We stood on stiff legs, our hands intertwined, as we sauntered to the dance floor.

"You ready?" his eyes bore deep into me. He nodded gently to the quartet sitting to the side of the floor and they began playing a soft hymn.

"Always," I smiled and wrapped my arms loosely around his neck. He returned my gaze, resting his steady hands on my waist.

The crowd of guests—gathered together in little pockets, cradling glasses of fancy champagne, swaying in extravagant suits and gowns—simmered to a hush. Their every ounce of attention was ours. I could feel the hundred thousand sets of eyes gazing upon us in dreamlike euphoria; the anticipation swelled for our first dance as a royal couple. I had never witnessed such rapt attention—and certainly never on me.

"Just focus on me," his voice floated over me. I snapped from my own dreamlike state.

"Right," our eyes connected and we were lost for a moment in each other. I was the first to break the tension, flitting my eyes to my feet, watching each step I took and counting: one, two, three, one, two, three. I focused heavily on my steps. I envied him, for he flowed perfectly into each step, no hesitation.

"I never realized how well you dance," I said, my tone just low enough so that only we could hear.

He smirked, though not in a vile way.

"Well, when you've danced as many balls as I have, you get used to it," he refused to let my eyes escape.

"Heh, I guess so. I just didn't expect it I suppose—I should've, but I didn't…"

He smiled. Becoming bashful himself, he cast his eyes downward. But they soon found mine again.

"You dance well yourself," he said finally.

"Oh, well I've always been a bit of a dancer—"

"Really? I'd never peg you for that…"

"Oh! It's nothing fancy! I just move to music…If I'm being honest I had to study dance with Olivia for months in preparation for today."

"Hah, well it's still impressive you learned it in such a short time!"

"Mhmm, that's just how I tick," I grinned at the familiarity of my words. I imagined we'd had a million conversations like this before.

He chuckled, his energy filling me with warmth like some kind of drug. The heat travelled through me, marking my cheeks with pink. I shifted awkwardly into the next step, thwarted by dumb love. He rubbed his hands softly against my hips, only enforcing the pink stain across my face. His eyes again bound me to him.

"You look beautiful, you know," the words tasted sweet on my brain. My blush deepened once more.

"Thank you," I was dumbfounded by the idiocy of my own words. He laughed awkwardly.

"When I saw you walk through those doors…" he sighed, "my heart almost stopped." He snaked his hands around my waist until they rested on my back.

"I-I don't know what to say, except…me too. My heart stopped too," I paused, unsure what else to say. Then, "I love you, Chrom."

"I love you too, Robin."

We smiled into each other and I felt a tangible looseness fall over us. Our bodies linked, inseparable through dance; we were a bit closer in our stances.

When the silence became odd, I broke it.

"It still feels so weird—being married. I don't feel any different."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. It still feels a bit off. But I like it."

"Me too."

He looked at me, head cocked for a moment.

"What?" I asked.

"Hhm?" suddenly his eyes refused to meet mine.

"What? Did I say something?" I interrogated, furrowing my brow.

"It's nothing! I was just thinking…about the things we get to do, you know, being married…"

Both our faces grew tomato red.

"Chrom!" I whispered harshly, not wanting to alarm our guests.

"That's not what I meant!"

"Of course not," I rolled my eyes.

"No really! I mean, not that I don't think about, uh, that, but I mean—Gods! I swear it was something else."

"Then what?"

"Uh, what?" he looked antsy.

"Yes. What." I enunciated the words to exaggeration.

"I was just thinking…about you and—kissing. And that I could kiss you right now if I wanted and you wouldn't slug me in the jaw."

There was a brief silence. Then I laughed.

"Gods! Why was that so hard!?" I hugged him closer.

"I don't know! You just get this look at times and it looks as if you'll dismember me if I say anything!"

"Am I really so intimidating?"

He grinned, "A little. Why do you think you're such a great tactician?"

"Well, then!" I paused, "Do it."

His brow furrowed and he stared, confused, "I beg your pardon?"

"Do it. Kiss me! You said you wanted to!"

He squirmed a bit, "Uh, really?"

I raised an eyebrow, "Really."

"You mean, like, right now?"

"Yes. Right now, Chrom."

"As you wish, milady."

He splayed a grin, as if the whole thing were a ruse, and spun me around. I stumbled clumsily, unprepared for the sudden change in tempo, and fell. Chrom caught me. I fell into his arms with perfect precision; I was even in time to the music. He hovered over me, mere inches from my face. Our audience awed in their chairs.

"You sly—" his lips interrupted me.

All thoughts stopped, lost in a momentous wave of shock and lust. He melted into me, his arms supporting me, suspending me in the air. His lips were cool, yet warm, soft, yet hard. My veins throbbed from the rush of blood to my face and my heart fluttered out a loud dum-tis, dum-tis. The crowd cheered. The quartet reached the Coda. Chrom and I kissed. Time stopped.

And best of all, we were married.