Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Special Thanks: goes out to rao hyuga 18, aisha89, and Animefangirl95 for all your reviews! Also thanks to everyone who has added, and continue to add, Labyrinth to their favorites and follows lists!

Author's Note: My beta and I thought this chapter was going to kill us. Literally. So much research went into this thing so we could make the wedding and reception scenes as true to real life as we could, that's been one of the major roadblocks keeping us from updating semi-quickly. But this is one of our favorite chapters, so we really hope it was worth the wait and you enjoy it, too! Thanks for reading!

*~Chapter XXIII~*

~The Wedding~

Hinata nodded approvingly as her maid ran a final, appraising look over Tenten before she stepped away from Tenten for the final time. "Thank you, Shizuka, you've d-done your usual wonderful job with b-both of us," she said. "Would you please send a message t-to the stables saying we're ready for the litter to be brought around?"

"Of course, milady," the maid murmured, bowing.

"Yes, thank you, Shizuka," Tenten echoed from where she stood staring at herself in the dressing room's full-length mirror. As soon as the outer door had closed behind the maid, she said dismally, "Could you remind me one more time why I let you talk me into this?"

Hinata shook her head at her friend in gentle reproof. "Because we are g-going to Itachi and Temari's wedding, and you d-deserve to look like the lovely young woman you are. Really, Tenten, did your brother never t-tell you how pretty you are?"

Tenten half-lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Well, yeah, actually he's mentioned it a few times. But, you know: he's my big brother, so I didn't take it literally. I just thought he was either being nice, or trying to build up my self-esteem, or something like that."

"You should have believed him. It's too b-bad Kakashi won't get to see you b-before we leave. I'm sure he would totally agree with m-me." Hinata smiled, smugly if secretly certain her bodyguard was going to attract all manner of second looks during the reception after the wedding. The white-flowered, deep rose pink of the homongi she'd coaxed Tenten into wearing flattered her tanned complexion and made her hair look to be a richer shade of brown. Unlike the loose pants and tops she normally wore, it also subtly enhanced her feminine curves, giving her a willowy appearance. Plus, thanks to the makeup Shizuka had so skillfully applied (also at Hinata's insistence and over Tenten's protests), her eyes appeared larger and softer, her face somehow slimmer.

Tenten's lips quirked ruefully. "He'd be more apt to ask what in the world I was thinking to let you doll me up like this when I'm escorting you off the estate. I'm on duty, for goodness's sake!"

And that had been another source of contention, the only point Tenten had won: Whether or not she would go armed. She'd agreed she couldn't very well wear her katana to the wedding and subsequent reception. But her senbon hairpins anchored her heavy coils of hair, instead of the pink jade-headed ornamental combs Shizuka and Hinata had picked out; and the skirts and full sleeves of her h omongi concealed her knife and shuriken holsters.

As the two women left her suite and proceeded along the hallways to the front of the house, there to take their places in the horse litter, Hinata forced herself to suppress the urge to heave a sigh. At least the whole process of getting Tenten properly attired for the wedding had provided a welcome distraction from the dreary inner uncertainties and turmoil plaguing her. Like one of the edged weapons she was learning to use, her long-desired freedom from the confines of her home had turned in her hand and cut her, heart and soul. The tears she could not shed burned behind her eyes and at the back of her throat. But however much she might yearn for it, slinking back into her isolation was not an option.

Especially not since Lord Gaara's arrival from Suna had turned her into some kind of tug toy between him and Sasuke.

No mention of a marriage between them had been made yet by either her father or the Sunese lord. But quite aside from the way Gaara's gaze had followed her at the unveiling party, Hinata had seen the look of chilly calculation that flitted through her father's ice white eyes - during the meeting of the leaders the day after the unveiling and the formal dinner held in Gaara's honor two days later, as well as when he volunteered his daughter to show the youngest Sabaku around the estate's gardens the day after that. And that subtle confirmation of Hiashi's intent, along with the suspicion Gaara would be amenable to an arranged marriage, shook her to the depths of her being while testing the limits of her resolve.

In accordance with tradition the wedding itself would be attended only by the bride and groom's immediate families, along with a select few others. The reception afterward, however, promised to be an entirely different story. Not only were the highest ranking clans of Konoha invited to it; the vast majority of the extended Uchiha clan would be there, too. Though officially to be held in the main courtyard and terrace in front of the house, Sasuke had predicted it would spill out into the streets beyond the estate's walls. For the sake of convenience as well as caution, they took a circuitous route around the central market district, heading for a small side entrance near the Uchiha clan shrine.

Sasuke, looking very much the young lord in his formal kimono and with his raven's wing hair tamed into a traditional topknot, waited there. His solemn expression lightened as he came forward to assist them from the litter and compliment them on their appearances. But his mood remained subdued as he guided them up through the landscaped grounds to the Uchiha clan's shrine. Considering the nature of the day and the gravity of her own feelings, that was fine with Hinata.

When they reached the small building standing within a ring of cherry trees Sasuke saw them both onto kneeling cushions, Tenten taking one behind her mistress. He then excused himself with a murmured word to go aside from them. Lighting an incense stick, he pressed his palms together, and briefly bowed his head in prayer. Hinata closed her eyes and added her own petition for the bridal couple's happiness - as well as begging for courage and wisdom on her own behalf.

Shortly after Sasuke returned to take the cushion to her left, the middle Sabuku sibling, accompanied by a man unknown to her, entered the shrine. They settled across the aisle, dipping their heads in greeting but not speaking. A few minutes later Itachi and Sasuke's cousin along with a middle-aged man, equally dark haired and dark eyed, escorted two women, one older, one about the other man's age, to a place on Sasuke's left, then knelt behind them. The silence and air of tense expectation built into a nearly palpable pressure in the ears, until it was broken by the mellow note of a softly struck gong. A priest stepped from screened alcove at the back of the sanctuary. Hinata felt her breath catch in her chest.

It was time.

It's time.

Tightening his abdominal muscles against the excitement (apprehension?) fluttering deep in the pit of his stomach, Itachi followed the priest, his parents, and the man who had negotiated the marriage agreement, Yamato Tenzou, into the shrine. On one distant level he registered the presence of those already present inside: Kankuro and Baki; his maternal grandmother, aunt and uncle and cousin; Sasuke next to Hinata, with another young woman behind them it took him a moment to recognize as Tenten. But the main focus of his attention - indeed, of his whole being - centered on the entrance of the shrine, where Temari should be appearing at any moment.

Temari.

My bride.

What will she look like?

Is she feeling anything like this?

The mallet stroked the unseen gong again, sending another shimmering, summoning note out into the air. Itachi nearly shivered as it resonated through him, intensifying his emotions. His breathing tried to quicken to keep pace with his speeding heartbeat; he consciously made a effort to keep it deep and even.

The light falling through the shrine's doorway dimmed. Between one heartbeat and the next she was there, next to Gaara, her slender form backlit by the early evening sunshine.

At first Itachi saw Temari through a white haze, as though his eyes weren't focusing properly. Panic delivered a mule kick to his heart: I can't be going blind already! It's too soon! She drew a few steps closer, allowing him to perceive the hazy effect came from her being swathed in the outer robe, headscarf and veil unique to Suna fashion, these all made of some semi-transparent, whisper-light, floaty material. Her wedding gown itself consisted of a straight, tight sleeved white sheath, much in style like the one she'd worn when she first arrived in Konoha. This one, however, glimmered through the folds of her draperies with the subtle shimmer of silk.

She and Gaara halted facing him and his parents in front of the priest. Through the sheer fabric he saw that her golden brown hair fell unconfined to and just past her shoulders. Lifting her hands she put back the filmy scarf and veil covering her face and hair. It was the first time he'd ever seen her hair loose and his fingers tingled with a sudden, lower-brain function urge to twine themselves into those shining tresses. It took him a few seconds to master it; when he did, it registered with him how serious and emotionally remote Temari looked. Meeting her cool blue-green eyes he recognized with a sharp pang of sadness it was the princess of the Sand who stood in front of him; not the woman who lived behind that facade.

Together they turned to bow before the priest, who held a porcelain bowl of salt for the ritual purification that would begin their marriage ceremony. After the requisite prayers and the repetition of their vows, Itachi - who loathed saké - barely noticed the burn of the liquor sliding past his tongue and down his throat as he took the traditional three sips in succession from each of three cups, followed in turn by Temari, his father and mother, then Gaara and Yamato, that would make the joining of the two clans binding.

I know this isn't what you wanted, Temari, went through his mind. But I love you: I genuinely, truly, deeply love you. And I promise to spend the rest of my life proving it to you, and trying to win your love in return.

After the ceremony, once those assembled had had a chance to congratulate the bridal couple, the entire party slowly made their way to a side entrance of the main house. There they split up: Mikoto whisking Temari away to help her change into her reception kimono; Fugaku shepherding everyone else but Itachi toward the front courtyards, where the post-wedding celebrations would take place.

"I bet this is the part of the day you'd like to skip, older brother," Sasuke muttered sotto voce into Itachi's ear as the party sorted itself out. Before Itachi could do more than catch his breath and blink at the unexpected crudeness of the remark, his younger brother went on blithely, "It's not like you didn't see most of these people just a week ago and accept their felicitations and all. It just seems kind of redundant, y'know?"

Feeling acutely ashamed of himself for jumping to such an erroneous assumption, Itachi chuckled weakly. "Just be taking notes, younger brother," he murmured back. "It'll be your turn soon enough."

At the last moment Shisui lingered to keep Itachi company as he awaited the return of his mother and his bride. "Doesn't seem quite fair, does it?" his cousin remarked casually. "The bride getting to change and the groom being stuck in all that." He made a gesture that took in Itachi's formal kimono.

Itachi lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Comparatively speaking, Temari probably would've been better off wearing her wedding gown for the reception. I accidentally overheard Mother talking to her about the iro-uchikake she'll be wearing. Evidently it's going to be pretty heavy."

Shisui grimaced. "Maybe you should've gone three-for-three and started a new tradition for after the wedding." He went on to elaborate when Itachi gave him a questioning look, "You know, to go along with the whole untraditional portrait thing. And then Lady Temari not looking like a ghost in white facepaint like our mothers wore."

Itachi's lips kinked slightly. "We pretty much had to go with the old way on this one. Since she wore her own mother's Sunese wedding dress for the ceremony rather than the Uchiha regalia, Temari felt it only fair that she wear the same outfit Mother wore at her and Father's reception."

"Well, at least it's autumn, so maybe she'll be less likely to pass out from the heat and humidity. Though," Shisui's brow suddenly creased, "maybe that's not a good thing after all. Isn't it supposed to be good luck if the bride faints?"

"It's definitely considered bad luck if she doesn't," Itachi said lightly. "Good thing I'm not superstitious. I can't think of anyone less likely to faint under any circumstances than my bride."

"Speaking of brides," Shisui clapped Itachi on the shoulder, "I think I hear Lady Temari and Aunt Mikoto coming now." He drew his cousin in for a brief embrace. "I probably won't be able to get close to you at the reception, so congratulations, and best wishes for a long, happy marriage - with kids. Lots of kids." With a warm smile full of affection, he moved away.

Itachi smiled in return, his attention already turning toward the interior of the house, where the murmuring of women's voices - mostly his mother's, to be completely honest - preceded them along the corridor. After overhearing their conversation he'd made a point to look at his parents' wedding album and an image of Mikoto's iro-uchikake now flashed into his mind. Knowing as he did Temari's preference for dark, muted colors, he wondered how comfortable she would be wearing such an extravagant garment. Besides the white-collared juban, the ensemble boasted two under kimono: a white one lavishly embroidered with tiny red and gold fans, then a gold kimono patterned with white cranes and red blossoms; a very wide, intricately gold-embroidered obi over them; and on top of everything the vibrantly red, brilliantly embroidered, elaborately over-the-top outer robe with its trailing length and sleeves, and thickly padded hem.

But when she came into his view, far from seeming overwhelmed, his bride moved toward him with regal grace and confidence, as though such magnificent apparel was no more or less than her daily due. She looked so radiantly beautiful, in fact, that Itachi totally forgot to breathe.

Mikoto, her expression beyond smug, broke the moment by taking their hands and joining them together. While his mother's were warm, Temari's felt ice cold in his light grip. "Now, just as we rehearsed yesterday, my dear ones," she said. "I'll slip around to the front of the house while you make your grand entrance onto the terrace." She covered their joined hands with both her own and pressed them tightly before gliding swifty away-

-Leaving them, for the first time as husband and wife, alone.

The scent of jasmine seemed to fill the suddenly tense air around them. Itachi's mouth went dust-dry and a quick wash of heat flooded through him. But even as an impulse flashed along his nerves to draw Temari close enough to lean in and lightly sample the sweetness of her lips, the memory of the first (and only) time he'd kissed her filled his mind. Remembering the dismal aftermath on that occasion allowed the cooler side of his nature to prevail. Sensing an underlying wariness in her demeanor, as though she expected him to do something of the sort, he cast about for something to say to ease the tension; perhaps something mildly witty as well as reassuring.

What came out of his mouth instead was, "That all has to weigh every bit of twenty-five pounds. And your hand is cold as ice. You aren't going to faint, are you?"

Temari blinked at him a couple of times, a faint pucker forming between her brows. "Ah, no," she said. "I've never fainted in my life. I don't think I will now. Shouldn't we-?" Seeming somewhat bemused she let her voice trail off on an upward note as she tipped her head slightly and raised her brows.

"We should," Itachi agreed, quickly offering her his arm while smothering the urge to plant his face into the palm of one hand. Yeah, especially before being alone with you makes me say or do something else stupid!

The evening progressed, passing in a hazy, time-dilated blur. As they ate, danced, or circulated among their guests, Itachi remained hyperaware of the woman who was now, in name at least, his wife. It was as if she were a magnet and he the iron caught within the sphere of her attraction. Despite his vigilance his thoughts kept threatening to slip his control into areas he knew he could not allow them to stray.

At last the time came for Itachi and Temari to light the special candle on the table where Fugaku, Mikoto, and Gaara sat. After that, as he savored the smooth feel of her hand in his, they proceeded to light more candles at other tables placed around the garden courtyard where their other close friends, family, and high-ranking guests were seated, ending the ceremony by lighting the heart-shaped cluster of tapers making up the Memorial Candle. After that the bride's female relatives and friends - in this case his mother, Aunt Mariko, Hinata and Tenten - giggling and chattering like a flock of songbirds, carried her off to change out of her iro-uchikake and into a furisode, the last time she'd ever wear that style of kimono, for their trip to their honeymoon destination. At least with Fugaku as a member the group of male relatives and friends waiting with Itachi, fortunately there were none of the ribald comments or suggestions that might otherwise have been tendered to a groom on his wedding night.

And then finally, finally, they were in the horse-drawn litter that would take them to the inn at Konoha's hot springs, where they would spend the next several days.

And nights.

It didn't take long for Itachi to feel the tension thickening the air inside the litter. He waited to see if Temari would initiate a conversation; sensitive to her mood, he remained silent when she didn't, not wanting a reprise of his earlier verbal blundering. After about half an hour the driver pulled up in front of the elegantly classic facade of the inn. The proprietor and his son - both wearing bright green kimono with equally bright orange belts - met them at the front door, along with several servants to handle the luggage.

Offering profusely exuberant well wishes full of references to springtime and abounding youthfulness every step of the way, the two escorted them along lowlit flagged pathways to a gated enclosure containing the secluded guesthouse where they'd be spending their honeymoon. The landscaped grounds were softly lit by both hanging lanterns and others standing on pedestals placed strategically among the plantings and around the private hot spring. As the pair bowed them inside and quickly guided them on a tour of the cottage's amenities, Itachi glanced sideways and caught his bride swiftly concealing a slightly befuddled reaction. He smiled to himself. Perhaps he should have been kind and warned her about Maito Gai and Rock Lee; but watching her bite back any number of acerbic observations, he didn't regret in the least shamelessly using the eccentric pair as icebreakers.

"Are those two for real?" Temari demanded as soon as the duo took their leave. "Don't they know it's autumn, not spring?"

Itachi placed a hand over his heart and gave her what he hoped was a soulful look. "Ah, but where love is involved, it's always springtime, and the heart is always young," he declaimed. He held the pose for a moment as she stared at him incredulously, then dropped his hand and grinned at her. "Or at least it is in Gai and Lee's version of reality. They do get a little - manic - on the subject. But they really are dedicated to the comfort of their guests. It's not just the hot springs that make this inn so popular. Of all the hostelries in Konoha, they run the premier establishment."

"'Manic,'" Temari said decisively, "is too mild - and too polite - a term."

An awkward silence fell between them. Itachi's body was sending him insistent signals; but fortunately he retained enough clarity of mind to know acting on them at this moment would not be the smartest thing he ever did. Very carefully, verbally feeling his way, he said in a neutral tone, "The springs here are truly phenomenal. I'm in the habit of taking a good, long soak in the bath house at home before retiring for the night. And you-?" He allowed the question to dangle.

Temari's cheeks reddened slightly. Instead of accepting his tacitly extended invitation to join him, she said a little too quickly, "No, I don't have the patience for long soaks. I prefer to unwind from the day over a pot of tea." She tipped her head toward the partially screened corner where a low table held an electric kettle and all the other necessities to make tea, then to the door to the bathing room, which had its own egress to the spring. "So if you want to go ahead-?"

Without allowing any of his disappointment to show, Itachi smiled gently at her. "Save me a cup?" he said softly and persuasively as he moved toward the lavatory.

She nodded stiffly. "Of course."

After he'd exited the bathing facility and eased his way into the dimly lit, faintly steaming water, Itachi mentally cursed Fugaku again, just in case he'd missed anything the other nine hundred ninety-nine times he'd done so, for pitchforking the two of them into this situation.

I suppose we should have talked about - this - at some point, he thought. He blew out a heavy sigh, rippling the curls of vapor hazing the air in front of his face. After all, we're both adults. But at the same time- He grimaced. It would have been beyond awkward. And somehow not - appropriate. I mean, how would either of us have broached such a topic? "Oh, by the way, along with all the other arrangements for the wedding, we need to decide where and when to consummate our marriage." Slowly he swept an arm along under the surface of the water, his dark eyes tracking but not really seeing the eddies created by the movement. So should I just tell her straight out that making her truly my wife isn't a matter of duty for me anymore? Tell her I love her? Or just let my touch prove to her that, ancestors as my witness, I do love her, so much-

Closing his eyes Itachi tried, and failed, to imagine such a scene. Suddenly the heat of the pool was too much for him. Surging to his feet he grabbed his towel and lapped it loosely around his middle. Lurking out here wasn't solving any problems. The subject was appropriate now, so he might as well go in and confront it.

Once he'd dried off and wrapped himself in one of the inn's yukata, he reentered the living area of the guesthouse - only to find it empty. Despite his effort at self-control, his pulse quickened its tempo. His gaze went straight to the door to the bedroom. Did Temari even now await him there? We're both adults, he thought again. And we both know this has to happen. With swift, light steps he crossed to the door and slid it open.

Soft light and sweet fragrance met him: The former from dozens of candles positioned around the room, the latter from hundreds of red and white rose petals scattered on the floor, as well as across the low, neatly turned-down - and unoccupied - bed. Itachi's eyes sought further, to where his bride stood on the other side of the room, looking out a window into the enclosed garden. She wore a silken robe the same exact color as her eyes, the candlelight gently shimmering over it and caressing her hair, still loose, with deep golden highlights. His heart tried to climb into his throat, she was so beautiful. Feeling half-mesmerized he took a couple of steps into the room, irresistably drawn to her-

-And rocked to a halt as, with those two steps, his entire perspective changed. The shimmering of the light on her garment from the myriad candles did not entirely come from their flickering, as it had first appeared to him. Left arm clamped across her bosom and her right hand clutching closed the neck of her robe, Temari was shivering; and from what he could see of her profile, even mostly turned away from him as it was, he perceived it wasn't from excitement, or anticipation.

Her shivering came from fear.

Itachi's heart plunged from his throat to his ankles, taking all his hopes for this night with it. He drew an unsteady breath. "Temari-" he said very quietly, at a loss for the right words to speak to soothe her.

Her shoulders jerked, her head dipping slightly as she threw up a warding hand. "I know!" she said, her voice thin and unsteady at first but then growing stronger. "You want to tell me you won't hurt me- No more than necessary-" She half-turned toward him, and he saw how pale she was despite the golden light touching her tanned skin; how white were the knuckles clenched on the fabric at her throat. "Lady Mikoto assured me you would be very gentle with me, and - and self-controlled, and take care to cause me the absolute minimum of pain. She knew my own mother has been dead for years, and she didn't want me to be afraid, or - or unprepared for what you'd be doing." From where he stood rooted to the floor three quarters of the way across the room from her, he saw her swallow convulsively. She stared at him, her body rigid, her pupils dilated with terror. "I know what's supposed to happen. I know what's expected of us, of me- But I can't. I just can't. I'm not ready for, for," her voice dropped to an aspirated whisper, "intimacy."

If Temari's hovering on the thin edge of hysteria wasn't enough to kill the mood for Itachi, discovering his mother had had The Talk with his bride would most certainly have done so. He gazed her, feeling torn between pity on her behalf and wishing, a little savagely, that his mother could've just left things to him. However well-intentioned Mikoto's meddling, far from reassuring Temari, only seemed to have amplified her apprehensions. As he wondered how on earth to convince her he had no plans to ravish her, his eyes wandered away from her, his gaze coming to rest on the petal-strewn bed. An idea took shape in his mind. Acting upon it he swiftly crossed to stand next to it.

At his sudden movement, Temari uttered a stifled gasp and shrank closer to the wall. "Wh-what are you doing?" she demanded.

Itachi scooped up one of the pillows and shook it free of rose petals. "The only thing I can think of that might give you some peace of mind," he said simply. Turning away he went to the closet; opening it, he found several sets of spare bedclothes stacked upon a shelf. He appropriated a couple of sheets before fixing her with an earnest look. "You don't need to be afraid of me, Temari. I swear to you, I will never do anything to hurt you. I will not try to coerce you into consummating our marriage, and I promise on my honor I will not lay an amorous hand on you until you are ready. And to prove how sincere I am, I'm going to sleep out in the living area."

She wordlessly stared at him for a long moment, while some of the tension visibly eased from her stance. Seeming unaware of what she did, she nibbled at her lower lip before saying hesitantly, "But - there's no futon, or even the makings of a halfway decent pallet. You'll be sleeping straight on the tatami." Her eyes skittered away from him, around the room, before coming back to rest on him. "I suppose," she seemed to be forcing the words past an obstruction in her throat, "since you've promised - you're at least entitled to your side of the bed-"

"No." The word burst from Itachi a little more forcefully than he intended, making her startle again. "No," he said again more gently, "I thank you for the thought, but that would not be a - good - idea." He felt his lips quirk when she gave him a quizzical look and added, "I am, after all, a man."

"Oh!" Her gaze drifted from his face to the pillow and sheets he held clasped to his chest; down further to about the region of his diaphragm before she abruptly jerked it back up to his face, her own reddening. "Itachi-" she drew a shuddering breath, let it out on a long sigh. "Thank you."

He nodded. "Good night, Temari," he said then, there really being nothing else left to say, or do other than arrange his meager bedding and stretch out on the living room tatami as far from the bedroom as possible.

Feeling physically and emotionally exhausted, Itachi lay for a long time watching the play of candlelight on the other side of the rice paper-paneled wall between the two rooms; evidently Temari didn't feel secure enough to blow out the candles. Or maybe she was just too worn out as well to bother.

This is so wrong, he couldn't help but think. This should've been one of the, if not the, most special nights of his life. At this very moment, he should be with Temari, exploring and delighting in the mysteries of her body even as she explored and delighted in the mysteries of his. Instead, he had to face the bleak truth of what he'd bound himself to: that this was only the first of many nights of bitter loneliness and unfulfilled longing.

The candles were guttering by the time Itachi's burning eyes finally sagged shut in sleep.

*~To Be Continued~*

Author's Ending Notes: Even though my beta and I thought this chapter was going to kill us, what with all the research into Japanese weddings so we could make it as true to life as possible, we are both very excited about this chapter. We really hope you all enjoy it, and that it was worth the wait! Thank you so much for reading, and we look forward to hearing your thoughts!