A/N:

Aye, guys, it's tolkienlover and I'm back with another one of my insanely fluffy fics that seem to be neverending...oops.

Gods, it took me so long to write this one. But I mean, four hours is totally worth the Chrom fluffiness, right? Hopefully you enjoy it, and if you do, please review or send me a private message; I LOVE hearing what you have to say, and if you have any criticism, let me hear that too! I'm here for your enjoyment, so let me know what I need to fix or what you want to see next!

This story was actually inspired by therainydaykids' "Five Centimenters Per Second"; In all honesty, it isn't much like it at all other than the main overall idea and formatting, which is still a big deal, so if you liked this, head over to theraindaykids and check out the incredible stuff that's there!

Anyways, enjoy!

{Fair Enough to Fault, also known as the four times Chrom faulted and was finally fair the fifth ;) }

Rated T: Ahaha, basically because there's really minor language and romantic interaction/mention :P

Spoilers: There aren't many in this one. Chrom's C support is a loose base for the first bit, but other than that, it's mostly spoiler free.

Disclaimer:Credit to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems for the game Fire Emblem: Awakening and its characters. It's incredible. Thanks.

Fair Enough to Fault

i.

Perhaps he had been a bit blunt.

It was never his intent to upset her; he had only meant to strike up a bit of small talk with his tactician, not wound her pride as a lady and send her into quite the rage. He had merely mentioned that he didn't see her as a lady—and suddenly she was all sharp words and narrowed eyes, accusing him of improper etiquette and insults. To add to all of it, he wasn't even serious! Elisabeth was a lady in his eyes. Possibly a bit of a rougher, more edged lady with the smarts of a god and a quick tongue of a wyvern, but she certainly had a body of a woman, if that counted for anything. Hell, she was most certainly shaped like a lady, though she rarely dressed like one.

Shaking his head, Chrom paced behind the dining tent, his fingers instinctively running through his hair like daggers through the snow. She had been ignoring him since their last talk—the one of ladies and manners and beauty sleep—and it had put a feeling over his heart like a cloud, raining desperately at his thoughts until he finally decided he needed to do something about it.

The Prince took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the tent, out into the dark rays of the sunset, only to find the solution to his problem smacking directly into his chest. Elisabeth made a noise of surprise, her face colliding with the man's torso in a loud smack. When she looked up, her eyes instantly narrowed at Chrom, whom had instantly started to grin, if not a bit sheepishly.

Elisabeth quickly took a step backwards, her mouth turned down in the corners and one arm crossed; her left hand probed lightly at her nose and she winced. "Gods, Chrom, what are you doing here?"

"Ah, Elisabeth," he said, and she bit at her lip, avoiding his eye contact as fiercely as she could. Chrom raised an eyebrow, his eyes curious. "I was just looking for you. Perhaps you'd like to talk strategy? The upcoming battle is sure to be a tough one."

She still refused eye contact, but her hand dropped to her side and she sighed. "I'm sorry, Chrom, but I've already promised my services to Lissa for the evening. Another time, then?"

This he wasn't expecting; she was being flat out rude, a trait that Chrom certainly didn't match with Elisabeth. He watched her carefully, eyeing the place between her eyes that had a splotch of red patterned across her skin from where she had slammed into his armor. "Pardon," he said, and he felt his temper running short; "Lady Elisabeth, its proper etiquette to look someone in the eye when you speak to them. But then again, I'm sure you knew that already. It only fits that the image of a lady knows everything of royalty manners."

Elisabeth's head snapped up and the Prince nearly took a step back in surprise. Her eyes met his boldly, the silver in her own glinting angrily as she watched him. "I had come to apologize," she said, and she crossed her arms once more, the tips of her mouth turned down in a scowl. "But apparently, this isn't a good time." The tactician wiggled her nose—the same way she did when she had no solution to a problem—and Chrom instantly recognized the habit from their tactical meetings.

"Ahm—" Elisabeth turned heel, her hair flicking out behind her as she moved around him, and disappeared around the corner of the tent once more, her hair catching the last of the sun's rays before vanishing around the side. Chrom watched her go with a regretful face. "I'm sorry."

Women had never really been Chrom's strong suit.

ii.

He was determined to make it up to her.

Only the gods knew how often Chrom thought of Elisabeth recently—she was constantly in his thoughts, pulling his focus from everything that mattered to a distracting, different characteristic he remembered about his tactician.

The curve of her face when she blushed in embarrassment, as though that woman actually had anything to be embarrassed for; the mixture of blue and silver in her eyes—the very same eyes that never seemed to be dull, always raging with passion or determination—and how they glinted in the sun as she swung a simple sword range; and most certainly the dent of her lips, the perfect cupid's bow shaping her upper lip when she spoke and when she laughed…

It was assuredly becoming a problem.

And the more he thought about her, the more he wished she would forgive him for every idiotic mistake that he had ever made around her, that she would remember him as an elegant prince, not a clumsy swordsman. It was impossible, of course, but the more he wished it, the more his thoughts yearned for her, and the more he desired nothing better than to hold her in his arms, to brush away the strays of hair that fell over her eyes and to lean in and kiss away every worry she had behind her delicate face. Oh gods, did he want to kiss her.

All of this was on his mind now, as he walked slowly from his tent to the practice field, twirling Falchion with his right arm and quickly losing interest. He had figured that practice would take his thoughts from her, that maybe the thrill of a battle would pull Elisabeth from his thoughts and keep her there.

Things never have seemed to work out quite right for him, though.

It was just his luck that as soon as he turned the corner to the practice field, she would be there, her face twisted in concentration and dripping with sweat with a sword in her hand. Her opponent was Lon'qu, who Chrom knew deserved a kingly recognition for his swordsmanship, and yet, the tactician moved gracefully, her sword pressed heavily against the man's own. Lon'qu gave a strained grunt and the girl did the same, her own much lighter. Yet, in the end, the swordsman twisted his hand, pulling his blade out from hers and ducking just enough to press the point of his killing edge to her chest.

She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling with each breath, and even from a distance Chrom could see the bits of sweat falling from her forehead to her robes. They remained like that for a moment, his sword pressed to her chest, before she took a single step back and bowed, a smile finally appearing upon her face. The prince couldn't hear what she was saying, but she laughed and sheathed her sword just before waving in farewell. That was when, decidedly, she spotted Chrom.

He had been watching her from across the field, and she quickly approached him, her movements becoming less strained as she came closer. Elisabeth's face was still turned up in a smile. Don't ruin this, Chrom thought sternly to himself, and returned her smile with one of his own when she stood before him. She brushed her hair out of her face with her right hand and held lightly to her sword with her left one. "I suppose you're late for a good reason?" She asked, and the prince felt his stomach flip-flop.

"I didn't know we had an arrangement," he replied, and watched as she laughed. Her mood was simply flamboyant this morning; there was no other way of putting it. Even the way she moved showed her good mood, her hands remaining still at her sides rather than pulling irritably at her hair as they would if her mood was anything but pleasant. "Though if you're able, I do need a dueling partner."

"Ah," she said, "it would be my pleasure, Lord Chrom."

His face lit up in a real laugh at her title for him and he instantly at Falchion at the ready, his fingers gripped tightly at the hilt. She responded in turn, drawing her own sword and taking a few steps back. The duel began with a clash.

Chrom was familiar with her tactics—working side by side with a person seemed to do that—and easily dodged her first swing, a short rap aimed to his knee. He whirled to the left, quickly picking his target and moving to press lightly at the skin of her throat. Just as he was familiar with her, Elisabeth knew nearly everything about the man's fighting style and made a side step to the right at just the precise moment, ducking her head slightly to barely miss the point of his sword. He frowned at this, but she only laughed, bouncing at the tips of her heels and smiling slightly. He agreed that he had never quite seen her as beautifully as he did then, her hair a mass of darkened sunlight, her eyes eager and bright.

She pounced expectantly, turning her sword to hit at his shoulder, but Chrom moved too fast, switching to his right foot and then doing something the neither of them expected. His free arm reached out with a simple shift and caught her around the waist, yanking her backwards in his direction. Elisabeth gasped in surprise as her back was brought against his chest; her head leaned back on his shoulder. She peered up at him with a surprised expression, her eyes bright, with eyelashes making drifting shadows across her cheekbones as Falchion was aimed just off of her neck. Her eyebrows were raised, but the smile still remained on her lips.

Chrom was breathless; she was so close, her eyes fluttering, skin as smooth as silk, and he nearly kissed her then and there. Yet, just as he moved to lean in, the man snagged his boot against the grass and the two promptly fell to the ground, their breath caught in their throats.

He hit the grass first, his back to the dirt, and she was soon after, twisting in the air to land face down atop him. The tactician squealed as both their swords clattered to the ground. Elisabeth scrambled to get claim on herself, pushing her arms onto the ground to hold her body up above him.

She was all shadows and light, her face enlightened with a laugh and a rosy blush across her cheeks. Her hair fell like curtains around her face and she looked down at him with such a surprised expression that Chrom couldn't help but to laugh. "Does this mean I win, then?" she asked him lightly and the prince paused his laughter to look at her thoughtfully.

"I suppose," he said at last, "but a rematch is certainly at hand, milady."

"That it is," Elisabeth said breathlessly, softly, and her laugh caught on her lips, "I do hope that this time, you mean to keep your hands to yourself, good sir."

A response found its way to Chrom's lips, but a heavy shadow fell over the girl's face and she looked up to glance behind her to see what had caused it. Frederick stood there, his hand wrapped tightly around a lance and his mouth drawn in a thin line, with a stern expression plastered to his face. Elisabeth scrambled to her feet, Chrom in fast pursuit, and gave the knight a slight bow. The prince's cheeks went red as he straightened out his tunic.

"Sir Chrom," Frederick said, and his voice was low, his tone steady; "If you don't mind, perhaps I could borrow Miss Elisabeth for a moment? There seems to be a problem with the set up for the upcoming battle, if Miriel has calculated correctly, and it seems to be in need of urgent repair."

"O-of course, Frederick," The girl said instantly, and she looked briefly to Chrom with a flushed face before hurrying off towards the campsite, snagging her sword on the ground before disappearing past the outline of the trees. Chrom scratched behind his head, his face still warm, and wistfully watched her go. Frederick just shook his head before heading off behind her.

And Chrom couldn't stop thinking about the sound of her laugh for the rest of the day.

iii.

Surely this was his chance.

Elisabeth stood off to the side of the Shepherds, those who celebrated the end of the war with dancing and wine and friendship, their faces all alit with smiles and laughs. Her face was withdrawn, her eyes dark, and she watched—with what Chrom deemed as envy—as the other of her fellow female shepherds found those they fancied and danced the night away, tapping their feet to the rhythm and following those ahead of them in lead. The prince knew it would be simple.

Just ask her to dance, he thought, but his hand clamped nervously over the cup in his hand and his cheeks flushed. He took a step in her direction, his hands shaking, but watched in dismay as Gaius approached her first, his red hair dark in the candlelight of the celebration; the grin upon his face was evident when Elisabeth gave him a nod and he quickly took her hand and led her to the dance floor, a red sweet hanging from his mouth and his cape swishing at his feet.

Chrom sullenly watched the two dance, Gaius easily capturing the tactician's laugh as his own as he spoke to her of the world and things he had seen and the places he had been. Elisabeth listened in wonder, her hands clasped around his neck, her eyes wide and willing. And all the while, the Prince of Ylisse was silently kicking himself for being such a coward.

Since when had Chrom ever been afraid of a woman? Been afraid of getting what he wanted? Instead, he watched as the thief stole his lady's heart away with a single grin and a confident stature. The prince was close to getting up and leaving, leaving his cup on the table and heading towards the exit, but to his dismay, his heart wished for one last glance. His eyes drifted to where Elisabeth had been dancing, only to find that she was suddenly alone, her face filled with some emotion the man couldn't classify. Without thought, Chrom was heading her way.

"Good evening," he said from behind her and Elisabeth jumped, throwing her hand to her chest.

"Oh! Chrom, it's just you." Elisabeth gave him a brief smile. "Have you been enjoying the celebration? It's such a wonderful feeling, to not have to worry about anything other than tripping over my own feet."

He nodded. "To that I can agree," Chrom coughed quietly, pulling at the edge of his tunic, "You wouldn't, ah, have a dancing partner already, would you?"

Elisabeth rolled her eyes. "That's not how you ask a girl to dance," she said pointedly, and he sighed.

"Would you care to dance with me, Lady Elisabeth?"

"Much better."

Chrom hesitantly reached for her hand and she complied, placing her left hand atop his shoulder and letting him cradle her right hand in his left one. His own right hand went carefully to her waist, pressing lightly against her own tunic and holding her closely. He gave her a slight nod and began, tugging her with him to spin about in a brief circle before dancing gracefully across the floor. Elisabeth's expression very quickly shifted to a surprised one.

"I had never pictured you as a dancer," she said, and she looked up at him, her nose nearly brushing the tip of his lips; "You don't really seem to be the type."

"How you hurt my pride with such careless words," Chrom said mockingly—causing a giggle to find its way to her mouth—and then more seriously continued; "As a prince, I was forced to take a few classes on ballroom dancing, none of which were as pleasant as this."

She gave him a curious glance.

Chrom's mouth tilted up at the corner and he leaned his head closer to hers, placing his lips at the shell of her ear and smiling. "Dancing with you is much more enjoyable than dancing with Sumia and Sully. Neither one can walk straight, much less dance properly."

Elisabeth laughed, but he didn't move his face, only holding her closer as he led her through the strings of dancers and tried to bring his best etiquette and skill to his dancing, though it had been a long time since ballroom dancing was ever part of his class schedules. It was quiet between them for a moment, him holding her close to his body with a sense of possession and her clinging to him as though she would otherwise drown, before Chrom pulled back just enough to see her eyes. She was watching him, the blue in her eyes dark and glinting. He drew closer to her, leaning downwards to brush his nose against her own and to catch the scent that radiated off of her—mint leaves and a hint of cream that somehow found its way to her hair—and when he grew close enough to her face, he very slowly pressed his mouth to her upper lip, just barely brushing across her skin there.

No sooner than her slow reaction of fingers moving to his hair were they interrupted.

Lissa shouted loudly for Chrom over the crowds of people, her voice ringing out as it echoed through the large ballroom. Elisabeth pulled away from him in an instant, her eyes snapping open and her face going dark red, but Chrom merely sighed, running a hand through his hair in disappointment. Lissa found her way through the people and yet paid them no attention as she rushed through to find her brother. When she arrived in front of Chrom, slightly winded, her eyes were wide and she was smiling.

"Chrom! And oh, Elisabeth! Look!" The girl held out her left hand, letting the light catch across the ring that was set upon her middle finger. "Isn't it wonderful?"

Chrom opened his mouth to speak, but Elisabeth spoke first, her face looking as though she was the one who was disappointed; "How lovely for you, Lissa," her voice held true emotion, though Chrom was unsure as to where she pulled that from, "I'm sure you and Stahl will be very happy together. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

The tactician bid Chrom a reluctant farewell and turned to find her way through the crowd once more. Chrom could only drown his sister out as he reveled in the feeling of the extremely brief touch Elisabeth had allowed him.

iv.

Gods be damned; Chrom was going to kiss that girl if had to start a war first.

She had evaded him for some time—processing her thoughts if Cordelia's advice to Chrom had been accurate—and the prince wished nothing more than to seek out her company. His people urged him to take a wife, urged him to make a decision that he could have made in a heartbeat if not so confused upon the woman's feelings for him.

And more than anything, he wanted to feel her mouth against his.

He wanted to twine his fingers in her hair, to run his hands through it and hold her close to him with a fierce catch; he wanted to encircle her in his arms and make her feel as though nothing else mattered to him, as though she was all he would ever care about; he wanted to scatter kisses across her face and make her feel his affection until she was unaware of where she ended as person and he began. The fact that he could do none of these was what was slowly killing him from the inside and making his days dreary and motivation depleted.

Chrom did what he was asked as though he was a trained dog—robotically, uninterestedly, slowly. He didn't seem interested in anything other than his swordsmanship, which was the other reason he left his room other than meals and meetings about the townsfolk. Elisabeth tended to avoid these meetings as well, though he knew she wanted to be there. What was keeping her behind was what he could not decide.

Finally, when he had enough of daydreaming about kissing his own tactician and was driven with such desire that he was broken and his veins pulsed with affection, he found himself outside her chamber's door, his heart in his hands and tears in his eyes. He didn't have the decency to knock.

What he found, however, made his mood shift, his heart slowing and the thrum of his heart relaxing against his chest. Elisabeth was sound asleep, curled into a ball atop her bed and surrounded by all sorts of papers and documents. Her hair was a cloud around her, draping over her chest and shoulders, while her hands were tucked around her knees and left her to loosely lay in peace, her face completely relaxed. Chrom stood in the doorway, his face slack with admiration, as he looked at her like that, utterly at peace without a trace of stress on her face.

When he approached her, his eyes caught on the papers around her and widened in disbelief.

Around her were dozens of books on Ylisse's tradition; wedding traditions, courting traditions, clothing traditions—anything that appeared to be available through the palace's library was there on her bed. Different documents on etiquette and cuisine were scattered at her feet, while the customs of lovers and the royal lineage book lay near her face. To the side were hastily scribbled notes.

-Marriage proposals are only to be accepted on good terms

-The male of the decedents is expected to be married quickly and produce offspring

-Chrom is one of the first males of the royal family to be the only son

She had been researching Ylisse…for him?

When she shifted in her sleep, Chrom couldn't help but to smile softly at the girl he so dearly adored.

v.

Chrom had finally gotten her alone.

After finding that she had been researching his family's traditions, Chrom had requested an audience with her; he had been so worried that she wouldn't accept, that perhaps she would just brush off all the research in her chambers as mere curiosity. Yet, she said yes, and was to be here any moment.

Chrom brushed at his tunic for the one hundredth time, his hands shaking. He was determined to tell her this time. He was going to tell her he loved her.

What else would explain his feelings for her? He longed so dearly to see her, to be near her; he wanted only to be in her presence and craved her touch more than he desired for air or water. She was constantly in his thoughts, a topic of utter adoration, his mind always worrying, always fretting about her. How else could he explain what he felt? He couldn't.

He loved Elisabeth, and he was going to tell her.

The door creaked open, and there in the doorway, was Elisabeth, fully awake and smiling. She approached him almost immediately, and he turned to her, standing so close that is he reached out with his hands to touch at her waist, his elbows would be bent. She began in a quick burst of breath.

"I'm sorry, Chrom," she said, and her eyes remained cast down, "I didn't mean to ignore you. I-I was afraid that perhaps, since I'm such an outsider to Ylisse and know absolutely nothing of its traditions and customs, that you wouldn't wish for me as your friend, much less your tactician any longer. So I spent long days researching, and have learned as much as I believe there is to know, in all honesty."

It was quiet for a moment.

Then, Chrom reached out slowly, his right hand finding its way to her waist while the other caught her chin between his fingers and tilted it upward to look at him. Her eyes were just as cerulean as they were silver, glistening like broken glass in the light as she watched him. Chrom watched her for a moment, and then started.

"Elisabeth," he said, and it was a breath of fresh air to his lungs, "I don't give a damn if you know anything about my traditions," he shook his head, "just don't you ever leave me to think like this for so long," his fingers wandered from her chin to cup her face, his fingers brushing lightly against the hair that found its way of from behind her ear, "Gods, you had me worried half to death."

"Then you know…" she paused for a moment and her face grew pink, but she didn't look down, "you know why I did what I did, then?"

"Hopefully," he replied, and his mouth tilted, "I have the suspicion that perhaps, just maybe, you feel the same as I do, though I can make no guarantees."

Elisabeth laughed and Chrom felt as though someone had set his blood on fire; heat spread from his stomach to warm every inch of skin he had and he soon felt as though he was scorching within his own veins, burning from the inside out. The girl moved her own hands to touch lightly at Chrom's hair, taking a fistful between her fingers before sighing in content. And Chrom finally made his move.

His face moved closer to hers, inching forward, and the fire within his veins burned ever brighter in his heart as his nose brushed past hers. He could feel her breath against his mouth, the scent of cream in his nose as he came ever-closer, and it took every last ounce of his self restraint not to slam himself to her in that instant.

"I love you," he whispered, and in that moment, nothing else mattered to him other than the girl in his arms, the same one he had dreamed of for so long; his mouth pressed hotly to hers and his hands found their hold in her hair, his arms circled around her waist and over into the locks that landed at the small of her back. She only returned his motions, clenching her own thin, calloused fingers into his dark hair and returned his kiss with the same fervor and intensity in which he was giving it.

Only when he felt as though his lungs would pop without air did Chrom pull away. His breath was labored, his lips swollen, but he didn't let her go, only trailed his lips from her own full mouth to press kisses to every inch of skin he could get to. Her nose, across her forehead, down past the bob of her throat and over the dip in her collarbone, only pausing to work his way back up.

"Gods, I love you," he said again, and when he finally opened his eyes, his lips back to her own but still, he found her own watching him with such a passion that his stomach flipped. Against his own, he felt her mouth turn up in the ghost of her smile before she mouthed:

"I love you too."

And he kissed her senselessly well into the night.

End:

Okie dokie, well hopefully you enjoyed it. I really had fun writing this one, though I may have gotten a bit excited with the kissing scene, ahaha. But yeah, thanks for your attention, and I hope you'll tune in for more next time!

-tolkienlover