Hello again! Did I deliver, or did I deliver? I'm like going full NaNoWriMo on this fic at the moment, it's like the only thing I'm motivated to do at the moment. If you all died of baby!Chrom cuteness last chapter, prepare to die even more: I'm not pulling any punches with the fluff factor. (Don't worry, this isn't a solely fluffy fic, as last chapter showed, but with baby Chrom, the fluff will be abundant. And maybe also with grown-up Chrom.) Anyway, hope you guys are doing okay, and stay safe!

"And 'member to wash your hands! You don't wanna be sick, okay?"

Thank you, baby Chrom. We appreciate the PSA.

"You're welcome~!"

Onward!

The dark was warm and comforting. It smelled of cotton and hardwood and the sweet scent of baby-soft skin. Downy hairs tickled his chin and neck, a small body of heat laying next to his chest.

Grima opened his eyes to a head full of blue hair bathed in sunlight.

The child in his arms (his arms? When had he gotten his arms wrapped around the boy last night?) lay with his head on the albino's chest, his tiny hand still clutching the older man's beige tank top. His chest rose and fell with his soft little breaths. For a wild moment, Grima couldn't decide whether to be sickened or enchanted at the sight. Maybe a bit of both. (The scene with the bandits from last night reappeared in his mind's eye.) Definitely more of the latter. Hey, nobody was watching, he could gaze down at the little one all he wanted.

It amazed Grima how soft the boy was. His skin, his hair, the baby fat cushioning his frame… The dragon hadn't had much chance to see small children up close in his long life. This experience was novel for him, and he drank in every detail of the four-year-old, from his chubby hands to his cute pink lips to his long blue lashes to the delicate shell of his ear.

It took a moment for the man to identify the emotion growing inside of him as wonder.

Chrom shifted in his sleep and yawned, eyes opening to reveal crystalline blue. He blinked, and blue eyes met red. Then he closed his eyes and snuggled closer to Grima. "G'morning, Mister Raven."

Grima huffed a laugh. "Good morning, little blueberry."

The memory of that rather magical wake-up stayed in Grima's mind for the rest of the morning. He and Chrom grabbed breakfast from the inn's dining area and set out on the road once more. Chrom asked for a piggyback ride ("You can have my cookie for it!") and Grima shrugged, figured "Why not?" and went along the road carrying the boy on his shoulders, much to the child's delight.

Noon found them in another southern Ylissean town and another tavern. While the dragon ordered lunch, he listened to the other patrons around him for any news. The war with Plegia popped up as a topic for much of the conversation, and Grima found himself thankful he'd had the foresight to place solid illusions on his cloak. To the other people it looked black, silver, and blue instead of black, gold, and purple, and the eye designs had been rendered invisible. He didn't need to worry about his mark; he'd come to the past wearing a pair of durable gloves.

Come to think of it, the Exalt's fighting a war to prevent Plegia from resurrecting the very being that's sitting in this room. And said being currently has custody of his wayward prince. Grima chuckled. The irony!

"… it that bad?"

"The castle didn't survive, if that's what you're asking, although much of the city went unscathed for the most part."

"Huh?" Grima turned around in his seat to face the villagers behind him. "What's going on?"

"Haven't you heard? Ylisstol's been attacked. The castle was bombed."

A gasp behind him affirmed that Chrom had overheard. He scooted out of his chair and plodded over to the group. "Is everybody okay there?"

The farmer favored him with a sad smile. "I hate to break it to you, kiddo, but I'm afraid not. Most of the casualties were in the castle, but the city suffered some as well." He sighed. "They haven't confirmed whether this is true, but rumor is the royal family didn't make it."

"Oh…" The boy saddened and looked down at his feet.

Grima, however, narrowed his eyes. Had the queen and princess really returned to the capital so soon? How could they leave the prince behind?! Maybe they're gathering a search party… No. This was unacceptable. The Fell Dragon might not have had reliable experience with family and parents, but even he knew you just didn't leave your child behind. The farmer continued to talk, however, so he listened.

"—might be best to get out while we still can, the war's spilling over too far into Ylisse." He paused. "Where'd you say you were from, again, mister…"

"Raven," the albino supplied. "I found this boy lost in the woods and was taking him to meet his family. I think they're in the capital?" He glanced at Chrom for reassurance, but the boy shrugged. "That's as far as I know."

The bearded man shook his head. "I bet you can tell, but Ylisstol ain't a safe place for a kid like him right now. If I were you, I'd take him, get on Everest here's ship, and make for Valm. He'll be safe from the war there, though you'll have to wait till it ends to go looking for his folks again."

"What about Ferox?"

The woman sitting between the farmer and his slim, weathered companion shook her head. "Ferox's staying strictly neutral in the war, though I doubt that'll last for long, and I really don't think that's as much a place for such a little boy than the capital."

"A lot of people are already fleeing to Valm," Everest spoke up. "I've got several passengers I'm gonna run there myself, if you'd like to come with. Plegia's navy is more focused on blockading that end of the continent anyway, so we won't be bothered if we swing around south enough."

Grima hummed, deep in thought. "What do you think, little blueberry?"

Chrom looked up at him with a lost expression, so he clarified. "It's not safe for us to keep looking here, and we might have to go somewhere safer for the time being. Is that acceptable?" he asked.

The boy nodded. "A-As long as I'm with you, Mister Raven!"

"Good. Then it's settled. Where is this ship, Mr. Everest, and when do we need to meet you there? I'll need to acquire supplies for the trip."

The tanned man stood. "If you're finished, I'll take you there myself. It'll be a while after we get to Port Lismuth before she's seaworthy, so take the time meanwhile to get what you need."

"Very well, then." Grima settled his bill with the waitress, and then he followed the captain out of the tavern with Chrom in tow.

Port Lismuth, Grima decided, was your run-of-the-mill seaside town. He found a clothing shop for young children and helped Chrom pick out a couple spare changes of tunics and pants, then paid for the most adorable little tactician's cloak before he could change his mind. He'd have time on the voyage to weave enchantments into it to turn it into a veritable shield for the child. Besides, it looked cozy and warm, and Chrom was over the moon when the albino presented it to him.

"Now we match!" the boy cried, giggling. "Mister Raven, I wanna be like you when I grow up!"

That got a hearty laugh out of the dragon, the irony not lost on him. "I bet you do, little blueberry." He patted the boy on his head, and Chrom beamed with delight.

A few more trips later, one to an apothecary for vulneraries, one to a mage's bookstore for an extra Thoron and Wind, and one to a general store for anything else essential, Grima had a full pack of supplies. He double-checked his personal spellbook and holster before deciding to play it safe and getting a silver sword from an Anna's cart. By the time he finished, the town's clock tower showed three in the afternoon, a few minutes before the duo needed to board their ship. The two headed down to the wharf where the Lucky Laguz floated in the harbor. Grima paid for their tickets and soon they were on their way to Valm.

"What's your father like, little blueberry?"

Grima broached the question that had been gnawing on his mind ever since he'd heard the news about Ylisstol. Chrom, who lay on the little cabin's bunk recovering from yesterday's bout of seasickness, shrunk a bit into himself.

"W-Well… he's… he's not home very much. Mama says I look a lot like him, except for my eyes and hair. She says I got that from her." He bit his lip. "Um, but when he is home, he goes on and on about how he wants me to learn how to sword-fight and stuff. He always looks dis—disa—dis—"

"Disappointed?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah. He says he wishes I were older so I could fight in the war with him. I-I don't mind sword-fighting! But Mama says war hurts people." His lip quivered. "I don't wanna hurt people."

Rage flared in the dragon's heart. His own father sees him as nothing more than a tool?! That rotten bastard—thank Medeus he dies at the end of the war! Really, I'm doing Chrom a favor, taking him away from that horrible family. They don't deserve him!

Weeeell, except maybe Emmeryn the wishy-washy peacemonger. Maybe. Maybe.

"Mister Raven, are you okay? Your eyes are all flashy again."

"Huh? Oh. It's nothing, I just… might understand something of what you're talking about." Then another question occurred to him. "When we were eating lunch yesterday, why didn't you correct the lady when she mistook me for your father?"

The boy brightened. "You're way cooler than my real daddy! So I thought it would be okay… It's okay, right? With you, Mister Raven?"

Gods above, were children really this thoughtful? Still, Grima mused, it wouldn't… hurt, necessarily. "Would you like to pretend I'm your daddy?"

"Ooh! Yeah, we can play pretend! You'll be the daddy, and I'll be the baby!" Then he wrinkled his little nose. "'Cept I'm not really a baby."

Grima chuckled. "In my opinion, yes you are, little one, but that's only because I've lived a very long time compared to you."

Chrom gasped. "How long?"

"Over three… thousand years."

"Does that mean you're a grandpa?!"

The albino leveled a flat look at him. "No. Three thousand years isn't that long to a dragon. Although to be fair, I was asleep for about half of them. Also, in order to be a grandpa, I need to have had children first. Which I don't."

"Oh, okay. So you'll still be the daddy, then. Can I call you Daddy? I can't call you Mister Raven if we're gonna pretend real well."

"That…" Grima's heart gave an odd squeeze. "That is acceptable."

If there was anything to learn from this experience, Grima mused as he worked on spelling Chrom's cloak, it was that children were more amenable to obeying you if you made everything into a game. Decent psychology, really: they had fun, they didn't mind doing it again, and they accomplished what you asked of them. Chrom's seasickness brought this to his attention; the ship had a good stock of medicine to help alleviate anyone unfortunate enough to have the malady, but the boy detested taking it, predictably because the medicine tasted horrible. The first time this happened, Grima wracked his brain for a way to get the child to take the medicine. Then he'd had an idea. "Pretend that the seasickness is an invading army," he told the boy, "and it's fighting your body's troops. The medicine is reinforcements that will help drive out the sickness. They might not be exactly the kind you want, but they get the job done, right?"

Although Chrom was too young to understand the art of warfare and tactics, his wide, awe-filled eyes showed he got the gist of it. "Okay, then! I'm gonna help make the bad army go away!" He'd grimaced as he swallowed the stuff, but his pride at conquering this particular hurdle showed.

Right now the boy lay on his stomach on the floor, flipping through the Wind tome for lack of anything better to do. He seemed to gravitate towards the "pretty pictures," or spell-casting diagrams, studying them with curiosity and concentration. Grima fought down a smile. He'd asked Chrom to pick a favorite picture in the book, and the boy had taken to the task with enthusiasm.

"Hey, Daddy?" Chrom's voice broke through his thoughts. "Can you teach me how to do magic? Please?"

Okay, that made him smirk. "Certainly, but why? I'm just curious, is all."

Chrom glanced up at him with a face that said it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Because you do magic, and I wanna be like you!"

"Right, right. Well, we can't exactly do any spells here, so we'll have to wait until we get to Valm, and I don't know if you have any aptitude for it—"

"Please?" Chrom sat up on his knees and faced the albino with his hands clasped. "Pretty pretty please?"

Grima considered him for a minute before relenting. "I can at least start you off on the theory—"

"Yay! Thank you thank you thank you, Daddy!" The bluenette gave a brilliant smile and jumped to his feet with the tome in hand. The older man set the boy's cloak aside as Chrom clambered up next to him onto the bunk. Taking the tome and setting it on his lap, Grima proceeded to give a cursory explanation of magic and how it worked. The little boy leaned into his side and took in his words with awe and admiration.

Grima never noticed that he'd put his arm around the boy and hugged him close.

The inn at Valm Harbor stood right next to a hospital, which Grima found odd but didn't comment on. He paid for a room for the two of them at the inn and led Chrom to a nearby diner. The homey atmosphere of the place helped Grima focus on his plans for the future. He didn't know how much longer the Exalt's war had, so he needed to find a place for them here for an indeterminable amount of time. Then, once they returned to Ylisse—or did they have to? Couldn't they just stay here until female mini-Chrom showed up?

Overhearing the patrons chatter about "some upstart named Walhart," however, changed his mind. No way did he want to be here when the Conqueror decided to make his claim on the whole continent… and if Walhart found out Grima was here? The world would be down one Fell Dragon, and Grima preferred to stay alive, thank you very much. Also, Chrom would be down a parent, or guardian, or whatever the hell he was to the kid. Guardian. Guardian was probably more accurate. So going back to Archanea it was. Besides, how could he get control of the world without the resources Plegia had? Or Ylisse, for that matter?

Also, he didn't want Chrom anywhere near Excellus. Devoted the worm may be, he was still a slimy scuzzball. Like the bandits that first night.

Yeah, no. Not going there at all.

And then there was the matter of hiding the fact that the boy was the prince of Ylisse. While the child didn't seem aware of his station, he was still a target if anyone realized the truth. He knew about his own Brand ("Emm has one just like it! On her forehead!") but not the significance it held. So far Grima'd managed to keep the Exalted mark covered, but one slip and someone could spot it. They would absolutely take the princeling away from him in that scenario.

Back at the inn, Chrom shucked off his tunic in their room, leaving his thin tank undershirt on. Grima sighed; he couldn't fault the boy for trying to cool down in the early summer heat, but the Brand could not be exposed.

"Chrom, I know you're warm, but you can't leave your mark uncovered."

"Why not, Daddy?"

Grima took off his cloak and folded it up, setting it on his bed. "Because if somebody sees it, they'll…" What would deter the boy from parading the Brand around? "They'll take you away from me."

"Really?!" the boy squeaked with horror. "But I don't wanna go away! I wanna stay with you!"

"You see?"

The bluenette chewed on his lip. "Couldn't you just… make it go away? 'Cuz if it's not there, then nobody can see it!"

Grima laughed. "Well, I can't make it go away completely… but I can make it disappear." The boy's eyes went wide. "It'll still be there, but nobody will be able to see it or reveal it."

Chrom gasped and offered his shoulder to the albino. Grima got to work, threading his magic into the child's skin without harming him. By the time he was done, a smooth, unblemished patch of skin remained, all trace of the Brand covered by an expert illusion. He sat back and grinned at his handiwork. Chrom looked at his shoulder and gasped with delight. "Thank you, Daddy!" He planted a kiss on Grima's cheek before dashing out the door.

He came back in fifteen minutes later and asked why Daddy's face was red and why he hadn't moved.

It turned out that the staff at the hospital all adored Chrom. His bubbly, bright presence helped to lighten up the atmosphere and cheer patients up. Somehow, Grima wasn't surprised. Although he didn't know much about healing—filthy light magic—he did his best to answer his charge's questions about the process so as to keep him from disturbing the healers while they went about their work. One apprentice took a liking to the child and gave him demonstrations of various techniques during his free time.

"Can I try?" Chrom asked one day. The healer chuckled.

"Well, I think you're a bit young for that, aren't you?"

The bluenette shook his head. "Nuh-uh! Daddy knows how to do magic, and I wanna do magic too! I wanna help people feel better!"

Amused, the blond youth smiled. "You already are, little one, just by being here."

"But magic."

Grima stifled a snicker. "It wouldn't hurt to at least let him try, would it? Maybe start him off with something minor, like a little scrape? Or is it against the rules for a non-healer to heal someone?"

"Oh, no, no, not at all. I'm just concerned about the strain it might put on his body. He's so very young, and we don't usually begin teaching them at such an early age."

"Please?" Aaaaaand he was deploying the Exalted Puppy Eyes. Godsdammit. Even the healer couldn't stay strong against the force of sincere four-year-old begging. The apprentice ushered them into one of the rooms and pulled out a simple Heal staff while Chrom climbed up onto the chair next to the patient's bedside.

The man lying in bed smiled at the boy. "Well, hello there, little'un. I wasn't expecting visitors today, this is a nice surprise."

"Hi there!"

"Little Chrom here has decided he wants to try his hand at healing," the healer explained. "Mr. Matthias came in today with a broken spine and a bunch of scrapes and bruises."

"Carriage crash," Matthias offered, chuckling. Grima winced.

The healer strode over to Chrom and placed the staff in the boy's hands. "We're going to try closing up one of those little cuts. See the one on his index finger?" He gently worked the bandages free to expose the cut. "Now then, imagine the cut closing up and disappearing." Chrom closed his eyes and nodded. "Very good. Now hold the staff over the cut and push your energy into it."

Chrom screwed up his face as he followed the young man's instructions to no avail. Grima frowned; the boy's body held tremendous power, but while much of it was sealed, he shouldn't have had issues channeling what was available into healing. Then the answer came to him. He doesn't know what his power feels like. He can't use it because he's not aware of it.

When Chrom opened his eyes and sighed in frustration, the albino stepped forward. "Chrom, listen to me. I want you to close your eyes again, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good. I want you to feel the magic in your body. Sit still and try to feel it. Try to see it."

After a minute, Chrom gasped. "I-I feel it! It's inside of me! It's big and warm and bright and blue!"

Grima fought a snort. Of course it was blue. "Very good. Think of little sparks coming off of that big blue light." Chrom nodded, and Grima smelled the power within him coming to life. "Now think of those sparks flowing into your hands… out of your hands into the staff… out of the staff and into the cut."

As Chrom obeyed, the Heal staff glowed green over the cut, which closed up and left perfectly smooth, healthy skin. "Excellent. You can stop the little sparks from breaking off now."

The boy nodded and opened his eyes. "Wow! It—It worked! Daddy, it worked! I did it!"

"Th-That's wonderful, little one," the healer murmured. Clearly he hadn't expected the child to perform the healing at all. Meanwhile, the patient congratulated the bluenette.

"Nice job, kiddo! I bet they'll make you a master healer yet!"

"Thanks!"

Grima smirked. Chrom's potential had been completely wasted in the future. This boy was born for wielding magic. I will make him the finest mage in the world after myself.

… That is, assuming he got to keep the child.

Oh, who am I kidding, there's no way I'm giving him up.

"Chrom, I… I have news about your parents."

The two had ended up staying at the inn during their sojourn in Valm. Grima wrote frequent letters and visited various Grimleal contacts in order to stay on top of the situation in Archanea. Then in late summer, news came—the war was over. Ylisse had won, and Plegia had been forced to pay reparations.

"You know how I've been trying to find out how they're doing? Well, one of my contacts finally got word about them." Grima took a deep breath and braced himself for the inevitable fallout.

"Your parents… are dead."

Chrom, who sat on the bed while the albino kneeled in front of him on the floor, frowned. "Dead? What do you mean?"

"They're…" How to explain this? "They went to sleep, and they can never, ever wake up again."

"N-Never, ever?" The boy's bottom lip trembled. "Mama isn't going to wake up ever again?"

Oh, gods, this hurt so much more than he'd expected. While he wasn't at fault here, he couldn't help but wish someone else would deliver the news. Better someone he trusts, though, than a random stranger. The Fell Dragon bowed his head.

"I'm sorry."

And he meant it.

Chrom teared up and sobbed, so Grima got up and scooped the child up, settling onto the bed with the boy in his arms. He sat there and held Chrom close as the boy cried his heart out, his own blackened and shriveled heart hurting for the boy's pain. Eventually the bluenette fell asleep, and the albino tucked him into bed with more care than usual.

The next morning a subdued Chrom followed Grima to breakfast at the diner. The man ordered a pancake breakfast for the boy in the hopes of cheering him up, and by the end of the meal the boy had regained some energy. Then Grima broached the subject of returning to Ylisse. "Little blueberry, do you want to go home?"

Chrom poked at the leftover fruit on his plate with his fork. "Um… I dunno. I guess." He shrugged.

"The war's over now. It's safe to go back."

"Oh." The boy furrowed his brow, deep in thought. "Will I be able to learn magic there?"

Grima chuckled. "Of course, little one. I'll teach you myself."

"Then… Then I wanna go back. I wanna go back home."

"All right, then." The dragon stood and left payment for the meal on the table. "Let's pack up and find the first ship to Ylisse out of here."

One uneventful voyage later (though Chrom still got seasick), the two arrived back in Port Lismuth and set about looking for a place to live. Grima took them near the border with Plegia, a ways away from Themis, and found a cute little hamlet named Middlefield. The woods surrounding the hamlet held a little two-bedroom cottage, and the duo was in luck: the cottage was for sale. They met the owner at the cottage, and the man unlocked the place and ushered them in.

Grima took in the little house. Creams and browns abounded, lending to the cozy, comfy atmosphere. To his right was a living area with plush couches and chairs surrounding a stone fireplace; to his left stood a small kitchen and dining nook; and in front of him were three doors, two leading to the bedrooms and the middle one leading to a bathroom. Hmm… very quaint and just the right amount of secluded. Looks to be maintained pretty well. I think I could see myself living—

"It's perfect!" Chrom squealed. He dashed through the door to the right bedroom and twirled, giggling. "Daddy, it's perfect! Don't you think so, Daddy?"

The owner chuckled. "I think the little one likes it." Grima smirked.

"Why don't we go over the price? I've decided to buy it."

After the owner had been paid and sent on his way, Grima unpacked their meager belongings and set about putting them away. Chrom came to grab his clothes and took them into the right bedroom. Looks like he's claimed that one, then. The albino put his stuff away in the left bedroom and went through the kitchen. He made a note to visit the market to stock up on food, then checked his dwindling funds. Oh. Well, I can't support both of us on what's left. Am I going to have to get a job? The thought made him snort. Fell Dragon for hire, excellent at spell casting, potions, and getting rid of your enemies. Or just destruction in general. Hmm.

Well, he could check employment options tomorrow when they went to the market for food. He had enough for dinner tonight for the both of them, and as Chrom toddled into his room with a small yawn, he decided to go whip something up before it got any later.

That night, Grima woke up to a thundering howler of a storm and tiny footsteps padding into his room. "… Little blueberry? What're you doing out of bed?" He frowned, trying to think of reasons human children got up in the middle of the night. "Does the storm scare you?"

"N-No," the boy said, shivering. "My bed is wet. It's drippy in my room."

Grima blinked and got up, heading to Chrom's room with the soaked boy in tow. Sure enough, the roof above the boy's bed had sprung a leak, and the rainwater plink-plinked down onto the mattress.

Well, that's an unpleasant surprise.

Sighing and making a mental note to find materials to fix the roof during their market trip, the man turned to the four-year-old. "Let's get you into some dry clothes. You'll sleep with me tonight, and I'll fix the roof tomorrow, all right?"

"Okay." The bluenette nodded and shuffled to his dresser to retrieve dry clothing. Grima found a bucket in the kitchen and put it under the leak, then followed the now-dry boy to his bedroom, where the two curled up together on the dry mattress. Chrom snuggled deeper into Grima's chest. "G'night, Daddy."

Grima smiled. "Goodnight, Chrom."

And that's a wrap! Next up: Bringing Up Baby! Grima and Chrom settle into their new life as father(?) and son(?). Grima teaches Chrom how to magic. Chrom continues to be a li'l bean. Slowly the two grow closer together as Chrom grows up.

Feel free to review! I appreciate constructive criticism. Flames will be chucked into Origin Peak. :3