Hi again, everybody! Okay, so I wanted to get to the first Southtown battle by this chapter, but Grima and Chrom kind of took the reigns from me and steered the story towards Childhoodville. I mean, I can't blame them for wanting to spend more time with each other, and really, aren't we all here for the baby!Chrom content anyway? If you think this chapter (or the next, because they commandeered that one too) doesn't have enough chromtent, fret not: the flashback is a literary device for a reason. (Also, cameo? What cameo? :D)

"Get to the point, worm."

Yes, fine, keep your pants on, Grima. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy what I have to serve up this chapter!

"... You forgot the disclaimer last time."

Ooh, good catch. Goes without saying, but! Don't own, otherwise there'd be a "Grima's Redemption" DLC (I'd play the hell outta that if it did exist).

The sun streamed down on a white-haired man and his blue-haired ward as the two forged their way through the bustling market of Middlefield. One, the elder, carried a pack on his back and a roomy satchel in his hand. The younger held on tight to the elder's enchanted cloak, taking in all the sights, sounds, and smells. Occasionally he would wave and chirp "Hi!" to random passerby among the throng.

"See anything you like yet?"

"No… but I'll find something, Daddy!"

Grima chuckled. To keep Chrom occupied while he shopped for supplies, he'd promised to buy the boy one treat from among the market's wares, and the bluenette had taken to the task with alacrity. Now he stood scanning the stalls for his potential treat while his guardian bartered for fresh vegetables.

"Lollies!"

The albino turned and glanced in the direction that Chrom pointed, where a brightly colored cart held lollipops of every hue. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes, please!"

"All right."

But after he'd paid for the treat and given it to the boy, to Grima's surprise Chrom didn't immediately stick the sweet in his mouth. "What's wrong?"

Chrom looked up at him. "Can I have it after dinner? Please? I wanna wait. That way it'll be sweeter!"

Huh. Apparently he'd understood the dragon's lesson of "good things come to those who wait" back in Valm? Grima had used it in relation to learning magic, but that the boy applied it to dessert as well… well, this was interesting. "You have a lot more restraint than kids your age."

"What's res—restraint?"

"Restraint means you can control yourself to not do certain things," he explained as they moved on. "For example, if I wanted to, say hurt someone—"

"Daddy."

"—restraint would mean I would stop myself from doing so," he finished. He muttered, "Even though I might really, really want to and they might actually deserve it."

Someone smacked against his hip and slid off. Grima turned to mutter a fake apology when Chrom yelled, "Hey! Stop! That's my daddy's! Give it back!" and bolted after a small, running figure. The albino stumbled to a stop in confusion and brushed his hand against the hip the person hit. His eyes widened in horror when he fingered his empty tome holster. My spellbook! That little worm stole it! He dropped his findings behind the counter of one stall and took off after the boy and his quarry.

The thief led them on a roundabout chase through the market before dashing into an empty alleyway. Chrom ran after him, and Grima after Chrom, and both stopped at the entrance to what ended up a dead-end. The thief whipped around and shrunk into the brick wall, clutching the spellbook to his chest.

"That's not yours! That's my daddy's! You're not s'posed to take other people's stuff!" Chrom shouted. The other boy, who Grima estimated to be about ten years old now that he got a good look at him, glared at the smaller child.

"And if it ain't?" he hurled back.

"What were you going to do to my spellbook, little worm?" Grima hissed. "That book is dangerous in the wrong hands. What did you think you were doing?"

The older boy's lips moved, but no sound came out.

"I can't hear you."

"… I was gonna s-sell it."

"For what?!" Grima snapped, fed up with this idiocy.

"C… C-Candy."

Okay, that was understandable, kids love the stuff—aaaaaand the boy was still talking, his strawberry-blond hair hiding his eyes. "I-If I don't have enough sugar to eat, I get s-sick. But I don't have any m-money to buy any, and my stash r-ran out."

Oh. Oh. Ohhhhhhhhh. For a split second Grima wondered why the thief wouldn't just steal the candy itself instead of going to the trouble to selling something of value off, but then, he was still trying to figure out four-year-old logic. So maybe ten-year-old logic included entrepreneurial pursuits?

Wait, did he recognize this kid?

Chrom glanced down at his lollipop in his hand. Then he held it out to the older boy. "Here. Trade?"

Grima's jaw dropped. His little blueberry was offering his treat to the boy? In exchange for the book?! As he watched, frozen in shock, the little thief's eyes lit up, and the boy handed the spellbook over to Chrom, who gave him the lollipop. The older boy took a lick from the sweet and smiled at the younger child. "Thanks, Blue. I appreciate it big time. I'll remember you, okay? See you around." He slipped past the two and set off, licking the treat as he went along.

"Come on, Daddy, let's go."

Grima snapped out of his daze and glanced down at Chrom, who had tugged on his cloak. As they retraced their steps to the stall where he left their gains, the albino asked, "Why did you do that?"

"'Cuz he needed it more'n I did, Daddy. It… it made me happy, that he was happy."

"Huh." Grima thanked the woman behind the stall for watching over their purchases. "We could've just taken the book back."

"But he'd still be sick, Daddy."

Okay, fair. The dragon shouldered his pack and regarded his charge. "That was… that was incredibly kind of you, Chrom. You know what? I think you deserve a reward for that." And he took Chrom back to the lollipop stall to buy him another one.

Yes, he was still trying to figure out four-year-old logic. Apparently it included heartfelt generosity.

"No! Come on!" Thud!

Grima stiffened from where he stood in the kitchen over a pot of stew. He dropped the ladle into the pot and hurried over to Chrom's room, where the seven-year-old sat on his bed with his fists clenched and his face red. On the floor lay the old Wind tome, the boy having evidently thrown the book in a fit of anger. He strode over and scooped the book up. "You know, this isn't how we treat our belongings."

"It's not working! I keep trying, but it's not!" the boy shouted. He burst into tears.

Ah. Grima figured he might have difficulties with the application of the spells. "Okay. I want you to sit for a moment and just breathe. Got it?" The boy nodded, tears leaking onto his cheeks. He took slow, deep breaths while the albino fetched a handkerchief and wiped his face clean. When the boy had settled, Grima sat on the bed next to him. "Remember when I helped you learn how to heal in Valm?"

"Y-Yeah. With the blue energy and the sparks and everything."

"It's the same concept."

The bluenette blinked. "What was the point of having me learn the theory if you're not gonna have me use it?"

"Well, it's…" Grima wracked his head for an explanation. "The theory helps you understand how the spell works. But if knowing the theory doesn't help you cast the spell, then you need to approach it from a different way of understanding."

"Oh. Okay."

Chrom took the book back and held it open in his lap. Then he accessed his power and held his free hand out, waiting.

"… You have to push the energy out, that's why we mages make gestures."

"Oh, right." Chrom pushed his hand out and yelled, "Wind!" and weak green blades of air wisped out of his hand, rattling the trinkets on his dresser. The boy gasped. "I did it!"

Grima chuckled. "Very good. You're going to have to practice to get it up to full strength, but… for a first try? Not bad. Not bad at all."

"Thanks, Daddy!" Then Chrom frowned and bit his lip. "Um, do other people learn like this? Is it normal to not get it right away?"

The dragon leaned back and hummed in thought. "I can't accurately say, since I'm a dragon and we learn things a bit differently, but I did suspect you might have some trouble with this."

"Why?"

"Well, I just didn't know whether you had the aptitude for it." And your original counterpart wasn't a mage, but that's not for you to know.

The boy nodded. "So since it's harder for me, that means I have to work harder at it, right?"

"Exactly." Grima grinned and ruffled the child's hair. Chrom beamed.

"Don't worry, Daddy, I'm gonna be the best mage ever! Just you wait!"

The next day after Grima got home from his job as an apothecary's assistant (his knowledge on effective Plegian remedies made him a valuable resource), he checked on Chrom, who had come home from school earlier and was practicing Wind in the backyard, then started dinner preparations. When he went back out to call the boy back in for dinner, he found the bluenette laying on his back with his eyes closed in the grass, the tome on the ground next to him.

"Tired?"

Chrom opened his eyes and squinted up at his foster father. "I don't feel so good."

"Really? Why's that?" Grima knelt and picked up the Wind tome, frowning at its apparent lack of use. Chrom had been spellcasting for over an hour now, why wasn't it near its breaking point? He brushed his free hand over the boy's forehead and closed his eyes, feeling for his well of power. The light inside looked shrunken, diminished and a bit wilted.

… I think I've been going about this all wrong.

"I tried practicing the Wind spell, but after a while I started feeling sick and really tired," the boy explained.

The albino sighed. "I think I know why. Burnout."

"Burnout? What's that?"

"It's when you deplete so much of your magic that there isn't much left to cast." Grima rubbed his temples. "I've been doing this wrong. The way I taught you works for tomeless casting, but if you have a tome, your body's going to want to naturally use the energy inside it. Not pulling from the tome means your body has to work to get the energy from somewhere else, and if you're not using the magic in your surroundings, you're feeding off your own reservoir. Now normally this would be fine, but you have to learn how to let the environment replenish your magic—which I haven't taught you yet."

"Oh. I see. So the tome has its own power, right?" Grima nodded. "And I have to take sparks from the tome, feed them through my body, and out of my hand."

"Exactly!" The dragon grinned. "Your body acts as a conduit for the tome's energy. You understand!"

"Okay. I wanna try again." Chrom rolled over and got to his feet, swaying a bit. Grima steadied him and handed the tome back. The boy closed his eyes and concentrated. Then he opened them and pushed out. "Wind!"

This time, the runic circles lit up around the boy, and three sharp green blades flew from his extended hand, slamming through a nearby tree and slicing it to pieces. Chrom gaped, then cheered. "Yes! I got it! Finally!" He looked up at a smiling Grima.

"That's my boy!"

The child giggled. "Thanks, Daddy! I'm gonna keep practicing—"

"Not today. It's dinnertime, and you need to rest to replenish your magic."

Chrom trudged back to the house. "I can practice after dinner, right?"

"Rest, little blueberry."

"Aww, okay."

"Hey, Daddy?"

Grima sat at the table, sewing up a hole in one of Chrom's shirts, while the boy sat across from him working on his schoolwork. Outside, the snow flittered down into white drifts. "Yes, my little blueberry muffin?"

The bluenette rolled his eyes and giggled. "Da—ad."

"What? Isn't 'Muffin' something parents nickname their kids?"

"It's silly!"

Yes, it was, but Grima felt like being silly at the moment. "What do you need?"

The boy bit his lip. "I… I've been thinking… You know how you have your mark?"

"Yes?"

"… Can I have one like it?"

What.

A goofy grin crept onto Grima's face, and the mental image of an adult Chrom with a Fell Brand on his shoulder instead of the Exalted Brand sent him into a giggle fit. Soon he was laughing so hard he had fallen out of his chair onto the floor. He lay there cackling at the sheer irony of the situation. Take that, Naga! Your precious champion chose me!

"Daddy, are you okay?"

"Haha—ha—" Grima opened his eyes. Chrom crouched over him, a look of concerned confusion on his face. The man gave one last chuckle and shook his head, getting up. "Nothing, it's—I'm fine. Really."

"Ohhhh-kay, then." The boy paused. "Can I? Please?"

The dragon stood and regarded the boy. Finally, he stated, "It's doable, but I will warn you: it will hurt."

"Okay. I still want one."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"All right, then." Grima ushered him into the bathroom. "This requires blood—my blood—and it needs to enter your body at the point you want the mark to appear."

Chrom took off his shirt. "I want it right here," he pointed to his heart, "so I can always keep you near my heart, Daddy."

Grima bit back a squeal. How on earth did this child continue to be so cute?! He took off his gloves, flexed his right hand, and made one of his nails grow sharp. He sliced open his thumb and then went to cut the boy's skin on his chest before he froze. This… this was the first time he was going to inflict bodily harm on this child, this sweet, precious child who had chosen him to be his father! How could he do such a thing?!

"Daddy?"

Blue met red with gentle, knowing reassurance. "It's okay, Daddy. You could never really hurt me."

The albino blinked, then nodded. He nicked the boy's chest enough for blood to flow and then pressed his bleeding thumb to the puncture. As he worked the requisite spells, bright fuchsia light cut onto the boy's chest, dragging out the distinctive six-eyed mark. Chrom closed his eyes and bit his lip in pain, but didn't make a sound. The boy's very skin began to glow a soft pink. A brilliant flash finished off the handiwork, and Chrom slumped—Grima gasped and caught him in his arms.

"Chrom? Chrom, are you all right?"

After a moment, the boy opened his eyes. "I'm okay now, Daddy. See?" He got to his feet and padded over to the bathroom mirror. Grima followed him and beheld the reflection of the Fell Brand in miniature over the boy's heart. The boy practically glowed with delight. "Thank you, Daddy! It's perfect!" He whirled around and jumped up into his foster father's arms.

Grima cuddled him close and sighed with relief. Never again.

A crowd of children streamed out the front doors of Middlefield's schoolhouse. One of them, a certain ten-year-old bluenette, chattered on with his friends, two lively redheaded girls and a quiet black-haired boy. "… and then I was all 'Surprise!' and you could practically see the moment he froze. He was completely shocked!"

"Wow. I can't believe no one ever threw your dad a party before, Chrom," Tia, the girl with the straighter hair, commented. "I mean, yeah, he kinda seems like a loner, but didn't he ever have, you know, parents?"

Chrom frowned. "Ah, well, he kind of had a dad, but that guy apparently tried to kill him once."

"Yikes." Anna shook her head. "Didn't Mr. Raven Sr. know killing your own kid is bad for business?"

"Weeeeell… Dad was… an experiment. And his parent thought he was too dangerous."

"What?!" Tia planted her hands on her hips, furious. "That's no way to treat your own kid! Even if he is an experiment!"

"That's horrible."

"Gah! Kell! Stop doing that!"

"Sorry!"

Chrom laughed. "Geez, Kell, you're like a ninja. Maybe when you get older you should go over to Chon'sin and study their ninja ways."

"I'm not doing it on purpose," the chubby boy muttered. The other three chuckled.

The bluenette slipped out of the group and waved to his friends. "See you guys later!"

"Have fun at the bookstore!" Tia hollered back, and the three waved goodbye to Chrom before going their separate ways.

Chrom made it to the bookstore early and set his bag of school stuff in a cubby in Mr. Daniel's office. He straightened out his mage's cloak (brand-new from his birthday and big enough that he probably wouldn't need a new one by the time he finished growing) and made his way to the register in the back, where the bookseller stood working out today's stock. "Ah! Young Chrom, you're just on time. There's a new shipment of Arcwind tomes that arrived a few minutes ago and they need to be out on the shelves pronto."

"Ooh! Arcwind?! I can't wait to try one—"

"And just what do you think your father will do when he finds out you've traded your salary for such an expensive tome? I'm aware he's already started you off on Thunder, but won't it be some time before you can manage the Arc series?"

Chrom put his index finger up. "I can wield Elwind."

The bespectacled man raised his eyebrow.

"Aww, okay. Fiiiiiiiiine."

Mr. Daniel chuckled. "All in good time, my boy. I understand you're veritably whizzing along in your training, but patience is a necessary virtue."

"Yeah. You're right. Dad says that too."

"And he is a wise man for saying that." Mr. Daniel patted him on the head. "Off you go, then."

When Chrom arrived home that evening after his shift, a piece of parchment tacked to the front door caught his eye. Curious, he took the note down and read it.

"Wound up in a fight and didn't want to make a mess all over the house. Will be back in time for dinner. —Dad"

The boy sighed, then shrugged and unlocked the front door, slipping in and making his way to his room. He deposited his book bag on his desk and dug out his schoolwork before getting to work on it. The front door creaked open a minute later and Dad's voice rang out through the house. "I'm home!"

"Okay," he called back. As he worked, the sounds of his father puttering around the kitchen putting together dinner reached his ears. Chrom smiled. Coming home to have dinner was his favorite part of the day. He loved how he and Dad would sit at the table and talk about how their day went over a bowl or plate of something just this side of exotic (Dad loved experimenting with cooking and trying new things, probably thanks to their stay back in Valm). Then afterwards the two would work on Chrom's magic lessons before curling up by the fire before bedtime and enjoying whatever sweet treat Dad had managed to scrounge up on his visits to the market. Maybe it was a simple life… but as long as he had his Dad, Chrom didn't mind at all.

Before long, Dad stood in his doorway. "Dinner's on the table, little blueberry."

Chrom laughed. "Okay, Dad. I just finished anyway."

As they enjoyed their chicken soup and sourdough bread, the bluenette asked, "So you got in a fight again, huh?"

Dad rolled his eyes. "It's not my fault bandits think I'm prime target material. Really, the indignity!" He scoffed. "If I were allowed to show my dragon traits, it would go a long way towards deterring them from even thinking of it!"

"… Why don't you?"

Dad huffed. "Because they'd think I was a demon or something else ominous. You know, you're probably the first human who didn't run screaming at the sight of such a thing."

"I was four," Chrom pointed out, laughing. "I didn't know any better." The memory might have been blurred by age, but he still remembered the thrill he got when Dad grew horns, wings, claws, and fangs to scare off the horrible criminals who wanted to take him away.

Dad's eyes dimmed. "And what, does that mean that now you know better? I'm still dangerous, you know."

"Not to me." Chrom smiled at his father. "You could never hurt me."

Dad gave him a gentle smile for that.

Chrom drifted off to sleep that night thinking about his father's dragon attributes. Without warning, he found himself in a black void—but he couldn't find it in himself to be scared. It's just a dream, and if not, I know Dad will come save me if I'm in trouble.

Before him, a tremendous figure took shape, most of the details blurred. Long ivory horns jutted out around an elongated purple snout, and six red eyes glowed while six black wings surrounded the boy. Chrom gasped. "Daddy?"

"Little blueberry?!" The rumbling voice spoke with shock. "How is it you can see me like this?"

"So you are Dad. I knew it! Is this your dragon form? It looks so cool!"

The figure rewarded him with a chuckle. "Even now you are a curious one, child. Perhaps we are bonded together through the Mark over your heart and that allows you to speak with me. Or perhaps… no, never mind."

Chrom wondered what else could give him the ability to "dream-speak" with his father's true form, but dismissed it. "Dad… I just want to say… I love you."

The red eyes softened and gazed at him with tenderness. "I love you too… my son."

And that's a wrap! Next up: Smells Like Teen Spellcasting! Grima and Chrom power through the trials and tribulations of teenhood. Grima frets about his foster son's health. Chrom learns how NOT to impress people. Their bond grows ever stronger by the day.

Feel free to review or give constructive criticism. And what do we do with flames?

"Give them to me to feed on, worm."

Thanks, Grima~!