That is All
Timeline: Soon after you reach Ylisstol and meet the rest of the Shepherds.
Pairings: unrequited Chrom/SLASH
He tries to keep it secret, but anyone knowing him also knows that subtlety is not his forte. If even Lissa is giggling and poking him on the shoulder as they gather around the campfire, then everyone and Naga knows, too. Everyone…but Chrom, that is. Because if anyone is more oblivious than his sister it is the prince himself.
Maybe that's the reason he's been obsessing over him for as long as he has. Chrom can't look up from the point of his blade long enough to realize he should be spurning him rather than sparring with him. The prince was fortunate enough to be born into wealth and status, whereas he had no title to his name but the one he fought through mud and blood to earn. His body still remembers the filth that clung to it like a scar. He would gladly take a dozen blows on the jaw before someone looked at him with that scorn again, as if he was nothing more than the bruises on his skin. Then Emmeryn came down like an angel, and with her, Chrom and Lissa. More like the family he never had. He swore that so long as he could make a fist he would stand by their side.
Even now he trains everyday until his skin is feverish and enough sweat is dripping off of him to fill the horses' trough. If not training alone or fighting on the battlefield, he is cornering Chrom until he relents to his demands for a challenge. Neither mentions that Falchion puts him at a disadvantage from the start. The other Shepherds don't understand, insofar as calling him obsessed as a wyvern during mating season. But none of them can fell an enemy with one strike of the axe, before they can harm a single royal hair. Every exasperated look he receives off the battlefield is worth it.
That is what he is there for. To fight. To protect. Then Robin comes along, lucky enough to be judged only by the fingertips dancing with thunderbolts and a mind racing just as swift. How could he compete against thunderbolts? Thunderbolts! As if he could really be blamed for his initial suspicions. The hours and blood he puts into training, clawing for every inch he gains, and Robin wins more than he ever did within days.
He sees the way Chrom looks at Robin. Like the tactician is a sunset burning so brightly it is more than you can process, but nor can you tear your eyes away from its brilliance. The only way he can replicate the same flush in his lord's cheeks is through battle. Where the world and all the walls separating them falls away until it is just Chrom and he, in the heat of the moment. His chest heaving for air, his indigo hair falling in his face, and beads of sweat rolling down his chiseled jaw. His eyes burn as he thrusts his blade, and as he blocks it, they face each other as equals.
But as soon as the battle is over, and Chrom has eyes only for Robin, Vaike knows that that is all he will ever be. His comrade. His friend. But not his love.