Chapter Text
In a kingdom veiled by ancient forests and whispered legends, Princess Hinata Hyuga gazed out her chamber window, her midnight blue hair cascading like a river of starlight down her porcelain shoulders. Her maid and dearest friend, Sakura Haruno, braided strands of jasmine into Hinata’s hair, their laughter soft as wind chimes.
Yet shadows lingered beyond the castle walls. Queen Kaguya Otsutsuki, her stepmother, stood before her enchanted mirror, its surface swirling like molten silver. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall,” she hissed, “who is the fairest of them all?” For years, the mirror had echoed her name—but today, as Hinata turned eighteen, it whispered, “Hinata Hyuga is the fairest of them all.” Kaguya’s scream cracked the silence of the throne room.
By nightfall, Sasuke Uchiha, the queen’s shadow-cloaked assassin, slipped into Hinata’s chambers, blade glinting. Sakura, his girlfriend, flung herself between them, emerald eyes blazing. “Don’t do this!” she pleaded, her voice trembling. Sasuke’s obsidian gaze hardened. “Orders are orders,” he replied, cold as winter steel, yet his hand hesitated. Memories flickered: Hinata tending to Sakura’s wounds when she's injured during cooking, offering him water when the queen denied him rest.
In the moonlit woods, he lowered his sword. “Run,” he commanded, voice rough with unspoken regret. “Never return.”
Hinata fled, her slippers tearing on roots until a cottage emerged, its timber bones groaning under ivy.
Inside, dust danced in shafts of moonlight, ten beds strewn with black cloaks and red clouds printed all over, and discarded weapons. She swept ashes from the hearth, scrubbed floors stained with ink and blood, and collapsed onto the nearest bed, exhaustion claiming her.
She awoke to a chorus of voices. Ten figures loomed—Pain’s piercing gaze, Konan’s paper flowers rustling, Kakuzu’s coins clinking, Hidan’s jagged grin, Sasori’s puppet limbs creaking, Deidara’s clay humming, Itachi’s Sharingan swirling, Kisame’s shark-like smirk, Orochimaru’s serpentine tilt, and Tobi, masked and bouncing on his heels. “Who are you, snoozing on my bed?!” Tobi chirped, tilting his head. Hinata stammered her tale, knees trembling. Itachi stepped forward, crimson eyes narrowing. “Sasuke spared you… why?” Hinata met his stare. “He… he remembered kindness.” Kisame chuckled. “Brotherly bonds run deep, eh, Itachi?”
Konan crossed her arms, exchanging a glance with Hinata. “Well we are mercenaries, not maids. I can’t clean and plan raids.” Hinata grabbed the opportunity that Konan gave her and clasped her hands. “Let me stay then. I’ll tend to this place—no pay needed.” Sasori sighed. “A vote, then.” Kakuzu nodded, "I can't say no to free service." Hidan leered. “She’s prettier than your dusty puppets, Sasori!” Tobi swatted him. “Respect the princess!” Orochimaru’s tongue flicked. “How… entertaining.”
Days bled into weeks. Hinata mended cloaks, hummed lullabies while scrubbing, and bandaged Hidan’s self-inflicted “sacrifices.”
One twilight, as she scrubbed Akatsuki robes by a river, she sang—sunshine wrapped in silk.
Prince Naruto Namikaze stood there, blond hair haloed by sunset, sapphire eyes wide. Hinata froze, the Akatsuki’s warnings echoing: “Trust no one but us.” Yet Naruto’s grin disarmed her. “I’m here to treaty with Queen Kaguya, but… I’d rather talk to you.” She turned away, cheeks blazing. “You shouldn’t be here.”
He returned daily, undeterred, leaving wildflowers by the riverbank. Meanwhile, Sasuke’s defiance unraveled Kaguya’s patience. Her mirror showed Hinata's location but fuzzy due to the Akatsuki's magic shielding her. “You let her get away?!"
"She tricked me, said she's answering nature's call then she was gone." Sasuke answered emotionlessly.
"Find her!" she had spat to Sasuke. “End this.”
But in the cottage, laughter now mingled with sword sharpening. Hinata’s kindness had seeped into the Akatsuki’s cracks—Tobi’s jokes gentler, Itachi’s brooding softened by her quiet resilience. And as Naruto’s visits deepened, Hinata’s heart, guarded yet curious, began to wonder if a prince’s promise could outshine a queen’s wrath.
*~*
Naruto’s visits became a secret rhythm in Hinata’s fractured world, their meetings tucked into the amber glow of twilight where the forest blurred into soft shadows. He never asked why she flinched at the mention of Queen Kaguya, or why her fingers trembled whenever he pressed about her past.
“Snow White,” she’d murmur when he prodded, the lie smooth as silk on her tongue, a name borrowed from a a passing comment when Sakura commented on her fair skin. He’d squint, sunlight catching the whisker-like scars on his cheeks, and laugh.
“You expect me to believe that’s your real name?” But he let it go, lured by the way her laughter bloomed like wildflowers when he recounted his clumsiest royal blunders—tripping over ceremonial robes, accidentally releasing doves meant for a treaty signing.
Their conversations spiraled into confessions. Naruto spoke of the weight of his crown, the hollow ache of growing up without parents, his father King Minato buried in scrolls and diplomacy while Naruto trained until his hands bled. His mother, Queen Kushina, is down with a mysterious fever and only Kaguya has the potion since she's known to practice sorcery. But Kaguya drives a hard demand for the peace treaty which Naruto didn't share and Hinata also didn't want to pry.
“They say I’ve got to be strong enough to protect everyone,” he muttered one evening, head resting tentatively on her lap as she sat cross-legged by the river.
Hinata’s fingers drifted through his hair, golden strands slipping like sunlight between her knuckles. “But who protects you?” she whispered. He didn’t answer, just closed his eyes, his breath steadying as her touch unraveled knots he hadn’t named.
Days bled into weeks. The Akatsuki noticed nothing—or chose not to. Konan smirked when Hinata returned with grass stains on her knees; Kisame ribbed her about “forest strolls,” but Itachi’s silence was a blade unsheathed. She avoided his gaze, guilt curdling in her chest. They’d kill him if they knew, she thought, scrubbing blood from Hidan’s scythe with renewed fervor.
Naruto’s patience frayed as the treaty stalled. “Kaguya’s toying with my father,” he grumbled, kicking a pebble into the river. Hinata’s pulse spiked at the queen’s name. “Why… why does it take so long?” she asked, voice feather-light. He shrugged, but his jaw tightened. “She wants something. Power, probably. Always more.” Hinata’s nails dug into her palms. Run, Sasuke’s voice echoed. Never return.
Then came the night of the full moon. Naruto arrived quieter than usual, his usual grin subdued. They sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the riverbank, the water shimmering like liquid silver. “You’re hiding something,” he said suddenly, turning to her. Her breath hitched. “Aren’t we all?” she deflected, but he cupped her face, calloused thumbs brushing her cheeks. “Not like this.”
The kiss began as a question—his lips tentative against hers, a spark igniting in the space between heartbeats. Hinata froze, every fairy tale warning screaming in her head, but then his hand slid to her waist, anchoring her, and she melted. His mouth was warm, insistent, and when his tongue traced the seam of her lips, she gasped, yielding to him instinctively.
Naruto groaned, fingers tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss, his other hand roaming down her spine, over the curve of her hip, squeezing gently. A sound escaped her—half whimper, half sigh—drowned by the hungry slide of his tongue against hers.
She’d never imagined this: the heat pooling low in her stomach, the way her body arched into his touch like a bowstring drawn taut.
His thumb brushed the side of her breast, and she jerked back, cheeks blazing. “I—I’m sorry,” he stammered, eyes wide. But she shook her head, fingers trembling as they grazed his bottom lip. “Don’t stop,” she breathed.
They didn’t.
When she returned to the cottage at dawn, her lips still swollen, Itachi was waiting. “You reek of recklessness,” he said coldly. She straightened, midnight blue hair tousled, moonlight clinging to her skin like a confession. “I don’t know what you mean.” His Sharingan flickered, but he said nothing.
Naruto, meanwhile, traced the ghost of her touch on his lips, unaware that the princess he’d kissed in the shadows was the same one Kaguya’s hunters now stalked. The treaty’s collapse loomed, and in the woods, two hearts beat out of sync—one sworn to a crown, the other to survival, both dancing on the edge of a blade.
*~*
The air hung thick with honeysuckle and longing as Naruto’s fingers traced the curve of Hinata’s collarbone, his lips trailing fire down her throat. They’d met in the ruins of an old shrine deep in the woods, moss cushioning their recklessness.
“Snow White,” he murmured against her skin, the nickname now a sacred incantation, “you’re… you’re everything.” His hands trembled as he untied the sash of her dress, fabric pooling like twilight around her ankles.
She should’ve stopped him—should’ve remembered the Akatsuki’s warnings, the way Itachi’s eyes dissected her lies—but Naruto’s desperation mirrored her own. His calloused palms slid up her thighs, her breath hitching as he whispered, “I’ve never… felt like this before.”
Neither had she.
When he entered her, it was with a reverence that shattered her, his thrusts clumsy but earnest, her legs locking around his hips as if she could fuse their fractured worlds. “Snow,” he gasped, her porcelain skin glowing like moonlight under his touch, flawless and unmarred, no scars to explain or hide.
She arched into him, her whimpers swallowed by his kisses, her body trembling as pleasure coiled tight. Afterwards, he cradled her, tracing the slope of her shoulder, her skin smooth as spun sugar, and she almost told him.
Almost.
*~*
The cottage loomed, its windows glowing like predator eyes. Hinata adjusted her crumpled dress, Naruto’s scent still clinging to her skin. Inside, ten shadows waited. All of them. Pain sat at the head of the splintered table, Itachi at his right, crimson eyes unblinking. “Sit,” Pain commanded, voice devoid of its usual detachment. Tobi fidgeted, mask tilted in mock concern, while Deidara picked at clay explosives, unimpressed.
“You’ve been reckless,” Itachi began, cutting through the silence like a blade. “The prince is Kaguya’s pawn.”
Hinata lifted her chin. “I’m a princess. I don’t need your permission—”
“Princess of what?” Konan snapped, paper wings rustling. “A throne you fled? A life you’re throwing away for a boy who lied?”
“Naruto wouldn’t—”
“Wouldn’t?” Orochimaru’s tongue slithered over the word. “Men like him… take what they want. Even snakes know that.”
Tobi clutched his chest. “Deidara-chan! Our sweet daughter’s been corrupted by love! So tragic, yeah!”
Deidara rolled his eyes. “Listen, Snowflake—dudes with fancy titles? They’ll stick their dick in anything that blushes. Especially artless ones like you, hm.”
Hinata’s fists slammed the table. “He’s different!”
Hidan leaned back, grinning. “Oh, I’d bang you too if you weren’t so… pure. But that’s the thing—he’ll toss you once he’s bored. Right, Kakuzu?”
Kakuzu grunted, counting coins. “Waste of time. Money lasts longer.”
“You’re all wrong!” Hinata’s voice cracked. “Since when do assassins play parents?!"
Kisame’s shark-like smile didn’t reach his eyes. “We don’t. But you’re a... variable. Sasuke’s been trailing the prince. Did you know?”
Ice flooded her veins. Sasuke. Itachi’s brother, Kaguya’s blade.
“He’s close to uncovering you,” Itachi said coldly. “And when he does, I can convince him but you think Kaguya will stop there? The queen won’t send an assassin next time. She’ll send an army.”
Sasori’s puppet joints creaked as he stood. “There’s more.” His voice was quiet, lethal. “The treaty delays? Your prince is to wed Kaguya’s niece. Princess Shion. The betrothal was sealed weeks ago.”
The room tilted. Hinata’s knees buckled. No.
Naruto’s laughter as he braided flowers into her hair, his promises against her ear—You’re the only one, Snow, I swear—crumbled to ash.
“He… he didn’t tell you, did he?” Konan’s gaze softened, just for a heartbeat.
Tobi fake-sobbed. “Men are pigs, yeah! Even blond ones!”
Hidan snorted. “Told ya. Should’ve picked me.”
Itachi rose, looming over her. “You will end this. Or we will.”
She fled to her room, their voices chasing her—Orochimaru’s dry chuckle, Kisame’s sigh, Pain’s final decree: “Choose wisely, princess. Hearts are lighter than kingdoms.”
Alone, Hinata pressed her palms to her face, the ghost of Naruto’s touch still burning her flawless skin. Outside, storm clouds swallowed the moon, and far away, Sasuke Uchiha sharpened his sword, a single name etched in his mind—Hinata Hyuga—as the queen’s mirror pulsed with venomous light.
*~*
The forest clearing echoed with the clang of steel as Sasuke parried Naruto’s strike, their blades locking in a spray of sparks. “Still sloppy, prince,” Sasuke muttered, though his usual venom lacked its bite. For five days now, Queen Kaguya had shackled him to this golden-haired nuisance—a prince who whistled while sharpening swords and laughed at his own terrible jokes. Worse, Naruto’s constant shadowing meant Hinata’s absence festered like an untreated wound.
They collapsed against a mossy boulder after the fifth round, sweat gluing Naruto’s shirt to his chest. “Why’d they stick you with me anyway?” Naruto asked, tossing Sasuke a waterskin. “Thought assassins had better things to do than babysit.”
Sasuke’s jaw tightened. “Ask your precious queen.”
“My queen? She’s your boss.”
“She’s a witch,” Sasuke snapped, sharper than intended. Naruto’s grin faded, and for a heartbeat, Sasuke saw it—the prince’s loneliness, raw and familiar.
Days bled into a rhythm: dawn spars, midday patrols, Naruto’s relentless chatter about trivialities—the shape of clouds, the sweetness of stolen persimmons. Slowly, grudgingly, Sasuke found himself answering. Not truths, but fragments. The ache of his slaughtered clan. Sakura’s stubborn kindness. Once, after too much sake pilfered from the castle cellars, Naruto slurred, “D’you ever meet someone who… who makes the world feel quiet?”
Sasuke’s cup froze midway to his lips.
The confession came weeks later, under a crescent moon. They sat atop the castle’s eastern tower, Naruto’s legs dangling over the edge. “There’s a girl,” he began, voice uncharacteristically soft. “Calls herself Snow White. Midnight blue hair till her waist, lavender eyes.”
Sasuke’s fingers twitched against his sword hilt.
“You know everyone in this kingdom,” Naruto pressed. “Ever heard of her?”
Run, Sasuke’s mind screamed. Lie. But Naruto’s gaze held him—open, trusting, stupidly earnest. “Her name,” Sasuke forced out, “is Hinata Hyuga.”
Naruto went very still. “Hyuga. As in the princess Kaguya wants dead?”
Sasuke’s nod was a blade between them.
“You were sent to kill her.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?”
The truth clawed up his throat. “Sakura… her maid. She’d have mourned Hinata forever.”
Naruto studied him, then murmured, “Thank you.”
“Don’t.” Sasuke’s voice turned brittle. “Kaguya still has me spying on you. If she learns you’re with Hinata—”
“You’d report it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it doesn't matter. The mirror,” Sasuke hissed. “It still declares her the fairest. Kaguya knows she’s alive. If she discovers you’re hiding her—”
Naruto stood abruptly, the wind tousling his hair. “You think I don’t know the risks? That I’d let her—”
“Does she know?” Sasuke interrupted, cold as winter. “About your betrothal to Shion?”
Silence.
Naruto’s shoulders slumped. “No.”
Sasuke’s laugh was hollow. “You’re a coward idiot prince.”
The prince didn’t deny it. Below them, the castle gates creaked open—Kaguya’s midnight procession spilling into the woods, torches flickering like hungry tongues. Sasuke gripped his sword, dread coiling in his gut.
Far away, Hinata sat alone in the Akatsuki’s cottage, her fingers clenched around the edge of a wooden bowl she’d been scrubbing raw. No tears fell. She’d wept them all days ago, when the truth had shattered her.
Princess Shion.
Naruto’s silence cut deeper than Kaguya’s knives ever could. Outside, Pain and Konan argued in hushed tones about patrol routes, Itachi’s gaze lingering on the horizon. Hinata stared at her reflection in the water basin—porcelain skin flawless, lavender eyes hollow. She wasn’t waiting anymore.
Love, she decided, was a fairy tale for girls who hadn’t met princes.