Miya kept her back straight and her face neutral as she ate. She cared little for manners but something about dining amongst the Uchiha and all who sided with them put her on the edge. They had to believe what she was about to tell them and the only way to do it was to command respect. The future of her clan depended on this meeting. She couldn't afford to blow it.

Decades of bad blood would finally come to an end - but for that to happen, she must leave aside her childish antics and rebellious streak. Observing Madara, his mannerisms, how he behaved, proved to be futile, though. What worked for him, didn't sit right with her. Balance. What a difficult thing to achieve. Miya mused, setting her chopsticks aside. She breathed evenly to restrain the whirlpool of emotions swirling inside her.

"My lords." she began as she rose from her seat. Hands clasped behind her back, Miya paced left and right, slowly, much like a predator would when it had cornered its prey. Huh, perhaps Madara did teach me more than the ninja arts. "A fortnight ago, I proposed negotiation, thing both Hashirama Senju and my father agreed with. Not everyone at the assembly was pleased however, as you can imagine."

Miya had expected some sort of interruption from their part but so far, nothing. Their silence said a lot about Madara and the kind of leader he was. One piercing look from him was all it took for his men to swallow their pride, forget their prejudices, and listen to the enemy. "The Whirlpools sent a messenger to state our terms..." she paused, green eyes narrowing to slits. "...but judging by your faces, I think it is safe to assume he never arrived at camp."

Madara, who knew as much as the men he led to war - which was to say, nothing really - took over the meeting. "That...or you did not inform me and went behind my back." he suggested.

The lords did not squirm under his scrutinizing gaze, Miya had to give them that. "I am sure they did no such thing." she amended, her voiced laced with honey, as if to show them she could be both harsh and gentle.

The men present replied in a chorus that of course they didn't, that they'd never betray their leader.

"Could it be that the messenger died on the road because of natural causes?" one of them suggested.

Satisfied, Madara gestured with his hand for her to continue.

Miya shook her head negatively. "The Uzumaki are durable ninja. We don't get sick; weather conditions don't affect us. The envoy my father had sent was young and healthy." her eyes hardened. "Natural causes do not send body parts in boxes, nor do they write declarations of war, Takumi-san."

Silence stretched long and uncomfortable.

"I didn't order its execution." Madara spoke-up, his voice eerily calm. "And you claim not to have done the deed." he addressed them then turned his head to look at her. "I'm afraid I cannot give you justice, Lady Miya, if that's why you came for."

Killing people on the battlefield was considered to be fair. To dispose of someone who sought nothing but peace...it went against the unspoken laws of war.

"I know. I believe you had nothing to do with it." her hand clenched and unclenched, restless. "It's just sad that I'm forced to suspect and punish my own people."

Madara's eyes widened by a fraction. "Do you mean to say that the Uzumaki..."

"Acted against my father, yes." she filled in the blanks. Miya's expression was grim. She pushed away the bangs that were framing her face. "There are people who don't wish for us to reach an understanding. They do not matter, however."

Hajima, the one adviser Madara seemed to actually rely on, spoke up from his place at the table. "How do you know we won't use this information to our advantage?"

The Uzumaki heiress shrugged. "I don't." she leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's a possibility." Miya hid a grin when they gave her perplexed looks.

It seems I know something you Uchiha know-it-alls don't.

She had already won this war.

In theory, at the very least. Shiki would be proud of her. Her expression softened briefly.

He and the others must be worried sick.

"Well, then..." Miya broke the silence, pushing herself off the wall. "I shall leave you to discuss while I go take a walk around." She left the meeting hall.

"Need I remind you that..." Madara called after her, keeping up with her deliberately long and fast-paced strides.

"I'm your prisoner?" she shook her head, a humourless chuckle escaping her lips. "No. The thingy you set to restrict my chakra is the perfect reminder."

His eyes narrowed to slits.

"Miya..." he warned.

If she sensed the change in tone, the redhead ignored it. "Do you know how easy it'd be for me to overwhelm the machine with chakra, have it explode?" she questioned airily.

Madara was having none of it. "You won't do it. It'd be too great a risk."

"Anata, I ingested poison to get here. I think I will take my chances."

He caught her forearm, effectively halting her movements.

"Say that again."

Miya's eyebrows rose. "What? That I ingested poison? Are you really this self-absorbed that you can't..."

Madara huffed, impatient. "Before that." he insisted.

Realization dawned upon her a few seconds later.

"I was mocking you. It wasn't..."

He cut her off. "What about the affection behind it?"

Miya shook her arm away from his grasp, blinking back tears and refusing to make eye-contact.

"Whatever affection I might have bore you...it died. It died the day you left me alone." she clenched a fist.

Madara grabbed her chin gently, lifting it. "You are not alone now."

"Only because I sought you out." she retorted. "For political reasons." Miya kept her eyes shut, not trusting herself to look into his eyes and not cave under their intensity. Her old approach wasn't going to work, it wouldn't get her out of this predicament. Fighting and bickering would only add fuel to the fire that was already making a mess out of her insides. They would only spur Madara on.

She had to be level-headed. Strong emotions were dangerous. Of course she knew their closeness was the only reason why she hadn't died after pulling off such a stunt. Yes, she was aware Madara was the only thing standing between her and a dozen of vengeful Uchihas.

Miya wondered whether she was just a toy to him. One that he picked up when nothing or no one more interesting held his attention. What would Mito do and say?

"Please stop manhandling me. It's not proper."

"Why?" Madara thought it was ridiculous. She had never cared for such things before.

He is standing way too close for me to think properly. Miya mentally cursed him. What happened to 'personal space?' Didn't he use to bitch at her whenever she breached his?

"I grew-up." she blurted out and opened her eyes; convinced that the feel of their chests being pressed together should help Madara get the memo.

To her horror and delight, his lips curled upwards into a satisfied smirk. "In more ways than one, Lady Uzumaki." he bent lower to whisper against her ear. His mouth travelled further downwards, nearing her pulse. "In more ways than one."

Miya shivered and it wasn't because of the cold. How could she? When Madara's body radiated such heat? "Don't you have a meeting to return to?"

Just like that, he pulled back and distanced himself from her, perfectly composed. "Unfortunately."

She watched his retreating form, relieved and disappointed at the same time.

A/N: Alright so, I don't know how to explain this chapter. I never really understood writers who said, 'the characters begun writing the story'...until now, that is. I had planned a big chapter, at least 3000 words. Serious, filled with strategy, peace talks upon peace talks in order to move the plot forward.

Yeah...that didn't happen. For some reason, I can't write any further. I had to end this chapter short. It was either this or...a hot, steamy scene between Madara and Miya. It's too soon to write something like that. It's supposed to be a slow burn. (My monkey brain has a hard time grasping the concept, it seems)

I'm curious to read your opinions, though.