Chromgradulate Me Guys

𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒  ↳ @fortuitousflowers

          SUMMER, for sure. That idyllic image of tall grasses swaying with the sun overhead when they grab Robin off the ground is so good, and I guess that's the visual shorthand that I most associate with Chrom. Then in his supports with Maribelle, we also find out that his favorite jam is gooseberry  ( which is harvested in the summer ),  and that they used to spend time with her family in the “country”. I think of summer festivals, and traveling stage shows, and catching jars full of fireflies to release all at once. Really though, Chrom just has big Summer/Oak King energy, which is another medieval motif you see a lot. Forever fighting back that Holly King and keeping Grima at bay, you know?

fortuitousflowers​:

          There were so many rooms in the resort to accommodate all the... guests, that sometimes Sumia got lost in the winding halls. There was little to no variation, and after a while, each woven chair or framed picture of the sunset began looking like the last. What was worse… she didn’t seem to be running into any people, either. 

          Pegasus plop. What was she supposed to do in a situation like this? If only she could ask someone where the exit was… Maybe then she wouldn’t have to feel like a dunce for not being able to find her way out.

          Suddenly, a rustle. Sumia turned and noticed a door slightly ajar, right at the end of the walkway. Was someone here? She knew it wasn’t right to just barge into someone’s room, but these were desperate times. Taking a deep breath, Sumia approached the door, opening it ever-so-slightly to see who was inside. It would probably be okay, right? This was her dream after all! Though it was safe to say that of all the things she expected on the other side, it wasn’t this. 

          “Captain!” she exclaimed. “I-I mean, Chrom!” 

          She’d never seen him look so startled. His face was pale, his eyes were wide, he dropped to the ground and-- 

          Well, that wasn’t right. Chrom must’ve tripped. The crowned leader of Ylisse wouldn’t duck and scurry under the bed like a common insect. Oh, goodness. Sumia rushed forward, leaning down and checking through the gap underneath the bed to make sure he was alright. At least he seemed to recognize her.

          “That’s right! It’s me, Sumia!” Turn around?! Oh, no. Whirling back in the direction of the door, she was ready to fight any manner of intruder who had snuck up on them…! 

          But there was no one there. Concern morphed into confusion. Just what was going on here? It took Sumia shifting to Chrom’s side of the room  to finally grasp the situation. 

          “O-Oh! My apologies, captain, I didn’t mean to walk in on you changing!” A light pink tinted her cheeks. “I understand the embarrassment, but It’s nothing I’ve never seen before. No one in the Shepherds will ever forget the day you proudly shed you modesty and laid yourself bare for the world to see. All for our sake! It was so cool, even Vaike couldn’t stop smiling even after he teared up from being so touched! We couldn’t even say the word ‘prince’ without him bursting into laughter.” 

          Although looking at him now, Chrom’s  muscles did seem a little less… sparkly than she remembered. Weird. But if her darling Exalt needed protecting, then protecting she would give him! It didn’t matter if it was from assassins, risen, prying eyes, or cool breeze on his exposed chest. She wouldn’t let him down. 

          “Don’t worry, I have you covered!” Literally. Sumia made a grab for the nearest loose fabric her fingers could wrap around. The blankets and sheets were tucked in, but with Chrom looking so mortified, the curtains felt like they could be a quicker solution to the problem. Only… maybe she grabbed a little too enthusiastically. In one motion down came the curtains along withthe rod holding them up. Sumia didn’t have time to react before metal banged over the top of her head, Her vision went white with pain…! 

          “Ah! Ow…” 

          ...No! Her vision was still white! Did she go blind?! Sumia stuck her arms out straight to feel around, only to realize the curtains had fallen on her completely. 

          “Captain? Are you there?! I’m coming!”

          She just needed to find her way out of all this darn fabric first.

          On a night long ago, they had all gathered round the campfire to hear each others most blood curdling tales. He could remember Ricken's brave face, and Henry's mad smile, but most of all were the stories of spectres and poltergeists that they had traded on gentle whispers. Chrom wasn't sure why those had stuck with him—something about slaying monsters made the simple horrors all the more menacing, and ghosts, unlike fiends, had history.

          Right now, he was fairly certain he was in one of those stories. Centuries would pass, yet children would continue to spread the tale of Chrom the Inconceivable, Exalt of Ylisse and he who prevailed against Grima only to be bested by a friend's smile.

          Sumia was many things. Kind, sweet, a lovely baker, and just a tad careless at times. That was why, tomorrow, he may regret yelling at her good intentions, but for now Chrom had no such reserve. Face red and eyes seething, he opened his mouth in anger before he quite knew what say.

          “Why would you—? That—its not the point, Sumia!”

          Nothing she hadn't seen before? DAMN Frederick! He could burn in hell with all those bloody posters that he'd strewn about the camp, and damn her too for reminding him that half the continent must have seen him... seen him in, or no, not in moreover—there hadn't been so much as a sheet, and she'd the GAUL to bring it up again?!

          Chrom couldn't decide if he should push her out the window or the door, but then, Sumia made it easy for him. He watched as she jumped back to greet a nonexistent foe, nearly as quick to get tangled in the drapes as she was to protect her captain. He was still furious, but he couldn't stay mad at that.

          Chrom hauled himself to his feet and, sighing deeply, dragged a sheet from his bed. It was far from perfect as he knotted it around his waist, but it would do. Besides—it was nothing she hadn't seem before.

          “Hold on,” he said. Then, within a matter of moments, he had clasped his fingers round the metal pole that she'd torn down. Bit by bit, they found her again—a hand here, a shoulder there—until all of Sumia stared back at him. She was wrapped in white linens from head to toe like a ghost, or a bride, and neither was a thought that Chrom cared to entertain.

┊♕ .┊ 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐬:  𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒚𝒂𝒍 𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉!!

Marth  &  Chrom.          ◞           @exaltbound

               Within only a few days of his induction into the academy’s new season, it does not take him long to learn that here in Garreg Mach, labor enjoyed is also labor shared. The pleasurable dishes that lined the banquet tables at luncheons and suppers were not always made by master chefs. Affluent doyens who have pored over their spices as any warrior might their iron and steel.

               No; so, too, did patches of lesser known students and professors come along, pitching in to the broad and demanding efforts that brightened every face, young or old, come the chime of the dinner bell!

               Kitchen duty was therein a task that the good-hearted prince adopted with due diligence. By a fair system built on rotation, it would be every man and woman’s role to feed their fellow mouths at one point or another. Today this outstanding obligation fell upon him and one other; he is joined by a second  entrant, a member of the faculty older, taller, and hopefully more if not equally dependable. They even looked comfortingly alike to a degree!

               Only, his expectant hopes are.. Respectably dashed. To someone like the Ylissean he reckoned the culinary arts were ferried over from a world seven seas yonder. Observing the man at work was disturbing. Like watching an elephant attempt to wedge its way into a den of mice. A rolling pin in his one hand and a kitchen cleaver in the other, the image at least was earnest as the sun dawning on a serf’s humble day of work. Marth did not have the heart to tell Chrom that neither of these utensils were remotely needed for making sauce. Steaming crabs.

               It is decided, then, that the Archanean prince must take command.

               Marth runs a napkin bitterly down the flat of his tongue with as much regal grace as he can muster and tosses it into the waste-bin. “..Professor Chrom, steamed crabs are a simple dish, so they require the accompaniment of a solid butter sauce to truly shine. But, you did not use any butter as condiment. You used salt. You also did not pestle the garlic before adding them, so now their pieces float like sad planks of white atop a.. Well, not buttery sea.”

              The young lord sighs then goes on to say, a bit desperately, though perhaps this could be a mark of the imagination, “But, no matter. You could leave the case of the sauce to me.. And.. Retrieve a few bushels of crabs from the back? Please, do not take it upon yourself todo more.” His gesture directed the other towards the coolers in the back where the kitchen’s crustacean bounty was stored, both princes unwitting to their doors ominously, questionably ajar…

              Chrom wasn't particularly gifted when it came to the culinary arts. He'd admit as much to anyone who asked, but that wasn't to say that he couldn't be of some use in the kitchen. He had done his part same as everyone else when they'd been traveling, so perhaps it was that the Shepherds had never been fortunate enough to feast on broiled crab and all its trappings, or maybe it had something to do with the fact that his immeasurably great great grandfather was breathing down his neck.

              As a child, Chrom has imagined that the Hero-King would have towered over him, so one could imagine his surprise at finding him to be scarcely shorter than Lucina. He could see himself in his face too, same as he could with her, so much so that he'd have sooner thought he was his son then... well. Then who he was.

               "You know... you're pretty good at this," he said. That wasn't something that the tales would've led him to believe either, but Chrom must have been thinking too much. Marth clearly hadn't let his thoughts meander to the point of spoiling everyone's dinner, and a quickly uttered apology flew from his lips before he knew what he was apologizing for. Messing up, he supposed. Just because Chrom had spent his childhood shuffling between castles and courts didn't mean that he felt any better about wasting food, particularly when he remembered the famine that had plagued their early years. It may have just as easily been for making a fool of himself, too, because the fact of it was that no matter how many times he saw Marth walking the halls, or swinging his sword, it felt uncanny. Uncanny because of the many centuries that separated them, and uncanny because of how standing next to him made that distance feel so much smaller.

              "Alright," Chrom smiled, and pretended like he wasn't dying inside after being asked to help less. Really though, he couldn't blame him, and at the very least he hoped that Marth's unspoken suspicions were correct—he couldn't possibly mess up carrying something, and it was that false sense of security that made Chrom's heart plummet all the more when he bent to take the wicker cage from the floor. To his horror, it was light as a feather, save for one apparent straggler that slid from it's confines shell first.

              That... wasn't meant to happen. For a moment all he could do was blink at the blatant incongruity while the crab reached skywards with its spindly little legs. He grasped it from behind, still perplexed, until he noticed the severed twine that held the trap's latch in place.

starter for @theindigoflirt

          There was a stillness to the nights here, all gentle breezes and moonlight. Feeling at peace was easy with the sound of waves nipping at the sand, but that was just it—there was trouble on the tide. Chrom couldn't quite place it, but if years of making camp in hostile lands had taught him anything, it was to trust the hairs on the back of his neck.

          He had wandered far from their rooms, and the roaring campfires that blazed at all hours. The further he went, the more certain he was that something was amiss, until eventually all thoughts he had were shrouded in an island mist. It was the edge of the world, as far as they knew. Chrom and a few others had gathered as much on their first day here, and after what felt like one endless summer of shouting and roaming and walking, it had lead them back to the beach like some faerie trick. Chrom hadn't cared for the experience himself, and with that in mind, he reached for it again with a weary step. All he knew for certain was that it felt different this time, though that was no reason to take his hand from his sword.

          Quite the contrary, he was careful to slip Falchion from it's sheath as he moved. One never knew when they'd need to whirl it overhead in silence, letting the flat of Naga's fang cut ribbons through the fog, and reveal...

          “Inigo?!” Gods, this boy was... unlucky, he guessed. Either that or incredibly fortunate depending on which side of the sword one stood. Chrom didn't seem particularly pleased to have found him there, but at the very least, he removed his blade from beneath his chin. After that, it was simply a matter of letting whatever anxieties had gathered within him fall away with a sigh.

          “Well... good thing you got twinkle-toes,” he said. Chrom smiled, and clasped him on the shoulder, but between that and his own laugh, the sound reverberated much farther than it should have. A worried look returned to his face, and it was then that Chrom realized that the noise he was hearing was a bell.

          He took one careful step to greet it, and instead of solid earth, there was an ocean at his feet. An ocean with no shore, and no waves, but it did have one thing that the beach lacked—a ship. It bore a sturdy mast, and a narrow hull, and sails that unfurled on a nameless wind. They tossed and turned to the machinations of some unknown spirit, swaying in dead air.

          What he had missed was the fog clearing, and a curious flag crawling up the stern. Apparently, Chrom didn't need that information in order to narrow his eyes at Inigo, and of all the questions he could've possibly asked, he had but one.

𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒  ↳ @nobaettadr​

          Chrom is in tip-top shape, and really, being a simple sword boy is always going to be where his heart is. The thing is that Chrom was never supposed to be the Exalt ( in the game he refuses to use the title for a time out of respect for his sister, which gets me every time ), and I have a lot of feelings and headcanons surrounding him, Em and Lissa having to work together to salvage Ylisse as kids. In that little mix where Emmerlyn was the brains, and Lissa was the heart, he was the body, and Chrom never had a problem with just being the person who's job it was to project that kind of strength.

          Then of course, the medievalist in me is just jumping up and down with the “body of the king/body of a nation” motif! Chrom is young and happy and full of life? The kingdom prospers. Chrom dies like a weakling after being stabbed once? Bevis of Hampton is laughing in his grave and you better prepare for the aPOCALYPSE.

𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒  ↳ @soluminus

          OOOO this is a good one, I like this one. In a lot of ways Chrom’s exactly who you’d expect him to be, and I’ve always appreciated that. He has a strong sens e of justice, and the drive to see it through, so you know—classic princely prince over here. I like to think that he comes from a long line of good boys ( looking at you, @arcstral ) and that definitely shines through.

          I’ve talked about this with friends before too, but to me Chrom really is that rare blend of “humble nobility” that comes off as genuine rather than annoying, or tone deaf? Because he’s not self-depreciating, he’s just honest about his own abilities, and a lot of the good that he sees in other people is stuff that he feels he lacks. I think that’s what surprises people when they meet him, because his recruitment tactic for the Shepherds is 1% “we were childhood friends so of course you’re here” and 99% “hey... hey you. yeah, you. you’re super talented would you maybe consider doing it for me and NOT an anime villain?”

          Then, on the flip side, I think there are also some things that you people aren’t going to be privy too with him until they get to know him better. For one thing, for someone who can come off as kindness personified he has a surprisingly short temper? You don’t get it that much with his supports, but a lot of the narrative text for the game is Chrom being frustrated or bitter or just shouting through his grief. I guess what I’m getting at is that there are two standard reacts when shit hits the fan, and Chrom’s definitely in the “shouts at the sky and punches a wall” camp as opposed to the quiet, stoic, silent anger characters.

          THERE’S ALSO HIS WIT WHICH IDK MAN, IT SURPRISES ME? Chrom telling Lissa that if she’s not a princess then she better start paying them back for rent money, or laying that sick mom burn on M!Robin. These are the kind of one-liners that I aspire to as I write him.

𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒  ↳ @theindigoflirt & @agneas

          HA I mean. Isn't this just canon? Chrom has an incessant need to help others, which a lot of people call him out for in his supports. I like his with M!Robin in particular, because entire tone of that interaction is just Chrom saying “look I get that always sticking my neck out might make it seem like I’m not thinking things through, but the truth is that the me that reaches out to people is just who I am at my core, and stupid or not, I’m not really looking to change.”

           In the same vein Chrom also tells him that he can afford to be an idiot because “that’s what Frederick’s for”, so you know, that’s great. It’s nice when your excuse for being a dumb ass is just well what do you think I’m paying you all for?

          He’s got that classic Shakespearean/Greek Hero thing going on where his greatest strength is also his greatest weakness, you know? Like, in another life he DIED because he put too much trust in a friend, but even knowing that he’s still not going to reevaluate his life. It’s simultaneously frustrating, and really, really inspiring to the people around him, or at least I've always read his interactions that way.

𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒  ↳ @windsheedme & @houseofreglay

          YOU KNOW I never really thought about it, but I'd like him to have an unusual talent. In case you missed me leading the geek out in #gen-media that one day, Matt Mercer is a half-decent singer ( click here for an inside look at bro nights with Gaius ), which I do carry over to Chrom in my head. I joked about him really appreciating the opera/the theater too, and while bougie, it’s not necessarily weird. He mentions always wanting to travel in a couple of his threads, and I think that, in a very realistic way, that just translates into him having a love of bards and storytellers in general since they’re the people who get to experience that life, and carry bits of it back to him.

         But back to weird—I dunno, lets say he can wiggle his ears or something? My sister can do that. It’s a good ice breaker, can’t wait for him to bust out that trick in one of my threads.

starter for @lolucina

          Ever since arriving at Garreg Mach, there'd been no shortage of things to do. Between the classes, and the missions, and the meetings, and the toddler in his room, Chrom had worn himself thin—and he was glad of it. Something about living through strife made it hard to sit still, yet he could honestly say that he was much happier building something than he had ever been when he was holding it together.

          Gods, Em. How'd you do it? The Grimleal nipping at their heels, half of Ylisse in ruins to pay for their father's judgement, and not one but two children in her care when she herself had barely had ten years behind her. She had never admitted to being anything less than fine, and for the life of him Chrom had no idea how one could be so close to another who held so many secrets. Every day, he learned more about his late sister, and every day, that was all he could do. It was just a matter of taking up the reigns of those who'd come before you, accepting their successes, and their failures, and praying you were doing it right. King to daughter, sister to brother, and father to...

          “——Lucina?”

          All of a sudden, he was breathless. The handful of papers he'd been clutching drifted to the floor like confetti, and with nothing else between his hands, they reached for her. It was a simple matter of putting one foot in front of the other, until it was eight, ten, fifteen steps—what a small price to pay to have her there again, and to know beyond any shadow of a doubt that this was no dream.

         “It's you—I mean, you're here,” he said. Then, there was his laugh. It bubbled up from his throat, light and deep and airy all at once. In the span of that sound his grip moved from her back, to her shoulders, to her face, until warm and calloused fingers ran down the ridge of her ears and the ends of her hair. “You cut it?”

          He didn't know what else to say, or at least, he didn't know what to say first. There must have been a thousand little things, each as small and vapid as the last, but in this moment they were everything to him. Questions like where she'd been, and how long she planned to stay? For now though, he'd have to settle for just two.

shydancer:

Olivia backed up a bit in response, immediately shooting into a flurry of waving hands and shaking head, her hair flailing wildly behind her as a waterfall of words began to spill from her mouth.

“No, no, no.. N-no! That wasn’t my intention! I mean, i-it kind of was, but I didn’t mean to offend-! C-Chrom, I just… Ooohhh, Olivia you’ve really done it this time! Why did you say that, you know we talked about this!”

Perhaps she had been too friendly to the king, maybe all the interactions they had while in the Shepherds was simply an illusion, a sliver of hope that they might be friends. She might as well have considered herself a goner; outcast, banished. To think she had the audacity to raise her voice against the heir of Ylisse—she had a good life.

As she began to tear up thinking of how she should continue her life of exile, thinking of how she should tell Inigo, Chrom’s voice cuts through her excessive thoughts snapping her out of her hysterics.

“You… Just wanted to say my castle was nice?”

She turned around to look at her, what was once a decent looking, Ylissean castle, now crushed and turned to sand save for a couple towers and walls that remained standing. Her arms dropped to her side allowing room for Chrom to step forward and approach the ruined castle.

Guilt sat in the pit of her stomach, both embarrassment and remorse taking hold of her emotions, her face flushed red as her hands were brought up to cover her face. Peeking through a window between her fingers a meek voice piped up.

“I-I’m sorry, Chrom… For overreacting… I would-” She turned to peek at her castle again. “Appreciate it if you would help me rebuild.”

          It never took much to fluster Olivia. All Chrom had to do was show up, spout a few ill-chosen words, and there—head shaking, hands failing, voice pleading as she rambled through her thoughts. It was the sort of thing that he may of taken to heart coming from anyone else, but with her it just made it easier to smile. An anxious smile, sure, but not one weighed down by guilt. He just wanted to hang his head, and laugh, and... fix up four walls and roof with her, apparently.

          Chrom took a deep breath, and opened his mouth to speak again. Each passing word felt less stilted in his mouth than the last, and that was good—now all he needed to do was not mess up again.

          "I did! It reminded me a bit of home, actually."

          As much as a few pillars of sand could, at any rate. Olivia had done a fine job of it to be sure, but he suspected that reaching that conclusion from a dozen meters out said more about him than it did about the structure.

          Ylisse was a nation of waterways. You never had to go far to find a beach, or a river, not even in the frigid north. For him though, it had been a lake, and its sands had been far coarser then the grains here. From the moment he touched it, he could tell that it was more conducive to constructing memories, and, true to his word, Chrom didn't waste long before starting.

          His eyes however were less assured, and they did an odd dance as he worked. Chrom wasn’t sure of if he should be glancing at his excavation, or staring up at Olivia. Part of him was still worried that she might run off again if he took his eyes off her, while still another part was very certain that the very act of observing was largely responsible for her past vanishings. The result was some odd mix of each instinct, and Chrom's only saving grace was that he himself seemed unaware of just how frantic it looked.

zodiac: aries, earth tiger

height: 181 cm ( or 5′11 for your non metrics )

timezone: EST

listening to: the “unofficial” tower of god soundtrack. judging by my dash, its good to know that we’re all weebs in this family.

last movie i saw: the handmaiden, i think? last series i watched is easier to remember. it was… dimension 20 big little crimes. i’ve also been listening to the witcher books. spoiler, they’re good.

last thing i googled: blue red texture

average amount of sleep: 4-7 hours

what i’m wearing: t-shirt

dream job: i am currently getting my licensure and masters of education, but the “dream” is to teach at the collegiate level one day. for that though you need a masters in your subject area and a doctorate if you wanna be marketable, so until i have money i shall enjoy my time as a high school lit teacher 👏

dream trip: ICELAND. OR australia would also be pretty great too. it might be basic but seeing the reefs before they die has always been a goal of mine. going to cambodia would be pretty high on my list.

favorite food: anything i can put a spoonful of red pepper powder on. so… mostly curries. i guess. bonus if their base is coconut milk.

play any instruments: violin & flute… mostly violin. marching band was an experience.

eye color: blue

hair color: brown

languages: english. also semi-fluent in french.

most iconic song: tha mi sgìth is both my comfort food and a bop. i am a passionate medieval studies enthusiast don’t @me

random fact about me: i can recite both old and middle english in a very good accent yet choose to play dnd with a bad italian one go figure.

reason for my url: he becomes the exalt… one could say he is… exalt bound. its so unoriginal that i even found out someone already used this url for chrom? they deactivated awhile ago, leaving a perfectly good starter unused in their tags. like a heathen.

@shydancer:

"And I think that went there...”

Soft mumbles filled the air as her hands worked meticulously for her newest sand creation. Feeling just a little homesick she thought it’d be a good idea to recreate a piece from home, one that particularly stuck in her mind even as she traveled across the continent, hopping from town to town.

Adding a pretty shell to the top of the multitude of white hills as its final touch Olivia took a step back to admire her work, promptly bumping into someone behind her as she did so.

“Eeeek!”

A high pitched squeal escaped her body as she turned to face her new company.

“S-S-Sir Chrom! Milord! C-Chrom!”

She took a step back in shocked surprise, barely catching herself before she stepped on her new sandcastle. The dancer was now a jitter of stutters and mumbles, standing meekly before the Ylissean heir with her head slightly bowed before him. She knew there was nothing to be afraid of—she had spoken with Chrom plenty times before during their time in the Shepherds—but force of habit caused her to switch to her shyer demeanor.

Before he can take a step forward Olivia puts up her hands in front of him, face flushed pink and eyes squeezed shut as she does so.

“N-No! You can’t look at that! T-This may be presumptuous of me, Chrom, but y-you’re not allowed to look at it! O-O-O-Or else I might...”

She takes a moment to pause, taking a deep breath in before blurting out her next sentence.

“I might die(of embarrassment)!”

           In the span of a few seconds, Chrom's hands flew between a series of indecisive actions. His first instinct was to catch his comrade, but Olivia's nimble feet rendered the intent quite useless. Then, in an involuntary flash the next obvious place for his arms to rest was up in the air. Chrom surrendered as if he'd been the one to break her own personal palace, and in a way, he supposed he had been.

          He gave her a nervous smile, the sort that hid a sigh and could've just as easily been a grimace had his brow furrowed the right way. Of all the people in all the world... why was this always so hard?

          “Ha... and, what if I said you were?”

          Chrom laughed weakly, trying his best dislodge whatever stone had crawled into his stomach. After a moment's pause though, it seemed like maybe that sort of jest hadn't been the best call. He opened his mouth to say as much, assuring her that he'd been kidding, and finally returning his hands to his side for good measure.

          Really, things hadn't gone particular well since he walked over—but that was fine. Chrom cleared his throat, and prepared to start again.

          “I wouldn't want that to happen, but, I also caught a glimpse or two down the beach already. It looks nice—that's what I came over to tell you...” Chrom dared a peep over her shoulder, long enough to discern that looked might've been the more appropriate term. The craftsmanship was still there, just hidden behind a light dusting of rubble as the central tower crashed onto what remained. It was unfortunate, but... not unsalvageable.

» like old times

starter for @exaltbound

Before they disappeared, before they spent weeks in foreign lands and fought for their lives, there were… peaceful times in the monastery. Ones spent just lazying around, drinking, eating, lazying around again…

Bah– he’d like to go back those. In fact, he’s going back to it right now. In the sandy shores of this strange ass beach, he daydreams. It was a cold winter’s night, the end of a long week for everyone at the monastery. And of course, every end to a tiring work week has to end with…

“So, Blue. You ready to party like a Knight?! Totally understandable if you can’t keep up. Things can get crazy once everyone starts drinkin’.”

Gaius speaks as if he’s been a knight all his life, but he wasn’t. Chrom knows that of course. It just so happens he has a knack for blending in and adjusting to whatever life throws him. And this time around? Life threw an armored lemon at him with the words SEIROS written on it.

He slings an arm around the Exalt, and grins cheekily, not too worried about formalities now that they weren’t in Ylisse. This is fine, right? You have no power here, buddy. He might be here for whatever official business or whatever, but he hasn’t forgotten the noble’s want to see more of the world. He was happy for the guy now that he’s doing just that. He was just here to give him an extra layer of sight-seeing, he he.

“Don’t mind the name, owner’s just a shorty.” He guides Chrom to a tavern where he promised to take him, a wooden sign that says ‘The Winking Gnome’ greeting them. “Careful not to call him that though. The guy can throw a knife from a mile away– it’s insane!”

There was always something a bit disconcerting about Gaius. He’d a tendency to have both the quietest footsteps and the loudest voice at any given moment, often alternating between the two. With that in mind, Chrom hadn’t been waiting long for him at all, but his sudden appearance was still enough to make him start. A somewhat anxious laugh grew into a full bellied one once that familiar name and that familiar arm had wound themselves round his shoulders.

Overtime, he’d gotten used to the presence of both in his life… more or less.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. The added stress and a roll of his eyes was enough to make it seem as though he were slightly more confident than he felt, but that was neither here nor there. It was easy enough to fall in step, and easy enough to return the favor–Gaius might’ve been light on his feet, but that didn’t negate the strength of a playful shove or a friendly jab.

“Besides, you didn’t need to come halfway around the world just to get yourself a fancy title. We could’ve taken care of that two years ago with a flask of water and a tree branch.”

Ah yes, that’s right. Chrom supposed it was Sir Gaius now, but he’d save that one for later. Really, there was nothing quite as satisfying as watching his old friend become an upstanding member of society, even if it did seem to be against his will at times. Still, it was more than that–Chrom was truly happy for him, and later that night, he’d make sure to force a sincere moment between their banter to let him know.

Once upon a time, he could remember telling him how all royal courts were the same. It was its own strange comfort, and true enough. Perhaps then it was only that Chrom did not have the same repetitive experience with bustling tavern streets that this one seemed so rapt. Every voice, and every stall, and every door–he had been drinking in the whole of it as they walked, which was why their sudden stop in front of one particular establishment left… well. A different sort of impression, to say the least.

send 💫 to go stargazing with my muse

          "You think?"

          Chrom didn't lift from the sands or turn to face him, but you could hear the quirk in his brow. It might be true—here, there was a certain closeness that they had with the sky. Night or day, it always felt like it was bearing down on them, as if the sun and stars were just beyond their grasp. There was a rich blue to the water too, such that each endless ripple managed to catch something of the heavens in its stance. It was all sea foam, and salt, and stardust.

          Ylisstol couldn't be more different. There, rather than having moonlight seep into the very earth, the mountains held it at arms length. If there study peaks could not influence the constellations, then no man could, and even the sun bled in its own unique way. There was no vibrancy to its coming and going, only a soft, pastel light that coloured that distance, with the wild wyverns and pegasi dancing on its brush.

          Had they known a different sky? Morgan, and Lucina, and everyone else who'd slipped though the jaws of time with her. Grima could've swallowed the moon for all he knew. He wouldn't have seen it then, and no one would see it now.

          All the same, Chrom stretched his fingers out in front of him, tracing some distant figure with six steady lines. "See that cluster over there...? Looks like someone cut through a diamond, but, its supposed to be Naga. Back when I was little, and my older sister had to leave... she sat me down and told me that you could see her from anywhere in Ylisse. Ferox, Plegia, home—didn't matter. I guess she's here, too."

          That was something, right? Whatever odd dream he'd found himself in, there were some truths that could not be altered, and stars that they'd fixed together.

          "Then," he said, shifting his mark some thirty degrees to the left. "That weird little triangle is supposed to be the Forsaken Twins. I used to tell Lissa that they were always watching, and that if she didn't go to bed one of them would chop her into little bits while the other one held her down."

          In his defense, it had never worked. Felt like lifetimes ago too, though, that wasn't saying much when they were stuck in a place that seemed to to do as it pleased with a clock's hands. Tired or not, it must've been getting late, and with that in mind Chrom pealed himself from the beach. While he ran a halfhearted hand through his hair in an attempt to delouse himself of sand, a meteor passed by overhead. He might've missed the first one if Morgan hadn't stirred, but it would have been hard to hide the second... or the third.

send 🦀 to go crab hunting with my muse

          If Chrom were to list his weapons of choice, a net likely would not have made the ranking. Still, he wasn't horrible at crabbing. It was mostly tossing, and pulling, and dislodging them from its tangle as quickly as he could. Thus far, he'd completely avoided being nicked altogether, and while it had to be either skill or luck that guided his hand, he didn't see the need to voice his thanks lest doing so remove his good fortune.

          Chrom turned to face her and their basket again, adding another two to their growing hoard. Little by little, it was filling up, and that promising prospect was helped along by companionable chatter.

          "I don't really know any Fódlan songs," he laughed. He doubted he'd be much to listen to either, but that was hardly the point where filling time was concerned. "Maybe you could teach me one—? WHOA!"

          Without warning, he was pulled from that idle thought as the net nearly slipped from his grasp. He righted his stance, heels digging into the sand as he brought up their catch, and came face to face with the largest little monster that he'd ever seen. It's beady eyes stared back at him, whirling in all directions as it danced its legs and gnashed its claws.

send 🍉 to play by no one's rules but your own

          A response bubbled up in his throat immediately, one well worn through years and years of repetition. No, you cannot use Falchion to slice fruit, or cake, or firewood. It is neither a kitchen knife, nor a toy—please stop asking me. His hand even reached for its hilt protectively, an instinct formed as surely as his sour tone, except... none of that was really true, was it? What he held between his fingers was neither Falchion, nor any blade, but the simple memory of one.

          In truth, Chrom rarely remembered his dreams, but in the few he could conjure it had always been at his side. Now was no different, and he realized that the only thing keeping it there was the nagging feeling incompleteness that came in its absence.

          The no had certainly been coming. It welled up inside him, only to trip on his tongue, and then, the King's brow furrowed around Morgan's infections smile.

          "...Yes?" he said. It was phrased as a question, not an answer, but after pulling the ancient and revered weapon from its sheath Chrom felt more sure of himself. An apprehensive stare melted into an easy smile, and with a flick of his wrist, he turned Flachion over in the air. It spun once, twice, until the flat of its girth landed squarely in the palm of his hand, and its hilt faced his best friend's daughter. "Just uh, don't go loosing any fingers. Then your dad would really kill me."