Like I said last chapter, the dynamic duo went and shenaniganed so much that the Southtown stuff has been pushed back to Chapter Five. Also I wanted to go more in depth to the events in Chrom's teen years and eventually gave up on keeping the rest of his childhood down to one chapter. But! I'm pretty excited for this chapter! It's been fun for me to write! I do hope the pacing is just right, that I'm not rushing to get to the events of Awakening but still keeping the story's momentum going. Also just wanna say real quick, holy cowie you guys?! Almost 900 views in only five days?! (cries in touched fanficker) Y'all are amazing and I'm so happy you're giving this story so much love! What do we say, baby Chrom?

"Thank you, ev-y-bo-dy!"

Thank you so much, everyone!

"Als-Also, Miss Vio says you're gonna go on a roll-er coas-ter ride this time!"

It'll be a fun roller coaster ride, baby Chrom. I really couldn't help myself, hee hee!

"What's a roll-er coas-ter, Miss Vio?"

Something you'd probably really enjoy when you're older, little blueberry.

Don't own, otherwise we'd see more baby Chromtent in Awakening.

Over the years, Grima had picked up plenty of parenting tips and advice—raising a child when he had never done so before required it, especially since said child was a soft, squishy human. One of the things he had come to dread was the infamous stage of "teenage rebellion." The idea that his sweet little blueberry boy with a heart of gold could become a cynical, disrespectful, disobedient punk?! Impossible! Still, the dragon feared it all the same. Apparently a solid, trusting relationship between parent and child did wonders for mitigating the effects of this phase, so Grima did everything he could to bolster a foundation of trust between him and his son-in-all-but-blood. Chrom trusted him unequivocally. He trusted Chrom just as much. (If he did hide anything from the boy, it was due to the fact that while he trusted him, he didn't trust anybody else. If Chrom didn't know certain things, people were less likely to hurt him to get that sensitive information. That was how it worked, right?)

Still, when Chrom turned fourteen and showed no signs of possible "teenage rebellion," Grima felt he could relax a bit. He'd have to wait until Chrom reached adulthood to really breathe a sigh of relief, but so far things seemed to continue as they always had. The boy had an increase in appetite, but that made sense given puberty needed plenty of energy to transform his cute little boy into a handsome young man. Already he could see bits and pieces of the older Chrom in the teen.

Except for his height. Grima's low salary combined with Chrom's meant that the albino couldn't support such a ravenous eater to his best ability. It killed him to finish dinner only for the bluenette to ask if there were seconds. He'd offered his own share to the boy more than once, but Chrom refused over and over. "How can you expect to take care of both of us if you're suffering from hunger?" the boy reasoned. Stealing food, even in secret, was out of the question—Chrom still didn't approve of theft, and doing so, even behind his back, would damage his trust. So Grima resigned himself to tightening both their belts. And if he slipped just a bit more food onto Chrom's plate instead of his own? Well, a content Chrom made for a happy Grima. Anything to fight off potentially stunting his boy's growth!

The oddest thing happened, however. Chrom had asked to read the older man's precious spellbook, and Grima, after some deliberation, relented on the grounds that the boy would under no circumstances whatsoever attempt any of the spells without his help. The boy promised—he'd said he didn't want to cast them yet, anyway—and the dragon had relinquished the book to the bluenette's care. What he didn't expect was to come home and find Chrom holed up in his room studying various tomes along with the spellbook. Eventually he had to physically drag the boy outside so they could continue his magic lessons. When he asked what exactly Chrom was doing, the boy had said "It's a surprise! But it's for Tia!" and left it at that. Well, that was interesting. So the boy had a crush on his schoolmate and was planning to impress her through his prowess in magic. Grima wished him all the luck in this endeavor. Hopefully it wouldn't end in tears or disappointment.

But when Grima went to check on Chrom after he'd returned from school one day, he found the boy laying facedown in bed, his book bag dumped on the floor. "Is… everything all right?"

A muffled sniffle greeted him.

Uh-oh.

"Chrom?"

The teen sniffled some more and lifted his head, his face red and teary. "She m-moved away." Then he buried his face in his pillow and sobbed.

"Oh, no. Oh, dear. Oh, Chrom." Grima came over and sat on the bed next to the prone boy. He rubbed the boy's back in an attempt to soothe him. After a minute or two, Chrom spoke.

"I-I was s-so close… I w-was alm-most done… I w-went to s-school to sh-show her… and she-she w-wasn't there-here-here-here." Chrom shuddered with a particularly big sob. "I w-was t-too late…"

"Did she tell you beforehand she was moving?"

"N-Noooo… W-Well, she s-said she was m-moving two w-weeks from n-now… g-got accep-cepted to p-pegasus knight t-training…" The teen sniffled, having calmed down a bit. "Kell s-said her dad g-got a job in the cap-capital and they h-had to move s-sooner or he'd l-lose it."

"I see. I'm so sorry this happened, Chrom, I know you really liked her."

"I-It's okay." Chrom sat up and curled into his father's side. "If… if we're really m-meant to be, it'll happen."

"You think so?"

"Yeah."

Grima frowned. "I still think it's unacceptable that she hurt you like this—"

"Dad, she didn't know—"

"—and I daresay she needs to pay for it—"

"Dad. Please don't take revenge on my friend."

"—and you didn't even get a chance to tell her how you feel, now—"

"Dad!" Chrom gave a weak smile and chuckle. "I appreciate the sentiment, but… it's okay. You don't have to fight all my battles for me anymore. I can take responsibility for some now."

Stunned, Grima shifted so he could get a good look at his son. At his slim shoulders that had started to fill out, at the sharpening cheekbones that still held stubborn traces of baby fat, at the callused and strong hands that spun spells so adeptly… at the gentle confidence and love in his ever-crystalline sapphire eyes.

I still remember the tiny little boy who wanted to learn to heal, who would give a street waif his candy without a thought, who would let me have the bed while he slept in the chair… He grew up so fast and so kind. Where did the decade go? My little blueberry's not so little anymore.

At that thought, Grima's lip trembled. His eyes filled with tears, and he sniffled.

"Dad? Are you okay?"

"My little baby's growing uh-huh-huuuup!" Grima sobbed into the teen's shoulder. "You're such a th-thoughtful and kind and g-giving young man nowwwww!"

"Oh, Dad." Chrom held his father close. "It's okay. I'm still the little boy you rescued in the forest, remember?" He lifted Grima's head up and looked into his eyes. "I'll always be your little blueberry, forever and ever."

"P-Promise?"

"I promise."

Grima sighed as he read the letter from his informant. Five years to go until the second war with Plegia and things were getting messy in the desert country. Gangrel had just been crowned thanks to his anti-Ylissean policies and took the opportunity to express his opinions about Emmeryn's pacifism very vocally. Walhart had started his march on Rosanne and was sweeping through the countryside. And in Ylisstol, Emmeryn continued her rebuilding efforts with the help of ten-year-old Princess Lissa. So, all in all, pretty on track for the state of the world as he remembered it.

Come to think of it, did Chrom even know he had a younger sister? The two rarely, if ever, spoke about the boy's family, but Chrom had essentially shut down the discussion by saying that, even if he could remember them, Mr. Raven was his family now and he would have no other. A sweet thought, but also concerning. How was it that Chrom no longer had any memory of his birth family? Had he really been too young to form solid memories of them? But back then the boy had remembered his older sister's Brand. So then Grima had asked about the bluenette's own Brand—and the teen had thought he was talking about his Mark over his heart. Perhaps his memories of his early life had dulled or faded with age. Was that normal for humans? Grima still clearly remembered his incubation in Forneus's vial… Yeah, maybe it was a human thing. As long as it didn't harm his little blueberry, he probably didn't need to worry about it.

Grima folded up the letter and tucked it into a secret compartment in his desk drawer, then got up and went over to Chrom's room. The boy had explained that the thing he meant to use to impress Tia was a spell he had designed. He was calling it "Umbra," and its intended purpose was to surround the target with shadows and drag them down into a deep sleep.

… Because of course Chrom still didn't realize lethal force was an option.

Nevertheless, the fact that the boy had embarked on writing his own tome at this stage in his training was nothing short of incredible. Grima had severely underestimated the boy's capacity for magic, and if he went through the Awakening in this timeline? His power would be most impressive, indeed! Again, his potential had been completely wasted in the other timeline! How had no one in that wretched castle noticed his propensity for magic?! Wasn't that one bookish witch one of his Shepherds? Did he just not take an interest in the art? Or perhaps he did, and everyone who tested his aptitude believed he had little to none. Disgraceful! Once again Grima felt glad he had found the boy before he'd lost his chance to blossom. Really, he did the boy a favor. Maybe Chrom realized it, too.

He found the boy sprawled out on his stomach on his bed, tome-in-progress on his pillow. "Any luck?"

"I don't think I'm ever making another tome after this," the bluenette groaned. "It's sooooo tiring! Not to mention how lousy I feel after draining my power."

Grima raised an eyebrow. "Are you using the replenishment techniques I taught you?"

"Uhhhh…"

The albino facepalmed. "Chrom. If you don't constantly cycle the energy from your surroundings into you, you're going to burnout again. Didn't you learn your lesson last time?"

"Oops." The teen shrunk down a bit, face bright red.

"Do I need to go over this with you again?"

"… IwaswaytooexcitedandIwantedtohurryupandfinishit," Chrom blurted out. Ah, yes. That made sense. Grima chuckled.

"I remember feeling the same way when I created my tome." He sighed. "Patience—"

"—is a virtue, I know, my bad. This's on me. I learned my lesson." He coughed. "Sorry?"

The dragon pinched the bridge of his nose. "Chrom, you're a wonderful kid, and I love you, but now and again you'll throw me something completely out of left field."

"Ah… still sorry?"

Grima shook his head and grinned. "All's forgiven. Now I'm going to see about dinner, all right?"

As he left the room, Chrom called out, "I'll stop for tonight, okay? No more tome stuff, just resting! I promise!"

"I'll hold you to it, little blueberry!"

When people talked about death, Chrom understood it from an intellectual point of view. The heart stopped beating, the brain ceased thinking, and the soul fled from the body. The person would never come back to life—unless you were Dad and had experience in necromancy, or so his spellbook showed. Actually taking the meaning of death to heart didn't happen until the Piers' eight-year-old daughter died from falling from a high tree branch. She'd snapped her neck, and the poor couple was inconsolable over the loss of their youngest. Chrom watched her still form in the casket during the funeral; she looked to be merely asleep, but he knew she would never wake up again.

Unless…

No. It was too dangerous! He'd never tried such a spell before, and anyway, Dad had said not to use the incantations in his spellbook.

But the sight of the weeping couple and the little girl's downcast siblings hurt his heart. Perhaps… maybe if she were alive again… and they could all be happy together again… Chrom made his decision. Dad might be mad at him afterwards, but he was probably ready for it anyway if he was writing his own tome, and besides, wasn't it easier to ask forgiveness than permission? At the very least, the spell might not work and he might end up with a particularly nasty round of burnout. Okay. He could do this. He could totally do this. The Piers were going to get little Sarah back.

Chrom went through dinner and bedtime in a subdued manner. But after he was certain Dad was asleep, he slipped out of bed and grabbed the spellbook from his desk, tugging on his coat and boots. He snuck out of the house and made his way to the graveyard where Sarah's casket sat in the ground, the gravediggers having not yet arrived to cover it up. The teen opened the casket and beheld the still form of the little girl with the help of the moonlight. Taking out the spellbook, he went over the resurrection spell once more, making sure he understood what to do. He slipped his knife out of its sheath and cut his finger, then held it out over the body and dripped a single drop of blood onto her face. Then he summoned his power, pushed toward the body, and cried, "Reanimate!"

Black vapors shot out of his hands and latched onto the girl, wrapping her up. Then they exploded in a dark flash, leaving her body.

Chrom sat back onto his heels and gasped for breath. That spell had… not depleted his magic reserves like he expected to. Instead it went for his life-force. Which is understandable if you're trying to bring someone back to life, he mused. "Sarah?"

A moan answered him, and the girl's eyes shot open, revealing dim, dead black instead of the lively green they had been in life. She sat bolt upright and groaned, turning her head to face Chrom.

"Ohhhh-kay, then. Clearly you can hear me. You remember me, right, Sarah?"

He got another groan in response.

Weird. He'd expected her to be able to speak. Fetching the spellbook, he flipped through the pages for the resurrection spell and—oh. "The finer mental faculties may be somewhat degraded based on the amount of decomposition the corpse has suffered. Some may be capable of intelligent conversation if raised immediately after death, while those who have been dead for some time will be capable of little more than grunts and groans." Well, that was an oversight on his part. Still, her family would get her back! He could see them now, celebrating the return of their daughter, and maybe she wouldn't be able to speak with them, but they'd know how much she cared, right? "Here, let me help you up." He reached out his hand, but she just stared at it. "… Give me your hand."

Slowly, stiffly, she obliged, and he hoisted her up out of the casket onto the soft grass. "Let's go take you back to your family, okay?"

"Urrrrrhhhhh…"

"Yeah, you remember them, right? Come on!"

He scooped up the spellbook and slipped it into one of his coat's roomy pockets. Taking Sarah's hand, he led her out of the graveyard and into the quiet, sleepy town. Together they strolled down the dark streets until, after several minutes, the two reached the Piers house. Chrom knocked on the door. "Mr. Piers? Mrs. Piers? Sorry to disturb you, but… I have something wonderful for you!"

No answer. Sarah gurgled.

"Be patient, all right? Mr. Piers!" he tried again. "Mr. Piers, I have something—"

The door swung open. "Now who's makin' such a ruckus at this hour—Chrom?" Mr. Piers furrowed his brow at the teen. "What're you doin' here at this time'a night? Ain't yer old man gonna freak out when 'e sees you ain't in bed?"

"Ah, well, I just had to share the wonderful news with you!" Chrom exclaimed. "I—get this—I discovered how to bring your daughter back! Sarah," he stepped back, revealing the girl, "you remember your dad, right?"

Sarah growled. Mr. Piers went white.

"Boy, what the hell did you do?"

Without warning, the undead girl streaked towards her father and latched on, chomping at his neck and clawing at his face. Chrom froze, aghast. "Sarah! No! That's not how you treat him! Get back here!" He moved forward and yanked her off, uncovering a bleeding and bitten Mr. Piers. "You apologize this instant, you hear me?"

"What's going on?" A few more villagers had wandered out into the night, curious about the commotion. Sarah snapped her head towards them and ripped herself out of Chrom's grip. She pelted down the street and launched herself at the fleeing townspeople. Chrom took off after her as she chased them, trying to attack them. More lights came on in the village as other people roused in order to find out what was happening. Eventually Sarah led the bluenette teen to the town square, where she cornered a young man against the fountain in the center. He cowered underneath the stone basin as she advanced, growling and groaning.

"Enough!"

A violet explosion engulfed the girl's body, and she slumped to the ground, dead once more. Chrom fell to his knees in relief, exhausted.

Oh, wait. That was Dad's voice. Oh, he was so in for it now.

Dad approached the girl's body as the townspeople crept in, gathering in groups. "What. On earth. Happened here?"

Mr. Piers ran up to Dad. "Yer—yer son—" he paused to catch his breath, "yer son tried to raise mah daughter from the dead! An' she attacked me!"

Dad's gaze swiveled to him. "Chrom, is this true?"

Chrom shivered at the steel in his father's voice. "… I-I was just trying to… help. I-I saw how sad they were that Sarah died… I just wanted to make them happy again."

"By raisin' her from the dead?" Mr. Piers looked horrified. "How'n the world d'yeh think that was gonna end, boy?!"

The teen caught the murmurings of the townspeople huddled together. "… what a freak!"

"How could he do such a thing?!"

"He must be a Plegian spy!"

"No child with a healthy mind would ever—!"

"What an abomination!"

His bottom lip trembled and his eyes moistened. "I just w-wanted to help…"

"Freak!"

"Spy!"

"Monster!"

"Silence!" Dad roared. Chrom shrunk further into himself. "My son is not a freak, neither is he a spy, nor is he a monster! He is just a child who saw someone in need and believed he could help them! Now maybe his actions were hasty, and maybe he should have consulted someone beforehand, but his intentions were good! If any of you have anything negative to say about him," here he bared his teeth, fangs flashing, "you take it up with me!"

Silence, thick and oppressive, answered him. Only Chrom's own weak sobs could be heard.

"Are we clear, then?" Mute nods. "Good. Chrom, I want you to take the girl back to where she belongs. And then," his eyes bored down into the boy's, "we are going to have a chat." And with that, he swept out of the square with a flourish of his cloak.

Chrom slipped his trembling arms under the girl's body and cradled her as he took wobbly steps back to the graveyard. Everyone's eyes burned into him, and his face flushed with shame.

I never should have done this.

Grima was waiting in his chair by the fire when Chrom entered the house. His eyes red eyes locked onto the quivering teen.

"Sit."

The bluenette stumbled towards the living area and lowered himself onto his chair. He took out the spellbook and, shaking, handed it over to his father. Grima took it, narrowed his eyes at it, and set it down on the coffee table.

"What. Were. You. Thinking?!"

Chrom sobbed again. "I-I just felt so horrible that S-Sarah died and her family was so up-upset! And I wanted to make them feel better and then I remembered you had a spell for raising the dead and I figured I might as well try it only I didn't expect it to go so wrong—"

"I told you not to use those spells for a reason! I told you to wait for me to show you because without my help, you wouldn't know how to perform them safely! You could have died! Do you understand that, Chrom?! You. Could. Have. Died! And I would never be able to get you back like this again, do you hear me?! Once you die, no matter whether you're resurrected right away or not, you lose a piece of yourself! I could have brought you back but you would never be the same again! Never!"

Chrom bawled, fear and shame evident in his whole being. "I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry—"

"I can't believe this! You betrayed me! How could you?!"

The boy wailed with anguish. He'd made a terrible mistake like never before, and it tore at the older man's trust. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'll never do it again, never ever, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't kill me, I'm sorry—" He continued to babble on like this while his father glared at him with his eyes glowing red.

Eventually, Chrom began to calm down a bit and sat there sniffling while Grima regarded him. If this is teen rebellion, I want out, he thought with a wry grimace. Sighing, he looked the boy over and frowned. Even in disobedience, the boy had had only the best of intentions. The albino marveled at how his son could look at such a dark spell meant for destruction and only see ways to use it for good.

Truly he has the kindest heart I've ever encountered.

Oh, Chrom, what am I going to do with you?

Finally, he shook his head, directing a soft, sympathetic look towards the boy. "I'm not mad, Chrom, I'm just disappointed."

"Th-That's even worse!"

Chrom broke into fresh sobs. Grima froze. Clearly, that had been the wrong thing to say. A distant memory of a little boy describing his birth father on a certain voyage came to mind. Now Grima felt sick. Oh, hell. Oh, hell. He shuddered. You are not Forneus. You are not Forneus. You are not Forneus—

"Dad, I'm so sorry, I-I'll make it up to you, I will, I swear I will—"

Grima held up his hand, and the boy shut up. "Look… I'll be honest with you. I am frustrated that you went and disobeyed an explicit command. I am also frustrated that you didn't come to me first and ask for help." The teen sniffled. "Chrom, I would've been happy to help you, don't you know that? When have I ever not given you my help?" Chrom shook his head. "Okay, see? You could have trusted me with this, I would have helped you craft the spell to perfection."

"It-It's not a trust thing." The bluenette shrank further into himself. "I just… didn't think. I-I was too hasty. Impatient." He sighed and bowed his head in shame.

Grima nodded. "I understand. I can't punish you, you realize that?" Chrom looked up in confusion. "This whole experience has been punishment enough for you. You've learned your lesson, or so I hope—"

"Yes!" the boy cried. "I don't want to disobey you anymore, I swear! I… don't want to hurt you like this ever again!"

The dragon favored him with a gentle smile. "You have such a kind heart, my son. You never want to cause harm to others and you're constantly thinking of how you can help them. It's… It's commendable, really." He laughed and shook his head. "You have any idea what that specific resurrection spell was originally meant for? It was used to create a golem that would act as the caster's sword, cutting down the mage's enemies without feeling pain or suffering severe bodily harm. The perfect battlefield tool, really."

"Eww." Chrom made a disgusted face. "No wonder people were afraid of you, you dabbled in some pretty dark stuff."

Grima chuckled. "Yes, I did. But do you know what the amazing thing is? You saw that spell and found a completely benign purpose for it. Now granted, it didn't work out the way you wanted to—" Chrom huffed a weak laugh, "—but that you found a dark spell and tried to use it to better someone else's life? Chrom, that's extraordinary! I can't even think of anybody else who would do such a thing!"

The teen gave him a watery smile. "Thanks, Dad. But… if there is a next time, I want you to be right there with me, helping me through the whole process. Okay?"

"Of course. I'd love to."

Chrom held out his hand. "Forgive me?"

Grima took the hand and pulled on it, sending a giggling Chrom into his lap.

"Always, my little blueberry."

Chrom dreaded going to school the next day. He might have made up with his father and things might be okay between them now, but the teen could not forget what the Middlefielders had said about him last night. He nibbled at his breakfast as he wracked his brain for a way to apologize to them. When he went to his room to grab his book bag, the Heal staff he'd gotten for his thirteenth birthday last year caught his eye. He hadn't used it very often… Hmm…

School was, as he predicted, horrible. Whispers flew behind his back and everyone shunned him. Kell and Anna kept their eyes on him but didn't approach him, probably nervous he'd do something evil or something. He let out a sigh of relief when school let out, but then he had to endure the censure of the adults as he made his way to the bookstore. Mr. Daniel shook his head and sighed when he came in.

Chrom gulped and mustered his courage. "Sir? I… I can't work today. There's something I need to fix, big time."

The bookseller looked him over before a small smile stole across his aged face. "I do hope you are successful, young Chrom."

He nodded. "I will be. I know how to make it up to everyone."

"Run along, then. I'll just move today's shift to the weekend."

"Thank you, Mr. Daniel!" Chrom bowed as thanks and rushed out of the store. He made his way to the busy town square and got up onto the steps surrounding the fountain. "Everyone! Can I have your attention, please!"

All eyes went to him, and some of the villagers backed away. Chrom's skin crawled, but he took a deep breath and forged on.

"Last night, I made a terrible mistake. I did something I didn't understand was wrong at the time, and you all suffered for it. I may have been trying to do a good deed, but that doesn't change the fact that what I did was inexcusable." He took another deep breath. "If any of you were injured last night, I want you to come to me. I will personally heal each and every one of your injuries that you sustained in this disaster." Saying this, he unholstered the staff he'd strapped to his back. "And as an apology to Sarah's family, I'd like to start with her father, Mr. Piers."

The townspeople glanced at each other and murmured among themselves. Then Mr. Piers made his way through the crowd and stood before the teen.

"Ah know yeh scared me somethin' fierce last night, boy. But…" he sniffed. "Ta think yeh tried to give mah Sarah back ta me… Yeh gotta heart o'gold, yeh know that? So… if'n yeh can patch me up all tidy, I'll call it even."

Chrom gave him a weak smile. "I'd appreciate that very much, Mr. Piers."

He healed up the man's bites and scrapes with ease, and, seeing his success, the other townspeople began to come forward. Most of them had gotten lucky with a scratch or a bruise, but a couple had been badly mauled by the rogue undead girl. Chrom healed them up until they had no scars, nothing to show that the previous night had been at all a catastrophe. As he did this, the people warmed up to him, some of them chatting with him about his healing skills and magic education.

After the last villager had been seen to, Kell sidled up to the bluenette. "You know… for what it's worth, you had a good idea." He smiled. "Shame it didn't turn out the way you wanted."

Chrom chuckled. "Trust me, I'm not trying that again any time soon. You have any idea how angry my dad was? I don't think I've ever seen him so furious!"

"Wow. Are you okay?"

"I will be. We made nice and everything, and I gave him back his spellbook, but no way am I gonna pull that stunt again. Bad things happen when I disobey my dad."

Kell blinked. "Really? How so? Are you certain?"

Chrom laughed. "Kell, there have only been two times I consciously disobeyed my dad now: last night, and when I was four. After he found me, he told me to stay quiet while we went and searched for my family. We ran into a pack of bandits, and I shot my mouth off at them. They noticed me. It was not good." He shuddered. "If Dad hadn't stepped in, I probably would've been sold off to some slimy creep!"

"Was he mad at you then?"

"No, not really. He said it wasn't my fault, they would've noticed me sooner or later."

"Damn." Kell shook his head. "Maybe you're right. That is pretty convincing evidence."

"And that is why I never disobey my dad!" Chrom paused, then amended his statement. "Almost never disobey my dad."

Sometime years from now, Grima and Chrom would probably look at the Risen girl fiasco with fond amusement. "Remember when you tried to resurrect that girl to reunite her with her family but she ended up attacking her parents instead? Good times." Although it would probably be more along the lines of "Hey, Chrom, remember when you disobeyed me and it backfired spectacularly?" used in conjunction with Chrom disobeying him. Which he was absolutely certain wouldn't happen anymore. If he had been concerned the boy might be susceptible to the dreaded "teenage rebellion," the disaster appeared to have wiped all traces of insubordination from the boy's character. Grima didn't know whether to be impressed or sickened. After all, it had come at great cost to the teen's confidence.

Speaking of great cost, he mused as he smacked away the brigand's sword and drove a spear of lightning into his chest, if he didn't do something about Chrom's current situation, the boy would become a highly unwanted fatality. The bluenette threw spells well enough at the criminals surrounding him, but as Grima caught a glimpse of him in between kills, a thug with a sword slashed at the teen. Chrom parried almost too late, and the bandit's blade sliced a cut open across his cheek.

Grima saw red.

After effectively slaughtering the rest of the band while his son cringed from his temporary perch high in a tree, the albino stood under said tree to catch his breath. Damn, he hadn't used his power so thoroughly in this timeline since he'd rescued Chrom, and it showed in his exhaustion. Looks like I need to train more myself, he mused.

"Dad, was that really necessary?"

"The bloodshed, or putting you in a tree?"

Chrom gave him a flat look. "Both."

"Uh… maybe?"

"Da—ad."

Grima threw his hands up. "Hey, if you ever finish that tome of yours, I'll consider nonlethal force an option. Until then, lethal it is."

The bluenette slid down and jumped to the ground. "Still, I was doing okay, right? Until you went and revenge curb-stomped?"

"… We really need to brush up on your sword fighting."

The sun shone bright in the blue sky, a few fluffy white clouds drifting along. A soft, warm breeze caressed the colorful field of flowers, their sweet aroma enjoyed by the two people sitting on the picnic blanket laid out on the ground. The white-haired elder had taken off his dark coat and hummed away as he worked on a handful of blossoms in his lap. The bluenette younger simply sat with his blindfolded face upturned, enthralled by the sun's warmth and delighting in it. On the blanket, a basket filled to the brim with the younger's favorite goodies stood waiting, ready to be shared between the two.

"Aaaand… done!" The albino finished his handiwork and set the result, a flower crown, on the bluenette's head, whisking away the blindfold. "Ta-da~!"

Chrom opened his eyes and gasped. "Father, it's beautiful! This is the most amazing sight I've ever seen!"

"Except for my dragon form," Grima muttered.

"That's so obvious I don't even need to mention it."

The dragon laughed. "Happy Sweet Sixteen, my son," he said, sweeping his hand out to the picnic before them. Chrom beamed.

"Dad, this is wonderful. Thank you so much!" He leaned over and hugged Grima, who hugged him back. Together, the duo dug in to the basket. The Fell Dragon had spared no expense—he'd been planning and saving for this for some time now—and the culinary delights ranged from Chon'sin-style rice-wrapped fish to Valmese dumplings and gravy to Rosannean cream puffs and macarons. An exquisite chocolate cake, frosted with navy icing and decorated with golden piping, read Happy Sixteenth, Little Blueberry! Chrom got quite the kick out of that one.

"I mean, sixteen isn't very little, but I still love it," he commented, laughing. Grima watched on with his ruby gaze full of love for his beautiful son.

When father and son had eaten their fill, the albino reached into his cloak and retrieved a heavy parcel wrapped in blue paper and golden ribbon. "Here. It's about time I gave this to you."

Confused, Chrom took the present and unwrapped it—and then his jaw dropped. "D-Dad, this—a-are you sure?! Isn't this the one you got before we went to Valm?"

Grima grinned. "Read the first page."

The bluenette complied, lifting the cover of the practically brand-new Thoron and read the note scrawled on the inside. "To Chrom: May this aid you in your journey to become the finest mage the world has ever seen. All my love, Dad." The teen's eyes glimmered with tears. "Father, you—you saved it all this time? For me?" He sniffled. "When-When did you decide you were going to give it to me?"

"From the moment you asked me to teach you magic, my son." Grima's smile conveyed his pride. "I knew then that I had to keep it reserved just for you."

"Oh, Father!" Chrom glomped onto him and held him tight. Grima wrapped him up in a fierce hug, pressing kisses into his hair.

"I love you, Chrom. And I'm so very proud of you."

And that's a wrap! Next up: Southtown Boy! Grima and Chrom are having a pretty normal day until everything goes south(town). Chrom meets the Shepherds and fellow family-disconnectee Robin. Frederick thinks making off with Chrom is a brilliant idea. Grima panics when his not-so-little blueberry doesn't come home.

Feel free to review or feed me concrit!

"And-and give all your fire-thingies to Daddy!"

That's right, baby Chrom! Give your flames to Grima, he'll roast his enemies (and Chrom's) with them. :D