Marth got swept up by the festivities, swamped by the guests, overwhelmed by the presents, distracted by the feast, so shamefully much that he had completely ignored one who had desperately needed attention for a long time now. Or at least, he felt like that special one needed some attention.

No, it was not his wife.

It was... it was hard to say really. The term "crush", he deemed, was too childish a word for his feelings toward her, yet "lust" was not appropriate at ALL, for he knew that he truly loved her, not just her body, but her soul, heart, mind, spirit, and all, from the way her long blue hair was forever swaying in its high-ponytail to the smiles she gave out rarely amongst others to her admirable (and actually sort of flattering, but only the deepest, darkest corners of his soul would admit that, or so he told himself) unwavering loyalty towards him to her compassion to-

You get the idea.

Or maybe he was being desperate for love. Again.

She was at her home village for the holidays and wouldn't return until the day before the new year, so he had some time to think... but over what, he wasn't sure.

He could always just take her as a concubine or a lover of sorts. Kings had always done so before him, but the thought of doing so to ANYONE, much less his honorable, sort-of-innocent Kris, Altea's finest knight (and undoubtedly his most favored) brought that out of the question. Besides, she would angrily chide him: 'What would the people think of such a man?!'

He had to admit, she was deathly beautiful and yet frightening all at the same time when she was angry though.

But the predictable words rang true, so that idea had been scrapped a long time ago, burning away in the deepest reaches of Hell, right next to where Gharnef would be.

He could admit his forbidden love to her, his Royal Guard, his Kris, the woman whom so many men had fallen for her and yet she never notices.

I swear... she's a seductress with a lady's smile and a man's sword... let's pray that that didn't come out wrong...

Yet people could overhear, and as every single forbidden love story goes, the doomed couple would fall to their temptation and continue to visit each other, trying to tell themselves that it was the last time until they either run off and elope or ruin themselves. Unfortunately for him, Marth, the former option isn't exactly an option since he kind of sort of has to take over the ruling of maybe a country or two.

So, finally, he settled with one option: discrete, perfectly normal on the outside, and if Kris misinterprets it, it was still alright.

It will go smoothly, he told himself.

Kris hummed along to a melody while heading towards the drill grounds, a favorite location of hers, but stopped right at another painting of him.

The one she loves, yet can never love.

For the first time in her entire life, she had an urge to be selfish, to turn back the wheels of time so that she could have met her Liege during the War of Shadows instead so they actually had a chance to be together without the Talys princess, Caeda, in the way, or maybe even plot-

Her head snapped up, catching herself on her sinful thoughts. Visibly shaking her head, she moved along to the drill grounds. Picking up a killer blade, she fought mindlessly today, not minding the blossoming nicks and bruises, keeping the ones she had took victory from barely conscious, and after several rounds, Cain had kicked her out, saying that she was working too much, too hard (and also literally beating up everyone).

Sitting down on a random bench, she took deep, long, calm breathes, controlling them, willing them to slow down. She groaned. Surely everyone had seen her make a fool out of herself back there. Thank goodness that her Liege didn't see her. That would be disastrous.

"I think she's right here."

Well... let's just throw those last two statements out of the window.

In Marth's own mind, he sighed deeply. He had hid his carefully wrapped gift right behind the bench where a battered and forlorn Kris sat. Marth sat here on occasions as well when there was nothing to be done and when nobody in particular was looking. If anyone came by, he would just say that he wanted to see the knights in training for some sort of tactical nonsense and whatnot.

But he couldn't fool himself while trying, and failing, to avert his eyes from the sweat glistening from his "best friend"'s back, her flushed cheeks, the graceful movements of her entire body... He had thought several times of how such a lovely, red-pink face would be under him.

Thank Naga for small miracles that included nobody ever catching him on his forbidden fantasies.

Hearts beat fast when eyes meet.

"Wrys, I think Kris really is exerting too much of herself."

The old bishop nodded along. "True. Don't do too much right after your break. Take it slowly. Ah... that's quite a gash there on your arm..." Finishing his job, he gave a nod towards both knight and king and walked off, presumably to find Luke. The womanizer was always the butt-end of Wrys' grandfatherly style of teasing anyways.

Sitting down next to Kris, he coughed softly, in an awkward fashion. "Ah... how was Sera Village?" Immediately, he saw the results of the question: a small smile betraying the feeling of nostalgia, wistful, slightly misty eyes, and a more relaxed posture. Gods, he loved it when she was more relaxed like this.

"It's growing as a trading post now. Norne is as fine as ever, and everyone is doing well. My former next-door neighbor had passed away the night after I came though, Naga bless his soul. His last words was a blessing to me, well-wishing me a good future with a good husband and children." She wiped away a single tear. "We celebrated the Winter Festival with a huge feast. There was much dancing and singing... how was your holiday, sire?"

Despite Jägen's comments of his naivety, he was actually quite adapt now at reading people, but he had to think over her words again, the tone of her voice... 'I wish it could be you...'

He smiled a grin with light humor to respond to her question. "Oh, with stuffy nobles and too much food with too much presents. Honestly, I wish to experience the Winter Festival through a commoner's life..."

"My Liege, be thankful for your wealth and position," she immediately chided.

Chuckling, he answers, "I know, I know..." With a deep intake of breath and an exhale (oh gods, it was shaky, he thought), he reached a hand behind a bench and pulled out a present. "I believe I didn't give a present to you yet? My apologies for my tardiness." 'I'm sorry I could not have said it sooner.'

Her eyes widened in surprise. "M-my Liege, sire, I-"

He thrust it upon her hands, their fingers touching in the most subtle way. "Open it. I think you will take a liking to it." 'I love you. I hope you can accept that.'

She opened the gift with graceful, soft hands (he wished they would open something else), making sure not to tear the wrappig. He chuckled. 'You can be cute, did you know that?'

She gasped in surprise at the ornate dagger in her hands. She ran her fingers through the simple crossguard, thumbing the lapis lazuli stone set at the rear bolster.

"So that when the time rises, you can defend yourself." 'Because I do not wish to see you hurt.' He grinned and joked, "And look good while doing so." 'As if you weren't already.'

She laughed. "Thank you, my Liege. Although..." She stared off into the distance as Marth decided to try something else.

He gingerly put his hand on the area right next to her left shoulder blade, where he knew she hurt the most. She suffured the blow for him, he remembered. He would never forget that. "Does it still hurt... here? Really. Don't strain yourself too much." 'I'm worried for you.'

She smiled. "I am fine, but thank you for caring." But they both knew that it was a lie. They sat in a comfortable yet awkward silence, as if they both were holding back something that was meant to be said, his hand never quite leaving the old scar as they watched some new recruits train. "My Liege... I... I have something to tell you..."

"Mm. And what is it?" Marth didn't put his hopes to high, but his lingering sin still wished, still waited, patiently, in perseverance.

"I... No, never mind." But her eyes betrayed it all when he peeked at them. Her face was red.

Was that supposed to mean something?

He stood up and smiling brightly at her with a (hopefully) dash of sweetness. "Have a good day Kris. I'll see you around."

And just before he walked away, she suddenly jumped around and kissed him. And missed by kissing his cheek.

He smiled the biggest today as he took her in for a quick embrace. "You are a good woman," he whispered, and then left.

It went well enough.

A/N:

Oops. Sorry for kinda disappearing for more than half a year and not posting anything. *points at Assassin's Creed and my parents*

My only excuse was my recent fangirling over AC, writer's block, laziness, and...

Well...

I've lost all drive to continue "Not What it Looks Like".

As I went through the Fire Emblem fanfiction section, I saw so many other FE:A self-inserts out there, and... well, I'm afraid to continue on with anything Awakening-related. Really. Looking back at it, I just see failure upon failure at every single sentence. Don't get me wrong, I love it, but it just seems so... stereotypical. So, for now, my FE:A self-insert will be put on hiatus while I update this fanfic series of MAH FREAKIN' OTP GAIZ YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW AMAZING THIS SHIP/PAIRING IS and maybe post a "from our world"-insert-thing (FE6), an amnesiac mounted bowman (Akaneian series), a weird, elaborate, hardly understandable backstory for Mark the Tactician (pre-FE7), etc...

I don't know anymore...