A/N: Well, this took longer than I wanted. Hope you enjoy it. And a shout out to The Erudite for his support in proofreading. Dealing with me, I'd say he deserves a medal.

Dance

Chrom sighed in relief as the feasting drew to an end. While the food was to his liking, the king of Ylisse could not abide the forced smiles and pleasantries he was forced to provide. The thought that his tailor once earned his wage as a hangman also came to mind as he discreetly tugged at his collar. A low growl of frustration echoed in his throat as he struggled to make his kingly attire more tolerable. Chrom finally sighed in defeat, not merely at his clothes but at the entire day. Glancing over at Sumia, he was certain she felt the same.

This day marked the first year since Chrom had taken Sumia as his wife and queen. He thought back to the morning as they made themselves ready for the day: with a happy lilt in her voice, she had regaled him with ideas of a quiet affair in their quarters, away from the prying eyes of his courtiers; ideas of soft candlelight, his favorite cut of venison, one of her delectable pies, and perhaps a night of wedded bliss. He had found all of those ideas pleasing, but he soon learned from Frederick of plans that had already been made for him: in place of the simple things that Sumia had suggested, they would attend a grand banquet.

Chrom sighed again as his eyes fixed themselves on Sumia: he frowned as he took in her wearied and even saddened expression. He truly pitied his wife. All night, she had endured incessant questions about expectations of heirs, if their marriage had any difficulties, and matters Chrom thought were the concern of none. The sight of her made the king wish he was a commoner and she a common woman. Were they so, he could spare Sumia from the stresses of royalty.

As he watched a few of the lords and ladies rise, however, Chrom realized the worst was yet to come for her. The attenders began to gather in the middle of the floor for a dance, and with but a single glimpse towards his beloved, he could see the fear in her eyes and the worries in her mind. He knew she feared the whispered words and haughty gazes of those who only sought to see their queen shamed. Were it in his power, Chrom would bid her to remain at their table, but the codes of his station would not permit it. And so, taking Sumia's hand, he rose and walked to the floor. Her hand quivered in his, and her face appeared as one climbing the scaffold to kneel before the axe.

Chrom wondered how he could do this to her. How could he subject her to additional scorn? Already, he could see the lords and ladies whispering to each other, and he was certain they were speaking of Sumia as a graceless woman. He was equally certain that his wife counted herself in the same way. By now, they stood in the center of the room, and the king could feel all the eyes upon them.

"Tell me you love me, Chrom," Sumia whispered frantically, "even if I fall and make a fool of myself in front of everyone."

"I can do better than that," he replied softly. "Sumia, follow my lead."

"What do you mean?" asked his wife, and Chrom only grinned in response.

"My lords and ladies," the king began, "I regret to say the queen is unwell."

"She looks fine to me," a nobleman Chrom did not know remarked, but he paid no heed to the words.

"As I said, she is unwell, so I bid you all good evening." And with that, Chrom whisked Sumia out of the grand hall and back to their chambers.

"You know Frederick will be racing for a doctor," said Sumia, though her eyes gleamed with gratitude. Chrom had not ceased grinning at her, and she threw her arms around him in a glad embrace. "So, now that we're here, what do you want to do?"

"Well," Chrom began, lightly stroking her cheek, "I wouldn't have minded that dance."

Sumia only nodded as she placed her hand in his. Though he had to steady her once or twice, Chrom found her more graceful than any woman in the whole of his kingdom.