Once Upon a Lifetime

Month 10

After nearly two intense months of back-and-forth, His and Her Royal Highnesses Sasuke and Sakura finally managed to sway the council on the town hall reform, but it was no small feat. The final point that tipped the scales was the data-driven pitch Shikamaru had devised, which showcased the benefits other nations had seen from adopting similar community engagement reforms. The council couldn't ignore the clear correlation between public engagement and national morale, coupled with Sakura's argument about increased transparency fostering loyalty and reducing civil unrest. Reluctantly, they granted approval for a single pilot session, under the strict condition that if it failed, they would shelve the idea for good.

With three months to prepare, the pressure was immense, but it fueled their commitment. Sakura dove into the planning, thrilled by the chance to make this event a landmark for their monarchy. She was determined to make it flawless, her dedication to the vision as fierce as Sasuke's. Her daily check-ins with Temari became a routine; no matter how packed her schedule was, she always managed to secure key updates on the event's progress.

However, her preparations came with a small risk: she was falling behind on her studies with Fugaku, whose economic policy lessons had spanned months now, with zero derivatives to real-life problems.

While she faithfully brought her assigned reading, she had taken to concealing her town hall materials behind Fugaku's dense policy tomes. Her study hours turned into a quiet battle of focus—her mind on the town hall even as she sat across from her father-in-law.

The silence in those sessions was thick with expectation. For someone naturally talkative, sitting so still made her uneasy, and she often found herself sneaking in a medical text or town hall brief to pass the time without giving herself away. The hours with Fugaku flew by, and she grew comfortable—until one day, out of nowhere, Fugaku looked up and announced he would quiz her on her recent reading.

Sakura managed only a nod, her stomach dropping. As she left, horrified silence replaced her excitement for the upcoming event.

Sasuke found her sitting cross-legged in the middle of their bed, looking utterly stricken, with eyes wide and maybe even on the verge of tears. He raised an eyebrow, silently asking the question.

"Your Majesty," she said, standing up in a sudden burst of energy, "I need your help."

Amused, he listened as she explained her predicament—how she'd been sneaking medical books and town hall materials into Fugaku's study to pass the time, never expecting that her father-in-law would spring an exam on her.

"I didn't know he was going to hold a fucking quiz!" she exclaimed, looking a little hysterical now. "What am I going to dooo? I don't know a single thing!" She punctuated her despair with frantic hand gestures before looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. "I've never failed a single thing in my life. Help."

Trying to keep a straight face, Sasuke took her into his father's study, using his master keycard to bypass security. She followed close behind as he gathered up stacks of books, bringing them back to their suite. He marked specific portions she'd need to cram while he worked on his own documents. She dove into the material with the fervor of someone studying for an exam the night before. Three months' worth of political texts flew past her as she tried to absorb as much as possible in record time.

When she scored a solid 60 on the quiz, Sasuke found himself impressed; considering her rushed study session, it was a respectable score. But she looked anything but pleased.

At his questioning glance, she sighed. "My lord, I used to be the biggest academic shark back in the day. This," she waved her quiz in the air dramatically, "is deeply shameful for me."

Only Sasuke knew that his father designed his quizzes specifically to prevent anyone from scoring above average. He didn't tell her that, though; instead, he watched in quiet amusement as she pulled out additional books from her nightstand, presumably to cross-check her answers. He almost snorted. Only Itachi had ever come close to excelling at Fugaku's quizzes.

And thus began the rivalry: Sakura vs. Fugaku.

With a determined gleam in her eyes, she declared, "I'll get at least an 85 next time."

Sasuke couldn't help but smile to himself, privately rooting for her as she threw herself into her newfound academic challenge.

Month 11

The life of royalty was seldom as glamorous as it was romanticized. Behind the polished facade of public appearances, the stunning wardrobe, and the aura of aloofness, there was a mountain of responsibilities that demanded Sasuke's constant attention. The mental work was exhausting—strategizing policy decisions, analyzing reports, understanding intricate political nuances, and constantly staying on top of current events. The physical demands were equally relentless, with hours of formal meetings, ceremonial obligations, and public engagements that required stamina and a carefully crafted demeanor. And then, of course, there was the paperwork—a never-ending cascade of reports, proposals, and briefings that seemed to chase him, refusing to let up.

More often than he cared to admit, Sasuke missed his former role as prince, where he still had some semblance of freedom and flexibility. Now, he lived and breathed according to a meticulously crafted schedule, and even then, 24 hours were rarely enough. Since ascending to the throne, he had taken to working late into the night, poring over endless spreadsheets detailing state budgets, infrastructure projects, and economic forecasts. The printed presentations stacked on his desk held updates on everything from social reforms to international trade relations, each requiring careful review and critical decision-making. Initially, he had adopted this grueling work pace as a way to drown out his emotions, to keep thoughts of grief and personal loss at bay. But over time, it had become routine—an almost mechanical habit of grinding through the workload, night after night.

In recent months, however, Sakura had started to join him, especially since they began preparing for the town hall initiative. Her presence added a spark to his otherwise solitary nights, her enthusiasm and curiosity often pulling him out of his work-driven haze. She took notes, compiled data, and proposed ideas, bringing a fresh perspective that he found both inspiring and grounding.

But the day she hauled in a large desk of her own and set it right beside his, he realized he was in deep trouble.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his tone a blend of annoyance and curiosity.

Sakura stood confidently, hands on her hips, a smug smile lighting up her face. "If you don't sleep through the night, then I won't either."

He didn't know how to respond, caught between frustration and a grudging respect. She'd just thrown down a challenge, and he couldn't quite believe she meant it. He shrugged, figuring she'd cave before the week was out.

But to his astonishment, she didn't. Night after night, she stayed by his side. While he tackled endless spreadsheets, policy drafts, and financial reports, she worked on her own projects—reading up on social issues, organizing charity events, finalizing presentations. Occasionally, he'd see her nodding off, her head dipping before she'd jolt awake and force herself to refocus.

Sometimes he found himself glancing over, oddly comforted by her presence and her quiet resilience. There were moments he even felt tempted to surrender, to let her coax him into resting. But he resisted, clinging to the routine that had become his armor.

Still, he couldn't deny it: with her there beside him, the long hours felt just a little less lonely. And as stubborn as he was, he was beginning to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to face them alone.

Almost two weeks later, Suigetsu quietly slipped into Sasuke's private office, a rare occurrence that immediately signaled something was wrong. Standing just inside the door, he shifted uncomfortably, casting a wary glance in Sasuke's direction. Sasuke didn't look up, waiting for Suigetsu to get to the point.

It didn't take long. After a beat, Suigetsu cleared his throat. "Your Majesty," he began, his voice subdued. "Her Ladyship… collapsed."

Sasuke's pen halted mid-sentence. Slowly, he looked up, expression cool and composed. "Collapsed?" His voice was deceptively calm, a razor edge lurking beneath.

Suigetsu gulped, nodding. "Yes, Your Majesty. The physicians say she's overworked."

A tense silence filled the room. Suigetsu shifted again, pressing his finger to his earpiece as he received more information. "They've taken her to the medical wing. She's receiving fluids."

Sasuke studied him with an unreadable gaze before giving a slight nod, signaling dismissal. Without a word, he turned his focus back to the documents on his desk, face set in a mask of indifference.

Suigetsu didn't immediately leave. He lingered by the door, hesitant, visibly uneasy. Finally, Sasuke looked up, irritation flickering in his gaze. "What is it?"

Suigetsu hesitated, then asked, "Aren't you… going to see her?"

Sasuke said nothing, his face betraying no emotion. After a long, silent moment, Suigetsu realized he won't get a response. Reluctantly, he nodded and stepped back, slipping out of the office with a quiet sigh, closing the door softly behind him.

Sasuke retired to his apartments earlier than usual that evening, a storm of anger, resentment, and a hint of worry simmering inside him. When Sakura finally walked in, he directed the full force of his glare at her. She met his gaze with a casual shrug, but he could see the fatigue etched into her features. Her insistence on matching his grueling schedule, which he'd structured to numb himself after his ascension, was taking its toll on her.

"Hey," she greeted him easily, making a move toward their now shared study as if nothing was amiss.

He stepped into her path, exasperation and frustration boiling over. "Don't be stubborn about this," he warned, his voice sharp.

She didn't flinch, meeting his gaze head-on. "No, Your Majesty. You should stop being stubborn about this."

Their eyes locked, the silence thick with tension, each waiting for the other to yield. Sasuke felt an unexpected flicker of doubt, sensing the strength of her resolve. Her expression softened, a sad, gentle smile tugging at her lips.

"I'm tired, Sasuke," she said, her voice weary but resolute. "But so are you. Don't think for a second that I'll go to bed tonight without you. You need the rest just as much as I do. I'll sit at that desk all night if you don't."

His jaw clenched. "That's blackmail."

She gave him a calm, unyielding look. "I know. I don't care."

He stood in front of her like a statue, unwilling and unable to move – absolutely rigid, not knowing what to do, how to take this olive branch, how to lean on her.

Maybe she understood his sociopathic dilemma, he thought, because she softened once more and actually took his hand. Her smile was very tired and very gentle as she said, "Come to bed Sasuke. I really want to sleep."

And there was nothing more he could say to that, but he found that he didn't have to, because she didn't let go of his hand and gently lead him to the bed.

He slept very soundly that night.

Month 12

The week before their one-year anniversary arrived quietly, almost like any other day in the palace. Sasuke, predictably, hadn't marked the date in his mental calendar, and Sakura, as understanding as ever, hadn't brought it up. But even the most oblivious royals aren't left completely alone when surrounded by friends and allies who are, in their own way, invested in their relationship.

Enter Naruto.

One morning, as Sasuke sat at his desk, pouring through financial reports, an unexpected video call from Naruto lit up his screen. He answered with a raised brow, already prepared for some silly, unrelated matter. But Naruto's face was unusually serious—serious in the Naruto way, which often meant he was hiding something mischievous.

"Oi, bastard. You have any plans for next week?" Naruto asked without preamble.

"Working, obviously," Sasuke replied, eyeing him with suspicion. "What do you want, dead last?"

Naruto rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Sasuke? You forgot, didn't you?"

Sasuke frowned. "Forgot what?"

Naruto sighed dramatically, then tilted his phone camera so that Sasuke could see a webpage on his screen. It was a high-end jewelry website, the type Sasuke never frequented. "It's your one-year anniversary, you idiot! Buy her something nice."

Sasuke's expression shifted, his surprise momentarily overtaking his usual calm exterior. "Already?" he muttered, slightly taken aback by how fast the year had flown by. But as his gaze sharpened, he grumbled, "And why should I take advice from you? You're thirty-three and still haven't asked your longtime crush out."

Naruto flushed, glaring. "Maybe I would if you weren't such a pain! Sakura actually cares about you. The least you can do is show her you feel the same."

Without another word, he ended the call, leaving Sasuke frowning at the empty screen. Irritated yet intrigued, Sasuke clicked the link Naruto had sent before ending the call. He scrolled through the options, muttering to himself, until a bracelet caught his eye—a refined design with interwoven silver strands dotted with emeralds that reminded him of her quiet resilience.

Without overthinking it, he placed the order, selecting next-day delivery.

The day before his scheduled time with his mother, Sasuke received a message from her secretary, requesting an hour in her private quarters. He quickly agreed, rearranging his calendar without hesitation. As he entered his mother's serene, warmly-lit sitting room, he was greeted with Mikoto's welcoming smile.

"Sasuke, my dear," she said, gesturing for him to sit beside her on the low, cushioned couch.

He gave her a nod, settling into the seat, feeling the familiar ease that came whenever he was with her. Compared to his father, Mikoto was warm and doting, and their conversations usually held an open, calm rhythm he never found elsewhere.

As they started talking, the topic naturally drifted to Itachi. Mikoto's smile grew softer, tinged with that bittersweet sorrow that always accompanied any mention of him.

"It's been almost a year, hasn't it?" she murmured, looking thoughtfully out the window. "Hard to believe."

Sasuke nodded, his voice quiet. "Yeah, it doesn't feel like it's been that long… Some days, it still feels like he's here."

Mikoto's gaze flickered back to him, understanding etched across her face. "You're not alone in that," she said, her tone equally soft. "I still expect to hear him in the hallways sometimes… his laugh, his footsteps. And when I don't… well." She took a deep breath, forcing a smile. "I think he'd be proud of how you've handled things, though. You've taken on so much."

Sasuke glanced down, taking in her words as they settled heavy in his chest. "I hope so. Sometimes, I just wish I'd had more time… to learn from him."

Mikoto reached out, patting his hand. "You've done so much already, Sasuke. You've honored his memory just by the way you're leading. And speaking of leading…" Her smile turned impish, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she changed the subject. "How's your marriage holding up? I hear someone has an anniversary coming up."

He looked at her, momentarily thrown, then gave a slight scowl. "Apparently, everyone knows except me," he muttered, but his lips twitched.

Mikoto laughed, shaking her head. "You're as stoic as your father sometimes, you know. Honestly, it's a miracle Sakura hasn't tried to throw something at you yet."

He rolled his eyes. "I've been quite patient with her too, Mother."

"Oh, is that so?" she teased, arching an eyebrow. "Well, I don't doubt it. But I have to say… I'm glad Sakura has been so patient with you. It's helped, hasn't it?"

Sasuke gave her a look but relented with a small, grudging nod. "She's… not like anyone else. She's always pushing herself, even when it's unnecessary."

Mikoto's expression softened. "That sounds like someone else I know," she remarked with a playful glint in her eye. "You two… you're both so determined. It's a rare partnership, one that requires a lot of give and take."

Sasuke huffed, folding his arms but unable to hide the faintest hint of a smile. "I give plenty. If anything, she's just as stubborn. More, sometimes."

"Oh, please," Mikoto teased, shaking her head. "You're both as hard-headed as can be. But I'm proud of you, Sasuke. You've allowed her in, bit by bit, and I can see how it's changed you. For the better."

A comfortable silence settled over them, each lost in their own thoughts, until Mikoto gave his hand another squeeze. "Just… don't be afraid to show her that side of you more often. I know it's hard, but she's patient. And she's there for you. Remember that."

He nodded, feeling a flicker of gratitude he couldn't quite put into words. Their conversation drifted back to lighter topics, easy and relaxed, and as he left, Sasuke felt lighter too, like he'd somehow shed a layer of the burdens he often carried alone.

A few days before the anniversary, Sasuke was surprised to receive a visit from Kimimaru, who handed him a small package wrapped in simple, elegant paper. "A delivery from her ladyship's parents," he informed Sasuke with a respectful nod.

Sasuke took the package, slightly taken aback by the gesture. He wasn't expecting anything from Sakura's family, and he'd only met them once since their marriage. As Kimimaru left, Sasuke set the package on his desk, unwrapping it with a faint sense of curiosity.

Inside was a beautifully crafted, modest wooden box, polished and smooth to the touch. He lifted the lid to reveal a pair of men's cufflinks—silver with a delicate engraving of cherry blossoms on one link and a small fan on the other. He recognized the symbols immediately: the cherry blossoms were a tribute to Sakura's family name, and the fan was a discreet nod to the Uchiha clan. It was a small but deeply thoughtful gesture, a blend of their family crests that seemed to honor both their identities equally.

A short note lay in the box, written in Sakura's mother's hand. "We hope these will remind you of the partnership you and Sakura are building together. Just as these symbols sit side by side, we know you will both support and strengthen one another in the years to come."

Sasuke felt an unexpected weight in his chest as he closed the box, struck by the subtle thoughtfulness of the gesture—a quiet acknowledgment of his connection to Sakura and her family.

Sasuke had spent the actual day of their anniversary miles away on an urgent diplomatic mission—a pressing summit with key allies focused on trade negotiations and regional security concerns. The timing had been frustrating, and he'd hesitated for a good portion of the day about messaging Sakura. But somehow, his ego had stepped in, convincing him that he should wait until he returned and that a late acknowledgment would be better in person. The thought of sending her a brief message felt insufficient, so he resolved to make up for it as soon as he returned.

When he finally touched down back home, it was already Sakura's designated day to visit her parents. Without a second thought, he went to pick her up himself. The surprise was evident in her face when she saw him standing there; her expression shifted from shock to delight, her smile lighting up the entire room. After exchanging pleasantries and a quick cup of tea with her parents, Sasuke was about to put his shoes on to leave when he felt a presence looming beside him. Ino stood in the small hallway, eyeing him with an amused grin.

"Well done," she said, clapping him on the back. "She looks happy now. Glad you sorted things out." Sasuke could only blink, slightly taken aback, then offered a dry, "Thanks?"

Ino just shrugged as Sakura joined them at the door. Walking them both out, she leaned in and whispered something to Sakura that made her cheeks flush and left Sasuke suspicious of whatever she'd said. At the car, Ino gave Sakura a tight hug and glanced at Sasuke with mock horror.

"I can't believe I wanted to marry this old prick," she teased, nodding in his direction, earning a laugh from Sakura and a frown from him. "Thank god his awkward ass is all yours."

During the quiet car ride, Sasuke noticed Sakura's pensive expression. When he raised a brow in question, she finally explained, "Ino actually wanted to apply for the queen's raffle. I tagged along for fun. Me being chosen…well, it put a bit of a strain on our friendship for a while."

Sasuke took that in with silent gratitude, thankful that he'd had the good judgment to root for Sakura from the start.

Instead of taking her straight back to the palace, he surprised her by pulling up to a small, intimate restaurant he'd reserved for the evening. "What's happening?" she asked with wide eyes as he escorted her inside.

He only shrugged, unable to find the words for "happy anniversary," so he simply guided her to their table and held out her chair. Her expression softened as she took her seat, shaking her head slightly at his quiet gesture. She reached across the table, catching his hand. "Thank you, Sasuke."

They shared a beautiful seven-course meal, each dish carefully chosen, each bite more indulgent than the last. By the time dessert arrived, Sakura was happily complaining about being too full. As always, she carried the conversation and he listened, struck by just how natural it felt, even if he'd stumbled in showing her what he felt.

Back at their apartment, he still didn't know how to present her with the bracelet he'd ordered. So, while she was in the bathroom, he carefully placed it on her bedside table before retreating to his study to escape the embarrassment of watching her open it. The quiet felt thick as he sat down to work, half-concentrating, the anticipation pulling his focus away from the documents in front of him. He felt both foolish and relieved at having finally gifted it, but part of him doubted if it had been enough.

The sound of her soft footsteps made him turn. She was padding quietly into the room, her expression tender as she slipped her arms around him from behind. A flicker of light caught his eye—the bracelet resting on her wrist, the silver and emeralds gleaming against her skin. Something tightened and then released in his chest as he felt her press closer.

"Thank you," she whispered, before gently turning his chair to face her. She cupped his face in her hands and leaned down, capturing his mouth in a kiss. It was slow and warm, filled with unspoken words, gratitude, and affection. Their kiss deepened, becoming hungrier and more urgent, as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his lap. The unsteady pulse between them spoke of more than he'd ever managed to say aloud.

Dimly, he noticed that she'd changed into a flimsy nighty and he was all the more glad for the way it allowed him to easily caress her thighs, to pull the small of her back tighter against him. He slid his hands over the silky material, kissing her harder, deeper, biting her lip, battling her tongue as he fisted a hand in her hair. His cock stirred to half mast as she pulled away and started dotting hot, wet kisses against his throat, her hands moving down, grabbing his dick in a firm, handsy grip and pulling in a delicious little tug that had him going full-mast.

He breathed heavy, tugging her by the hair so he could take her mouth again, but she surprised him by resisting. Instead, she climbed off his lap, looked him steadily in the eye as she slipped her nighty off, revealing herself in her full, naked glory. His mouth watered at the sight of her breasts, the way those tiny pink nipples are puckered and waiting to be sucked on, the way the elegant line of her waist dipped into a lovely little ass. He breathed harder, gaze darkening with infallible lust as he grabs the armrest of his chair, fully intending to propel himself up, to push her against the wall and dip his fingers in her pussy.

Yet again, she surprised him by quickly moving forward and pushing him down on the chair again by the forearms. "Not tonight," she whispered, confusing him, but then she unbuttoned his shirt, slipped it away and took off his belt in a swift, practiced motion before fondling his cock through the fabric of his slacks, making him forget every single thought he'd ever had. His head rolled back, savouring the pleasure as he helped her slip off his pants. He fully expected her to straddle his lap and ride his dick, so he was doubly caught off guard when she fell down to her knees. He watched, wide eyed, as she came face level with his dick, breathed harder than ever as she caught the length of him in her hands, then looked him in the eye as she put it in her mouth.

Every single cell in his body seemed to be focused on the wet, hotness of her mouth as she sucked at his head. "Fuck, Sakura," he managed, eyes closed, head thrown back in pleasure as she tentatively touched his balls and swirled her tongue around his head, tasting his pre-cum. He heaved as she released him with a wet pop, then explores the length of him with her hands, moving up and down in slow, sensual motions, building a kind of friction he never thought would please anyone, let alone him.

"Fuck," he said again, bucking off the chair, wanting for her to take him in her mouth again, and she seems to understand because she did. This time, she took as much of his length as she could in her mouth, holding the base with her hand, using her other one to play with his balls, driving him absolutely crazy with her fondling. Sasuke felt like a being of pure sensation, relishing the way she pulled him in and out of her mouth, sucking on him in short, slow strokes, using her tongue to tease his head until he felt like he might explode from the stimulation.

He found his hands catching her by the hair, clutchhing on for dear life as she continued doing absolute magic with her mouth, pushing him to the brink of an orgasm. But he didn't want to cum like that, no - so he pulled her by the hair, breathing heavy, feeling at a loss of words as her mouth released him. Eyes wide with uncertainty, she looked at him and he could see the fear building in her as she thought she might have pushed him too much, so he quickly said, "Ride me."

Then he reached down between her legs, testing her pussy for wetness with two fingers as she gasped. Satisfied with the slickness, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into his lap so that she was straddling him on the chair again. She was ready now as she positioned herself on his dick, then slowly sank her pussy onto his cock, making him grit his teeth. "Fuck," he said for the third time, voice strained as she ground her hips around his cock, her breasts hanging close to his face. Unable to resist, he grabbed one in his hand and squeezed, taking the other one in mis mouth, flicking his tongue on the aereola as she keened and tightened her pussy around him.

"Ahhhh," she moaned, head thrown back in pleasure as she finally started moving on him. She rode his dick like a cowgirl, building a steady rhythm as she grabbed him by the shoulders and propelled herself up and down, filling herself to the brim each time. He found his hips bucking upwards, his body responding to hers, his mouth working on her nipple, tongue lapping and his other hand moved up to her mouth. She keened wantonly as he slipped two fingers inside her mouth and sucked on them exactly like she'd sucked his dick moments before, driving him absolutely insane.

She sped up her rhythm now, ass slapping against his balls, squeezing her pussy around him until he pulled away his fingers and grabbed her by the waist, unable to take it anymore and bucked his hips so that they rammed into each other as speedily and violently as possible. His mouth opened in pure pleasure as they reached the right amount of friction and he enjoyed the view of her breasts bouncing along with the rhythm of her body. The pleasure in his body built up and the coil at the base of his belly turned tighter and tighter with each thrust, but he wanted more, more, more. So he grabbed her ass and guided her to move faster, tighter, making the whole rhythm absolutely feverish. She moaned with her head thrown back, nails digging into his shoulders as she anchored herself, turning slicker and slicker with each thrust until her pussy clammed around his dick in a tight, shuddering orgasm. He didn't let her ride it though - he grit his teeth, squeezing her ass for puchase and bucked harder, faster, propelling her into a sensually rapid motion that had the coil in his stomach finally releasing as his dick squirted its cum inside of her.

She fell into his arms, limp, naked and sweaty, breathing hard and burrowing her face in the crook of his neck. His dick was slowly going limp inside her and he could feel the cum slipping out as his own body went lax, skin still buzzing with undercurrents of pleasure.

The only thing he could think of as his mind became jelly was that he was never, ever going to be able to fully concentrate in his study again.

tbc

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