A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay in getting this out. I hope it was worth the wait. As always, a big shout out to Erudite for his help.
Distance
Five short paces thought Chrom as he sat on watch, half-starring at the small campfire. Only five paces separated him from his tent, from his cot, from the woman sleeping inside it. Try as he might, he could not keep his mind away from Sumia. The warmth of her breath lingered on his cheek, the touch of her naked foot against his leg still sent fresh shocks beneath his skin, even in its absence. He shivered, even in the mild spring air. And the longing, that endlessly aching need, filled his heart again.
"How long has it been?" he wondered. How much time had passed since he'd last felt soft skin pressed against him, since the sweat of Sumia's body mingled with his own, and he heard his name moaned into his ear? It hurt to consider how many nights his royal duties, his wife's pregnancy, and now this cursed war, had denied him such pleasures. While not one to indulge in fantasy, Chrom imagined them lying entwined beneath the stars on a soft bed of grass and earth, the flicker of firelight illuminating Sumia's pale flesh, enhancing her beauty, and his eager fingers and hungry lips following trails both old and new.
A flame sparked in his belly, spreading throughout his body, growing hotter by the minute. His eyes fell upon the tent. It was only five steps to his wife's side. Perhaps she would find the thought of a few moments of bliss romantic, like something out of her books. A wicked curl tugged at Chrom's mouth. He could do it. He could rouse her, whisper a few sweet words in her ear, and whisk her away to show her how hot his blood ran through his veins for her. Surely, Sumia longed for him as he did her. They could slip away, and the rest of the camp would not even know they were gone.
He paused before he could take a single step. Like a fickle wind, cold realization blew across his mind.
"But we can't," he sighed, looking around the camp, the sight of canvas tents cooling his blood and his heart. Now was not the time to entertain such notions, not with his allies gathered around. Frederick would surely come running. And even if he did not, this not the place. While they were far from any road, they were still within the Conqueror's borders, and until they had either deposed Walhart or slain him, Chrom could not afford distraction, no matter how pleasing. No, he needed to keep those thoughts distant. Only when this war had ended could he hold them near again. Only when peace returned to the world could he allow that flame to overtake his heart, his soul, and his body.
But oh, it pained him to push such thoughts away.
"Would it be easier if she weren't here?" Chrom asked as the few traces of heat dissipated. Would he still pine for her as he did now if she were far across the ocean; if she were home in Ylisstol? Would it grow worse without her lying at his side? He could not say, but perhaps he would have found it easier if she were not among the army.
The same petition Sumia made so many times echoed in his ear, as clearly if she were beside him now.
"Tell me you love me."
"I wish I could do better than that, Sumia," he murmured, unable to prevent his thoughts from becoming words, even if he spoke them to only the night. "I wish I could adore you the way I once did. I wish I could carry you off and show you how much I love you." If not for the war, he could have done just that.
It was only five steps to his tent, to his wife, but now, she seemed so far away, as far as the earth from the sky.
A/N: I always wondered how hard it would be for Chrom, having his wife there in their camp. War is hard enough, I'm sure, so I figured there'd be some difficulties at having the one he loves right there. I hope you all liked it.
Until next time.