---
Chapter 11: Highland Haven
The frost-kissed air of Balmoral Castle carried a quiet promise as Edward Windsor stood in the cozy wing, the fireplace's glow fading into morning light. His blue-gray eyes sparkled with a new idea, one he hoped would lift Tsunade's spirits after her embarrassment and the palace's lingering gossip.
He found her by the window, her blonde ponytail catching the Highland sun, her amber eyes scanning the rugged hills. Her borrowed sweater and jeans fit snugly, but they weren't suited for Scotland's biting cold.
"Tsu," Edward said, his voice warm, "how about a camping trip? Just us, out in the Highlands. Stars, a fire, no palace nonsense. Clear our heads."
Tsunade turned, her reserved demeanor softening, her pragmatic mind weighing the offer. "Camping, prince? Like a shinobi field mission?" Her dry tone held a flicker of curiosity, her subtle humor surfacing.
"I'm in. But your world's cold is vicious. We'll need gear."
Edward grinned, surprised by her quick agreement. "Deal. We flew from London with nothing warm, so let's shop. I know a place in Ballater."
Her nod, calm but intrigued, sealed the plan, their bond a quiet current beneath her guarded exterior.
They climbed into Edward's Land Rover, its rugged frame built for Highland terrain, and drove to Ballater, a quaint village near Balmoral. The shop, a rustic outfitter with plaid-clad staff, brimmed with wool coats, thermal layers, and camping gear.
Edward, in his element, picked out insulated jackets, fleece-lined trousers, and sturdy boots for them both, their sizes a guess for Tsunade's athletic frame.
She raised a brow at a puffy maroon parka, her voice dry. "This is armor, prince, not clothes."
"Armor against frostbite," he teased, tossing her a scarf.
She caught it, her faint smirk a spark of their ease. He added two sleeping bags, a compact tent, and a portable stove, his ducal wealth covering the haul without a blink. Tsunade, unused to Earth's commerce, watched the transaction, her shinobi instincts noting every detail.
Back at Balmoral, they packed the gear and set off in the Land Rover, aiming for a high ridge in the Cairngorms, a remote spot Edward knew from childhood. The mountain, craggy and windswept, was usually free of wildlife, its elevation too harsh for most animals. But Edward, cautious, pulled a small hunting rifle from the estate's armory, its weight unfamiliar in his hands.
He turned to Tsunade, his expression serious.
"Tsu, take this," he said, offering the rifle. "Just in case. The ridge is safe, but… better prepared."
Her amber eyes narrowed, her reserved intensity flaring. "A gun? Your world's kunai?"
She took it, her grip steady despite her inexperience. Edward's mind flickered to a secret he hadn't shared—a blood and DNA test he'd run on her weeks ago, when she'd cut her hand on a palace glass. The results had stunned him: her bone density was less than half a normal human's, a medical anomaly that defied her strength and vitality. Her chakra, he suspected, compensated, but without it, she was fragile. He hadn't told her, fearing her reaction, and now, handing her the rifle, he felt a pang of protectiveness.
"Something like that," he said, masking his worry. "Let me show you how it works."
They stopped at a clearing, the mountain's slope rising ahead. Edward stood close, guiding her hands on the rifle, his voice steady. "Hold it here, aim through the sight, pull the trigger smoothly. Like throwing a shuriken, but louder."
Tsunade's focus sharpened, her shinobi discipline absorbing his instructions. Their hands brushed, her warmth seeping through his gloves, and she leaned into him slightly, her breath visible in the cold.
"Louder's an understatement, prince," she said, her dry quip softening the moment.
She fired a practice shot, the recoil jolting her, and Edward steadied her, his hands on her shoulders, their faces close. Her amber eyes met his, a spark igniting, and for a moment, the Highland wind faded, their closeness a quiet intimacy.
"You're a natural, Tsu," he murmured, his voice low, his heart racing.
She smirked, her reserved nature holding, but her gaze lingered, a silent acknowledgment of their bond.
They reached the ridge by dusk, its rocky crest offering a panoramic view of the Highlands—snow-dusted peaks under a violet sky. Edward pitched the tent with practiced ease, while Tsunade, her shinobi agility intact despite her low bone density, gathered kindling, her movements fluid.
They built a fire, its crackle a counterpoint to the mountain's silence, and sat on a wool blanket, the stars emerging like scattered chakra.
Edward unpacked a thermos of cocoa, pouring her a cup. "Warmer than wine, Tsu," he teased, recalling her banquet mishap.
She took it, her fingers brushing his, another intimate spark in the firelight.
"Your world's stars… they're like Konoha's," she said, her voice soft, her reserved guard lowering. "But colder. Like your heart, prince?"
Her subtle humor, a playful jab, drew a laugh.
"Not cold with you here," he said, his tone earnest, his hand finding hers. Their fingers entwined, the contact grounding, and she didn't pull away, her amber eyes reflecting the flames.
The moment stretched, their bond deepening, the mountain's solitude a cocoon for their unspoken feelings.
But Edward's mind flickered to the letter from Balmoral's study, marked V.M.—Viktor Malin's initials. The financier's shadow, first seen in Mayfair, had followed them here, a subtle threat he couldn't ignore.
He glanced at Tsunade, her rifle nearby, her shinobi senses sharp despite her fragility.
"Tsu," he said, his voice low, "if anything feels off, you tell me. Promise?"
She nodded, her intensity returning. "Always, prince. I've faced worse than your world's snakes."
Her cryptic reference, perhaps to Orochimaru, hinted at her rift's mystery, but she said no more, their hands still clasped.
As night deepened, they crawled into the tent, the sleeping bags side by side. Tsunade, warmed by the cocoa and fire, lay close, her breath steady.
"Goodnight, prince," she murmured, her voice soft, a rare vulnerability.
Edward's heart swelled, the rifle's weight a reminder of her secret fragility, but her presence a strength he couldn't deny.
The stars burned above, the Highlands silent, their camping haven a fragile bubble against the world's shadows.
---
(I WANT MY REVIEW MY POWER STONE.... GIVE ME REVIEW GIVE ME REVIEW))