A cheer erupted from around the multiple campfires, the cumulated noise so loud and forceful it startled a nest of nearby wyverns into flight. The clamor only seemed to fuel the Shepherds' festive mood; Sully thrust a tankard in the sky as a proposed toast, and Gregor began to drunkenly pound on his chest and roar as the others laughed on.

Robin weaved her way through comrades, nodding at new recruits and familiar faces on the way to the largest and centermost bonfire. Any fatigue from the rough battle hours earlier disappeared along with any alcohol pulled from inventory, whether it be down the men's gullet or sloshed around in a drunken clamor. Robin watched as Vaike laughed boomingly, the contents of his tankard falling over Ricken as he tended to the fire.

"What in Naga's name have you done?" She laughed, seating herself neatly on the log next to her husband. Chrom turned to her at the end of a belly-deep laugh, mirth rich in his eyes. The relaxed nature of it and his similarly-situated companions first took Robin aback; when was the last time Chrom and the others let loose like this? She abandoned shock for their infectious gaiety, doing her best to return the clumsy kiss Chrom aimed at the corner of her mouth.

"I believe tonight was cause for celebration. A little drink won't hurt anyone… Oh, come on—Vaike, pull Ricken from the fire, would you? Poor stripling's t' go up in flames because you can't contain your ale."

"Can it, Your Highness. Maybe it'll finally man him up a little."

She watched Chrom wince out of the corner of her eye, biting back an incredulous laugh. "I'd like to challenge that sentiment, especially if you're putting ale in Vaike's hands."

"Ah-ha-ha, maybe that wasn't as good of an idea," Chrom laughed sheepishly. They fell silent watching the fire, drifting closer by the languid second. The couple's time together had diminished over the course of the past month; a rest stop at Ylisstol only served Chrom a sea of paperwork, and the task of keeping Risen away from the capitol managed Robin more than she it. This fact had settled over them heavily, and the interlacing of their fingers dispelled the weight in a second.

"Care for a walk?" Chrom smiled down at her, and she could no longer differentiate the heat of the fire from her own internal flame.

"I would be delighted."

Their departure was anything but stealthy being smack dab in the middle of the festivities, and an impossibly sober Gaius perked up as they withdrew; Robin counted six helpings of alcohol, and he was still lucid as a mink.

"Going for a stroll? Watch for things that go bump in the night, Blue. I haven't seen Fredrick's spawn around… if you catch my drift—"

"Let us be gone, Chrom! I'm feeling quite lightheaded from the smoke, I do believe." Robin shot the loose-lipped man a glare before ushering Chrom away from camp, letting out a breath once they passed under the canopy of trees.

"Are you that excited to have me to yourself?"

In any other circumstance, Robin would have reciprocated that 'come to hither' look in an instant, but Gaius' words had more of an affect on her after she'd noted her daughter's absence. Not that she didn't trust Lucina—more like she would rather not happen upon her and Inigo together. In the forest, at night. Alone. It wouldn't do for her and Chrom's rare break to be banished to another time in exchange for another episode.

It's fine, Robin conceded with an inkling of confidence. If I can organize a thousand men on a war path, I can lead my husband through a forest.

"Was it so obvious?" She drifted along on his wind, hyperaware of their surroundings. Roaming fingers found their way up the man's chest and into the sensitive hairs at the nape of his neck. Chrom preened under her attention; patience was discarded for pent ardor. They were a compressed heap against a nearby tree within seconds, all gasps and murmurs and rustling clothes. Robin's plan was successfully launched, but she found herself forgetting what was supposed to happen next.

"Gods, but I missed you," he breathed against her ear, teeth sinking into the lobe and sending a fit of heat through Robin's scalp. She gasped and buried her hands in his hair as he peppered her neck with short, searing kisses, finally losing herself in the din of passion. He held her securely against the tree with his body; their shared heat felt like it tripled her temperature.

"—I meant to talk to you earlier…."

With impeccable timing, fervor ran away with its tail between its legs; Chrom's head whipped up, eyes shooting daggers into the dark. Robin cursed herself for getting so carried away and set to rectify her misstep, ignoring Inigo's stupidly loud voice. He was going to attract a damn horde of Risen, what with the volume of his nervous chatter.

"What is it, love?"

Without looking at her, he intoned, "I thought I heard Inigo… say, come to think of it, he wasn't around any of the campfires. Had you seen him?" It took a tense minute until Chrom's frown faded and he finally turned back, question in his eyes; she took the opportunity and pounced.

"You've been much too stressed, Chrom," Robin purred, internally gagging at herself. She'd seen something like this before, passing in a village. A couple discreetly tucked away in the corner of a building—and though the woman may not have had the most notable or moral origins, the man she draped herself over appeared as if she'd cast a spell over him.

Something similar fell over Chrom's face, though it was heavy with an intimacy only they shared, one that fanned at the embers of Robin's almost-lost desire.

"You're right," he relented, smiling apologetically. "Naga knows I could do some decompressing. I've scarcely had time to do anything but manage Ylissean politics and kill the undead."

There was a substantial amount of tromping about going on some ways behind Chrom, but he paid no notice, lost in some rumination and the warmth of having his wife so close. The noise continued on for a moment beyond his musings and halted abruptly. A muffled string of curses that sounded suspiciously like their up-and-coming Exalt melted away on a drifting breeze; Robin allowed herself to fully surrender to her Chrom's embrace, unable to catch the sigh of relief that fell from her lips.

Finally, finally—there was no compromising to be done. The only obligation she had at the moment was to reside in her husband's arms, a privilege that rarely presented itself in more recent times. And how great it was, his strong arms encircling her, being able to feel so small and wanted and protected.

"Let us retire early," Chrom whispered into the crown of her hair, his lips a gentle urge. It took no great coaxing; Robin allowed herself to be whisked away, and only briefly did her eyes slide back to the threshold of the forest.