Speak, Trace, Breathe


Sasuke finished the dress two weeks ago but he couldn't bear to clean up the studio still.

A flurry of fabrics seems to have exploded there— satin and tulle and ornate, delicate lace. He picks one up from his pattern table. It's the perfect shade of white. It's not too pale that it washes out her peach skin and it's not too bright that it makes her skin darker in comparison.

Just perfect.

And she's going to wear it today. At ten in the morning, the crown princess of Konoha will enter the cathedral to the fanfare of organs, trumpets, and a choir. She'll walk the long aisle to the end of the room, where her groom will be waiting.

He better be fucking awed.

Sasuke shakes his head. The dress alone was enough to make anyone turn and gasp, he's made sure of that. But it doesn't hold a candle to the woman wearing the dress.

He drops himself on an armchair usually reserved for clients. He should be happy, ecstatic even. The moment the princess steps into the light with his creation, the traditional wedding dress of Konoha spun in his own twist, he's sure to get thousands of people clamoring for his designs. He can finally move to a bigger atelier. Hire staff. Remake the Hatake House name that his mentor left him.

If his parents were still alive, he would have been an idle second son. Maybe he would've become a hedonistic poet.

Mine were my faults, and mine be their reward, he mutters to himself. (1)

Maybe she'd be glad to have helped him with this at least.

But it's all hollow when the woman he loves wears the perfect dress only to marry someone else.


Sasuke has only been to the palace once before, when he was a boy. Back then, the Uchiha name still meant something other than corruption and greed. He doesn't remember much, aside from thinking that it has too many rooms for a family of two.

And that the crown princess was much too small for her throne.

Eighteen and now a lowly apprentice to Hatake Kakashi, the Royal Tailor, Sasuke is once again being presented to the royal family. He can feel her majesty the queen's amber eyes on him. He's not sure since he hasn't been allowed to lift his head yet, but there doesn't seem to be any malice in it. Just intrigue for the sole survivor of the family that tried to dethrone her.

A coup in the twentieth century? Honestly, his parents should've known better.

From his peripheral vision, Sasuke can see that the princess' dainty, satin-encased feet can finally reach the plush carpet.

"Interesting new help you have there, Hatake," the queen finally says.

Before he could hold his tongue, Sasuke commits the ultimate social faux pas of talking to royalty without first being spoken to. "New apprentice, your majesty."

The whole court freezes and he wonders if this is the moment he is sentenced to join his family under the grave or if he'll merely be exiled, like his brother. But the spell is broken, by the princess no less. She claps her tiny hands together and giggles.

He hasn't heard anything so wonderful in a long while.

"Ah, so you're an apprentice, just like me. I think we'll suit each other well."

Queen Tsunade looks at her young charge. "And how is that?"

"It's simple really. While I do love all the dresses Hatake-san has made for me," his mentor crinkles his eyes in thanks. "One day, as his apprentice, Sasuke will be the one making the clothes that I, your heir, will wear when I am queen."

Sakura winks at Sasuke. "Maybe it's better he gets acquainted with what I like now rather than later."

It's not the start of the fall, but it is the point of no return for him.


"You're such a numbskull Sasuke-kun!" She yanks on Sasuke's fine hair to wrest his lips from hers. "Why couldn't you have just kept your fat mouth shut?"

In retaliation, he attacks the column of her neck with small nips of affection.

"Say, what dire penance can atone

For such an outrage done to thee?

Arraign'd before thy beauty's throne,

What punishment wilt thou decree?" (2)

"Ugh, stop! I can't—" she pants, "Decipher verses right now!"

Fair enough. His lips would have travelled down further if a cough from the previously closed doorway of his work room didn't stop them. "Usually, I'm sympathetic to the all-consuming passions of youth, but I believe Sasuke is supposed to take your measurements, not your chastity."

Sakura clears her throat and fixes the collar of her dress. "You're no fun Kakashi."

"Just fond of my head where it is princess."

She dismisses Kakashi with a wave of her hand effectively, borne from years of royal experience. When they're finally alone, she disrobes.

Down to her silky teddy anyway.

It's something she's been wanting to do for a while now and Sasuke's stupidity just gave her a valid reason for it.

He gently brings her in front of a three-panel mirror. Sakura analyzes Sasuke's every gaze, every twitch of the corner of his mouth, every hum that passes through his lips.

Does her body please him?

She's royalty, so it's ridiculous to feel insecure. But it happens anyway.

Sasuke finishes measuring her across shoulder length and moves on to her bust. Her breath stutters and suddenly she's struggling not to breathe. It's not like her breasts are strangers to his hands but his long fingers still make her heady.

Still make her heart flutter.

"Do I make you nervous princess?" He wraps the measuring tape below her bosom. Oh, he's enjoying this.

"Why would royalty have reason to be nervous of a commoner, Uchiha?"

"That's true. But then again," he cups one breast in his large hand. "Most royals aren't carrying out illicit affairs with commoners."


At six, they had been merely curious about each other. Is her hair naturally pink? How can a boy be so pretty?

At ten, he'd been too wrapped up in bitterness and shame to realize what a friendship with the princess could grant him.

At fifteen, she'd been too naïve to see what his clever words and burning gaze could pry out of her.

Eighteen is characterized by searching hands, hungry hearts, and an unquenchable lust. It had been an age of discovery.

Their twenties is calmer, full of docile kisses and unhurried touches— not that it was any less passionate, just a little less greedy for a time.

A mistake on both their parts.

The calm simply masked the incoming storm.


"Did you think it was never going to happen, Sakura?" Queen Tsunade sits on her heavy throne, her legs uncharacteristically outstretched and her chin cradled on a bejeweled palm. "Think with your brain, not your heart."

"I—" the princess starts from the harsh words given by the woman she considered her mother. "But there have been unmarried queens before me. It's not like marriage gives my reign any added benefits!"

"Because those monarchs had relatives they could pass the crown to. We're all that's left of our little family Sakura," she pats her charge's ruddy cheeks, "It's going to have to fall on you, I'm afraid."

The protests shoot out, rapid fire, from her brain but die before they can pass her lips. An arranged marriage— a strategic marriage to some stranger who happened to have the right pedigree and connections. And the one man she ever considered marrying couldn't— wouldn't even be allowed— to check all the proper boxes.

It's not something she thought Tsunade, who married for love but lost it too soon, would ever foist on her.

"If you have no more arguments, then perhaps the royal tailor can get on with designing the gown you'll use for your first meeting with the Earl of Whirlpool's son." The queen stands to go but pauses to look behind Sakura. "Or do you have objections as well, Uchiha?"

Sasuke doesn't budge from his kneeling position, doesn't lift his eyes to address her or the queen.

But his even voice and calm demeanor tells Sakura he has no problems with the situation. "Not if I get to design the wedding gown, your majesty."


She punishes him by recounting every second she spent with the next Earl of Whirlpool. Sakura paints him to be this charming, romantic debonair who regularly sweeps her off her feet— as if he doesn't already know how idiotic Naruto really is. She forgets that once upon a time, he'd been the son of a duke. The Uzumakis were friendly with him, even after his family's fall from grace.

Today, the dobe apparently took her to a picnic on the great lake. He had all her favorite pastries made and they spent a quiet afternoon reading poetry under a spruce tree.

Hearing the last part is what finally sets him laughing.

"What?" Sakura whacks him on the face with one of his pillows. "What's so funny?"

Sasuke stretches, crossing his arms behind his head. "Naruto can barely string together a three-syllable word; I doubt he could read you Byron. And besides—"

"You've known him all this time?"

"And besides," he uses the arm Sakura tries to swat him with to maneuver her flat on her back on his bed once again. "You don't have the patience for poetry either. I know you. You'd rather drive that tin can you think is a sedan or be in a cabinet meeting."

"Are you saying I'm too stupid for—" he stymies her with slow kisses and a tug of her lower lip.

"I'm saying you'd rather act than be acted upon, Sakura." With his teeth, he drags his flimsy blanket down the pale expanse of her chest, her stomach, her— she wraps her legs around his waist and flips them over.

She straddles him like she does one of her steeds, with the same determined smirk she wears when she's about to tame one. Sakura looks every bit the fearsome queen she's about to become, but the moonlight streaming through the window highlights the softness of her eyes and her curves.

Oh to trap it between his fingers so he could weave a lunar dress for her.

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies… (3)

"You're right." Sakura pins his hands down and crawls up his bare body. "Now let me show you exactly how much."

"Don't let me stop you, your highness."


They treated it like one of their games; a riddle one of them presents for the other to solve and claim a prize for. There is none of that this time. Only the novelty of goodbye without the possibility of another greeting.

One of the queen's guards shove him down the royal family's private parlor. Despite the bruise on his cheeks and the smarting of his knees, he has to admire her majesty's shrewdness in inviting him to such an intimate space instead of the imposing halls where she holds court. Aside from the benefit of conducting this tête-à-tête away from prying eyes, there's also the appeal to his sense of family perhaps?

It's working well enough on Sakura.

They'd been careless. Or perhaps they weren't half as clever as they thought they were. In any case, the queen's summons is doing them a favor. They would have never been able to play pretend all the way down the aisle.

"Why don't we make a deal Uchiha? Give me my family and I'll give you yours."

Only the three of them remain; Tsunade in an outdated night shift his mentor undoubtedly created for her and him and Sakura in the state of undress they'd been in when they were picked up by the guards. In this room, they have no titles that define their names.

He looks from Sakura to the queen. "You'll allow Itachi to come home?"

"In return, you'll end this childish affair."

"Auntie!"

"Oh, there's nothing childish about what Sakura and I do."

"Sasuke!"

Sakura stands between them, arms outstretched, as if she expects them to come to blows. Sasuke has this silly notion that despite the queen's advancing age, she would still be able to body him out the window.

"So Uchiha?"

Does it even need to be asked? Even Sakura, who looks at him with apprehension, knows what he's about to say.

After all, it's why he struck up a relationship with her in the first place.

"I accept your offer."


"Run away with me."

Sasuke takes a sewing pin from his mouth and pinches the tulle on the small of her back.

"We still have time. I can find us a way out."

He carefully arranges the gossamer-like cape that lines her shoulders.

"Please, Sasuke," she whispers, losing hope with every second of his silence. "This doesn't have to be the end of us."

He looks at her from their reflection in the three-panel mirror in his studio. "Sakura, there was never an us."

"Don't say that! Don't lie to me!"

"Grow up Sakura," he grips her chin, forcing her to see the derision in his eyes, "I was only angling to get Itachi out of exile and you seemed easier to influence than your aunt."

"Cause you couldn't fuck her into doing your bidding like you could me?"

"Exactly—" she slaps him before he could besmirch their history with more lies. And they are lies. The memories of their time together in this very room, the dreams and frustrations and conversations of what could've been… you can't fake that.

After engaging in amorous congress, they'd rest in each other's embrace. He would cautiously brush the hair out of her face, thread his fingers through her hair when he thought her slumbering… No, he couldn't fake that.

Sakura knows their lives became intertwined the moment she first glimpsed him in court when they were but six, hiding behind the legs of his father. Puppy love, a childish crush, call it what you want, she's always known Sasuke was it. And when she found him again in a mutual acquaintance's ball, she knew it wasn't by chance.

It was what the poets and bards he was so fond of would wax eloquent about. Fate.

But she couldn't deny him his brother. How could she make him choose between her and the one lifeline he still has to his family, to the Uchiha name?

So she'll let him live his lies, if only he told her the truth this once.

"If we could leave everything behind, do you think we would've been happy?"

He whispers his response, almost too low for her to hear. "I would have made sure of it."

Sakura closes her eyes and bites her lips together. She knew what his answer would be, but to hear it… to know what could've been but they'd never have. Too much and too little.

Her fingers blindly search for the zipper of what's about to be her wedding dress. It's not finished yet but she can tell it's going to be an iconic creation, one that will be in magazines for days and years to come. To her, it might as well be a straightjacket.

"Stop that, you'll prick yourself on the pins!" Sasuke bats her hands away and unzips the delicate thing. His eyes are gentle and his eyes hold the truth.

She's left in only a white-lace bodysuit that would disappear under the fabrics of her dress. "How am I always left undressed before you?"

"It kind of comes with the job, princess."

Sakura heads for the door once she's made herself decent. "See you again next week for the next fitting?"

"No. It's almost done." Sasuke busies himself with putting away his sewing notions. "I can have it sent to the palace in a week's time."

"Just in time for the wedding… I guess it's good that I brought this then."

Sakura places a heavy, leatherbound book on his entryway table. Half red morocco, gilt, and marbled sides and edges. It had taken her a long time to find it and she had to do it herself, lest the queen find out.

She takes one last fill of the place she considered her safe haven and with an air of finality, the crown princess of Konoha closes the door.


The wall between his brownstone and his neighbor's is thin.

If he closed his eyes to focus, he'd be able to pick up the warbly voice of a broadcaster announce the princess' impending arrival to the cathedral.

A white limousine flashing the crest of the royal family would soon roll in and the princess would walk up the green carpet laid out for her. The masses would cheer and the paparazzi would take their photos, immortalizing the scene as the day he lost Sakura forever.

He's really good at that, losing people.

His heart plummets when applause erupts from the other side of the wall. Sakura's arrived.

To think she would have exchanged all that praise from her adoring public to live in his little hovel. What could he have given her in return? At least, Itachi is coming back. It's all he wanted in the first place and he should content himself with that.

Sasuke stands up, planning to take a walk in the nearby park. He's not going to throw himself a pity party when he's the one who spread the gasoline and lit the match. His eyes land on a large red book as he puts on his coat.

Sakura's parting gift.

He hasn't touched or looked at it once since she left it by his door. Couldn't even bear to.

He traces the engraved letters in gold, a copy of Byron's works, his letters, and his journals. It is hefty and it weighs heavy on his hand much like her heart when he still had it. Does he still? A ribbon bookmark lets him open to a poem he knows by heart.

I speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name;

There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame;

But the tear that now burns on my cheek may impart

The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart.

It speaks of grief and loss. Though much deeper and more permanent than his, it resonated the same. Sakura is going to marry a man that isn't him. They could see each other after— he still does work for her and the state after all, but she's far too virtuous to debase the sanctity of marriage. Even one she felt nothing for.

They'll just have to wait another lifetime for their chance at a happy ending.

And the heartless may wonder at all I resign –

Thy lips shall reply, not to them, but to mine. (4)

The end.

Sasuke chuckles. What a joke.

If Sakura would rather have him at her side than the world at her feet, then who was he to say no?


Despite the heavy traffic, he got to the Cathedral Basilica of the Thousand Hand Saint in less than half an hour. And he got through security easily with some bullshit about having to repair the princess' second wedding attire.

If it was divine intervention, he'd prostrate himself before the feet of his goddess for the rest of his life. If it was dumb luck, then he must be the luckiest man alive and he would prostrate himself before Sakura nevertheless.

He is about to push open the large doors of the church when he hears thunderous applause from the other side.

Is he too late? Has she married that idiot?

It's the moment of truth.

He places both hands on either panels and gives them a mighty push—


"I— what?"

The priest laughs nervously, as do the guests. He repeats his question, has she come here today to enter into marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?

Has she? Of course not. She had to force herself to leave her bed today, had to be poured into her dress by someone else. It was best Sasuke had bowed out of helping her today, she might not have been able to stop herself from taking his hand and dragging him away from all of it.

But it's just her now.

And Naruto.

And the priest and the thousands of guests watching behind them.

"I ha—"

"No, I haven't!"

Sakura looks blankly at the blonde soon to be Earl. "Eh?"

"I can't do this!" Naruto squats on the floor and messes up his overly-gelled hair. "You're a great girl and all Sakura, but I'm in love with someone else!"

"Oh." Well, she didn't see that one coming. She asks him who the lucky lady is as if they're not standing in front of the altar.

He stands and whispers in her ear. "You know Lady Ino of the Mountgealt family? I think you two would really get along."

Sakura glances at who he's sending silly, blush-painted grins to and notices a worried looking woman seated near his family. Much like Naruto, she is also blonde and blue-eyed, though she looks more put-together. Elegant where he is childlike, stately where he draws people to him naturally.

She thinks they suit each other well. Much better than she and Naruto would.

"It's okay Naruto," she lays a hand on his shoulder. "It's hard, but I think I can let you go."

"Really? Cause I know you really wanted to get married. I hope you're not mad princess."

"Trust me, Naruto. I'll live."

The priest beside them is clearly both scandalized and confused at their words and the murmurings of the crowd suggest they feel the same. Maybe… this means she can have her freedom after all?

If Naruto, a mere noble, can defy a whole institution for love, then so can the next heir to the throne of Konoha!

"What is going on here?" The queen stands from the front pew to make her way towards them. "Why has the ceremony stopped?"

Naruto starts backing away from the imposing monarch. "Oh, ah, you see your majesty—"

"We're not getting married," Sakura finishes for him.

"Why? So you can marry that treasonous tailor of yours? He's just using you Sakura!"

"No, he's not. I know he's not because in all the years we've been together, Sasuke's never asked me for anything." Sakura shakes her head but gives her auntie a smile anyway. "And he never had designs on the crown himself because we knew you or the parliament would disinherit me first."

Sakura understands what her aunt is worried about. Shadows and deception is synonymous with the Uchiha name. But she knows Sasuke is more than his name, so the only thing she chooses to take away from it is that her aunt is simply worried for her.

"Because he knows you would choose him any way! You would give up the crown, throw the country into confusion just to marry him?"

"Let's face it aunt, by the nature of our birthright, we're always going to wonder if people are only with us because they want something in return. But," she speaks those gathered to see her wedding, "I don't want to live my life caged by fear. I think the best thing I can do for the people I will one day rule is to be open and accepting. And to be true to myself."

"Are you sure about him, Sakura?"

"Yes, auntie. With all of my heart."

The queen lets out a long-suffering sigh. "This is what I get for raising a headstrong girl. Go to your tailor boy then. I'm not promising that the rest of the world will see eye to eye with you though. You know they'll ask you to step down."

"I don't need a throne or the rest of the world, auntie. Just the people that I love."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah… I'll take care of things in here." The queen waves a hand and borrows the priest's standing microphone. "Wedding's cancelled, everyone. But the reception will still be held at the palace. I think we all need a drink."

Despite the lack of matrimony to celebrate, the crowd remains in good spirits. They even cheer her on as she takes the first few steps back down the aisle, free and unencumbered by the trappings of her station.

And then the giant doors open.

"Sasuke?"


What… is happening?

The people seem stunned into silence by his presence and the queen smirks at him from the altar, next to a confused looking Naruto.

And Sakura… she stands in the middle of the aisle, looking as ethereal as he hoped she would in the dress he made for her. The structure of the dress highlighting the swell of her breasts and the dip of her waist, the tulle cape falling behind her embellished with silver stardust that made her look like a selenic goddess.

Perfection.

He treads towards his waiting princess, not minding everyone else's pointed stare. "Sakura, what's happening here."

"You came," she half-laughs, half-sobs. "You came for me."

"Of course I did," Sasuke wipes away the tears falling down her rosy cheeks. "I knew if I didn't, you'd do the nonsensically righteous thing and marry that bonehead Naruto."

"Hey!" the blonde yells from the altar. "I can hear you!"

"But I didn't marry him. I want to marry you, Sasuke."

"Are you absolutely sure? Because I won't let you take it back."

"That's fine. Just take me."

He takes her hands in his and places a kiss on each knuckle. "It would be my pleasure, Sakura."

And with that, he runs hand in hand with the crown princess of Konoha, through the cathedral doors and out into the square where the world waits. To rejoice in their restored union or to lay waste to it, he doesn't know. There will be those charmed by their temerity. There will be lies spread about them and some people will believe it.

This won't be the last struggle they will go through, not the last hurdle they will have to pass.

He doesn't care.

Sasuke looks at Sakura, her eyes bright and her lips spread into an excited grin.

Now he knows that as long as he has this foolish, beautiful, annoying woman by his side, their hearts will belong to each other, and they will expire undebased.

Not the princess and the tailor.

Just a simple man and the woman who loves him.


A/N: Well then. If you liked this, follow me on Twitter ( LaurieIsLost). I usually post my stuff there first, along with fanart that may come along with some stories.

Byron Poems I used in order of appearance:

Epistle to Augusta

Lines Addressed to a Young Lady

She Walks in Beauty

I Speak not, I Trace not, I Breathe not thy Name