credit for the idea goes to tumblr user vzvmaki, who'd outlined most of this idea, I just gave it the meat and bones.

He was perhaps one of the most handsome princes to have ever graced the kingdom of Konoha – and yet, that wasn't what interested her. It was the talk of his wit, of his cunning brain that lead the kingdom of Konoha through many trials, emerging victorious after wars, famine, and uprisings – all due to his brain.

But then tragedy struck, the neighboring kingdoms of Edo Tensei had heard wind of his intellect. They inflicted the most vile of curses! The prince – Shikamaru, or some stupid name like that – was snatched away, brought deep into their territory guarded by dragons and soldiers, placed under a deep sleep that he could not awaken from, on his own.

The kingdom of Konoha had wept – wept tears for their lost prince, as they began to fall apart. They had sent for help: at first legions, who were reduced to almost nothing, often but a sole survivor returning to the kingdom as a bearer of grim news. Then it was a squad, but they too were wiped out. And then it became solitary warriors, who fought bravely but even they fell to the great monsters who guarded the prince.

The kingdom of Konoha grew desperate and turned to its allied kingdom – Suna – of which they could not spare any warriors. But princess Temari, brother of King Gaara, who had heard the fables of such the prince long before they had requested help, had pleaded to her brother that she would go rescue him.

Or so the story goes.

Because in reality, as soon as Princess Temari heard of Prince Shikamatu's (or whatever his name was) capture, she had hopped on a horse and fled without permission. As soon as they found her to be missing, King Gaara had given them all an evil eye as they readied their mounts, saying that Princess Temari was no girl – for she was a warrior, and if anyone were to rescue the lost prince, it would be her.

So she cut through another vile monster's throat, its head falling to the side limp and lifeless. With one wicked swoop, she swatted the body away and out of her horse's path. Her fan dripped of blood – no way to discern which beast it belonged to as she had slayed many along the way. She kicked the sides of her horse but truth be told it was unnecessary, for even the horse had felt Princess Temari's power, and instantaneously began to move for it feared it would be next to face her wrath.

And so she rode forth, facing hordes of Edo Tensei's soldiers, past vile creatures and deadly spells, deflected with her one trusty weapon: her fan. It served as a shield, stopping the spraying blood from soiling her robes, cutting through her enemies like butter as she stormed through the kingdom, leaving bodies at her wake. News had reached the heart of Edo Tensei as soldiers stopped appearing. Now she was left to face senseless creatures. Senseless, amoral, violent creatures.

But they too proved to be not a challenge to the fearsome Princess, as the dragons spat their molten fire it only slid off the magicked ridges of her fan – her fan that was secretly embedded with the most peculiar magic. As she took confident steps forward, the vile reptiles continued to spray her – their brains too small to realize what she could do. And with one clean swipe, she took another head off, the creatures falling one by one.

The tower was in sight.

The vines snaking up the solid rock looked climbable, but Temari whipped out her fan, for you see, it had more than just battle properties. She laid her fan – three times her size – down horizontally, and as she let go, the fan hovered in place. When she sat on it, it barely dipped, and with a gentle kick it rose – flying higher and higher – reaching the window that the vines probably intended her to climb up to, but she wasn't one for conventional fairytales, really.

And into the window she flew, the fan not quite fitting at the end of the day (at least horizontally) so she leapt off her partner before grabbing its end and sheathing it. The room was small, some books, a chess set, and a bed. A bed with its curtains drawn shut and, from the setting sun, a figure – just beyond the veil – the silhouette dancing like shadows from behind the muted white.

She pulled back the curtain.

There he was. And they did not lie. He had spiky hair and a pointed chin, a chiseled face, eyes drawn shut. He looked like he was sleeping, his breathing slow, yet steady. He was beautiful, for a lack of a better word, and she was almost content to stare at him – just to watch him sleep, because there was something peaceful in the way his chest rose and fell, how he had life (quite unlike the soldiers of this strange kingdom), how his skin was fair and how his hands twitched in his sleep.

The princess narrowed her eyes. She knew the drill of these kinds of tales – lean in, give a kiss, get married.

But Princess Temari?

Oh, she really did not like conventional fairytales.

So she slapped him, instead.

His eyes shot open.

"What the hell was that for?!"

"You were awake the whole time, weren't you, you piece of shit-"

The Prince, Prince Shikamappu, would have never gone willingly. Princess Temari had heard enough from the neighboring kingdom, that Shikamaptu was too smart to go willingly – so she knew something was up. When she saw him, she knew.

"Ugh, just when I could get away from Konoha, you just had to-"

She slapped him again.

"- WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!"

"Get the fuck up because I'm getting you home," Princess Temari snarled, but she took matters in her own hands and yanked the Prince out of his bed. He rather unceremoniously fell out of his bed, cursing as he bumped painfully onto the stone ground. Princess Temari stared him down as he picked himself up, rubbing his head, probably wondering of all people why her, Princess of Suna.

Because her stupid brother was going to make her marry him, anyway.

"Come on, Shikappaku."

He groaned as he rolled his shoulders back. "It's Shikamaru."

"It's gonna be fucker unless you stop talking and start moving," she hissed back as she prodded him with her fan. The prince yawned and stretched, somehow not bothered by her – that was a first for the Princess – before he lazed his way to the window.

"Troublesome woman."

"What did you just say?" She snarled, and before he could respond she shoved him halfway out the window – but before he could fall she threw out her fan. Ever the humble servant, the fan spread and caught the Prince, before she dumped the rest of him onto the awaiting ridges and hopping on. With one leg she pushed off the stone walls, departing back into the sunset.

"Are you kidnapping me?"

"Didn't I tell you to stop talking?!"

Not one for a conventional fairytale, indeed.