"Are you sure no one would find out, Lady Temari?" Sarada looked worried as she stepped out of the backdoor of the Palace.

"Of course." Temari smiled at her as the young girl climbed up the carriage, the wheels rolled slowly as they left the palace, the evening sun descending.

Temari observed the girl, a hue of pinkness covered her cheeks, her clothes were hastily arranged. Her gaze tacitly avoided the older woman's stare.

Temari smiled to herself. "Ah, young people," she sighed softly.

She turned her stare outside, looking at the slowly descending sun.

"Things are about to get interesting."

Sarada ignored her and stared at the palace, gradually disappearing from her sight as they rode further away.

Sarada walked in through the backdoor, with Temari at her side.

She almost let out a soft scream when she saw her mother, standing there waiting for her – her porcelain face was dark, jade eyes dimmed.

"Temari-san."

"Sakura." The mothers greeted each other.

"Go back to your room, Sarada," Sakura squeezed a warm smile, and walked past her daughter.

Temari followed the pink-haired woman into the garden.

"It happened?" There was a slight whimper in Sakura's voice.

"I did not stare or spy on them, but very likely." Temari said, staring up at the darkening sky. "Sooner or later, there will be a Royal Wedding."

Sakura sighed. "To use a child like this… Temari-san, I…" She stopped talking as she saw Temari turning her gaze upon her.

"Sarada is not a child, not anymore when her father fell from grace." Temari said, coolly. "And soon, she will be a mother on her own."

Sakura said painfully. "If I have other ways of resolving this matter, I would have never agreed to this."

"But you don't, do you?" Temari sighed, she raised her hand just in time to catch a leaf falling from the tree. "Yet whether we will succeed, depends on whether you have done your part."

"I have," Sakura nodded. "I have mixed herbs that would promotes fertility into Sarada's food the past few weeks."

Temari nodded. "Very well then, you will be a grandmother in no time."

She dipped her head at the pink-haired woman. "It will be some time before you hear from me again."

She strolled away as Sakura stared at her back, gently exiting through the backdoor of the Uchiha mansion.

Shikamaru smiled when Naruto rushed into the meeting chambers, flushed with anger and embarrassment.

"You," he pointed at one of the random officers that just so happened to be standing in front of him. "Plan a wedding, right away."

"Yes, Your Majesty.." He said hesitantly, taking a gulp before continuing. "For whom?"

"For my son, and the Uchiha girl." He stared blankly in front of him and sighed deeply.

The officials and lords looked at each other baffled.

"Just go!" Naruto waved his hand angrily, stopping in mid air. "Shikamaru, I need a word with you."

The others left and Shikamaru stood in front of Naruto.

"You planned this, didn't you?" Naruto snapped, pointing his finger in front of Shikamaru's face. "You set me up," he said, gritting his teeth.

"I did nothing," Shikamaru said with a peculiar expression on his face. "Young love always finds a way."

Naruto glared at him for a second. "That idiot got the girl pregnant."

"You do have a very fertile stock then," commented Shikamaru.

Naruto waved his hand in dismay. "I hope what you said is true, Shikamaru."

"Let's hope I live long enough to see that, My Lord." Shikamaru dipped his head and walked out of the room.

There was something peculiar in the air of the Nara patriarch, as he walked out of the door gently, step by step, as if it was his last time.

And indeed it was.

Just days after the grand wedding between Prince Uzumaki Boruto and Uchiha Sarada, Naruto received a letter from his old friend.

He barely remembered Shikamaru's handwriting, but it struck him once he saw it.

Your Majesty,

Forgive my courtesy but on this point forthwith I shall call you Naruto.

From the age of sixteen, I have served you and the Royal Family.

Now that peace has been achieved, at least for the coming ten years I have no prediction of wars, given that our country is strong under your rule; I humbly seek leave for a hiatus from my current position as your advisor.

You are a King that I am proud to have served.

As a servant, as a friend, I ask for time to be spent with my family, now that I realized I am no longer a young man, my son was no longer a child and will soon marry your daughter and possibly assume my position next to the Prince one day.

I just want to spend the remainder of my time, with my wife in my arms, watch season after season, sunrise after sunset.

Forgive my irresponsibility, but this I must do.

I wish the Kingdom all the best, you and your family great health and happiness.

Nara Shikamaru

Naruto put the letter down with a tightly sealed lip, and rested his hands gently on the desk before letting out a long sigh.

"Finally, something selfish," he smiled at himself, the smile broke into a grin and into a hearty laugh. "You are a man after all, Shikamaru."

Nara Shikamaru sat there with his wife gently lying in his arms, their fingers lovingly entwined with one another's.

Temari stared, as the snow silently fall, flake after flake, crushing onto the already white ground.

"Finally, some time alone," Temari smiled and said.

Shikamaru wrapped his arms tighter around her shoulders. "Yeah, so much trouble before we can just sit here and do nothing."

Temari chuckled, and snuggled herself closer to Shikamaru's chest.
"Season after season, huh?" She sniggered.

Shikamaru responded with a gentle press on her forehead with his lips.

Then it was Springtime – it had been a long time that Lord Nara and his wife dressed in such a formal manner – but after all, it was their son's wedding.

Temari stared proudly as Shikadai, dressed in his clan's formal light green robes, clasped his hand with that of Himawari, and received the King's blessings.

Shikadai stared at his wife with affectionate eyes, as Naruto tied a loose red thread around their arms. He pressed a chaste kiss atop of Himawari's forehead once the King pronounced them man and wife.

The crowd roared and clapped, while petals filled the air of the ceremony hall.

Shikamaru raised his hand gently to wipe off a silent drop of tear from his wife's face.

"I wish Mari was here to see this," Temari whispered in a voice so quiet only Shikamaru could hear her.

He jolted a little, and smiled at her painfully. "Indeed." He tucked his wife's hand a little closer to his chest, while she responded with a gently lean onto his shoulder.

The reception began; Temari was approached by a glowing young woman, whose hair was glowing in the candlelights, her round abdomen sticking out of her frail frame.

"Lady Temari," she said. Temari dipped her head and greeted her.

"Princess Sarada." She smiled. "My, by the looks of it you will give the Prince a healthy child."

Sarada blushed, and nodded timidly.

"How is your family?" Temari raised an eyebrow, and checked Sarada's expression carefully.

"My mother is well, as for my father … he had not spoken to my mother ever since his release." Sarada's eyes darted left and right, her hand gently soothing the curve of her abdomen.

"I see." Temari sighed, and placed her hand on Sarada's shoulder. "Take good care of yourself."

Sarada nodded as Temari walked away slowly, gracefully.

As the dark-eyed young woman stared, she had never felt that the Suna Princess was so frail, willowy.

She stared as her husband, the older Lord Nara, wrapped his arms around her, and walked by her side.

Something warm stirred in her heart – perhaps this was what they told me about.

Perhaps this was something that transcends beyond nation, time and age.

Perhaps this is love.

Season after season, year after year.

She sat there, wrapped in a thick coat, her fingers reached out to touch the falling snow flakes, the little piece of whiteness lingered on her now wrinkled fingers.

She held it close to her lips, before the snowflake melted into small droplets.

Warmness embraced her suddenly, she turned around and saw him, kneeling down and wrapping a thick blanket around her.

"It's cold outside, you should be inside." He smiled at her.

She took a good long look at him – his face was slightly wrinkled, his goatee was grey, so were his hair, as if it was covered by snow. Reaching out, she brushed his grey hair, which was tied into a loose ponytail.

He smiled in her movement, and clasped her hand in his, it was rough, but warm.

He stared at her wrinkled face, with lines emerging from her eyes and her face.

There was a dim light in her emerald green eyes, ever so bright.

The loving moment was broken when she suddenly started to cough violently, blood flower emerging on the handkerchief she used to cover her mouth.

He stroked and patted on her back gently.

She looked pale, fragile – it was not a good look on her.

"You should rest, let's get inside." Temari stopped Shikamaru by tugging onto him.

"Sit with me, Shika." She said softly.

He nodded and let her lean onto his chest.

Temari said nothing but stared in front, at the snowing mountains.

Shikamaru said nothing as he stared at his wife's face, his eyes moist.

He knew it.

He knew that she was dying.

She turned around and looked at his face, his lips were pursed together tightly, he wanted to look away from her but she stopped him with a gentle press of her hand.

She looked at him, grinning faintly. "I wonder if Mari will make it back in time."

She muttered, Shikamaru clasped her hand in his.

"Don't be silly, she will be back in no time." He stared at her. "Troublesome."

Then he helped her up, and carried her on his back. "We are going back in, whatever you say."

"Troublesome," she muttered, with a weak smile on her face.

Shikadai sat on his horse, waiting for someone to emerge on the horizon.

He stroked his goatee, as his horse shuffled impatiently.

A lone carriage appeared far away, he could see that it was quickly approaching.

The sound of galloping horses became increasingly clear.

The carriage pulled to an abrupt stop in front of him. He leapt down from his horse.

A woman hopped down from the carriage, she was dressed in white from head to toe, almost immediately, she locked eyes with him.

There was no mistake when his green eyes bore into her hazel ones.

She ran up towards him and wrapped her arms around him.

"Shika-nii," he could hear her voice clearly – it lost the childish chime, replaced by a graceful voice.

He tugged her close into a warm embrace. "Mari."

After a quick squeeze, he released her, and helped her onto the carriage.

"Let's go, they are waiting."

They galloped into the mountains, through the woods, their horses leaving tracks in the pristine snow.

The siblings approached their parents' room. Shikadai knocked on the door, and gently pushed open the door.

"Father," he said softly, only to see Shikamaru sitting on the bed, Temari's head on his lap; his hand was gently brushing through her hair.

Temari opened her eyes, and stared at her two children.

She tried to support herself with her arms, while Shikamaru helped her up.

Mari hurried over and threw herself onto Temari's lap.

Temari gently held her face with her hands. "You are all grown up now," she smiled.

Mari stared at her mother sadly with her hazel coloured eyes.

Temari's eyes travelled down from Mari's sad tearful eyes, across her delicate features to the shining gold on her neck.

She reached out and touched the golden fan, shimmering as she had always remembered, just like the day Lady Kaori gave it to her in that smoky fragrant chamber, back in Suna.

"At long last, it brought you back to me," she pressed a warm kiss onto Mari's forehead. "My very own desert flower."

Mari held her mother's hand in her own, staring at her lovingly.

Temari reached out and waved for Shikadai to come to her, and slung her arms around them.

They could hear her slow, weak breath, as she rested on their shoulders, a smile on her face.

"Remember that I always love you," she said, stroking their backs gently with her hand.

They nodded, and Mari pressed another kiss on her mother's cheek before parting from her.

They sat there for a long time, Mari spoke of her life at the Suna Temples, how Kankuro and Gaara had been, how she found her passion in educating the young children of Suna.

Shikadai spoke of his work at the court, now that Boruto had succeeded Naruto and became just as fine as his father on the throne, how Himawari and himself were having trouble with their children, a boy and a girl.

Shikamaru listened with his wife as she leaned onto his shoulder, gently panting.

They spoke for a very long time, until the moon hung itself in the pitch-dark sky.

"It's late now, you should rest," urged Shikamaru, who gently laid her down after Shikadai and Mari hugged her once more.

The three of them left the room, Shikamaru had his smoking pipe in his hand, with ease, he huffed out a cloud of whiteness.

"She is not going to make it through the winter." He said plainly, Mari and Shikadai nodded solemnly.

Then the older man smiled and looked at his children. "You are both fine-looking, all grown up and accomplished, just like what I have wished for."

He sighed again, smoke emerging from his slightly parting mouth. "Then there is only one more thing I can wish for," he looked up in the sky. "But that probably was not going to happen."

Mari and Shikadai looked at each other, confused.

Shikamaru dismissed them and sent them away, he walked back into the room, and looked at his wife.

"You are pretending to be asleep, aren't you?" He smiled at her, as he sat down next to her and stroked her hair. "You heard us, all the time."

She grinned painfully, and nodded. "Last part of your wish huh?"

He said nothing, but smiled.

"I don't want to sleep, Shikamaru." She said as she reached out for his hand. "I know it is coming, I know that if I fall asleep, I will never wake up."

"Don't be silly."

"I am not – I know it." She frowned. "Hold me up."

"Still as fiery as ever," he shrugged with a smile, gently he cradled her up, her weight leaning against him – she felt willowy, like she was an infant, a child.

Something about her weightlessness frightened him, he wrapped a blanket around her as if she would be gone without it.

"Nara Shikamaru," she coughed as she began. "Oh Nara Shikamaru."

"Troublesome," he muttered with a smile, the corners around his eyes began to water.

"Stupid crybaby," she held her hand up and brushed away his tears. He lovingly took her hand, soothing each finger tip.

"I want you to hear this from me," said Temari, staring into his dark obsidian eyes, amidst the deep wrinkles. "I want you to know, that I chose you, above all else."

He stared in awe, as his wife smiled, tears rolling down her face. "Years have gone past, I regret nothing."

"Me too," he said, wiping away her tears. "I love you, and if there is a life after this, I will still choose you."

Temari smiled, and leaned onto him, whispering soft nothings.

They talked forever, until the sun rose.

Shikamaru opened his eyes, and looked down.

Temari closed her eyes, her hands were cold like ice.

He did not scream, he did not cry.

He pressed a chaste kiss onto her forehead before he walked out of the room, and found one of the servants.

"Announce it – the Lady has passed away." There was a glint of sadness in his eyes, as he walked back into the room and sat by the body of his wife.

He sat in the room all night after the burial of his wife, huffing out white smoke clouds one after another.

He stared as the snowfall, as the sky changed from bright to dark.

The scent of smoke lingered in the room – the spicy tobacco, mixed with sweetness of the spices.

Shikadai entered the room with Mari, they sat there quietly and stared at their father, who seemed to have aged another twenty years in one day's work.

The three of them sat quietly for the night, making idle talk, but most of the time, the Nara Patriarch sat there, blowing out clouds of smoke after another.

Perhaps he saw his wife in the cloud, gently waving at him – she was there, her eyes brilliantly green, her blonde hair shining in the light behind her, age and sickness was free from her youthful face.

He could almost reach out and hold her, only to see her dissipate in the wind – the thing that she was ever so fond of.

He made sure that part of her remains were sent back to her homeland – where her roots were, where the Desert Rose ought to return.

Shikadai put a hand on Mari's shoulder with a soft sigh.

"I know this look." He whispered softly. "He is not going to last long."

"The look of a broken heart." Mari replied. "I remembered something similar when Yukihanu died in uncle Gaara's hands, but nothing this ash-like."

"Perhaps they were destined to be – she would be the death of him, ultimately."

Mari smiled painfully. "Indeed, perhaps this was all meant to be."

Shikamaru opened his eyes, which was closed for a very long time.

"Run along now," he waved his hand. "It is late."

They bided their father goodbye and left.

Shikamaru sighed as he huffed out another cloud of smoke into the sky.

Shikamaru.

He thought he heard her voice.

Something in him jolted, he collapsed onto the ground, a burning pain in his chest.

He clutched his robes, yelping in pain.

And suddenly, he felt nothing anymore, there was a sudden coolness.

The last thing he saw was her face – her beautiful, young face, dazzling eyes shining like emeralds.

His face regained its youthfulness, as his hair slowly turned back into dark brown.

She cupped his face with her hands, and pressed her lips onto his.

"Come with me now," she said.

And so he did.

Chain after chain, some were meant to be bound, regardless of boundaries.

Some chains could survive the strongest force, even that of death.

And so, they were bound together forever.

"Do you believe in fate, Shikamaru?" She asked him, sitting on his usual cloud watching spot.

He laid down, and sighed. "What a troublesome thing."

"I have always had a feeling that I have known you for a very long time." The blonde young woman turned and frowned at him, her dazzling teal eyes glaring at him. "Are you even listening?"

"Yes I am." He replied. "What are you getting at?"

"I was just wondering," she stared back up in the sky. "In Suna, they always said people were bound by chains of destinies, that nothing can separate those who are destined to be with each other."

"And?" He arched an eyebrow, with a smirk on his face.

"I was just wondering if I was stuck with your lazy crybaby ass in my past life," she sighed and shook her head. "If that was the case, it would have been a pain."

She then laughed heartily, as Shikamaru stared at her with a slight pink hue on his face.

"Troublesome," he muttered.

But then, he looked up in the sky.

Perhaps what she said was true, that was why she was the most troublesome woman in his life.

Perhaps he was destined to have her kick his ass and pick him up for his past life and this.

Probably the next too.

He smiled as he looked at her, his hand slowly reaching for hers.

Temari jolted as she felt his touch – she turned at him, her face the colour of a red tomato.

The chains bound themselves tighter around each other, as the brunette young man pressed his lips onto hers.

And that was it.

Author's note:

And that was it indeed! I decided to end it this way so this feels like a karma thing - Shikamaru is destined to be a sucker for Temari so hahaha here you go! It is kind of a bittersweet ending I think? I hope you liked it (after all it cannot always be a happy ending, so here's another one for a change)

I hope you have enjoyed this story! I really enjoy writing historical fanfiction where I can make up a whole world and develop the characters in my own way (hopefully not too out of character)

Anyway, read and review! I hope you have enjoyed this and do look forward to stories to come!

V.S.V xoxo