Just a WARNING before we start: snippets of pedophilia. Nobody comes out unharmed and untouched during an era of never-ending wars.

Seated straight back and in a seiza on his floor cushion next to Tajima, Madara showed no outward signs of his turmoil as the elders placed proposals after proposals atop the low table in front of them. His long mane helped to curtain most of his features, shadowing his expression as he silently observes the proceedings of their clan's monthly meetings.

This month, the discussion was about his potential marriage partners - as he was already of age to start his own family.

In his first life, Madara had made a huge ruckus, all but denying them by spitting profanities (undiluted terror clouding his judgment and he couldn't help but lash out). And to further nail his point, he went on unapproved solo missions that were borderline suicidal.

It worked, somewhat, as the council had dropped the matter in fear that he would perish during one of his reckless endeavor, which would then make the Uchiha lose their strongest warrior against the Senju.

He had, however, not taken their stubborn pride into account until it was far too late to intervene. His little brother's happiness had been stolen by an arranged marriage with one of the elders' granddaughter.

Up to his death, Madara could never forget the betrayal in Izuna's eyes as he sat with his soon-to-be wife and drank the ceremonial sake in Madara's place.

But he was a coward, too engrossed in his own self-pity to own up to his mistakes. And that only made the guilt all the more heavier and unbearable.

This time, however, Madara would be compliant, not wanting anyone to bear the consequences of his tantrums again. Madara's feelings held no significance, all that mattered was his little brothers' happiness.

He would wed whoever they wanted him to wed, but as soon as Tajima was dead, Madara would petition for an annulment. And as unlikely as it was for people of this time to agree to a divorce, Madara would prefer to start a family of his own choosing. A loveless marriage was a pointless marriage.

Furthermore, he did not want the poor woman who was unlucky enough to be chosen as Madara's partner to be labeled as the wife of a madman and a tyrant.

After all, at times, sacrifices must be made, and to bring an era of peace much earlier than his first life, Madara had already steeled himself to become the main villain of this story (and oh, how easy it was to fall back into old habits).

He had already fore-planned how he would dictate the Uchiha clan as soon as he became its head, and admittingly, it would not paint a pretty picture. The resentment and terror his kin would undoubtedly feel towards him would forever haunt his nights, but if it was at the cost of cutting years of pointless fighting and deaths, he would make them believe that Madara was not a kind man.

Konohagakure no Sato will be built ahead of its time if Madara has anything to say about it - fuck all those warmongers and vengeful ones. Anyone who opposed him would learn how unwise their decision was. And this was when the Forbidden Individual Curse Tag would come into play.

Madara was not Hashirama, and nor was he Naruto. Violence and war were all he knew. And if he wanted to make a point, it would be with his gunbai and cursed seals rather than his words. He would be a leader who controls and dominates his people; a vile dictator, waiting patiently until someone decrowns him forcefully.

Then-Hashirama would weep if he was here and had access to his innermost thoughts, and if Madara had not prepared his heart and mind from the getgo, he would have wept alongside his then-best friend.

"Very well. It has been decided. My son and heir, Madara, will wed Akio-dono's granddaughter, Hikari-san. The ceremony will take place at the end of this week. I expect everything to be ready, prepared, and perfected by then."

"Understood, Tajima-sama."

At Tajima's final say, the five elders bowed their heads in unison, their faces stoic yet their eyes gleeful. Their clan heir was strong and unbeatable despite only being seventeen-years-old, and any child born from him, they rightfully assume, would be a powerhouse in the making.

Madara, on the other hand, bent his head for an entirely different reason, lustreless eyes staring blankly at his lap. There were no outward tells of his inner bitterness or fear, only a stoic detachment in place. They believed he would accept anything they say, as his disposition was no different than usual.

In their eyes, Madara has always been a tool that obeys all orders from his clan head and elders. He would not be breaking that image anytime soon. No, not yet, even if he desperately desires it.

"Okaerinasai, anija."

Madara didn't turn to face Ryouta, single-mindedly untying his sandals at the entryway. He did, however, try to make his voice as even as possible, not wanting to clue his little brother that he was feeling out of sorts.

"Tadaima kaerimashita, Ryouta. Where are the rest of our brothers?"

"Backyard. Zuna-nii is helping Taku and Yaku improve on their shurikenjutsu. How did the meeting go?"

His fingers trembled for a split second before he stubbornly clenched them into fists, glad that he was already seated since his knees were in a similar state. Taking a deep, calming breath, he made sure to respond within the appropriate time gap.

"It went well."

"Mm, that's good to hear. Our honorable elders seemed to be in a terribly good mood when they left the shrine, so I had assumed the worst. I'm glad I was wrong. Does anija want me to set up a bath?"

"Please."

"Okay."

When Ryouta retreated to prepare a bath, the pitter-patter of feet gradually growing softer as he climbed the stairs, Madara covered his face with his palms and just breathed.

He would be alright. Everything would be alright. Just because he would be a husband soon did not mean he was required to copulate. He was fine.

(Revolting, small, calloused covered hands slid across the expanse of his pale skin, leaving goosebumps in their trail as eleven-year-old Madara growled in anger, his head throbbing from the lack of chakra in his system-)

Everything would work out in the end. There was no need to panic unnecessarily.

(The muffled screams he let loose went unheard, the gag preventing him from spewing profanities to cover up the fear that was clawing up his throat. He felt dirty. Why was she doing this to him? He didn't understand. Her touches were repulsive, yet his traitorous body enjoyed her caresses-)

He was a powerful shinobi now, not that naive and gullible child - haven't been so for a long, long time.

("What a beautiful boy you are," The brunette murmured, fingers pinching at his chest and making him arch with a mortifying sob, "You'll cum for me, won't you? You'll impregnate me, won't you? Such a good, good boy you are-")

"The bath's ready, anija," Ryouta announced from the top of the stairs, his high-pitched voice bringing Madara back to the land of the living.

"I appreciate it, Ryouta." Madara kissed his brother's forehead when he passed by, his mind already pushing all of those unpleasant memories to the back of his mind. It was not a healthy way to cope, but it was the easiest.

When his engagement was announced later that night, only Takumi and Yakumi congratulated him - as they were too young and did not know any better. He patted their heads, a bitter smile hidden behind his mantle's high collar.

Izuna and Ryouta clearly weren't happy with it (they believed in a loveful marriage), but they learned from Madara to keep their lips sealed and their heads down whenever they were in Tajima's presence, as rare as it was for the clan head to dine with them.

Madara could only continue eating as if nothing was wrong, the mantra of everything would be ok still repeating in his head the entire time. Unexpectedly, he pondered what Tobirama would think of this arrangement - and then he almost slapped himself for having such stupid thoughts.

Why would Tobirama even care about the Uchiha clan's politics, anyway? Arranged and political marriages were common for clan heirs in this age.

By the end of that week, Madara stiffly brought a cup of sake to his lips, lifeless eyes gazing at the face of his wife, who had her joyous face painted with thick powders of makeup and red lips that reminded him so much of his best friend's beautiful eyes.

Idly, as Madara tipped his cup and swallowed the sake in one go, he wondered why his chest hurt all of the sudden.

A/N:

UGHHH! I very much dislike this chapter (ಠ ∩ಠ)! But, unfortunately, it has to be done... I'm sorry, Madara! For now, he has to suffer for my plot-bunnies' worldbuilding.

In my headcanon, I feel that arrange marriages is a common thing in the olden times. And maybe have more than one wife... to up the baby numbers due to the loss that wars bring forth. Not to sound sexist or anything, but that's just how mean and sadistic my plot-bunnies are. It's a time period that leaves a bad taste in my mouth ༼ ༎ຶ ෴ ༎ຶ༽

On the bright side, his... wife... is not a permanent thing. MadaTobi is my only OTP (`Д´)9!