It does not take Chrom very long to learn that his intended was an intellectual. Even without the man uttering a word of Ylissean - and instead stuck strictly to Plegian, the syntax Tharja conveyed was weighty and almost poetic. Different to Miriel, who sounded like she'd swallowed a dictionary and was almost frigid in her line of thinking. Robin sounded - fluid.

His questions ranged from the castle's occupancy, to their living conditions. Recent harvests and the farming villages, to emergency measures. Robin seemed genuinely interested in the Ylisse and although a Prince, Chrom felt ill-prepared to keep up. He must have noticed a few of Chrom's less than knowledgeable responses too, but there had been little push back for this, only quiet acceptance before conversation was moved on by an increasing irritated Tharja.

Chrom wasn't sure how to direct their talk either, perhaps ask a few questions about Plegia but he worried about sounding ignorant even if him knowing little about them would be expected. Plegia had had its borders shut to them since the Blood Wars, when Chrom had still been a boy. Lessons of their sister land stopped with Emm, who could speak broken Plegian but couldn't read at all. He doubted a wedding would fix what had been torn apart, would minimise the divide that had been created between them.

Not being able to direct any dialogue to Robin was also trying. How was Chrom to get to know this man if every word he spoke needed to be said through another? He did not understand the point of this trial other than to hinder any attempt of them communicating. Chrom knew Robin could at the very least understand Ylissean asTharja never needed to translate anything Chrom spoke.

It made the situation easier, if only because Chrom didn't have to worry about being misinterpreted, even if introducing the Plegian entourage to Sumia when he'd led them to the stables had been - awkward. She'd startled of course - tripped over her shoes and even if she'd been quick to right herself, Chrom had winced to himself as he hurried to check she'd not hurt herself.

'I am fine, Captain. They -' she coughed suddenly as her, her nervous eyes flickering over to the Plegian party observing over his shoulder. 'I was startled. I'm sorry.'

'Don't worry.' Chrom smiles, hates that she looked so contrite as he steps back, opening up the two groups to each other. 'Sumia, may I introduce my - intended, Robin Caeronvar and his attendants: Tharja and Henry.'

Sumia was from a minor nobel family and curtsies at them despite her anxiety, and her befuddlement at who Chrom had pointed out which one was Robin. He wasn't what they had expected when Chrom had informed his man on the good judgement of Frederick's, however hard.

'It's very nice to meet you all,' Sumia says kindly, with all that gentle spirit of hers shining through as she addresses them.

'Namaste.' Robin seems to smile as his eyes crinkle around the edges, his greeting unneeded of translating as common as it was. His left hand cups his chest as he offers his branded hand towards Sumia - poor Sumia ,who looked very lost at the gesture.

'Take his hand,' Tharja grumbles and Sumia is quick to obey, all but jumps to close the distance between them to return Robin's offer. Chrom watches in curiosity mostly as Robin manoeuvres their hands, a merging of dark and light, until their palms are resting against one another, fingertips pointing upwards.

Robin pats his chest meaningfully and repeats: 'Namaste'.

Sumia blinks before she seems to catch on and fumbles to copy him, pressing her own free hand to her blouse. 'N-Namaste,' she stutters.

Robin's eyes softens from something less cursory into warmth and light as he easily steps back. He does not put a dent in the shadows that are Tharja, who is scowling. 'That was a traditional Plegian greeting,' she states and ignores Robin's quiet words to her. 'If you philistines want this arrangement to make a difference, you might want to learn something about the cultural you want to tie the knot with.'

Chrom flushes hot and he doesn't need to hear Sumia's embarrassed apologises to know she is mortified. 'There was no offence meant,' Chrom attempts to soothe even if his stomach is squirming. 'Plegian's seclusion and the - war, stopped a lot of tutors -'

'Nya ha - I wonder what language we're speaking?' Henry asks with a smile that cuts through the lower half of his face. It felt cold, like the edge of a blade; dangerous once it was pointed to you. He was quieter than Tharja had been, and Chrom wasn't sure if that wasn't because Tharja had been chosen as "Translator", or if he simply spoke less.

'Henry.' Robin's voice his stern and his eyebrows are frowning.

'A wise word, Princeling,' Tharja says through a glower and thoroughly ignoring their lord. 'Your excuses are the wind. We can speak your language, and we learnt your cultural eccentricities -'

'Tharja,' Robin interrupts, eyes narrowed as they peer at her in a way that demands attention. His next words are unintelligible to Chrom, who both wanted to understand and was desperate to disappear.

Her response is equally foreign when she finally readdresses Robin but whatever argument was stirring, Robin was quite to stop it. He talks over her, calm in a way Emm is, firm like Frederick would be. He demands her attention, for her to listen.

Chrom doesn't quite notice when Tharja takes a step back from Robin, but he does when she speaks to him again. 'I apologise,' she says to him at Robin's prompting. Her voice isn't half as sincere as the emotion Robin is projecting. 'There is a lot of hurt that while your exalt hasn't been able to address, still lingers. The fact that our counties were once allied exasperates the issue…and also the expectation.'

Chrom finds himself staring at the genuine feeling in Robin's eyes, when Robin begins to speak again Chrom finds himself patient for the translation. 'I imagine you see this union as nothing more than a punishment,' Tharja continues, her gaze on her lord rather than stare longer at Chrom. 'I know this. I was not given much choice in coming to Ylisse, either. Our differences will become more prevalent the more we speak, but I would like to think that we have things in common, if not - that we can do this right.'

The lump that had grown in Chrom's throat was hard as he tried to clear it. 'The stables,' he chokes out around the blockage. 'Is prized in Ylisse from the work Emm had done in training our pegasus knights. But - I would think you would enjoy our library, more? You sound like you like to read.'

The Plegians blink at him and Chrom finds himself wincing. 'I am not there often myself.' Robin had reached out to him but Chrom wasn't one for words, wasn't any good with them at all. 'But…is it something you would enjoy?' No matter the tutor nor how many council meetings he was dragged to, never taught him how to establish himself verbally. He was too straightforward, too crass. Chrom had to rely on action.

The surprise in Robin's face settles into something gentle, like he is smiling under that veil. 'Yes, I would like that.' Tharja's delivery is drier than the one she is copying but Chrom relaxes at the response. 'However, I believe you were going to led us to the castle courtyard? There is more to see outside and no rush. Please, take your time. Ylisse is beautiful and I would like to know your birthplace.'

Chrom can feel his cheeks grow warm, imagines his colour as Sumia titters close to his side. 'I -' Chrom stutters to a halt before he takes a breath. 'And I would like to share it with you.'

Robin nods decisively and dips his chin in a goodbye to Sumia, murmurs something that Tharja translates to "see you again". Sumia quickly curtsies, almost falls over herself to get there in time before the Plegian party are turning to leave.

Robin takes Chrom's hand in his again and Chrom stumbles as he is pulled forward. 'See you some time in the morrow, Captain,' Sumia calls after him as his mind remembers that he has training with the Shepherds, that his duty is ever lasting even with other responsibilities. It was just fortunate that activities were cancelled for the day.

'If you are preoccupied -' Tharja begins for Robin and Chrom snaps out of his distraction, finding his feet in their pace.

'I do not know how much you've heard but I run a militia, called the Shepherds,' Chrom says while stanching pretending he hadn't just interrupted a dark mage. 'If you are not indisposed tomorrow, you could meet them. They're of a small number but they're sworn to protect our people.'

This information gains him Henry's attention; the attendant that has shown Chrom the least aggression and yet, it is more disturbing than Tharja's open animosity. 'Sumia?' Robin prompts, seemingly ignorant of Henry's open eyes glinting through Chrom's skin.

'Ah, yes,' Chrom hurries to respond. 'She was with the Pegasus Knights for awhile before we porched her. I… greetings aside, she's a good women. I - I hope that you can put aside our ignorance to see that.'

Tharja's snort is swallowed by Robin's smooth reply. 'As long as you can return the favour.' Robin's eyes address his as Chrom leads them away from the stables. He can appreciate that level of directness and thinks that although Validar makes his skin crawl, Robin could be of a good sort.

'Ah…you seem - well educated,' Chrom states and then grimaces. 'What I mean to say -'

'I am rather imperfect,' Robin interrupts through Tharja, face ever soft. It was a kindness in that expression, even if Chrom could only see half of it. 'I regret that you will end up forgiving me a great many things.'

Chrom flexes his toes in his shoes but tries to keep the rest of himself calm. 'That is nice of you to say - er,' he falters. 'I apologise, but…I should probably ask how I should address you.'

'Nya hah ha.' Henry laughs, seemingly laid-back and untroubled. 'There's a trial for that -'

'Robin,' Robin says. Another thing that Chrom does not need translating, something else that lessens the borders separating them as people. He continues in Plegian and Tharja takes over. 'In Plegia we have two names, one address for the public, usually of Ylissean origin, and one we gift to others. Henry is right, I cannot give you my soul name yet, but I would like…'

Tharja is brought to a stop as soon as Robin hesitates, and Chrom's confusion over this two name business is pushed back. 'Chrom,' he offers into the silence. 'If…you would allow me, I have no other name to safeguard but you are welcome to the only one provided me.'

'Chrom,' Robin says, like he is tasting the word. 'Although our titles are what brought us to this day, we are both also men…I care little for this authority here, with you,' Tharja's voice shares though she looks awkward translating this.

'I promise not to refer to you as a hierophant.' Chrom attempts a grin and cannot help but breathe a little easier at the way this was going. He was going to get married to this man, to have to use a title would have been extremely difficult. 'If you do not call me a prince.'

Something…mischievous glints about red irises, it vaguely reminds Chrom of Lissa with her pranks and her jokes. Maybe she'll end up liking Robin, though if they did create a comradeship on tormenting him it might not be worth it. 'But you suit your title so well.'

Chrom can't help but snort and almost tenses at the inappropriateness. The mood doesn't shift though, and they had both been nearly outrightly stating intentions since before they'd left the stables. 'I doubt you'll be saying that for long.'

Robin huffs a laugh. 'I'll look forward to it,' Tharja translates with even further reluctance, disapproval lining her face as she stares at wonders from what Robin has hinted at, how this betrothal was brought to his attention.

Still, with the current lightness of the mood and with what he has learnt thus far, Chrom feels brave enough to smile. His gloveless hands flex. 'And I,' he agrees while hoping it not to be a lie.

Con/Textual Vomit: Ahhhh I find them so cute. I can't wait for them to grow closer. This story is so refreshing to work on.

(Uploaded: 19/03/18)

OZ