He found her in the library, as he often does, nose deep in a thick red volume of Archnean history. Knowing it would be impossible to remain undetected if he ventured any further, Chrom remained in the shadows of the hall, observing the woman carry on with her work, as befallen with admiration as ever.
Robin lowered the book with a tilt of her head, attention switching to the parchment balancing precariously to her left, as the pile only grew and grew with her note-taking. Lost in thought, she did not seem to notice the long, platinum blond braid that fell over her shoulder at the sudden movement.
Even from this distance, it was easy for Chrom to see that much of the braid had come undone, as loose strands were now falling over her face, forming a silky curtain that hides her eyes. This is a common problem when his wife was hard at work, absorbed into whatever she was studying about.
His fingers itched to touch her hair, to ease the thick tresses from their hasty styling. To comb through the wavy tangles and lift the hair from her neck to reveal that sensitive place at the side of her throat…
"Chrom!" A voice suddenly is heard from the, before deathly silent, library.
He smiled at the quiet exclamation, forsaking his hiding place to fully enter the room. Robin blinked several times as he approached, her eyes readjusting after what appeared to be a lengthy study session.
"How long have you been there?" She placed the quill pen on the ink well, as not to stain the precious wooden table, and headed on his direction nonchalantly, unaware of much more impossible she was making it for him to resist touching her.
With a gentle finger, he tucked the fallen strands of hair behind her other ear. "Only for a few minutes. You know by now how very challenging it is for me to look away from you, my queen."
Though her smile was playful, it lingered on her lips long after his words had ended. "And were you so content watching it from the door, instead of coming in for a closer look?"
Chrom led the woman back to her work station and sat on a chair he pulled from a neighbouring desk.
With an uncertain gesture toward the book in her lap, he answered her query. "You seemed very intent on your reading. It would not have been right to interrupt you."
Her cheeks flushed slightly and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. As she considered him from underneath her thick lashes, the man felt a familiar jolt of desire at the thought of all the times they had interrupted one another in the past. Royalty or not, they were still newlyweds, and passion for one another had a way of distracting them from duty.
Chrom cleared his throat and returned to the present subject. "Have you found anything compelling in our history?"
Robin's eyes widened as she shifted forward on the seat, mouth opening with uncertainty until she caught her bearings.
"I think I am realizing how much there is that I do not know." She said, as her expression turned dour. "Regardless of my talent in the battlefield, my strategic thinking, I lack culture and manners. I do not remember how I was educated, but I cannot help but believe my guardians have been remiss about most of what exists beyond war. Most of it comes to me as a complete surprise."
"Nonsense. You are plenty capable in many fields. Even Miriel thinks so." Chrom asserted, a firm belief on his wife, and a rather justified one. "May I see what have you been writing?"
"Have at it." Robin handed him the papers.
He took the wad of parchment she passed to him. Her careful notes arranged under headers with dates that he recognized immediately. The numbers spanned the length of those two thousand years, since the times of Marth, with notes taken for every monarch, every war, every invasion registered.
"You have been busy." He points out, concern mixed with awe.
The blonde woman chuckles. "I have not handwritten this much in a long time. There is a blister coming up on my middle finger."
Setting the papers on the table beside them, he opened both hands to take her injured one. He touched the bubble of skin as lightly as he could, watching her face for signs of pain. It would do well to procure her a poultice or a balm to ease the swelling, or at least some ice. He noted himself to remember to ask a maid to bring her tonight.
"It will turn into a callus soon." She assured, sheepishly. "Getting a blister in the first place is proof of how long it has been since I wrote like this. "
Chrom lifted the finger to his lips and pressed a delicate kiss to the pale patch of irritated flesh.
"You do not need to do that, Your Majesty." Robin insisted.
"I want to." The monarch promised, kissing each other finger in turn. "You have beautiful hands, and I very enjoy kissing them."
The blue-haired man held the back of her hand to his lips, touch feather-light against the fine, alabaster skin before he applied pressure to the kiss.
"They are soft." Allowing his grip to loosen, he took her fingers between his thumb and forefinger. "They fit perfectly in mine."
"I think you are making a lot of fuss over nothing." She dismisses his poetic demeanour over her hand, though she did not pull away.
"Robin, I have shaken countless men's hands over the years, I have kissed countless woman's hands too. There is no other person who has hands this capable and, at the same time, this soft and warm." He extended them to their full length, holding them out for inspection. "They are exceptional, as they should. You are exceptional."
She gifted him with a smile and followed his gaze. "They were always so dry back when we were travelling with the Shepherds. Bad food, too much manual labour, well water and the tension with the possibility of death always looming on our shoulders."
"I remember." He whispered, her wistful tone transporting him back to a time when they had been little more than strangers, to the first morning that they had met.
He had known there was something special about her when she had lent her help in protecting his people, and an invaluable help that was. In the moment, he had been struck by her ability to anticipate his need before he knew it himself. In the many months that had followed, it was a skill that she had proven countless times.
It had grown impossible to imagine what kind of king, what kind of man, he would have been without her.
From the corner of his eye, she saw her shift, his fingers losing their grasp as she rose to her feet.
"Anyway, I think I am ready for a break from reading. It would do me well, and I have covered enough for today." Standing now, she crossed behind his chair, laying her hands to rest along the span of his shoulders. "Do you have any ideas for what these hands should do in the meantime?"
Even as she asked the question, her thumbs dug into his muscles, carving steady circles into the tense flesh. He let out a deep sigh, mind clouded with the possibilities that accompanied his sense of pleasure.
"Only if you allow me to repay the favour." He responded, a smirk gracing his features.
She kissed his cheek in answer, pausing by his ear to whisper, "Maybe we should close the door first?"
"Whatever Her Majesty desires…"