Notes: This would have been done quicker if I had more than 500 words, funnily enough. I might need to publish a longer ChromFrederick fic in the future.
Stats: 500 words for ChromFrederick. And with them, we finish Assorted Monday. Tune in tomorrow for Lon'qu Tuesday! (see profile for schedule)
The prince was eight years old and a thousand different pains in the ass, all by himself. The Exalt didn't know what to do with him anymore; one could tell by how her smile became strained whenever someone said her brother's name in connection to another catastrophe. And his trusted teenaged servant remained unheard by the willful young boy, who only cared to have someone to tell his secrets to, not hearing any boring counsel.
"Frederick!" Chrom called from the other end of the gardens. "Come help me with these snails! I'm sure Emmeryn needs a dozen in her library!"
The steward was beside his lord in a blink. He slapped the prince's hands as they reached out to grab another slimy insect. "Don't prank the Exalt."
Chrom yelped, dropping the others he had already collected. "You're not the boss of me," he firmly declared while glaring at his glorified nanny.
"Milord, please, don't act like a toddler," Frederick begged. "You're grown now, you have to be respectful and... put that snail back, or so help me!"
The prince obeyed for once, pouting all the while. He also made sure to pick the ones he had let loose, leaving them back among the garden's plants where they belonged. The steward felt pride at finally getting through to his lord, and of seeing him go one step beyond, and...
Frederick saw the glint of a blade and didn't think twice, throwing himself at Chrom to shield him. The assassin's dagger got buried into his shoulder instead of the child's body. The servant blacked out in pain, still holding on tight to his prince.
..the knight woke up in his tent with a start, one hand flying to his shoulder in reflex, finding a faded scar instead of an open wound. He sighed in relief, sitting up on his cot to catch his breath.
The memory was a bad one; he had been defenseless back then, and trying to protect another with only his flesh and bones. He was now a mighty warrior in heavy armor, better to shield his lord with. But whenever he took it off to rest... he remembered and became afraid.
Still trying to calm down, he didn't notice that Chrom had woken up until he laid a kiss on his scar, startling him. "It's just me, Frederick."
"Milord, please, don't scare me like that," the knight complained, reaching behind himself to push the prince back onto the small bed.
They shifted around until they were cuddling close together, trying not to fall off the edges, ending with Chrom's arms around Frederick.
The former steward preferred to deny his past, because it made things awkward now, with them like this... but he liked it when his lord was comforting and loving over their shared memory of that assassination attempt.
"Milord, please, come morning, let me protect you from all that can harm you instead," Frederick whispered. "I love you," he confessed softly.
Chrom answered with a loud snore.