ANNOUNCEMENT:

Hi everyone! This fic is coming back! I am in the middle of an overhaul and one hell of a re-write. I'm not too far along yet, but I'm sooo happy with how it's coming along!

What does this mean?

It means that if you follow this story the next update you receive will look very different! I have taken down all existing chapters and will be replacing them! While the overall storyline will remain the same, the chapters have been refreshed and a lot of new content has been added. I would absolutely encourage you to re-read them!

Speaking of which, because I am doing such a major overhaul I'm going to post the next two chapters right away! Then, I hope to post regular updates.

I just need to polish off the third chapter so keep an eye out for that in the next few days!

Chapter One

"Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle."
- Jon Snow, A Game of Thrones

December 1510

Candlelight flickered. In the hearth, a fire cracked and popped as flames licked at the logs and spread warmth into the room.

Thick, lush fabrics and carpets decorated the room and dampened the chill, which seeped in from the stone walls and single-pane windows. Each piece was intricate, painstakingly woven, and boasted the wealth of the man who owned them.

The owner sat in an elegantly carved chair close to the fire, a goblet of wine in his hand. He drank deeply from the cup and relaxed further into the chair. Hiashi Hyuga, the Duke of Moon, had endured an eventful day.

Next to him sat his brother - his twin, born just minutes after him, rolling a grape between his fingers.

Between them on a small table was a platter of fresh fruits, cheeses, and a half-drunk pitcher of wine.

The two chatted absentmindedly, chuckling as they discussed the events of the day.

"Lady Hinata had quite a busy day," the younger brother mused, "It was certainly a birthday fit for Your Grace's daughter."

The Duke polished off his goblet and placed it down on the table. His brother refilled it.

"Ah, it was quite an event for a child of nine. I was happy to have her received by the King. When she is older, I would like her to become a lady-in-waiting to her majesty."

"The queen should be lucky to have someone so kind-hearted as Hinata in her service, my lord."

"Yes…" Hiashi trailed off and turned his attention to the fire, nursing his cup of wine before speaking again. "Hizashi, how is your son?"

"He is in good spirits, quite happy to have been in the presence of Your Grace's family for the Lady's birthday today."

Hiashi downed his wine and sat in silence, watching as Hizashi chewed on the grape he had been toying with absentmindedly. Realizing his brother's cup was empty, Hizashi reached for the pitcher to refill it. Hiashi held up his hand, and his brother halted, placing the pitcher back on the table.

"You are lucky, brother," Hiashi finally admitted.

"May I inquire as to how so, my lord?" Hizashi popped another grape into his mouth and chased it down with the last of his wine.

"You have a son."

Hizashi frowned. Yes, he did have a son, someone to pass his titles and lands to, someone to keep the Hyuuga name alive. But it had cost him his wife who had died days later, stricken with childbed fever.

"Hiashi, you and the Duchess are still young, there is plenty of time to have a son."

"Perhaps."

"There is. If the Father is willing, then the Mother will grant you a son."

"Yes," Hiashi tapped his fingers on the table. "I am just overthinking. Neji came so easily to you; I must admit I am envious."

"Surely-"Hizashi halted, mid-sentence, and looked across the apartment.

"You heard it too?"

Both men abruptly rose from their chairs, wood scraping across the stone. They rushed out of the room and towards Hinata's bed-chamber.

The door slammed open, and they met a cloaked figure halfway towards Hinata's bed, knife gripped in hand.

"Halt!" Hiashi's voice was stern and commanding. He drew his sword and held it out to the cloaked figure.

Hizashi drew his sword as well, pointing it at the intruder. The man spun around and backed up, growing closer to Hinata.

The twins advanced on him, but the intruder had anticipated this and used their advance to create enough space between the two men and the door.

The intruder dashed across the room and avoided slashes before slipping out the door. Hiashi ran after him. Hizashi turned and called out to a servant.

A young boy, no older than fourteen, appeared at his side, bowing low.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Keep guard over Lady Hinata, do not let anyone near her, understood, Kō?"

Kō bowed again.

"With my life, my lord."

Hizashi ran out of the room, following in his brother's footsteps. His elegant slippers scraped softly against the stone of the palace halls as he chased after his brother.

He heard the clash of metal and the grunt and groan of a man meeting his mortality. He ran further down the hall and found his brother standing over the dead intruder.

"Who was it?" Hizashi panted, coming to rest at his brother's side.

Hiashi bent over and pulled the hood off of the cloaked man.

The stocky jet black hair and strong jawline were that of an Uchiha.

Hizashi cursed and drew a cross across his chest. Tensions between the Hyuga and Uchiha had always existed. It was no secret that many Uchiha thought the King a pretender. However, much to everyone's relief, the Uchiha family lacked the resources needed to plot against the King successfully.

Without support to overthrow the King, his second-best option was marriage. And while Hiashi pined for a son, the Duke of Ryuchi wanted a daughter. One to marry the prince, and reclaim their place near the crown.

But Hiashi was a stern supporter and more senior advisor to the King than Fugaku Uchiha. The eventuality that Hiashi's daughter could become Queen was a genuine threat to the Uchiha family.

Whether the boy acted on his own or under the order of his uncle, Hizashi did not know.

He did know that his brother had killed the boy, and the Duke would demand justice.

And with no evidence besides their word, Hizashi realized the King would be inclined to side with the Uchiha family.

If the boy had died in their chambers, there would be no question, but in the dimly lit hall with no witnesses, the cards were not stacked in their favor.

"Your Grace," Hizashi whispered. When Hiashi did not respond, Hizashi repeated himself louder. The sounds of guards approaching reminded them of the urgency of their situation.

"Your Grace!" Said Hizashi, "Take my sword."

Hizashi pressed the sword into his brother's hand. The Duke's face was pale, and his fingers trembled as they wrapped around the pommel. Hizashi then pulled his brother's sword out of the boy's stomach. The thick blood clung eerily to the steel and glowed ominously in the candlelight.

The guards approached.

"Halt! In the name of the King!"

The twins looked up and found themselves quickly surrounded.

"Your Grace," said the captain, "what has happened here?"

Hiashi flicked his glance over to Hizashi. Whether it was to give his brother permission to speak or seek guidance, Hizashi wasn't sure, but he spoke up anyway.

"I killed the boy."

Hizashi was grabbed roughly by two guards, and he dropped the sword. It clattered loudly off of the stone floor.

"Sir," the captain's voice quivered, "that is a serious confession. What reason do you have to commit such a crime?"

"I heard an intruder in his grace's apartment. I should have just detained the boy, but I chased him out here and stabbed him. He was by the Lady Hinata's bed with a dagger drawn."

"And what proof do you have?"

Hizashi looked to his brother as if to say goodbye before glancing back at his interrogator.

"I have none but my word."

Hizashi was yanked backward by the guards as he said a silent goodbye to his brother for the last time.

January 1511

Kakashi clenched his fists. The cathedral was packed, but he suspected only a handful of mourners were genuinely affected by Obito's loss.

Murdered in cold blood, they said, but his killer was captured and locked away in the dungeon. The trial had been intense, two dukes demanding their version of justice. In the end, the judges had sided with Uchiha, and the next time Hizashi Hyuga would see the light of day would be on his march to the scaffold.

But Kakashi knew the truth, Obito would never have acted on his own. The Duke of Ryuchi had sent his kin on a suicide mission. Kakashi hated him.

Beside Kakashi sat Rin, his intended. She rested her hand gently on his forearm. The warmth of her skin on his softened his anger, and he relaxed his clenched fists.

Obito had been so excited to be invited to court and attend on his uncle. Kakashi had been skeptical and had no desire to see his friend leave.

But his engagement to Rin had left Obito sore and jealous. Kakashi couldn't blame him for wanting to go.

But none of them expected Obito would only return home to attend his funeral.

Kakashi laced his fingers into Rin's, and together they listened to the priest presiding over the funeral mass.

February 1511

"Sweetheart," the man's voice was slick with concern. "You should return to your mother. I do not know what possessed me to bring you here, but I have decided you should not stay."

His voice was barely audible over the crowds that had gathered on the prison grounds. A scaffold stood before them with a telltale block front and center.

The girl tightened her cloak around her and kept her eyes on the scaffold.

"But father," she said, "you promised to teach me the realities of our world."

"This, though..." He placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed tightly, and she winced. "This is too much."

"I don't want to be sheltered."

"You are not ready for this sweet Tenten."

Tenten frowned. She didn't understand the appeal of public executions, especially on such a frigid day, but she wanted to learn. Her parents had gone through great lengths to make sure she was educated just as well as any boy, and their efforts had given rise to her curious nature. She no longer felt content with books; she wanted to learn first hand.

While she understood the concept of execution, Tenten had yet to grasp the grim finality of death.

She pushed up onto her toes and peered through the crowds of people wondering if the Duke of Moon would be present to witness his brother's execution.

She found the rigid body of the Duke about fifteen feet away. Standing at his side was a boy who appeared to be her age. She couldn't see his face but felt an aura of sadness radiate off of him. Her stomach dropped with the realization that Hizashi's son was standing tall, waiting for his father to die.

The crowd erupted, and Tenten suspected that the prisoner had arrived. She craned her neck to see over the adults' shoulders and found the haggard features of Hizashi Hyuuga as the guards pushed him forward. He stumbled up the steps of the scaffolding. He stood behind the block and addressed the crowd when he regained his composure (though one could argue that he'd barely lost it at all).

"Good people of the Fire Kingdom!" His voice rose above the crowds, ringing brightly and subduing those who had gathered to watch. "I have come here today to die, as I have been rightfully judged to by His Majesty and the law. May the Father protect the King, as he is a kind and just ruler. I beseech you to offer your prayers unto me, as I am afraid in my hour of death. O Reconciler have mercy on me, for it is to you I commend my soul."

Hizashi blessed himself, and the crowd prayed with him, a handful offering their blessing to the man.

Hizashi then knelt behind the block.

"Tenten, we should leave."

"Father, please. I am fine."

Hizashi looked up at the executioner.

"Do you forgive me?" Asked the executioner.

"Yes."

Gently, Hizashi laid his head down upon the block.

The last thing Tenten saw was how Hizashi closed his eyes, face pale, and stretched out his arms, which shook with anxiety.

Tenten felt her arm yanked back as her father pulled her through the crowd. She could no longer see the scaffold or the boy. She heard the sickening sound of metal slicing through flesh and the heavy thunk as the ax sunk into the wood. The softer thunk his body falling away was swallowed up in the gasps and cheers and wails of the crowd.

Tenten tripped over her skirts as her father pulled her through the throngs of people. He gripped the fabric and pulled it up in her tiny fist, revealing mud-stained shoes. Her tights were stained as well. The maids would scold her, but she didn't care.

July 1512

Kakashi felt sick. His head throbbed, his chest ached, and his eyes watered.

"You should request that a priest attends to her."

Kakashi could not meet the eye of the physician without risking coming completely undone. He kept his fists clenched tightly to ground himself.

"Why can you not cure her?"

"I have done what I can. The Lady's fate is in the hands of the Father."

Kakashi slammed his fist on the table next to him.

"Fuck the Father!"

The doctor's mouth hung open as he quickly blessed himself.

"Cure her!"

"I am sorry, we still don't understand this sickness well enough. I have done what I can."

"Then, get out!"

"Yes, my lord."

The man bowed quickly and scurried out of the room, out of the house and into the street to make his way to his next patient.

Kakashi dropped back into the chair he'd been waiting in while the doctor attended to Rin.

The physician immediately instructed everyone in the household to stay as far away from Rin as possible, as the disease was extremely deadly and contagious. Kakashi had done his best to keep his distance while the doctor was there. But, if she was going to die, what did it matter if he did too?

The room was quiet around him, and a whimper came from behind the door to their bed-chamber.

He slammed his fists into the table again and screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Would someone find me a fucking priest?!"

A maid, who had come to check on him trembled in shock. She squeaked out a response, turned, and ran to appease his request.

Kakashi pushed himself up and made his way to the bed-chamber.

Rin was sickeningly pale. Splotches of blood bloomed across the sheets, a testament to the clumsy bleeding the doctor had administered.

She had been radiant and full of life only two days ago, a smile full on her lips and a twinkle in her eye.

Now a thin sheen of sweat covered her entire body. The sound of her struggling to breathe made him anxious. When she did look up at him, her eyes were dull and lifeless.

He sat on the edge of the bed and held her hand in his own, stroking it comfortingly. She seemed to relax under his touch and closed her eyes.

He didn't look when the priest entered the room to administer her last rights.

The familiar prayer to the Reconciler sat oddly in his ears, and he felt dizzy as he struggled to comprehend his reality.

Kakashi blessed himself and curled over his wife's hand, still grasped tightly in his own. The only sound he allowed to escape was the heavy sniffle as he relinquished himself into his tears and vowed that no woman would ever replace her.

February 1516

"There was only one survivor."

"His own family!"

"The Duke's son!"

Naruto strained his ears to listen to the whisperings in the hall.

"Your Highness," Irkua scolded.

"Yes, yes, I know. Pay attention."

Naruto looked back down at his studies; a map of the world lay before him. The two sat at a spacious table in one of the royal libraries. Books and a blank sheet surrounded them. Iruka had hidden all of the other maps from Naruto's prying eyes, knowing he would try and cheat.

Sunlight filtered through the thick glass of the windows, and Iruka was grateful that they didn't need to burn any candles.

Today's lesson was geography, and Naruto was to label the great Kingdoms and their Kings' names on the map.

He knew his own King and his own country, why he needed to know more he didn't know or care.

He tapped his quill against the paper and listened to the light way the tip scratched the parchment. He wrote the word "fire" and the name "Hiruzen Sarutobi" inside the outline of their country and abandoned the rest when he heard the whispering of court gossip. He'd heard the rumors, but he wasn't sure if any of them were right.

"Sir," he asked his professor, "What happened to the Duke of Ryuchi and his family?"

Iruka sighed. It was clear that Naruto would not finish his lesson today.

"If Your Grace had focused more on his history lessons, you might remember when I told you how our first king, King Hashirama, came to power. After many years of war and unrest, the King helped bring peace to our young country with the aid of his friend and closest advisor, His Grace Mandra, Duke of Ryuchi, and Lord High Steward to His Majesty."

Naruto's eyes began to glaze over, and Iruka snapped his fingers at the child, regaining his attention. It was a risky move; however, the little prince loved Iruka, and he was not concerned about the boy tattling on him.

"However, the Duke became resentful, and their friendship dissolved. There was a plot to overtake the throne. The Duke and his supporters were all arrested and convicted of high treason before being executed. There have been whisperings that some of his descendants still hold on to that same resentment. Last night, the Duke's son, Itachi, is said to have slain his entire family except for his younger brother, Sasuke."

Naruto gasped.

"Where is Itachi now?"

"Missing," said Iruka.

"Why did he do it?"

"No one knows."

"Does this mean that Sasuke will become the new Duke of Ryuchi?"

"Yes, your highness. And we shall address Sasuke as such."

"And how do you address a duke again?" Naruto scratched his head as if trying to recall a memory.

"You are to address him as your grace, highness."

"But aren't I sometimes called your grace?"

"Yes, but a Duke is also referred to the same way."

"But, I am a prince!"

"Which is why we also call you Your Highness."

"Is anyone allowed to call Sasuke your highness?"

"No, your grace, they are not."

"Good."

"Highness, we need to refocus on your studies."

"But you were technically teaching me history, Sir."

"Technically is quite the vocabulary for you, dear prince. Perhaps you have been listening."

"Do you think Sasuke would want to join my household?" Naruto mused. "As a gentleman of my bedchamber?"

"I am not sure, highness, but I do not see why he should oppose your most generous offer."

"Good. Now that Sasuke is alone, he will need companionship."

"Another big word, your grace."

Naruto grinned and laughed.

"Invite Sasuke to visit, and I shall offer him a position."

Iruka chuckled.

"As you wish."

March 16, 1516

Tenten grunted as she was yanked and jostled around the dressing room by her maid. The woman was dressing her, albeit rather roughly. Tenten's maid yanked her stockings up and helped her step into her shoes before securing her petticoats in place. A sapphire blue skirt was pulled over her head and synched at the waist.

Tenten instinctively fisted her arms in front of her for the maid to put on her kirtle. It was the same blue as her skirts. The piece was laced up the back and pulled tight, causing Tenten to gasp. The low cut square neckline allowed her cleavage to show, and the tightening of the laces pulled the piece closer to her, flattening her silhouette and pushing her breasts up. With each breath, they rose prominently, swelling over the collar.

Sleeves were tied on. They pressed tight against Tenten's biceps and fanned out at the elbow, dripping low to the floor.

Satisfied with the way the dress sat against Tenten's body, the maid began to brush her hair.

Tenten looked at her reflection in the mirror and marveled at the outfit she now wore. It was a birthday present from her parents, and she needed to look her best, as she was to be presented to the Queen today.

"May I wear my hair as I usually do?" She asked.

"No, my lady, her grace has requested you wear your hair more elegantly today."

Tenten frowned. "But I like my buns."

"It is not appropriate for a maiden, let alone one meeting the Queen, my lady."

Tenten sighed. At home, she could wear whatever she wanted. The only exception was when they entertained guests, and even then, Tenten was allowed more freedom.

She chose not to protest and allowed the woman to smooth her loose curls and weave a few small braids into her hair. A rounded hood of matching blue and trimmed with gold lace was pinned to her head, as was the fashion.

Next, she reached for a heavily jeweled necklace and fastened it around Tenten's neck. Matching earrings dangled from her earlobes. Lastly, a red rouge was spread across her lips and onto her cheeks.

On the morning of her sixteenth birthday, Tenten's mother had sat her down and explained that now she was old enough to start attracting men at court. Tenten knew this, but hearing the words from her mother's mouth made her anxious.

The door opened, and a man entered the room. Tenten turned and curtsied along with her maids. The man approached, and Tenten rose from her curtsy and smiled up at him.

"Father!" She spun around, showing off her dress. "How do I look?"

Her father smiled down at her, laughing lightly.

"All the ladies at court are sure to envy you."

Tenten bit back a self-deprecating comment and smiled.

"Thank you."

Her father held out his arm, and Tenten slipped her hand into the crook of her father's elbow.

"Now," he said, "your mother tells me you two need a moment alone before we head out."

Tenten wasn't sure what her mother wanted, but the vagueness her father used suggested it was something he would not approve of, which was not unusual. Her mother was bold, unabashed, and unashamed of her ideals and practices, protected only by her husband's love for her. Tenten's father was Marquess of Storms and Lord High Constable to the King. Those who wielded any power to force the Marchioness to remember her supposed standing in this life were few.

She was guided out of her room and to the main chamber of their palace apartment. Tenten's mother sat at the table, waiting.

"You look as beautiful as ever," she said as Tenten detached herself from her father's arm and sat down.

"Thank you, mother."

"I need to gather my notes for the council meeting," interrupted her father. Tenten felt his disapproving gaze on her mother, who met his gaze without so much as a flinch. "Keep it quick."

"Of course, my lord," she said with a smile and just a hint of sarcasm. The Marchioness tended to slip into a more formal speech when she disagreed with her husband.

He mumbled something about watching her tongue, laced with frustration and concern before retreating to their bedroom.

With her husband gone, the Marchioness of Storms softened her gaze, which Tenten met with an excited smile.

"What is today's lesson?"

"There is no lesson today, Tenten, just a decision."

Tenten furrowed her brows.

"A decision?"

"Yes."

"On what?"

"Your future."

Tenten looked down at the small box of carved wood that sat on the table between them.

"I'm not sure I-"

"Open it."

Her mother pushed it towards her, and Tenten lifted the lid. Glints of silver and pewter flashed before her. It was a pile of charms and trinkets. Tenten knew it well.

"Will we cast the charms today?" She asked.

"In a way," her mother's calm demeanor was tinged with excitement. "You will pick just one, though. This charm will be the most important one you ever cast, as today it will set the course of your future."

Tenten thought about what kind of future she wanted but try as she might, she couldn't envision what life on her own would look like as she peered into the box of charms. There were nearly 30 possibilities with endless possibilities.

"What do I need to know?"

"When you're ready, close the box and give it a good shake. Then, close your eyes, whisper a prayer to the Dreamer, and pick a charm."

Tenten nodded and followed her mother's instructions. The ring of metal on wood pinched her ears and rattled away at her confidence. The future always felt so final.

She set the box down and closed her eyes as she flipped up the lid and pressed her fingers into the mess of charms. Some were rough, some smooth, all cool to the touch. Something sleek and rounded fell between her fingers, and she pulled it out. She heard a snap and opened her eyes. Tenten's mother had closed the lid and withdrew the box. There was no turning back, no second picks, and no looking to see what she had missed.

The charm rolled into her palm, where the weight was light but sturdy, and she looked down as her fingers stretched out.

"A heart?" She was disappointed and knew that if her mother hadn't snatched away the box, she would have dug back in looking for a sign of adventure - like the little sword charm, that one was her favorite.

"A heart." She agreed.

"But," Tenten frowned, "love is so… cliche…"

"It was your choice, Tenten."

"But, I wanted something exciting!" She put the charm down on the table. "An adventure, a new way of life, not the same thing every other woman pines for!"

"Love is an adventure, Tenten."

"Another cliche."

"Only because you've not yet experienced it yourself." She felt her mother's gaze on her and looked up to meet it. "Tenten, most love is not a story from a fairy tale where a daring prince swoops in to rescue a maiden from a tower; it's so much more complicated than that. I had hoped that you would know that from seeing your father and me."

"But to have this on the day, I'm to be presented to the Queen? I know that father arranged this to secure a good marriage and-"

"Marriage and love are not the same, Tenten, not in our positions anyway. You should be happy to know that you will experience love in place of politics."

"As if you'd let father agree to a marriage of political convenience anyway."

"My influence only goes so far. I have a hand in decisions with your father, yes, but if the decision is up to the King…"

"I know."

Tenten felt the warmth of her mother's hand on her own in a gesture of comfort and strength before taking the small silver heart and inspected it.

The charm was old and tarnished. Tenten's mother polished it with a napkin that had been left on the table and strung it on a long silver chain.

"Wear it on you like a protection charm. Always." She handed it back, and Tenten draped it over her head and tucked it into her dress. It was cold against her sternum, and when they rose from their chairs to leave, Tenten could feel it tap against her with an even and steady rhythm.

Some subjects seldom crossed Tenten's mind, and love was at the bottom of that list. Tenten swallowed her displeasure and let her father lead them from their apartment and through the twists and turns of the palace. Down these stairs, and then up those. Go down the hall, take a left, and then a right. Double back again. Her head spun. How was she supposed to navigate this maze on her own?

Eventually, they arrived at a set of ornate double doors that stretched to the ceiling. They towered over the guards, and as they swung open, even the hinges seemed to hiss an impending finality at her.

Hiashi hated waiting. It was the worst part of the council meetings. As President of the Council, and practical man, Hiashi expected the meetings to start on time, maybe even a little early. But councils were often made-up of self-inflated lords used to being in charge. And while this council was better, but not perfect, and Hiashi resisted the urge to drum his fingers on the table as the last members drifted into the King's privy chamber.

King Hiruzen was punctual, at least, a trait that came with age. Nara and Inuzuka were the worst. But Danzo Shimura was a runner up. As Lord Steward, the only man who outranked him was the King himself. Danzo was not late so often as to be considered generally tardy. When he was late, there was a reason inflated with his sense of superiority. The King never questioned his steward.

But today, the last person to take their seat was the Lord High Constable, Hiroto Moriyama. Hiashi liked Moriyama. He was practical, quiet, and punctual.

"My apologies, Lords," he sighed as he sat in his chair, "I was presenting the Marchioness and my daughter to Her Majesty."

"No apology needed," said Hiruzen, "My dear wife enjoys conversation. It is quite easy to lose an afternoon in her presence."

"Thank you, majesty."

Hiashi cleared his throat.

"Now, my lords, with your majesty's permission, I would like to begin."

"Granted."

"Thank you, sir. Now, what news have we to report?"

"The faith recently appointed a new high priest," said Shikaku. "As we lack one here, I have begun preparations to bring him to court."

"Good." Hiashi then addressed each Lord, starting with Danzo and ending with Shibi Aburame, the Lord High Admiral.

The news of the kingdom changed little these days. While there were some happenings, nothing compared to the aftermath still surrounding the death of Fugaku Uchiha and his wife.

Uchiha's seat sat empty on the other side of the table. Moiyama and Yamanaka had sat on either side of the Lord Privy Seal and had offered a calm balance to the often argumentative man. How he had managed to have a title of such honor disgusted Hiashi.

"What news do we have of his son?"

Hiroto cleared his throat.

"Nothing much yet, sir. We have a few leads, but the boy seems to have vanished."

"Keep looking then,"

"Of course."

Hiashi had only as much interest in bringing Fugaku's son to justice, as was required by his title.

"Now, I presume we will be granting his son the title of Duke?"

"It is his title to inherit," said Shikaku, the Lord High Chancellor.

"Of course," Hiashi paused. It was the right time for his proposition. And while he had carefully planned out what he'd wanted to say and how he'd go about saying it, he found himself running through his speech one last time. "Would his majesty prefer a ceremony or a private appointment?"

The King pondered for a moment, stroking his beard.

"The Uchiha family has been shaken to its very core. Sasuke is young, and others may try to stake a claim on his title. To avoid strife, as those Uchihas always seem to attract, he should have a proper ceremony. If not for his reassurance, then to show the realm that the crown has his back."

The council murmured their approval, and Hiashi made his move.

"I would be honored if his majesty would consider my nephew worthy of a title."

Hiashi heard Danzo scoff.

"You seek to use your position to so blatantly elevate your family? At least Uchiha had tact."

"Uchiha," Hiashi grit his teeth, "ordered the kidnapping of my daughter. And my brother died for it."

"That is quite the accusation. What proof do you have?" Danzo sneered at him.

Hiroto spoke up.

"It was the Duke's nephew who attempted. And with the Duke gone, I think we can speak plainly. Each family had a loss and-"

"Now is not the time to pretend at justice, Moriyama," Hiashi hissed. "You know as well as I did that my brother died to prevent more violence. While he was to inherit my title, I now have my children, and Neji should not have to suffer-"

"You would let a daughter take your name?" Quipped Danzo.

"I have yet to decide, my Lord. And there is still the chance that the duchess will bear me a son. Neji is getting too old to be my ward. He deserves more than this."

"And when your wife leaves you with two daughters, he can snatch up a second title?"

"Enough, Shimura," said the King. "I would hear more from the duke."

"Your grace is too kind," said Hiashi. "There is a small plot of land, east of the Storms. The Earl died with no heir two years ago, and his assets were returned to the crown, as your Lord Treasurer can confirm."

"I will need to look back through your majesty's accounts, but that sounds correct," said Inoichi.

"If your majesty's accounts reflect this," said Hiashi, "he will need to appoint a new Earl of Birds."

NOTES: There's going to be quite a bit going on in this fic so make sure you check the bottom for some notes. Today I will talk about the faith. When I had originally written this it was going to be straight up medieval England (aka, Christianity), but I didn't like it so I kind of pulled up some archetypes and made my own faith. I don't know what it's called yet, but it does take a tiny bit of inspiration from A Song of Ice and Fire in the sense that there are "old" Gods who were cast away as the church gained more power. These Gods and Goddesses are called "The Forgotten." Very few people pray to them, and those that do are often considered heretics. Some of The Forgotten will be brought up in jest or insult but people typically only pray to The Revered. The Revered are the Gods and Goddesses that the church chose to embrace. Here are the 12 deities of this world as well as a basic outline of their roles:

The Revered

The Father: God of final authority, divine justice, and the sun.

The Mother: Goddess of fertility, mothering, childbirth, peace, and the moon.

The Warrior: God of courage and strength. The hero.

The Maiden: Goddess of innocence, youth, beauty, and love.

The Hermit: God of wisdom and the priests. A High Priest's robe is black with a star emblem that represents the guiding light of the Hermit's lantern.

The Reconciler: God of judgement and death. When you are dying you pray to the Reconciler for your sins to be judged fairly.

The Forgotten:

The Dreamer: Mothers will often tell children to ask this Goddess for sweet dreams. Before she was marked as a Forgotten, the Dreamer was the Goddess of magic, witchcraft, and intuition. Witches revere her as their main deity.

The Seeker: God that helps you find your way when you're lost, or if you've lost an item. Some men who have angered the Father may have to offer their prayers to the Seeker instead, in hopes he would deliver them to the Father.

The Mender: The Goddess of healing and medicine. Physicians left her behind in favor of a more scientific based approached in healing.

The Crone: Goddess of wisdom and priestesses. Priestesses have little to no authority in the faith, and are expected to take their wisdom from the Hermit. A few women will offer their prayers to the crone in secret.

The Siren: Goddess of temptation and seduction. The devil, in this story, is a woman.