Chrom writes of the curve of her neck and the light in her eyes; Robin never knew Chrom was a poet, and he thinks, only for you.
"It's over now," says Chrom, years later, and Robin buries her face in Chrom's cape to hide her blush, responding, "I told you I'd come back."
They stand back to back against the horde of risen, hands raised and weapons at the ready, and if this is their last stand, so be it; they will die side by side.
I will kill him one day, Robin realizes, and imagines her own body hanging from the neck on the rafters in penance.
When she returns, Chrom's hair is streaked with gray.
The climate in Regna Ferox is far cooler than anticipated, and Chrom directs the army from within a dark purple cloak.
She hums as they waltz across the royal ballroom, off key and offbeat; he laughs and covers her mouth with his.
You lied, is all Chrom can think, waking in the middle of the night and reaching for nothing.
"Do I have a mother?" asks Lucina, eyes wide with childish innocence, and Chrom can only shut his eyes to the tears and continue searching.
There is a void in Chrom's life where Robin once stood.
Emmeryn falls and Chrom can only scream; Robin closes her eyes to the guilt.
"Chrom," Robin says, exasperated, as he stumbles into their bedroom with a handful of snow aimed straight at her face.
"Queen Robin of Ylisse," Chrom announces grandly to the empty room before them, smiling teasingly as Robin grimaces at the title.
"Still think I'm not a lady?" she asks, brow high and arched, and Chrom rebuts, "Still think I'm not a gentleman?"
Robin stays behind in Ylisse for her second pregnancy as the Valmese War begins, and wonders every day if Chrom will ever have the chance to meet Morgan.
"I loved you before I was born," she whispers to the wind, their hands intertwined, "And I will love you even after we die."
"You had no right," Robin hisses at Chrom, after he had charged ahead to save her life and Grima's, "No right at all."
She watches Chrom's lips overly much – the way they twitch up when he sees her, the way they crease when he is displeased, and the way they part in surprise as she leans forward to slant her mouth over his.
"Milord," she greets him the very first time they ever meet, dropping into a shallow curtsy, and he shakes his head; "Call me Chrom, please," he corrects, smiling, and Robin can feel her cheeks heat up.
She wakes to the curve of his lips and the distinct feeling that she has seen that smile before (has loved that smile before), even though she remembers nothing else.
"- and then he said I was the wind at his back and the sword at his side!" Robin crows in laughter, just a little, slightly, drunk, as Chrom buries his flaming blush in his arms, "I mean, it was romantic, but-"
He runs, reaching for her, but he is too late, always too late; she slips through the cracks between his fingers and smiles one last time, just for him.
They only ever meet in her tent after nightfall, discussing strategies and travel routes and sneaking glances only when the other isn't looking.
"I thought you loved me," Grima whispers, straight faced, and Chrom falters in his charge.
When the King and Queen of Ylisse pass away, it is no tragedy; they have ruled for decades on end and it was already far past time for them to retire.