2. Loyalty

Cordelia remembered nothing about the battle—not the terrain, the enemies, or the time of day. Only that the sky was cloudless, because the sun was beating hot on her back as she held Chrom in her arms, using her hair to shade him from the sun and her right hand to staunch the wound in his stomach as his eyes lost focus.

She had been fighting at Frederick's side far away, for they made a good team and she felt safe with him near. His attention to detail meant an enemy never snuck up, a weapon's range was never misjudged, and he'd twice pushed her away from fatal blows that merely glanced off his armour, since they'd been married.

But when she saw the lance plunge into Chrom she took off without a thought, heedless of Frederick crying her name.

Her pegasus was faster than his horse, faster than anyone, and she was the first to Chrom's side, killing his attacker with one savage thrust. She cast her lance aside and jumped from the saddle, gathering him in her arms. It was the first time she had ever touched him. She was too panicked to take in much in the moment, but later she would remember how warm his skin was, how soft his hair felt in the crook of her arm.

"Lissa," he croaked as his large hand covered hers, trying to press the blood back into his body.

"She's coming, my lord," Cordelia assured him, and his noble sister landed on her knees at her side, breathing hard from her sprint to them. While Lissa raised her staff, Cordelia kept her eyes on Chrom's face, only satisfied when the tight lines there finally eased.

"Next time I'll kill you myself!" Lissa snapped when the wound had lightly closed, whacking at her brother's head with an open palm. He laughed and sat up.

"Careful, or I'll make you heal that, too." He turned to Cordelia and clasped her bloodied hand with his. "Thank you, my friend. Sorry about the mess."

"I would do it again without hesitation, my lord."

"It sounds like Frederick is rubbing off on you. Always thinking of others first—aren't you, Frederick?" he called suddenly, and Cordelia registered the sound of galloping for the first time. Her husband was out of the saddle before his horse had even come to a full stop.

"My lord! You must get back to camp and wash that wound immediately, before it becomes infected." His voice sounded strained.

"I'll be fine!" Chrom insisted as he stood. "The battle isn't over; I don't intend to leave until I've done my part."

"But it was so deep," said Frederick weakly.

"And my sister has learned much. Besides, now that you have Cordelia, that's twice the surveillance you can put on me." Chrom smiled at her like she was in on some joke, and her heart thudded painfully.

"Of course, my lord," said Frederick.

Cordelia avoided meeting her husband's eyes.

It wasn't until they'd won and returned to their tent that she realized why, exactly, he had seemed so tense. When he grimaced as he removed his armour, she saw someone had managed to jab their sword beneath it. There was a tear in his shirt, and so much blood had dribbled down his side and leg that she knew the wound must have been deep.

"Frederick!" She wasn't sure if she was more concerned or angry. She made him sit and pulled his shirt over his head, despite the obvious pain he felt raising his arms, and touched the skin just beside his wound gingerly.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she demanded.

"I didn't want to worry anyone."

"You've lost far too much blood! I'm going to clean and patch this and then you're going to see Lady Lissa; you don't have a choice in the matter!"

He was quiet and still while she went to fetch water and washed as much blood away as she could. As she wrapped linen bandages around his middle she forced herself to ask,

"When did this happen?"

"It isn't important."

"Frederick."

He pressed his lips together before he answered, "When you left, for Lord Chrom. I am quite capable of fending for myself, but there were a number of opponents, which is why I was delayed in reaching your side and his. I underestimated the myrmidon among them. It is my own fault."

Once she had tied off his bandages, she pressed her face into his shoulder for a long while. Frederick was wrong. It was her fault. She had left him without a thought, concerned only for Chrom. She had abandoned her husband and he tried to keep his pain a secret from her to spare her any guilt. But she should feel guilt. Heavily, and for a long time.

"I am a terrible wife," she whispered.

"Cordelia," he said with a gentle smile. To make everything worse, his next words were sincere: "A knight must put her lord above all else, even her own husband. I can't fault you."

But his voice lacked his usual conviction. For a moment she wished that the blows intended for Chrom and Frederick had torn through her instead, until she realized that might have warranted their worry, which she did not deserve.

"Go see Lady Lissa," she said instead. "I'll wash your shirt."

He pulled on a spare and kissed the top of her head before he left. She'd hoped he wouldn't.