I can't tell you why listening to Marina and the Diamonds on repeat led to this. It's not going to be long, but I'm past the point of promising oneshots. I get myself in trouble with that. I do have a beginning and an end in mind though, so don't get too attached. It's been a while since a SasoSaku idea seized me, but I guess I needed some darkness.

Setting is not true medieval/renaissance, it's more like a fantasy Naruto-verse.

Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto characters, but man, they could have been used so much better that I wish... oh well.

Sakura spat out some blood from where she was sprawled on the ground. She was happy there was no tooth intermixed with the gore laced saliva. Running a tongue against the split inside her lip, the ringing in her ears from the hit she had taken from Zabuza's sword hilt finally subsided. If it hadn't been an exhibition match for the amusement of their lords he would have killed her already. Only the watchful eyes of Sasori and Kisame kept her head on her shoulders.

Duke Sasori. Count Kisame.

Kisame was laughing, saying something to Sasori with a tone that told Sakura more than the words ever would have—she was weak, this match was boring, there was no way some country girl playing at knighthood could beat a blooded and experienced knight like Zabuza. The anger dulled the pain and somehow her feet found purchase under her as her inner fire lit. Sasori's expression flickered a moment—concern, pride—but it was gone so fast Sakura was sure she had imagined it. His face was a beatific mask as always with hooded eyes and a lazy smile.

Duke Sasori, Sasori of the Red Sands, didn't have compassion. He did have plenty of pride, however. It was probably the only thing they had in common.

"It would have been smarter to stay down, little girl." Zabuza's comment was mostly for her but no doubt the others heard it as well. It was his warning, as he wasn't going to hold back just because she was younger and a woman. Sakura hadn't expected him to, so as her sweaty grip on her thinner sword tightened they circled one another again. Thinking she saw an opening she struck out, quick as a viper, but Zabuza countered with a flick of his wrists. Her mistake earlier was getting too close, assuming his larger and heavier two handed sword would be slow.

Sensing that she was getting smarter about this skirmish, Zabuza smirked. They traded strikes until Zabuza tired of the exercise and bore down with quick slashing movements from the right and left. She countered the strikes, her muscles straining to keep the steel from slashing open the sides of her arms. Kisame had known she would agree to this when he'd had the temerity of suggesting that Sakura duel Zabuza's squire. She couldn't ignore a slight like that even if Haku was a better match size and weapon-wise for her. Sakura could have possibly beaten Haku, but she didn't have enough practice fighting men nearly twice her mass with broadswords and challenging Zabuza had been a misstep.

Zabuza was bearing down on her again, having gotten close enough so that they were nearly hilt to hilt. "You'd be more use to his grace on your back than with a sword in your hand." His words made her see red.

Her headbutt probably broke his nose. She could hear the crunch and the blood began to stream immediately. Ino had always said her hard head was her greatest asset, and maybe this one time Sakura would agree.

The larger man roared and forced her down into the dirt, their swords now trapped between them. He looked ready to actually kill her, and from her prone position she didn't have enough leverage to stop the large hands from encircling her neck. Gurgling and scrabbling at his large forearms, tearing out strips of skin with her nails, she felt the world start to dim when Sasori's voice rung out over the encroaching blackness.

"I said enough!" Zabuza gave one more squeeze for good measure before he stood up, but his dark eyes promised retribution if he ever caught her alone. The large man stood and walked over to his squire, who was ready to tend to the tender nose that still streamed blood.

Sakura lay in the dirt a few more moments, glad to be alive, wishing she were stronger.

"She's got a little bit of spirit, I'll give you that," Kisame said, talking about her like you might talk about a horse. Maybe it was a compliment to rate as highly as a horse in the count's eyes.

"Most assassins aren't the size of a barn and carrying a broadsword. If Zabuza hadn't played so roughly with her perhaps we could have seen her stretch her muscles with the squire. Your man lacks control, Kisame." Sasori's voice was like oil, oozing over Sakura as she stared at the grey sky. It was about time to stand up, her brain told her, but her body didn't want to comply.

Lucky for everyone, it was mostly her head and mouth that had sustained injuries, so Sakura was able to finally rise with at least a little bit of grace and walk with unquaking muscles back over to Sasori before she knelt before him. The fence that enclosed the sparring ring was between them, but Sakura would be a fool to say that was the only distance that separated her from her liege lord.

"Disappointing showing, my lady. Perhaps next time you'll accept the fight presented to you instead of seeking another. Clean yourself and tend to your face. I expect to see you at supper." Sasori's words made Kisame chuckle, but they weren't said for the count's benefit.

"Yes, your grace" Sakura's hand tightened around her sword hilt, words sliding through her aching jaw. She wondered if there would ever come a day when she could escape this life, but she was certain that wouldn't happen until everyone she loved in this world left it. The duke was her punishment from heaven for wanting something unnatural. She would never be a knight, she would always be a lady playing at being a knight.

Her father had told her it would be a hard road to walk to be a warrior, but at ten she hadn't really understood what he meant.

"You broke his nose, Sakura." Sasori said as he walked into her small room adjacent to his own. As his personal bodyguard, she had to be accessible at all times and the empty servant's chamber had been ideal for that purpose. She remembered how she had had to clean it out herself when she had arrived three years ago to his fortress on the edge of civilization. It had seemed appropriate somehow that it was full of spider's nests and rotten wood.

"Will I be expected to apologize, your grace?" She asked, aware she was only clad in a loose tunic and pants. They were dirty from her fight, stinking of sweat and blood.

Sasori considered her words as he watched her continue to carefully wipe her face with a cloth around her bruised jaw. "The count seems to find it most amusing, so an apology isn't required. However, you may consider making amends unless you wish to have an enemy in Zabuza. He'll be at the tourney next month and isn't above revenge for slights to his legendary strength."

"He was ready to kill me for drawing blood in a practice match. I can't imagine any way I could make amends that would be meaningful." Sakura thought about the other men she had defeated in one way or another and how they never seemed to forget or fully forgive. If a man fought another man and injured him they came away with mutual respect, but she hadn't found that to be true most times she fought similarly hard won matches.

Her breath caught in her still sore throat as she felt callused fingers slide over the red marks at her neck. The indentation of large fingers was still there. Sasori eased his over the outline but those slender artist's fingers would never have erased them completely from view. Today was not the day he killed her, was it? She secretly suspected it would not be his enemies that ended her, ultimately.

"Wear a pretty dress. Play up how it was a lucky shot and pour wine into his cup. Smile. I've seen you play such court games before," Sasori was right next to her ear, hands still around her neck. His breath was sweet from the anise she knew her chewed on occasion. "Though you may need to apply color to your face to soften that bruise he left you. I'd leave the marks on your neck. Men like him like a reminder of their dominance."

A monster, Sakura reminded herself, Sasori of the Red Sands got his name from the blood of his enemies that he spilled in melee from the time he was a teen until now. His favorite thing was slitting throats and puncturing thighs, then stringing up the bloodless corpses of his notable enemies outside the walls of the fortress. Any soldier who had to walk the perimeter wore a mask to guard against the smell of rotting flesh. It was part of his myth, that brutality.

But that sensuality was part of the myth as well. The face of an angel with golden eyes, the demeanor of a demon with his henna red hair.

"If you'll recall, I was terrible at those court games as you call them. Lady Yamanaka tried to instruct me last summer, but I was a poor student." Don't remind him of your femininity, her inner voice said, because if he has no use for you he may let that sword he hangs over your head fall. Her own death held no consequence for her, but it was not only her life on the line. At her denial, her tender skin felt his finger tighten at her neck. "But I will do as you instruct, your grace."

The fingers eased and slid from her neck. Sakura prevented herself from releasing her breath in a woosh of relief. After that first year of terror, Sakura swore to herself she would not let Sasori see how he affected her. The uneasy kindness he showed her, the taste of threat that underlay even their casual conversation made Sakura's nerves prickle under her skin. She never slept well in this pile of stones surrounded on one side by virtual desert and on another side by a steep cliff.

"Perhaps you should spend more time with Lady Yamanaka after the tourney. You live in two worlds, my lady knight, and you must be adept in both." He didn't need to add that he was alluding to how he himself was a master at both combat and politics. Being fourth in line for the throne since he was a small child had molded him, as had his poisonous grandmother the dowager duchess, Chiyo.

Her inner voice rattled and screamed, but Sakura calmly replied without turning to face her lord. "Yes, your grace."

The door closed with a click. He was molding her, conditioning her, and Sakura was smart enough to see it for what it was but she didn't know why.

Lips rouged to draw attention away from the bruised skin of her jaw, Sakura smiled and leaned forward while drawing her arms together ever so slightly. The wine flowed into Zabuza's cup but he was drinking his fill of Sakura's modest pale cleavage before he ever had a sip of wine. The slap he delivered to her ass as she retreated told her that her mission was successful. Back to inconsequential in the larger knight's eyes. Now if only the knight's squire Haku would stop looking daggers at her, things would be right with the world for the moment. At least she could take secret satisfaction in the bandage drawn tight over Zabuza's nose. He'd be breathing through his mouth for a while thanks to her, but he seemed like a mouth breather anyway so perhaps he wouldn't even notice.

As if to insert a little bit of defiance in Sasori's order, she had worn her nicest dress. Well, to be honest she had less than a handful to choose from, but the one she had picked in midnight blue with silver patterns stitched at every hem and at her waist was one Sasori had gifted to her when she had first been presented at court years ago. She hadn't worn it since. The rich fabric had seemed as heavy as chains that night as she was forced to dance with nobleman after nobleman at a feast that tasted like ash in her mouth, but tonight it felt light and as she secreted herself away in a corner for a breath of air the wine cup she downed without a pause was rich with mulled spices.

Carefully touching her face, feeling the shock of pain that it caused, she almost didn't sense the person behind her until it was too late. As Sasori had said, she was a match for Haku's quickness in a way that she never could have met Zabuza's brute strength. The knife the squire held stuck the stones instead of her stomach.

"You have a little skill, I'll give you that. Good instincts at the very least." The younger man was smiling, his long black hair tied behind him with a piece of leather. It was beautiful hair and Sakura felt a spark of envy thinking of her own shorn pink locks. Sasori had long ago drilled into her mind the uselessness of long hair on a knight. Would Haku cut it when he became a knight?

"This dress is worth more than my life. Better that you came for me in the night. But I suspect you have plans to be elsewhere tonight." She nodded over to where Zabuza was carousing with Sasori's other knights. Usually Sakura was standing silently at Sasori's side through dinner and taking a quiet meal on her own in her room later. Playing serving wench had amused more than just Zabuza this night and she would be fighting to gain back the respect she was losing. Perhaps this was also a way for Sasori to punish her for losing a fight she shouldn't have picked. It was hard to tell.

Haku gave a liquid shrug. "It seemed as if your eyes were straying from where they should be." His smile was bright, but his words were cold.

"You couldn't pay me to fuck your master." Sakura sneered, disgusted to say the words out loud.

"All the same, Lady, I needed to make my point. You wouldn't be the first person overwhelmed by him that later came to find his strength intoxicating."

The wine she had just downed seemed to turn sour in her stomach as an unbidden image of Zabuza rutting against her flashed in her mind's eye. "Trust me, squire, I want nothing to do with him that involves body contact. Combat or otherwise."

That being settled, the squire actually seemed to relax around her. The smile was less brittle and more friendly. Sakura suspected that had Haku been in her position he would not have struggled with 'court games' the way she did. Her emotions were too honest, internally and externally.

"The dress suits you better than your armor. Perhaps you should talk to your blacksmith and have them adjust your chestplate. It sits poorly around your center and the gap would be easy to slide a blade into." It might have been a threat still, but it sounded like casual advice, Sakura decided to ignore the hidden meaning and take the words at face value.

Sakura felt her makeup itch and reminded herself not to scratch it both because it would reveal her bruising but also because the act itself would be most painful. "Aye, I've been trying to secure time with him but he's been busy since the Uchiha's rebels have been testing the borders. A bodyguard's armor is ceremonial at best and what I wore to greet you was for formal purposes only. I spend most of my time in mail shirts and they have all the flexibility I need."

Haku had been waiting for the return barb and slowly blinked with confusion as it didn't come. Sakura smiled and gave a little salute with her empty cup.

"It's about time I got back to serving. Perhaps when I'm healed from today we can have that bout. I shouldn't have disregarded the skills of a squire, you almost gutted me just now." Fighting Haku might be a good test of skills, after all, as the slight man seemed more inclined to assassination than melee. She didn't often get the chance to fight an outsider, and she needed to know if her skills had improved in the past years.

"For what it's worth, you're not what I expected, Lady Haruno." Haku's slightly more respectful words to her back made Sakura's mouth quirk up but that tiny genuine smile flattened out immediately as she spotted Sasori watching her with displeasure flitting across his face. He didn't like that Sakura was smiling and exiting a dark corner with a man, no doubt. Even if he obviously knew Haku had no interest in her, he had been coaching her on removing emotion from her interactions with others. She would pay for her display because it reminded her lord of how he didn't control her as completely as he wished.

Swearing under her breath, she grabbed another jug of wine from a server and stalked up to fill Zabuza's cup before filling Sasori's as well. Absently, she found herself mouthing the same emptyheaded good wishes that she had been cooing at Zabuza. Her tone was saccharine.

"My lord, you look in fine spirits tonight, surely—" Any other words were cut off as Sasori grabbed her wrist. Some wine sloshed onto the table from the jug and Sakura felt her throat close immediately with anxiety.

"Save it. Don't practice your pitiful arts with me unless you're ready to play at my level."

He was… angry. That was a surprise. Sakura bowed her head to hide her glee at accidentally goading a reaction from the duke. "Yes, your grace."

She took her place next to his chair, one step back. But tonight even he couldn't stop her self-satisfied smile, blood gruesomely staining her teeth from her injured mouth.