As princess of a great empire, you were bitter about your forced marriage to the second son of a shinobi clan. Hatred inspired you to burn every bridge as you became enemies with those who were your allies and became friends with those who would bet...
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A/N: Soon enough, I'm going to be updating twice a week, but I'm trying to figure out a writing schedule that will allow me to write and plan a wedding. It seems that wedding planning is taking up my free time that I use to write so chapters are being completed a bit slow. I'll have a better idea next month!
[x]
When you arrive at the carriage, you notice Hashirama not too far off the road, traveling by foot towards the Uchiha estate. The clan is a ten minute carriage ride through the village, but it seems Hashirama uses his time to sort out the thoughts that hamper his mood. You as well hold ill feelings in regards to the summons, and you cannot sit still upon knowing that Madara needed something from you.
The best thing to do now is to continue your investigations. You need to find out about the crimson sun and secure your right to summoning. Once you do, you will be better prepared to deal with the Uchiha.
The second your heels touch the village cobblestone, you receive stares of interest. You wear a flowy dress that mirrors the silhouette of a kimono along with a clip that holds up your hair. Many jewels ornate the clip, resembling a crown among your locks. You had hoped that the simple dress would allow you to assimilate within the villagers, but it seems that you will always stick out.
At least the villagers admire you from afar without any inclination to bother. It's not like the Empire where people would flock your carriage if they found you traversing the streets. The shinobi are much more considerate and respectful of your title which bolsters their likability to you.
Your ruminations pause at the sight of a familiar name that titles the building not too far from where you stand. 'Regal Creations', a bakery that imitated a lot of the capital's pastries. You'd always see their logo written on the boxes of sweets delivered to you. It was like clockwork, receiving them every Sunday by the time you awoke. Instead of appreciating the kind gesture, you'd throw away the food with the belief of everything being tampered with poison.
"Shall we head inside, Your Royal Highness?" Hisa asks in her quiet voice.
You don't answer, taking her question as motive enough to venture into the shop. For the first time, you finally view the interior. It's mostly wood and stone that holds the shop together, but its deep mahogany color gives off an antiquated atmosphere.
When the shopkeeper notices you, she sprints over to welcome you both. "Good morning! Please, come on in. We just made some delicious bread."
Having never been to a bakery, you haven't the slightest idea on how to comport yourself. You glance around until you find a small section of tables and cushions.
"Would you like to sit there? I can take your order from..." The middle-aged woman analyzes you before gasping. "O-Oh my goodness! Y-Y-Your Highness! I am so sorry for my lack of manners." She falls to the floor to bow near your feet.
