It was only a matter of time. The soldiers around camp—the women especially— had come to know Virion as a flippant man. He took life in strides, but was always there when it truly counted, especially in regards to his wife, Robin. So, the day he encountered Chrom gawking at her in the bathing tent...well, confused eyewitnesses described him as less than 'calm' and 'accepting.'
"Chrom," Virion stated curtly as he motioned toward the empty seat before him, "please, sit."
"V-Virion, it was an accident you have to—"
"—Shut up," Virion barely glanced at his trembling ally as he carefully sipped his tea.
The atmosphere was tense, passersby steered clear for fear of getting dragged into the clearly dangerous predicament; Prince Chrom was on his own.
Seconds passed like hours, the breeze was flat and the atmosphere grew eerily quiet as the proximity between Virion and his bow shrank.
"Chrom, do I look pleased to you?"
He squeaked out a pitiful, "No," his posture immediately straightened.
"Of, course not," Virion sneered, sending chills down Chrom's spine, "most men aren't when some degenerate lurks about haphazardly to sneak peeks at their wives."
Chrom was practically drowning in his own nervous sweat, "I had no intention of..." he simply clammed up from the sharp glare sent his way. The mock laughter nowhere to be found.
Virion set his bow on the table as he rose to his feet, "If you ever try a stunt like that again or share any details that may smear Robin's reputation," his grip shifted just enough to trigger Chrom's fight or flight response, "a loose bar of soap will be the least of your concerns."
His words, punctuated with a smile, rivaled the threat of death itself. Virion left Chrom to reevaluate the urgency of route plotting. Maybe an ambush wouldn't have been so bad.