NB: Alternate Universe (AU)

Dedicated to megamac1296

Inspired by Game of Thrones (Television Series)

Game of Woes

…

A few hundred metres along Konoha Avenue Tenten drew her Chevrolet Impala to a halt, depressed a remote modem, and waited as a set of double, ornate black wrought-iron gates slid smoothly aside.

It felt good to be home after a long and tiresome day on the job. Being the instructor of the only dōjō in the city meant that fanatics of the arts—of all ages—held some kind of membership at her establishment. It also meant she earned a sizeable income, owing to the fact that she had no competitors. But perhaps the most notable thing about her job was its labour-intensiveness.

Each session left her feeling even more like a broken power circuit, just leaking electricity.

Tenten slid her car to a halt behind another.

A sleek, black Jaguar F-Type Coupe. If the sportiness didn't already give a clue who owned the vehicle then the license plate was a clear indicator. It read "Raven". Similarly hers had the word "Panda" engraved on it. The white Hyundai Sonata parked at the front of the queue however, carried a non-customized plate. It was primarily used to commute their entire family across town or to wherever they were travelling together.

They weren't exactly what one would call filthy, stinking rich but they enjoyed a comfortable life.

She snatched up her gym bag from the passenger seat, slipped out from behind the wheel, and then made her way up the pathway leading to the front door.

The last of the afternoon sun fell on the doorstep in wispy bands of softly glowing colours from the palest amber pink to deepest flaming red. There was no heat in any of the rays though for every breathe Tenten took was visible cloud before her.

Winter was fading in like a softly sung hymn, she noted. The cold air caressed her skin, stealing all the colour and warmth. Winter was coming and she had a feeling it would be the coldest one in any years.

She felt a shiver go through her. Nothing burned like the cold.

Whispers between the leaves of a nearby tree filled the evening—whispers and the jingle of her keys in the lock.

Quite impatiently Tenten pushed the door open against the tide of objects that littered the floor on the other side.

She stared and frowned.

It looked as if a daycare centre had blown up and strewed bits of itself down the hall, all over the living room then made its haphazard way up the stairs.

Just behind her, the wind caught the door and slammed it shut. Tenten flinched from the loud noise but noted in surprise that no one came rushing out to see who it was—as they had a habit of doing, especially Uchito.

She pursed her lips and picked her way across the space on tiptoe, trying not to step on his toys or Reika's art work. She'd never hear the end of it.

Tenten almost rolled her eyes at the irony.

Occasional cushions surfaced, obviously thrown from the sofas during some wild goose chase of a game. There were bits of cereal, tiny triangles of construction paper, legos, crayons and building blocks scattered all about the floor.

The place wasn't just a mess, it was a disaster zone. And it was like this every evening.

Sasuke simply could not keep their hyperactive, little brat under control. Try as he might, he couldn't even get Uchito to clean up after himself. But when Sasuke didn't pick up after his own self, Tenten supposed she understood their son's negligence.

Children led by examples after all and clearly he wasn't a very good one.

She gritted her teeth in annoyance and followed a trail of soft white fibre that led to the kitchen. If in there was a mess she wouldn't be preparing supper until the culprits have cleaned every last inch of it, Tenten swore.

Really, how could Sasuke be at home and allow the house to get to this state? She groaned and wiped her hands on her jeans before she sought out the light switch. It flickered on, illuminating the kitchen.

She was about to breathe a sigh of relief when she saw the pristine granite counters and uncluttered ceramic tiles but couldn't. The trail came to a halt before the refrigerator. And in front of it sat her baby, surrounded by cotton and cradling the decapitated body of his favourite Teddy Bear.

The head, Tenten registered in horror, was suspended from a wooden spike—vertically aligned—at the top of the appliance.

And like a trickle of white blood from sliced flesh, a lone bale of cotton slipped from the severed neck of the bear and onto the floor in a pool of fluffy mess around Uchito.

Hot, mortified colour drenched her pallor.

It was absolutely brutal.

She could not stifle a gasp of shock and disbelief. "What in the devil's name is going on? Chito?"

As the infant stared up at his bear, Tenten felt her heart crack open. His frozen stillness was not the reaction she had hoped for.

He wouldn't look away from his mutilated stuffed animal, even as his lips trembled and his small shoulders heaved with emotion.

"Chito—baby, who did this?" Tenten pressed. Her chest felt heavy, as if the plate of it were suddenly made of lead. "Talk to me."

Still, Uchito refused to look away. His tiny palms clenched into shaking fists, in a desperate battle against the tears, though his dark lashes were already heavy with them.

"What's wrong sweetie? Tell me," she insisted.

A single tear traced down his chubby cheek, and just like that, the floodgates opened.

He let out a heart wrenching wail and the tears came streaming from his onyx eyes. Loud, heaving sobs that tore from his throat, and still he did not look away.

Not until his sobs drove Tenten to gather him against her bosom did the little Uchiha's determined gaze fall.

"Daddy tilled Mr. Snuggles," Uchito cried, burying his tear-stained face into the crook of her neck. "Mr. Snuggles is bed, Mommy," he shook, as if he was fighting to control the emotions that were coursing through his small frame like a relentless torrent released from a dam. "Daddy tilled him."

Every one of Uchito's sob felt like having an exposed nerve abrasively caressed. Tenten took a deep breath; her heart beating liked a trapped bird beneath her ribs.

Whatever was left of Sasuke when she was done with him would apologize to Uchito, one way or the other. What has he done to warrant subjection to this kind of savagery?

"Don't cry, baby. Mr. Snuggles isn't dead. Mommy will stitch him up and he'll be just as good as new," she promised, smoothing her finger through his silken crown of black hair, in an effort to soothe him.

Angry emotions swirl like ocean currents, deep and strong within her. But she kept them in check. Getting Uchito to calm down was top priority.

Vengeance would come later.

OoOoOo

The efficient hum of the refrigerator, the gentle swish of the dishwasher and the noise of the pasta machine were all lost beneath Uchito's giggles half an hour later. Tenten had surgically stitched his teddy bear back together and it was currently lying on one of the kitchen stools—recuperating.

Uchito truly was the irrepressible little hellion of the family—sitting on the table, a mixing bowl between his thighs as his fingers made short work of licking out what was left of the chocolate icing that had been made for a fresh batch of brownies.

"Mr. Snuggles ill be fine?" he asked, in between sips of milk from his sippy cup.

He still looked like an angel at almost three years old. He was, however, unbelievably precocious, dreadfully mischievous, hyperactive and needed an adult eye on him every minute he wasn't asleep. Tenten couldn't help but wonder what kind of trouble he had gotten himself in that had caused Sasuke to take the kind of action he had, against him.

Reika—who came down shortly after Tenten had finished sewing up Mr. Snuggles—hadn't an account to give of the altercation between her father and brother. Her cold look of amusement when asked about it had only made Tenten more suspicious.

This wasn't something she would let slide easily. Her degree in psychology reminded her that these kinds of traumatic experiences tend to lead to the development of psychosis in children.

She discovered at that moment that she couldn't keep a single rational thought about how to handle the situation in her head for longer than ten seconds. The sheer shock value of what Sasuke had done seemed to have paralyzed her brain cells. That was no fucking way to punish a fucking toddler.

Tenten busied herself slicing up the tray of brownies she had promised to bake for Uchito if he stopped crying.

"He'll be fine," she assured him with a small smile, betraying the incredulous fury boiling within her. "Why don't you help your sister with the pasta?"

Reika visibly stiffened.

His eyes came alive at that. "Yay!"

He hopped off the table and rushed over to where his sister was woodenly taking out the flour and eggs.

Despite the scowl on her face and the tight grim line that became of her beautiful rosebud mouth, she was an absolutely picture.

Reika's resemblance to Sasuke was only slight but the slanting eyebrows were a common denominator on both faces. Her resemblance to Tenten however, was unmistakable—riotous chestnut-brown hair and eyes the dark brown of bitter chocolate. Physical likeness to Tenten was all there was though. Her mannerisms and everything else reeked of the Uchiha—The Uchiha Sasuke.

At five years old she wasn't tall enough to reach even the lowest cupboard.

"Mommy I can't reach the sieve," Reika complained, pouting on her tip-toes. "It's too far up."

"If me up, et me help," Uchito suggested rather excitedly.

She looked irritably down at him. "No."

He pouted.

"Even if I were to lift you, we still wouldn't be able to reach it," she told him. "And you're heavy!"

"Ham not!" he denied furiously having taken serious offence to that jab.

Tenten looked up from where she had begun to combine beef, veal, and pork in a large bowl. They would be having spaghetti on meatballs—at Uchito's request. "Climb up on one of those chairs. But be careful," she warned, adding garlic, eggs, cheese, parsley, salt and pepper.

Uchito was quick to fetch a chair from the dining table, but not quite as quick to drag it across the room. With Reika's assistance he managed however. In a matter of minutes she was climbing up high and in seconds—with the sieve in hand—she was climbing down carefully and replacing the chair.

"How much of each goes in?" she asked Tenten, who by then had finished adding garlic, eggs, cheese, parsley, salt, pepper and bread crumbs into meat mixture.

"Three cups of flour and two eggs," she answered with half her aattention on the stove and the other half on the kids.

Reika allowed an overly enthusiastic Uchito to dip his cup into the sack of whole-wheat flour and count each scoop. "An, who, tee…" he counted, and then announced with a satisfied grin that he was, "Finish."

"Aw, aren't you just the sharpest little tool in the box?" Tenten exclaimed with endearing pride.

She carefully added her meatballs to the heated and oiled skillet, her every movement with practiced ease.

In an eye blink she registered something that just for a moment diverted her attention.

Reika was smiling. Smiling at Uchito.

Then again how many people could resist a cute, toothy smile and big puppy eyes?

Still, they rarely ever got to see her smile. As Tenten stared, momentarily something else registered in her mind. Reika looked a lot like Sasuke when she smiled. They really were cut from the same cloth.

She eyed her brother with awe. "Sharp—" Reika agreed. "—for a squirt. Hand me two eggs."

He was more than happy to oblige. "Ere ew go, Eeka."

His eagerness to lend a helping hand was definitely not something he had picked up from their father, Reika found herself thinking.

She cracked the two eggs, whisked them and tipped them into the middle of the mixture just like Tenten had shown her. After a while she noticed that it was too dry. It didn't look like it would make good pasta at all.

"Ugh Mommy, this is all wrong!" she protested, stomping her feet.

"You did as I said right? Two cups of flour, three eggs?" Tenten blinked in confusion, her lashes almost hitting her cheekbones.

Reika felt a stab of anger at that bit of miscommunication. Her delicately rounded face tightened with increased annoyance but Uchito beat her to voicing it.

"No. Hat's nut what ew said." He shook his head reprovingly and held up his fingers. "Ew said tee furr-wer and who eggs."

Tenten stared at the livid child, bemused. "I did?"

He dealt her an impatient look. "Es!"

"My bad," she apologized, going over to where they were. "We'll simply add two more eggs, a little flour, a little water and a tablespoon of olive oil. That should fix it."

She ruffled his hair and he wagged an admonishing finger at her. "Ew shoe pay a-ten-son."

"I'm sorry baby; I'll pay attention next time."

A few additional condiments later the dough was a satisfying ball ready for kneading. After Tenten flattened it with her pin, Reika and Uchito eagerly situated themselves around the pasta machine. They alternated turns feeding the dough through the rollers and watched as it grew longer and thinner.

Reika could almost taste it already covered in a tomato basil sauce and sprinkled with parmesan.

Almost.

But why almost?

The question nagged at her, and then, in a sudden lightning bolt of realization, she knew. She felt her gaze go to Mr. Snuggles then to Uchito and sighed loudly. That kid just never learns.

"Looking good," Tenten praised and Uchito beamed proudly at her. "I'll work on the tomato sauce. Dinner will be ready in no time."

"I think we're going have a problem there," Reika said very quietly, almost as if she were talking to herself.

"Ew ill punish daddy fur Mr. Snuggles?" Uchito enquired, sounding hopeful.

His cheeks still had tear tracks and the tip of his nose was a little red from his recent sobbing but he was still the most bubbly and beautiful baby boy. His smile lit up the entire room.

Tenten felt her heart contract just looking at him.

"Of course. I'll even let you throw in a few punches if you'd like," she winked and engaged him in his babbled tirades as she went about cooking onions in a large pot of heated extra-virgin olive oil. "But tell me something Chito—"

"Es mommy?"

"—what did you do to make your father so angry?"

He was silent for a while.

His face stilled. It was like a mask sliding over his little porcelain face. Giving him a wall to hide behind—a wall to shield him from what he had witness his father do to his stuffed toy. Only the eyes gave him away. Tenten could see the hurt and horror in them.

He shrugged his shoulders, "Nut-ting," he said quietly.

He spoke quite steadily, but all the same there was something not quite right with his voice. Tenten knew every single infliction in her children's tones and something twisted inside her twisted like a knife in her gut, at that one.

A nerve started to tick in her cheek.

Sasuke wouldn't get away with this. Ever since he started watching that popular television series based on the "A Song of Ice and Fire" novels, the disciplinary actions he started taking against Uchito have been a tad bit extreme.

Game of Thrones, it was called, Tenten recalled.

She may not have ever sat down to watch an episode in full but from what she had seen the show was a catalogue of betrayals, beheadings, hangings, burning at the stake, sexual violence, animal cruelty and general inhumanity. She couldn't fathom why Sasuke was so obsessed with it. He would lie awake in the middle of the night just binge-watching clips from the series.

One evening she found Mr. Snuggles suspended by dental floss—encircling his furry neck—from the bathroom ceiling.

Tenten casted a bleak look at the patched up bear, every excruciating moment of that ghastly scene playing itself inside her head like an unstoppable CD. "Stay away from the stove," she distantly warned off a looming Uchito.

He always liked to watched her every move when she worked her way around the kitchen.

"Okay."

Luckily she had recovered the toy that time before Uchito had seen it hanging there, Tenten found herself reminiscing. One couldn't hang or kill a non-living object but a two-year old didn't know that. Evidently.

When Tenten had confronted Sasuke about it, he simply told her that he was relaying a message to Uchito. Apparently the toddler kept getting his hands in Sasuke's shaving things and he was tired of it. She told him that she had expected that sort of childish retaliation from Reika but Sasuke claimed that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.

Whatever the fuck that meant, Tenten rolled her eyes at the memory.

Then he had narrowed his eyes at her. And yet they remained utterly without expression.

She made sure to match hers to his.

"It's time Uchito is put in his place. He can't do as he pleases. I am the man of the house," Sasuke had declared.

His gaze bored into hers.

Tenten had felt them do so as if they were a physical force, drilling through her. She had taken a breath, quick and sharp and shallow. "Any man who must say, 'I am man of the house', is no man of the house at all," she told him.

For a second there had been total and absolute silence. Then, like the lash of a whip, he had started to laugh. She needn't anymore confirmation than that, she married a psychopath.

"Mommy, we have a problem," Reika said, tugging on her apron.

"What is it?" Tenten was suddenly glad for the interruption, breaking off the chain of memory. There was a grim note in the child's voice that made her look at her. "What happened dear?"

Reika stared at Uchito, her face hard and implacable, her brown eyes coldly accusing. "Chito half-ate most of the tomatoes and daddy had to toss them out. He was very angry—" At the way Tenten raised an unimpressed brow Reika jerked and began talking fast. "—but yeah, I don't think you'll be able to make the sauce."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Tenten demanded in a high, thin voice that was shredding fast into near hysteria.

Uchito turned a deep guilty- as-charged pink then paled. Torn apart by fear of his mother's wrath he gazed back at her, his skin clammy, his tiny heart sinking like a stone.

"Is it so Uchito?" she demanded before she had even allowed herself to absorb the full import of what Reika had said. "Was that why your father punished you?"

He was tight-lipped.

"I believe I asked you a question," Tenten breathed with lethal quietness.

"Es," Uchito tried and failed to swallow and mumbled unevenly, "Ham sawee, mommy."

The apology hung there in the throbbing silence.

"All because of some fucking tomatoes," Tenten incised in a murderously controlled tone. "He has crossed the damned line this time."

"Daddy already punished him," Reika said half under her breath—seemingly in her brother's defense. She was somewhat fearful for him.

Sasuke's punishments were a one-off thing. It meant that once they got over the shock of it, life went back to normal relatively quick. It wasn't so with their mother though, she made sure they felt punished for days, sometimes weeks if she saw fit.

Tenten shook her head in slow motion. "I'm not talking about Uchito. He did nothing wrong."

Of course not, Reika thought grudgingly. "Daddy?"

"It's time I put an end to Sasuke's Game of Thrones-inspired antics," she said ruefully. "Who cuts the head off a stuffed animal because its owner ate some tomatoes—?"

"Dad, apparently," she proffered dryly.

"—this is a fucking outrage." Tenten paled beneath her bronzed skin, her fine features taut and clenched. She was still light-headed with anger and disbelief but she managed to gather herself. "Chito please put Mr. Snuggles away and bring me Reika's old stuffed Hawk."

He looked at his sister for some sort of objection but she shrugged an uncaring shoulder.

Tenten had a plan. "Reika, fetch me your father's laptop," she instructed.

Both were a bit slow to react.

Tenten frowned at this until Uchito finally bounced off, "Ere is it?"

"If memory serves right it's in the old toy box near the door to the basement," she called after him.

"Why do you need daddy's laptop?" Reika asked curiously, or rather, inquisitively.

"I have some pre-made tomato puree in the refrigerator. I'll use that to make the sauce," she said to no one in particular. When she lifted her head from behind the fridge door and turned to look at her miniature self, Reika's face was averted. "Well, I'll need to watch an episode or two of this Game of Thrones to find out how to beat your father at it, won't I?"

A cynical curve pulled at her mouth. "You do know that it's not an actual game right?"

"Well now it is," Tenten said with aggressive determination.

OoOoOo

After the tomato puree was brought to a boil Tenten added salt and pepper—to taste—and lowered the heat under the pot to medium. The table was already set. Uchito and Reika had already washed their hands and were sitting around the table, eagerly waiting to commence their meal.

"Hats taking so long?" Uchito grouched. "I'm hunry."

"Oh be quiet," Reika shushed him. "And the word is hungry. The way you eat your letters when you speak you shouldn't be complaining about hunger," she cracked a laugh at the irony.

"Hut up," he snapped.

"You're doing it again…"

Sasuke had joined them by then. He snuck up behind Tenten, took her by the shoulders and nuzzled her neck with his nose in greeting. He was so close, she was aware of the subtle musk of his aftershave. Heat emanated from his body and curled around her, stirring her senses, and her heart thudded painfully in her chest, so loud she was sure he could hear it.

They say everything gets better with time but not this. Not how pathetically responsive she was to her husband's mere presence.

"You managed to make-do with the few tomatoes remaining?" his expression was more thunderous than curious, and Tenten wondered why he asked such a stupid question when common sense should've told him that it was impossible to do so with the two tomatoes that remained post-Uchito's rampage.

"You'd be surprised how little I can make-do with," she parried quietly.

Sasuke's eyebrows rose quizzically.

Tenten peeled his arms off her and moved aside to pour a good portion of the sauce into a huge bowl. She then added a fresh set of uncooked meatballs to the pot and let them simmer in the remaining bit of sauce. Those were being specially prepared for Sasuke.

While they cooked, she proceeded to scoop up, with the aid of a huge wooden implement like a spoon, with horizontal prongs, generous servings of spaghetti unto two small plates. On top of this she ladled spoonfuls of tomato sauce and forked out a few of the meatballs she had prepared earlier along with it. She carried the dishes back to Reika and Uchito, placed it on the table, and deftly tied a bib around Uchito's neck to protect his clothes from the sauce.

His little mouth was already wide open, and Tenten scarcely had time to check that the pasta was not too hot before he had seized her wrist and was guiding the forkful towards him. The rich, robust flavours exploded in his mouth and he squealed.

Tenten's face lit like sunlight within. Uchito's appreciative appetite was always a delight.

Reika dug her fork into the thick-layered pasta. "I'm going to finish before you squirt and when I do I'm going to eat your brownie," she challenged. "Mommy promised us a brownie each after dinner. Winner eats all."

"No," he squeaked and dipped his hand into his pasta—Tenten and the fork forgotten. He stuffed a fistful into his mouth and watched to make sure he was ahead of his sister.

Tenten tipped back the glass of orange juice she had poured for herself, swallowed, then laughed. "Go baby, you're winning," she cheered him on.

Sasuke cleared his throat aloud. "Am I not eating tonight?" he asked drily.

Everyone's plates and cups were filled—except for his.

"You're not disabled are you?" Tenten asked, mopping up the tomato sauce leftover on her plate with piece of bread.

She had placed a silver filigree basket with warmed bread rolls on the table earlier.

She popped the piece of bread into her mouth and said in between chews, "Help yourself, I'm tired. The house was such a mess when I came home—"

"—all thanks to your prized little Uchiha," Sasuke cut in, his voice was fiat.

He stole a look at his son as he got up to gingerly make a plate for himself. For just a fraction of a second he could've sworn Uchito dealt him a scathing look.

"Are these finished yet?" he asked, checking the temperature of the meatballs on the stove. For someone with a penchant for ripe tomatoes and any dish created with them, he didn't know shit about preparing any. "What did you put in these? They're a lot larger than all of yours," he noted with a satisfied smirk.

"The usual; pork ground up with onion and a little garlic. There's parsley in there, cheese and some dry breadcrumbs to hold it all together," Tenten answered. "And lots and lots of love."

He drained the pasta and added it to a dish with the steaming meatballs, then ladled the mixture with tomato sauce into his bowl and carried it to the table. "I feel like I'm being punished," he grated.

She laid down her fork and looked at him searchingly, "What makes you say that?"

"I've never had to make my own damn plate before," he twirled his fork expertly in his pasta. It was cooked to perfection, as always.

"There's a first for everything." She eyed him disapprovingly, "Have you done something that you think would've made me upset?"

Sasuke gave her an expected cold look, "If you're mad about the teddy bear—"

"Ew a meanie. Ew nut my pen no more!" Uchito screamed at him. "Ew killed Mr. Snuggles! Ew mur-mur-wer."

Tenten held a finger to her lips to indicate that he was to be quiet. There was no point in emotions when dealing with an unemotional man.

Reika stifled a snicker at Uchito's mispronunciation, "Shouldn't we be concerned that the word murderer has been added to Chito's vocabulary?"

"—he had it coming." Sasuke declared impatiently. "You've spoilt Uchito rotten," he told Tenten. "It's at that point where words don't even reach him anymore. It just goes through one ear and out the next."

Tenten pushed back an unruly lock of her hair and eyed her husband warily. She has never seen anyone get this worked up or even gone to the lengths that Sasuke has, for a few fucking tomatoes. It was ridiculous.

"Are you for real Uchiha?" she had to ask. Though it didn't seem like it, it was a serious question.

Sasuke looked back at her squarely. "Why are you looking at me like that?" He hated when she looked at him with those judgmental eyes. "Uchito committed treason," he began, very seriously. "The punishment he received was fitting for the crime."

She stared at him in disbelief, then her face hardened, her eyes narrowed, "Treason? I think you've allowed Game of Thrones to get to your head. Since when is eating a few tomatoes an act of treason?"

He regarded her silently for a moment, his black brows drawn together in a harsh frown. "Since Uchito violated our pact."

"Your pact?"

"Both of them had agreed to split the tomatoes equally between themselves," Reika fielded in. "But Chito ate all of dad's and well—" she said with a shrug. "—you know the rest."

Tenten gave a bitter laugh. "And that was reason enough for him to behead the baby's favourite toy?"

"I can't exactly banish him, now can I?" he ground out savagely.

"Are you even listening to yourself?" she snapped. The mental wounds he had inflicted on their child were far more painful than the agony he felt over the loss of a few cheap and abundant fruits. "You're starting to sound like a Game of Thrones' character rather than a rabid fan. This is getting out of hand. I'm barring you from watching anymore episodes."

His expression of cool disinterest did not flicker and his only reaction to her last statement was a slight quirk of his brows. "Speaking of Mr. Snuggles, where is he?" Sasuke suddenly asked, noting the absence of its severed head from top of the refrigerator.

"He is here, my Lord." Tenten arranged her lips into a mocking smirk.

He gave her an arch look at that. Since when was he 'My Lord'? Her expression filled him with a curious sense of foreboding but he dispelled it. She was using the show's lingo to jeer him, he figured.

"Where? I don't see him," Sasuke said tersely, forking a meatball into his mouth.

Quite suddenly a muscle moved up and down in his jaw, as if he were chewing on something distasteful. Then his eyes started to bulge and he leaned over, holding his throat and coughing.

"Here—" Tenten indicated rather smugly to the meatballs. "—my Lord."

Sasuke gulped, trying to get enough air. When he finally managed to cough up what had been lodged at his throat, he really wished he had kept it down.

Chunks of cotton and brown fur spotted with bits of meat and parsley—and covered in the warm, creamy grime from his stomach—splattered into his palm. "What the—"

"Mr. Snuggles wasn't easy to blend, especially his head," Tenten said with deliberate calm. "It took a lot of water and time in the blender to get him all diced up just right."

"—the fuck?" Sasuke coughed and spluttered, but his gaze was one of contemptuous disbelief.

She stared at him in silence for a few moments and then laughed unpleasantly. "Takes you back to episode ten of season six doesn't it?" she said with a steely calm that alarmed Sasuke more than if she had shouted at him.

"What are you getting at?" he growled, his face twisting in distaste, his tongue coiling in revulsion.

He would be picking out cotton fibre and thread out from between his teeth for days.

"Game of Thrones of course," she mockingly reminded him. "One of the characters fed her enemy his sons by cooking them into his meal, remember? Arya Stark did it to Walder Fray, I believe."

"This is disgusting," he grimaced, taking a large gulp of orange juice from his glass to try and wash down the bitter bile that had crept up his throat. "How could you cook Mr. Snuggles and feed him to me?"

"There's an old saying that one must eat what he kills," Tenten told him.

"I didn't kill the damn bear. A stuffed animal can't be killed but you most certainly could've killed me!" Sasuke hissed contemptuously.

"Good. Then everything is as it should be." She propped herself up on both elbows, reached across the table and trailed her finger lightly down his cheek.

The silence lay like concrete slowly setting his feet into greater rigidity while Sasuke waited for her to speak again. Revenge really was the purest form of motivation because she surely did her home work.

"After all, when you play the Game of Thrones you either win or you die—" Tenten's smile had a distinct triumphal edge now. "—there is no middle ground," she delivered, cutting and quiet as a rapier blade.

A/N: If you've never seen Game of Thrones, I don't suppose you would've picked up on all the various references throughout or enjoyed this one-shot very much. I don't suppose you'd have fully understood the ending either. Basically Tenten dropped an infamous punch-line from the series.

She also didn't actually cook Mr. Snuggles…in case you were a bit horrified. She used Reika's old and abandoned stuffed toy instead, remember? Thanks for reading. Reviews are always appreciated.