AN: I apologize for the very late chapter. It's been quite a few months, huh? This chapter was sitting on my word processor for a good four months. I'm only kind of satisfied with it right now. I'll probably hate it in a few hours.

Enjoy.

Chapter III
In Which the Prince Begins the Attack

"Kill her with kindness," Ino declared confidently, swinging her long legs as she perched on the edge of Shikamaru's mahogany desk.

"Kindness?" Chouji repeated. He munched on a fried potato chip thoughtfully, as if considering the weight of Ino's words.

Ino nodded, blonde hair bobbing like a massive halo above her head. "If she's as terrible as you claim—"

"She's far worse," Shikamaru assured her, scribbling away on a piece of parchment. The parchment was titled 'Will' and had Ino and Chouji's names written in scrawny, thin handwriting. His valuables, which he was assigning to each of them, were simple things—his desk, his closet, his silver chess set, his stash of food, his clothes.

"Yes, well, if she is as you claim," Ino continued, pausing only to look at what was written on the parchment to comment that no, she did not want his clothes after his untimely death via strangulation by his spouse. "If she is as you claim, than you must fight her with unnerving kindness."

"How would that work?" Chouji asked, genuinely interested. His hand was poised in the air, halfway to his mouth, a brown chip carefully held in his pudgy hands. "From what I gather, she's an absolute horror."

Ino nodded, smiling wickedly. "Exactly. If she is, as you say, an absolute horror, then she'd be absolutely horrified by the kindness you throw at her."

Shikamaru stared at her, his narrow eyes blinking slowly. He didn't understand a single word that came out of the blonde's mouth. Granted, that wasn't unusual in his case, but then again, he wasn't usually in dire need of her for the sake of his life and future (and quite possibly, his sanity).

"What."

It wasn't even a question on Shikamaru's part. He was confused. Positively and utterly confused. He had no idea what was going on in that blonde head, nor was he too sure he wanted to know. Ino was brilliant, in her own way, but at that moment, not only was she making no sense, as per usual, but she was making him want to bash his head into a wall and jam a quill into his ear.

"Think of it this way." Ino casually swiped away Shikamaru's things, sending a flurry of parchment into the air as she leaned back, draping herself across his desk. She flashed Chouji a smile as he stared at her, wide eyed and struck by her position. "I like men to chase me. Correct?"

Chouji nodded vehemently, but was completely ignored by the blonde angel as she stared directly at Shikamaru. Shikamaru secretly pitied Chouji, his heart going out immediately to his best friend.

"But if a guy chases me too much, I get terribly bored. This princess probably wants you to be nice and let her win. But if you're too nice, you're only going to annoy her and make her want to end things even quicker on her own. It's just the way women work, you know. We're complex creatures."

He couldn't help but to agree there. His mother was insane enough. At moments, she was caring and almost motherly, but then at others she was simply a screaming banshee demanding this, demanding that, stand up straight, don't say yes twice, don't breathe so hard, don't chew so loud, etc. etc. And then at others, she completely ignored him.

Then there was Ino, who was a complexity all by herself and should have honestly been considered her very own sub-species in the human race. She was girly, vain, shallow and a completely airhead. But then she could outsmart even the most intelligent man, could probably just as easily hurt them, and could very well rule an entire country without breaking a sweat.

So Shikamaru had very little doubt that women were, indeed, complex creatures.

As Ino spoke, Shikamaru went through the scenario, nodding silently as the seconds trickled by and the scenes came quicker and clearer. He could see it working. Temari, his soon-to-be-bride-of-doom-and-other-ungodly-dreadful-things, was probably aiming for his cooperation. After all, he had been somewhat tolerable of her the last few days he had run into her around the castle by bowing as low as he could without disgracing himself and running promptly away. But if he were suddenly to turn around and go out of his way to make sure she was "happy," providing her with an abundance of attention and care, he was positive it would drive her nerves to their breaking point and make her run away as fast as her legs could carry her.

Fool proof.

He smiled at Ino and was rewarded by a dazzling smile in return. He couldn't blame Chouji for falling for the girl—she was beautiful, if not deadly. But still, he knew her too well to fall for her charms, and was merely thankful she had decided to grace him with her presence as a friend. Else he would never have come up with what he did. Or have lived long enough, for that matter.

He was starting to think that most of the women he encountered in his life were either 1) angry, 2) deadly, and 3) out to get him.

"Ino, what do I do if this backfires?"

She scowled at him and raised her hand before bringing it down and smacking it across his head. "Silly, you don't think about things like that before it happens."

Sometimes, he wished he didn't listen to her.

It had been a week since his future-wife (who, in the confinements of his mind, he called She-Who-Was-Sent-Down-From-the-Heavens-to-Oficially-Maim-and-Destroy-Me) had arrived at the castle, and he had only exchanged perhaps two words with her in his attempt to get away from her.

It was time to start The Plan.

The first formal dinner they were to share would be that night. He hadn't seen her at meal times (because he actively avoided her, of course) and had no idea what to expect. He was sure that it wouldn't be that bad, until a servant informed him that his parents would be there to "keep an eye on things."

Which meant that if his mother figured out what he was trying to pull, not only would he die far earlier than he had originally planned, even under these special marriage-related circumstances, but that death would be painful and last a long, long, long time.

"Keep calm, Shikamaru," he told himself as he stared into his floor-length mirror and judged himself.

If it weren't for his brains, he decided, cocking his head to the side and wincing as his tendons stuck out, he'd be rather useless. He wasn't very good looking; he was far too skinny and he wasn't even tall enough to be the kind of guy all the girls in town would go for. His skin was a little too pale and his eyebrows were something Ino had always been jealous of, thin and carefully arched like his mother's. The black spike that stuck out of his head seemed strikingly dark against his skin, and he winced when he tried to run his fingers through his hair. There was no hope for him, none at all. And, to be very honest, he was perfectly content with just that. Good looks were for those who could spare them. He had a decent, intelligent brain that made up for his lack of good looks.

He walked to the grand, private dinning hall like a man condemned of high treason and making his last walk to the gallows. His head was low, his hands were thrust in his pockets, and his feet were shuffling and dragging. You could say he resembled Sasuke Uchiha in this manner, only a lot less cooler. And obviously with far less sorrowful things to dwell upon and be depressed over.

Shikamaru wasn't going to make it. He was going to be found out and threatened and mutilated by his mother. His father would be disappointed. He would be remembered as the worst prince and son. The people of his kingdom would overthrow him. His friends will be torn apart. The Evil-Wife-of-Hell would probably laugh.

He would be a disgrace. He'd be one of those legendary stories told to young boys to warn them about what happens when they are disobedient and don't follow orders. He'll be in history books and palace archives as the good-for-nothing Prince that did nothing for his country and let it all go to hell all because he didn't want to marry some beautiful, foreign, scary princess.

Suddenly, he was forced to stop, as there was another figure standing before him. He lifted his eyes slowly and choked on the saliva that had formed the instant his eyes had taken the sight before him in.

Temari stood before him in all of the glory he didn't want to see. He knew she was a looker; that much he'd been certain of since he'd glimpsed her in her pathetic excuse of undergarments. But she was prettier than he remembered, even when he had seen her the few times he chanced going out of his room.

At first, he hadn't thought she was tall, and her generous curves didn't allow him to focus much, but upon taking a closer look, she was taller than he remembered. The body his father had mentioned was hidden in shadows by a strange dress made of some material he couldn't immediately recognize. Her hair was pinned into a knot at the nape of her neck, and if he hadn't ever heard her speak before or knew she was the devil in disguise, he'd have confused her for a delicate, albeit confident woman.

She cocked her hip to the side at the sight of him, a dark, mischievous smile playing dangerously on her lips. He could tell she was readying herself to say something by the glint in her eyes, the way her full lips opened slowly, the way her tongue flicked behind her teeth like a snake preparing to strike.

He had to beat her to it. He probably had about two seconds to come up with something magnificently witty to shut her up for the rest of the night, enabling him to have hours to devote to getting rid of her and effectively destroying their wedding.

"You look beautiful."

If video cameras had been invented in his time, or had there been a magic spell that would allow him to capture moments like these (there was, but only the evil magician Orochimaru knew of it, and he used it to spy on little boys), he would have done so in a heartbeat.

Temari's face was priceless.

Her initial smirk fell in less than half a second, and her eyes, beautiful and dangerous, twitched along with the corner of her upper lip. All the color in her face rushed away and left her pale and almost lifeless as she stared at him in absolute horror.

"Excuse me?"

He gave her what he hoped was a dizzying smile of radiance, though it ended up looking more like a grimace. "You look very beautiful tonight." Though the words burned on his tongue and cut his lips, he wasn't actually lying. The truth was she looked stunning, only that he knew such beauty was laced with the potential of getting obliterated.

The way her mouth hung open reminded him of a fish out of water, struggling to breathe but finding air inadequate. "You. Wait. What?" Her sputtering made the scary air around her dissipate, leaving her looking more like a harmless young woman than the evil monster he knew lurked deep within the confines of her probably very-soft and very-smooth skin.

He knew that the only reason she had been rendered to sputtering and confusion was because she hadn't been expecting it. By the way he acted since the moment she arrived, he was sure that she had assumed that he'd be the first to call off the marriage and run away as fast as his skinny, long legs could carry him. He knew that if she had known he was a bit cleverer than she had originally anticipated, she wouldn't have kept her guard so low.

He knew it would take her only a few seconds to analyze the situation and come up with some horrible plan to get back at him. He could see it in her calculating eyes, the way they flitted back and forth, trying to assess as much of the situation as humanly possible.

That was why he offered her his arm. Keep throwing things at her, stun her, and take advantage. It was why he wasn't too surprised she took his arm even as her mouth opened in question and utter confusion.

At the moment of contact, however, he stiffened, feeling her do the same. He'd never touched a girl before, except Ino (and trust him, she didn't count), and the one time he had to pick Temari up. But those moments didn't count. He had never purposely reached out to touch someone, let alone a beautiful woman who could probably easily dominate him and rip his intestines out through his throat.

He looked down at where their arms linked. Although he wore a shirt and doublet, her dress left her arms bare. He could feel the heat of her skin through his clothing, and the very fact that he could made his own skin flush and heat up.

Oh no.

Shikamaru stared at it for a moment longer, only to be startled out of his staring by her awkward cough.

"Are you just going to keep looking at our linked arms or what?"

He bit his tongue to keep a retort back and instead offered her his best smile, which wasn't much, since he really didn't smile. He had perfected his "Leave-Me-Alone-I'm-Lazy-Shut-Up-Go-Away" look to the T, but smiling was as foreign to him as the woman on his arm was.

"Shall we head in?"

Temari smirked as her eyes rolled to the top of her head in annoyance. "Why yes, I believe so."

He led her in, turning to look at her every once in a while. Apparently, she was too interested in their surroundings, as she never caught him staring. He wondered faintly if she was merely avoiding him, or if she was truly that bored of him that she had to entertain herself elsewhere.

Whatever it was, it was good for him. He could judge her reactions without being caught and secretly admire her side profile.

Hold on. Back up. Wait a minute. What?

He shook his head and mentally berated himself. No. Way. Those thoughts were to disappear and never return. His hormones had absolutely no business in this whatsoever. None.

Shikamaru slowly brought Temari to her seat, extremely aware of the stares he was getting from both his mother and father's part, although his father's look was one that trailed away to look at other things. His mother, however, was watching every step and breath he took, probably judging it to see if he was purposely ruining everything.

His mother, the Queen, then cleared her throat, gaining both his and Temari's attention. She smiled at them both, the smile of a thousand daggers, the smile that could set a nation on fire, the smile that let Shikamaru know that if he screwed something up, she would flail him alive.

As Temari sat down, Shikamaru awkwardly pulled out his chair to follow suit. He was nervous, obviously. He had to over-compliment Temari, make her think of him as a darling, wonderful boy, while at the same time, avoid his mother.

"How wonderful of you to join us," the Queen said, her voice dripping with the same sarcasm Shikamaru had running through his veins. Temari was dripping with sarcasm as well, he knew, except she wore hers all over her body like shea butter.

"I apologize, Mother," Shikamaru began, before Temari could get her word in and thoroughly ruin everything he had worked so hard for in those last three minutes. "I was distracted by Temari's stunning beauty."

Temari's mouth dropped. His mother's eyes twitched. His father was banging his spoon against the table and giggling to himself, like an old fart usually does, except his father was far from old and only farted in the privacy of his own bedroom. The servants were momentarily paralyzed at their stations. The Aho Crow had flown straight into a window of the castle. Somewhere, Chouji's last chip had fallen.

The world was ending.

Except, not really. Everything was perfectly fine, except the Aho Crow. And well, Temari.

The muscles at her neck stood out as she turned to face Shikamaru and glare at him. He was sure that if his parents weren't there, she would reach over and promptly strangle him.

"You are going too far," she mumbled darkly, the edge of her voice letting him know that if his mother ever so much as blinked for a second too long, he would be killed.

His mother, on the other hand, was positively thrilled, even though her eyes were narrowed and she was as calculating as ever. He could tell. He'd been around her enough to know what her scheming face looked like. "I am glad too see you two are getting along. Perhaps we should move the wedding date up a few weeks."

Shikamaru died.

Or, well, he wanted to. In fact, he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole, and if it insisted on taking him to the center of the burning core and roast him, he wouldn't mind so much, either. Anything would be bettter than where he was.

Temari's reaction seemed to be quite similar to his. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened and closed wordlessly as she tried to process what his mother had just said. He knew she was a smart one, but sometimes, even his own mother caught him off guard.

"What do you mean?" Temari finally spoke, her voice near cracking with emotion.

"Originally, the King and I had planned that the wedding between my son and you would occur in a month. But seeing as the two of you are getting along so well, perhaps we should move it up to next week—"

"We are most certainly not getting on well!" Temari interrupted, already standing, her hands made into fists at her sides.

Shikamaru shrugged. "I thought we were. I said you looked nice, didn't I?"

Temari turned, positively fuming. "You will shut up."

"You're cute when you're mad."

She took in a deep breath, her cheeks flaming pink. "I know exactly what you're playing at, and it won't work."

"What is going on here?" the Queen asked, her voice high and strict.

"They're being couple-like," the King answered, his voice weak and muffled by the mask he wore over his mouth. "Almost like when we started dating."

Temari spared the King and Queen a glance before turning back to Shikamaru, far from composed and ready to punch someone in the face. He assumed it was him. "I am not going to be the one to break from this marriage arrangement from hell. I will not lose," she whispered, and although her voice was low and as close to calm as one can get when shaking with intense anger, he could feel the deathly intentions oozing from her every pore.

She was so close to snapping. He had only to push a little further…

"You got it, beautiful."

She shook her fists; her blonde hair seemed to stand on end as her anger rose. "I will not lose to you."

He shrugged and forced himself to yawn, trying to look bored. He wasn't, though. Not really. As scary as the foreign princess was, she was rather entertaining, especially when she got so mad and didn't even bother to hide it. At first, she was level headed. He liked that about her. If there would be war, she'd play the game well. But as her nerves began to fray, so did her composure. He liked that, too. As much as a challenge would be wonderfully refreshing, knowing he was bound to win was a comforting reassurance.

"Your patience is wearing thin," he told her, leaning back against his chair and allowing one of the terrified servants to place a napkin over his lap. "If you keep on like that, you're going to lose."

She bit her lip as she stared down at him. A moment later, she was smirking. "Fine, then. If this is the way you want to play, then so be it." She gave him a low curtsy, bowing her head but keeping her eyes on his. "Don't say I didn't warn you," she said, sing-song and atrociously girly. Her eyes suddenly narrowed as she leaned toward him slowly. "Remember this."

And that was the end of his life as he knew it.