Chapter Text
When she was younger, Maribelle had spent a great deal of time imagining what it would be like when she was finally proposed to. The scenario went like this: her beloved would get down on one knee and proclaim their everlasting, undying devotion to her. After vowing never to leave her side, a flock of the most beautiful doves would fly by in the background and trumpets would blare all across Ylisse to celebrate their union. Now that she was older, Maribelle recalled her younger self’s delusions with more than a bit of embarrassment, but the overall sentiment was still there. The most important part was that she was by the side of the one she loved forever and always.
If younger Maribelle could have known how her proposal would really turn out, she would have broken down in a fit of tears.
“Marry me, Maribelle,” croaked out Chrom as he lay on a pallet in the stable behind Ylisstol castle. Maribelle stared down at the prince-turned-exalt she was healing, her nose scrunched up from the pungent smell of horse manure.
“What was that, Chrom?” she asked, pulling the thread she was stitching slightly harder than was truly necessary. Chrom winced at the sudden pain.
“I said...marry me, Maribelle,” he repeated more slowly this time. So she had heard him right the first time. Pursing her lips, Maribelle put away the last of her medical supplies.
“Clearly you hit your head harder than you thought. Once I’m done here, I’ll head to Frederick immediately and he can recommend a tonic to deal with your brain damage.” The prince had taken a rather nasty spill during a riding expedition with a visiting ambassador from Ferox. Having happened to be nearby pouring over a book on the royal family lineage, Maribelle had rushed over at once, moving his body with the help of some servants to the stable and performing a rushed healing while the castle’s head cleric was fetched. She thought she had done a rather good job given the short notice of it all, but clearly not since he was spouting such nonsense.
Chrom weakly struggled to sit up. Maribelle pushed him back down with one hand.
“I’m...not kidding. Marry me,” he repeated for the third time. She had had just about enough of this game now. Had she been dealing with anybody else, Maribelle would have given them a stern tongue lashing, but this was her prince, the brother of her best friend, and her patient, so she held her tongue.
Keeping her harshest thoughts in her head, Maribelle replied, “Please stay down until the cleric gets here. She’ll know what to do for you.”
“You don’t have to answer me now. Just...think about it.” The sleep spell she’d woven into the pain relieving spell must have been kicking in, for the prince’s speech was getting slower as his eyes began to droop. As always when she looked at him for more than a few seconds, Maribelle was taken away by how blue his eyes were, so deep and beautiful, just like a clear pool of water.
Just like Lissa’s.
“I’m not the one you should be worrying about right now,” she replied, looking away from him pointedly. “I’m not the one who fell head first off a horse going gods only know how many miles per hour.”
“Promise me you’ll think about it,” he said in that blasted princely tone of his. Maribelle gave an irritated sign.
“If I promise you this, will you finally get some rest?” she asked. A small smile curled around his pale lips. Chrom nodded ever so slightly.
“Very well,” said Maribelle with a huff and roll of her eyes. “I promise to dwell long and hard on your impromptu and rather uncouth proposal. Now lay back before you have two head wounds to worry about.”
This seemed to satisfied the man; he laid down and closed his eyes without anymore complaints. Maribelle stared up at the ceiling, wondering how she’d gotten herself into this situation. The stench of the stables must have been getting to her. How did Sumia stand to spend so many hours in this place?
It wasn’t much longer before the cleric’s team arrived with a stretcher to move the prince. They thanked Maribelle for jumping in as quickly as she did, and she brushed off their compliments because no really it was nothing, any other noble of her caliber would have done the same in her place. Then she stepped back to let the professionals take him away.
The rest of the day Maribelle gave no more thought to the prince or to the strange conversation they’d had in the hay and filth.
*~*~*
A normal week passed by without any more proposals from delirious princes or medical emergencies. She spent it as she normally did, studying up on her etiquette and spending every possible moment she could by Lissa’s side. It wasn’t the most eventful life, but Maribelle relished the calmness after the ragtag rush of war.
Naturally she told no one of what had transpired in the stables, not even Lissa to whom she normally told everything. Even the best kept secrets travelled fast at court, and there was no need to stir up any more drama when they had all finally managed to calm down from the last major scandal to rock the royal family. No, this was one secret Maribelle was going to take to her grave.
She probably would have kept it till then too had Chrom not managed to ambush her on her way back to her quarters after supper.
“Milord,” she said immediately, dropping into the customary curtsy. Chrom sighed.
“Maribelle, really. I thought we were past such formalities. Have you already forgotten the conversation we had?” asked the prince. Straightening up, Maribelle looked him squarely in the eye despite being several inches shorter.
“With all due respect, milord, that was in the midst of war. Back here in Ylisstol things are...different. The lines are more deeply drawn,” she replied though not unkindly. “Even us speaking like this might cause rumors.”
“Let them talk,” scoffed Chrom. “I shouldn’t have to avoid speaking with one of my oldest friends just because it might get some old crone’s smallclothes in a twist.” A pleasant warmth ran through Maribelle at being called “old friend”, though she didn’t let it show on her face. She was long past the age where mild compliments should have had such an effect on her.
As if on cue a pair of dignitaries walked by them, bowing at sight at Chrom then whispering behind their hands when they saw who the prince was standing with. Maribelle turned her chin up, refusing to give them the satisfaction of knowing their words had reached her. Chrom watched the silent exchange, then cocked an eyebrow and grinned.
“Why my lady, would you do me the honor of accompanying me into the gardens where we can continue our conversation in private?” he asked in an overblown snobbish accent. Taking a deep bow, Chrom extended an arm out to Maribelle. She knew what they were doing was childish and probably wildly out of bounds, but that didn’t stop her from looping her arm through his with a poorly suppressed giggle.
“Why of course. Let us away, post-haste,” she replied. The two all but skipped through the hallway, ignoring the bewildered looks from servants and other members of the court. They didn’t unlink arms until they reached the very center of the gardens. Upon their arrival, Chrom burst out laughing.
“Did you see the look on Madame Prilant’s face? It looked like she was about to give birth,” he gasped. Maribelle pulled her arm from his. Chrom had a rather undignified laugh for a prince, closer to a guffaw than the polite chuckle she and Lissa had been taught growing up.
“You shouldn't be so crass about your courtiers, milo- Chrom,” she corrected herself quickly as Chrom finally managed to calm down, his face still red. He wiped a tear from his eye.
“You’re right, as always.”
It was a beautiful day outside, calm and quiet with just a hint of cold that betrayed that autumn was right around the corner.. The two took off walking through the gardens at a comfortable speed. By this late in the year all the flowers had bloomed and the whole area was alive with every color imaginable. They stopped before a group of bright yellow flowers.
“The gardens were Emmeryn’s favorite place in the whole castle,” said Chrom wistfully, reaching out to touch one of the soft petals. “Every she wasn’t spending with me and Lissa or undoing the mess my father created she spent out here, planting to her hearts content.” It was the first time Maribelle had heard him freely mention the former Exalt’s name since her death. She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.
Unaffected by her silence, Chrom continued, “She always tried to get Lissa and I to plant with her, but we would rather stomp through the flowers than learn about them. These were her favorites.” Chrom paused, then frowned. “Gods, what was the name of this one...?”
“Chrysanthemum” replied Maribelle immediately, reaching out for the yellow plant as well. “They symbolize optimism and joy.” Chrom looked at Maribelle for a few moments, then smiled.
“That does sound like something Emm would plant. Thank you.” Maribelle shook her head.
“Why it’s nothing, milord. The art of flowers is a basic study in any proper noblewoman’s repertoire,” said Maribelle humbly. Chrom smirked.
“So we’re back to my lord now, huh?”
“Ah, forgive me, you know how old habits die hard. I promise to do my best to-”
“Have you given thought to what I asked you last week?”
Maribelle froze. She looked up at Chrom who had an unreadable expression on his face. “Yes,” she admitted. “And I have come to the conclusion that your declaration was the result of a rusty staff on my part. I do sincerely apologize.”
“No,” said Chrom sternly. There was an earnest tone to his voice Maribelle had never heard before. “I mean, yes, the staff was probably rusty, but that’s not the reason I said what I did. I truly wish for you to marry me.”
“Could you please keep your voice down!” she exclaimed, looking around wildly. They seemed to be alone in the garden, but you could never truly be sure when it came to royal life. Chrom didn’t shift his gaze.
“You’ve had a week to think about it. I don’t mean to rush you,but I need to know sooner rather than later.” His words were blunt but gentle. Maribelle fought to keep her bewildered expression under control.
“It’s just- I-” It wasn’t often the noble found herself at a loss for words. She really, really hated it. “What brought this about?”
Chrom regarded her for several moments, then spoke, “Rebuilding a nation is not easy. Ylisse has gone through two wars in the past two decades now, and the fault lines from both still run deep. If I am to keep this peace, really, truly create a peace that will not shatter at the first sign of conflict, then I will need help. I need someone by my side as devoted to the people as I am. I need someone like you.”
Maribelle searched Chrom’s face for something, anything that would indicate that he was joking or that was all some big dream and she’d wake up in her own satin bed at any moment. When she didn’t respond, Chrom took that as an indication to keep going.
“You’re the heiress to one of the oldest noble houses in Ylisse. You know all there is to know about court life and your knowledge of Ylissean law is second to none. With you by my side, Ylisse would flourish in ways it has not in over 20 years.” Maribelle blinked, slightly taken aback.
“You have clearly thought this through,” she mumbled, for how else was one supposed to reply to such high praise? “I appreciate your kind attestment of my virtues, I truly do, but-” There were a million things she could have said, a million reasons why this was such a bad idea, why it was not nearly as simple as he was suggesting, but one question jumped to the forefront of them all. “What about Naira?”
Chrom’s face darkened instantly at the tactician’s name. “Naira is in the past,” he said, keeping his voice as even as possible. “My priority right now is the future.”
He didn’t say any more on the subject, so Maribelle assumed it was not up for discussion. She knew that talking about his former fiancee was not an easy task for the man. There was so much more that needed to be said, but the middle of the royal garden was not the place to say it all. Chrom closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again.
“I take it you don’t have an answer for me then?” asked Chrom.
“If you would be so kind as to answer just two more questions for me, milord,” asked Maribelle. Chrom nodded.
“Ask whatever you’d like.”
“What would happen were I to decline your invitation?” asked Maribelle.
“I would be most saddened," he replied slowly, choosing every word carefully, "but of course I’d respect you decision. And I would hope that my rudeness would not ruin your friendship with either me or Lissa.” Maribelle shook her head, hard.
“Gods forbid! Nothing you could do could ever erase my feelings for Lissa,” she replied. What a silly thought!
“Will that be all?” he asked, but Maribelle shook her head once again.
“Just one more.” She steeled herself, then asked, “Do you love me?”
There was silence. Her voice was calm, but on the inside Maribelle was anything but. She watched several emotions play over Chrom’s face, and not for the first time she wondered exactly what god they both had angered in a past life to put themselves in such an unfair situation.
“No,” he said quietly. “I do not.”
Maribelle nodded. It was what she expected to hear, but that did not lessen the words’ impact any less. She opened her mouth to say something, but Chrom beat her to it.
“However,” he continued, “I do love the people of Ylisse, and I know you do as well. I know it’s not the ideal base for a marriage, but I believe it to be enough.”
His words hung in the air for a long while, drifting between the petals and blossoms. Under any other circumstances a proposal in such a venue would have been romantic beyond words. Still, Maribelle wasn’t one to dwell on what could not have been.
“I thank you for your honesty,” she replied, truly meaning it. Relieved, Chrom’s featured softened.
“So when can I expect a reply?”
“You’ll have your reply by this time tomorrow. That I can promise you,” said Maribelle curtly. Chrom nodded, then bowed deeply.
“You have my thanks. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must head back to my quarters. No doubt Frederick will be out for blood if I’m even a second late.” It wasn’t a particularly funny joke, but she laughed anyway.
“Good night, Chrom.”
“Good night, Maribelle.”
She watched him walk away, the flowers tugging at his cape as if trying to pull him back. Then as soon as he was out of sight, she sat on the nearest log and thought for a long, long time.
*~*~*
That night was the worst Maribelle had ever endured and yes, she was counting the time she had spent as Gangrel’s hostage. So intense was her tossing that she fell out of bed not once but twice. No matter how she moved or willed it away, her conversation with Chrom replayed over and over again in her mind like a faucet that refused to shut off.
It would be lying to say she wasn’t a tiny bit pleased by his offer. Of all the ladies he knew in court he had come to her! Her! It was beyond flattering. What young child hadn’t dreamed of one day becoming royalty and ruling over the land? It was like something straight out of the fairy tales Sumia was was always going on about.
But then the butterflies would pass and she’d be dragged back to the present and realize just what Chrom was asking of her. Most noble marriages were done for strategic gain rather than out of any sense of romance, that she’d always known, but it hadn’t stopped her for dreaming of a more romantic future for herself. Plus it was one thing to dream of being queen- but actually taking over the role? Even if she was suited for the role, Maribelle was not the most well liked lady at court; there was a very good reason why for the longest time Lissa had been her sole companion.
Oh gods, Lissa. Maribelle’s stomach twisted. Sniffing, she held her pillow tighter.
She should be grateful for this opportunity to once and for all become a part of Lissa’s family. It was more than she had any right to ask for she should have been overjoyed, ecstatic even. And yet...Maribelle sighed, hugging her pillow tightly to her chest.
There was only one logical course of action: she had to turn him down. As soon as the sun was up, she’d head to Chrom’s quarters and politely but firmly reject his offer. It was the most proper course of action.
Making a decision should have made her feel better, but the horrible knot in her center didn’t abate. Still, Maribelle closed her eyes and did her best to rest.
The next morning dawned bright and clear with Maribelle feeling more horrible than she could recall feeling in a long, long time.
There she stood outside Chrom’s door, her hand inches from the polished wood. All she needed to do was knock, say what she needed to say to say, and go on with her day. All she needed to do was knock. Her hand hovered, unmoving.
“Oh, Maribelle. You’re here early.”
Maribelle jumped back in surprise, nearly tripping backwards over the hem of her dress. Chrom looked down at her with a confused expression. One side of his hair was mussed up in all directions, quite like a certain knight they both knew. Coughing slightly, Maribelle straightened up.
“Good morning. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Don’t worry, it was time for me to get up anyway. What was it you needed?”
The whole speech she’d had prepared flew out of her head. Years later, Maribelle would look back on this moment and wonder what in the holy name of Naga she’d been thinking. She’d never know why the words caught in her throat the way they did or why, as she looked up into Chrom’s eyes, she found herself drawn to the twinge of sadness she’d never noticed before. One day she’d look back at this morning, her standing in front of the prince’s room while he stood with behead in his pajamas, as the moment where her life went out of control.
But at that moment, all she could say was one thing.
“I’ve come to accept your proposal.”