, her fingers dancing helplessly against her stomach. "...it helps the… chances of a child." her face burned as she chose each word carefully, unable to look him in the eye.
He stared at her in bafflement.
"I think it's foolish." she confessed, her fingers still moving without purpose. "But, she managed two heirs, who am I to argue?"
A small, rare smile graced his dark features as he leaned over her, stretching an arm over her head, his hand hovering just above her hairline. "Can I still touch you?"
"I suppose." she breathed in relief, returning his smile. "Just don't move me about."
He hummed an understanding, kissing her slowly, sweetly, before resettling beside her, resting his head against her soft, warm chest. He sighed gently as she brushed her fingers through his hair.
The sound of her heartbeat was strong and lulling, her life force radiating brightly in the night.
Yet, even enveloped in her warmth, the darkness still managed to creep its way back from the corners of his mind at the memory of Itachi's body being carried into the village, cold to his touch, vacant of life and far beyond saving.
There's never two heirs.
There can only be one.
"...Did you love my brother?" he asked for reasons he did not know, feeling her still even more.
Silence stretched on for a long while before she answered him.
"...I barely knew him." her voice was faint once more, weak.
He felt sick with the relief he felt.
"He cared for you." he told her, his voice growing thick. She might not have loved him, but maybe she could have in time. Maybe she knew that well enough.
Perhaps that's why she never spoke of him.
"I have no right to grieve for him." Sasuke felt the faint tremble in her voice as she spoke. Half a year ago he might have thought that himself, but not now, not after everything he had seen.
"You were going to marry him." he murmured. "You left everything behind."
After a while he felt her fingers begin to move again, and he let his eyes slowly drift shut, wondering if he would ever be free of this pain, if he'd ever stop regretting that he was alive while his brother was dead.
"I'm sorry he's gone." she whispered softly.
Sasuke drew closer to her still. "It shouldn't be so surprising… He always left me behind."
Thanks for reading! If anyone remembers, I'm replacing the story Promise of the Peace with this darker and (I feel) more interesting Arranged Marriage AU as I was very malcontented with the last one. They both have similar foundations, but this is set in a feudal-like era where an arranged marriage concept is more fitting.