Chapter Text
Following the accursed Naga-spawn into the time portal was part of the plan. Pouncing on her only to miss and fly forward into the end of the portal was not. Grima squawked and whirled his arms as he fell through the air and landed in an undignified heap on the forest floor. Above him, the brilliant blue eye of the portal flared and winked out of existence.
What the… godsdammit. Still, I got here before her, so… small victories?
Sighing, the albino dragon rolled over and got up, brushing himself off. All around him stood healthy green redwoods and other long-lived trees, and to his left—was that a path? Excellent! Now, to figure out where he was and where this era's Robin was, then he could get back to his shenanigans. Grinning, the Fell Dragon made for the road and strolled along it, keeping a sharp eye out for any landmarks that might identify the area and region to him. The blue spring sky soared overhead, and birdsong filled the woods. That narrowed the region down to either Ylisse, which he was shooting for, or Rosanne or Valm. Hmm…
As he walked, he caught a flash of blue in the nearby bushes, one of which rustled a bit. He sniffed the air and smirked. Human. Wait—this is even better—is that Naga-spawn blood?! His smirk grew sharp and wicked as he advanced towards the bush with silent footsteps. If I can off that wretched welp before she becomes a thorn in my side—! He rounded the bush and beheld his prize.
The tiny, bluenette boy curled up and quivering inside the bush gazed up at him with watery eyes.
… Bwuh?
The child sniffled and wiped at his eyes with his arm. "Wh-Who're y-you, mister?"
Grima stared down at him. A… boy? Oh, this must be the welp's brother. He crouched down and rested his elbows on his knees. "My name, little one," he paused, grasping for a name—no, Robin wouldn't do, he wouldn't claim that sentimental name—but a similar one might work, "is Raven."
"R-Raven?" The boy offered him a weak smile. "That's a-a cool name. M-Mine's Chrom."
…
… What.
The white-haired man blinked and stared down at him. "I'm sorry, I must be hearing things. I distinctly thought I heard you say your name was Chrom."
"Yeah! I-I did!"
What.
Oh, he was so screwed.
On the bright side, Grima mused as the princeling toddled along after him, this situation was not unsalvageable. It just meant he was… "How old are you, anyway?"
"Four!" The boy beamed and held up four fingers of his pudgy little hand.
"That's… great." Fifteen years further into the past than he wanted. Right around the end of the previous Exalt's war with Plegia, if he remembered his history correctly. Okay. Okay, he could work with that. The whole thing wasn't a total failure.
Though why the little brat continued to follow him around was a mystery. How wonderful, he's imprinted on me like a duckling. "Where are your parents?"
"U-Um… I d-dunno." Chrom's bottom lip quivered, and his eyes welled up with tears. "I w-was just exp-ploring and I f-fell down a b-big hill—a-all the way d-down. A-And I don't kn-know where I a-am now and…" He sniffled and let out a little sob. "E-Emm's gonna be s-so s-sad and—" And then he went and started bawling, clutching to the back of Grima's voluminous cloak and pressing it to his face.
Grima growled and tugged at the fabric. "Let go, you're going to ruin my coat! This is my favorite coat, you little—are you even listening?!"
Chrom continued to sob into the coat, heedless of the dragon's ire.
"… Fine, then. If you're going to use my clothing like so many snot-rags, then you can wash it yourself after you use it."
"O—Ok-kayyyy-hay-hay-hay." Somehow the boy managed to be coherent through his crying. Grima sighed.
After a few minutes the boy calmed down, though he continued to clutch the folds of the older man's coat as he walked alongside his greatest enemy. That the boy remained completely unaware of the threat only made Grima smirk. How pathetic. I wonder what I shall do with you, little brat. Giving you back to your parents is just too boring and easy.
"Are we gonna f-find my mama and sissy?"
"Well, we're looking, aren't we?"
"O-Oh! Right! Okay~!"
Grima's left eye twitched at the overabundance of cheer in the child's voice. Maybe he actually should give the pipsqueak back to his rotten parents, there was no telling how long he'd last in the little monster's company.
Well, there's bound to be a town around here somewhere. I'll just… leave him there. Probably.
As he predicted, after an hour or two the duo came upon a bustling village. The dragon-in-human-form steered the boy towards a tavern and entered, quickly finding a table and flopping down into a chair. Chrom scrambled up onto another seat and sat down, swinging his dangling legs. "Are we gonna eat?"
Grima fingered his admittedly fat money purse. He might as well feed him, the boy would probably be more inclined to shut up once he got some food in his belly. A waitress came over and asked for their orders. "A roasted chicken for me and some water."
"Can I have meat pie and apple juice, please?" the bluenette piped up. The waitress chuckled and patted his head.
"Of course you may!"
"Thank you! You're really pretty!"
The woman laughed and tweaked his nose before going off with their orders. Grima sighed and folded his arms on the table, planting his face in them.
"… Mama says we aren't s'posed to put our elbows on the table…"
"Well, your mother isn't here now, is she," Grima snapped back.
"R-Right."
After a moment of deliberation, the boy very gently leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. The albino snorted. "It's not like the table will bite you." That earned him a giggle.
The waitress soon delivered their food and Grima tucked in with relish. Roast chicken would've been a delicacy back in the future, if the chickens had existed, so the dragon savored his every bite. Shame all the livestock went kaput during the end times; there are just some cuisines you can't get without them. Probably should've realized that before annihilating everything. Oh, well. Hindsight being twenty-twenty and all that. He bit into the leg bone with a satisfying crunch.
"Whoa."
Grima blinked and glanced up at Chrom to find him staring wide-eyed at the older man, his mouth in a cute little O. The dragon swallowed his mouthful. "What?"
"You just—ate the bone—are you—?"
The kid didn't smell frightened at all, only fascinated. Grima rolled his eyes; no wonder Robin got into the Shepherds so easily, Chrom was too trusting. How that didn't kill him beforehand, I have no idea.
"I may look human," he settled for telling the kid, "but I'm not."
"Ohhhhhh." Then,
"That's so cool!" the boy squealed. "What are you? A were—werewolf?"
"What? No! What I am, little blueberry, is something that must be kept secret. If you tell anyone, I won't help you look for your family."
"Oh. Okay." Chrom nodded and pressed his index finger to his lips in a "shushing" motion. "… Blueberry?"
"Well, you look like one with your blue hair." Grima gave a sharp smile. "And I bet you're sweet like one, too."
The boy giggled and clutched at his azure locks, unaware of the predatory aura surrounding his companion. I bet I could just… eat him—No. No, he'd never gone that far in the future, it was a waste of perfectly good Risen anyway. Besides, if I'm part human, that would be cannibalism. … Ew. Yeah, not going down that path.
Humanity might have driven him to commit countless terrible crimes, but even he wouldn't stoop to feed on them. They could eat each other up, for all he cared. In the meantime, he was going to sample all their amazing dishes while they were at it.
"Is there anything else you boys need?" asked the waitress as she came back. She took a look at their near-empty plates. "W-Wow, you really demolished those! You two must've been starving!"
Chrom raised his hand in the air. "Can—can I have some choc'late cake, please? Just a little bit?"
"Only if your daddy says so, little one!" She glanced at Grima, who shrugged.
"Make that two slices, I want some for myself."
The bluenette gasped and beamed with delight. "Oh, thank you thank you thank you! I love choc'late cake, it's my fav'rite!"
As they enjoyed their dessert, Grima fixed his gaze on the boy. "If we're going to find your family, I need you to be quiet and not make a mess, got it? I need to put all my energy in searching, so don't do anything to distract me, understood?"
"Yes, sir!" Chrom sat up straight and gave him a salute. Grima's cheeks flushed and he froze at the unexpected reaction.
"R-Right. Ahem. Okay. Done?"
"Yep~!"
"Great." The albino called the waitress over and settled the check, then swept out of the tavern with a whirl of black-and-gold cloak, one blue-haired child prince on his heels.
Questioning the townspeople yielded no information—apparently the royal family hadn't been staying there. Which made sense to a degree—wasn't the Exalt off fighting a war?—but also made finding the queen and princess that much more difficult. Or was it princesses? Had the little blond healer been born yet? He didn't know, and he didn't much care. So on he went, and the two left the town to continue along the road, until they ran into trouble when a group of bandits spotted them from a nearby camp.
"Lookie lookie here, boys, what're we got stumblin' along into our fat claws?" The leader, a hulking bear of a brown-haired brute, towered over the duo. Grima stuffed his hands into his pockets and smirked up at him. "Howza 'boutcha give us yer money and weapons and we'll let ya pass? Oh, and I'll think I'll take that there cloak too."
Chrom, who had done as asked and kept quiet throughout the whole search, piped up. "Leave us alone! We don't wanna hurt anybody!"
The leader guffawed. "Somebody's gotta mighty mouth on 'im. How much y'all think he'd fetch on the block?" He snatched the boy's hand, which Chrom protested, and took hold of his chin. "'E's pretty, aincha, Li'l Boy Blue?"
"Lemme go!"
"Ha! Nope. Tell ya what, we take the kiddie and yer money and ya keep yer cloak." A slimy grin crept onto the bandit's unshaven face. "I'mma thinkin' he's gonna bring a fine, fine price, innit right, boys?"
"No! W-Wait! Stop!" The bandits surrounded Chrom, jeering and grabbing at him. "Please! S-Stop! I don't wanna go with you! Mister Raven! Mister Raven, please help! Help me!"
Grima gazed at the scene before him, the little boy almost lost in the midst of several grown men. Hey, isn't this what I wanted? To wash my hands of the brat? His parents are going to be dead soon, anyway, and if he gets lost in the rabble, all the better for me, right? He can't exactly lead a country or swing that horrible sword while in slavery, can he now.
"Mister Raven, please! You promised you'd help me find my mama! You promised! Please help me! Please!"
On the other hand, he could swear vengeance, lead an uprising, and become an even bigger problem for me. The bandits cackled at the child's entreaties. Chrom's brilliant blue eyes glimmered glassy with tears dripping onto his cheeks. But they shone with trust and hope—hope that Grima would keep helping him as he had been doing. As he continued to struggle, the light in his eyes dimmed, the sheer innocence in them beginning to fracture and fade.
"P-Please…"
Grima stared.
Humans have always asked of me. Has a child ever asked of me?
"Please…"
Chrom's voice was little more than a whisper now, the edges of betrayal near in his eyes.
He's so young. So innocent. Perfect. Unspoiled.
Grima made his decision.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, but I believe I promised this little darling that I was going to help him find his parents, and I'd be breaking that promise by letting you take him away from me." He hadn't actually promised. Meh, semantics. "So let go of him, and we'll be on our merry way. Or do you wish to get hurt?"
The wriggling group stilled and glanced over at him. Chrom gazed into the white-haired man's eyes, his own eyes filling with hope once more. The leader snorted.
"And whaddya think y'all can do against the likes of us?"
Grima gave a wicked, fang-filled grin, his eyes glowing red and purple shreds of power gleaming in his hands. "I don't think you want to find out now, do you? Hmm?" His shadow lengthened and the forest ambience silenced. "Leave the boy alone, or so help me I will tear you limb from limb." Six black feathery wings tore from his back, his fingernails lengthened into claws, and two ivory horns sprouted from his temples. His blood sang at the stench of fear the criminals gave off.
"W-What the hell…?"
The Fell Dragon glared into their very souls.
"Leave us."
After the men had fled, scrambling and begging for mercy, Grima released his hold on his powers and let his dragon attributes melt back into his body. Ugh… that took more power than I was expecting. Dammit, did I lose some in the crossover? He sighed and slumped his shoulders, glancing over at the boy standing still where the bandits had left him. Chrom stared back, naked awe evident in his wide eyes.
"That… was… so cool!" he cried. "Mister Raven, you're amazing! Thank you thank you thank you—" he rushed over and buried his face in Grima's coat, "—thank you thank you thank you thank you!"
"Ah… you're welcome," Grima replied, nonplussed at the enthusiastic display.
Chrom looked up into the albino's face. "Are you okay? You look tired."
"I am tired. That took a lot of energy out of me, scaring them."
"Oh…" The boy's lip quivered. "I-I'm sorry, I… I d-didn't listen to you a-after all, and th-then I got in t-trouble…" Big tears leaked out of his eyes. "I'm sorry!" And he started bawling in Grima's cloak again.
Grima closed his eyes, fighting the urge to facepalm. "You know, little blueberry, you actually did very well in obeying me. Until that last bit." He opened his eyes and looked down at the child. "I don't think we'd have avoided a confrontation with those rogues anyway, so it doesn't make much difference."
"O-Oh…" The boy sniffled. "I'm s-sorry we g-got in a conf—conf—confon—"
"Fight."
"Y-Yeah."
The albino bit his lip. "It wasn't your fault."
"Still s-sorry."
"Well. Okay, then." What was it humans said in this situation? "I… forgive you. Although you don't really need it, in my opinion."
"Th-Thanks." Chrom favored him with a watery smile, gaze full of innocence and trust. Grima wavered, then gave in and picked him up, wincing at how light the child was. They continued their trek through the darkening trees.
Night had fallen by the time the two reached another settlement. Exhausted, Grima paid for a single room at the first inn he came across and went in, a sleepy Chrom in his arms. They took supper in the inn's dining area, then trudged up to their awaiting beds.
Or bed, as they found out when Grima opened the door to their room and beheld a comfy mattress, simple nightstand, and overstuffed chair in the small room. The man blinked. That was a big oversight on his part, he mused, setting the tired boy down on his feet. Chrom rubbed at his eyes and looked around at the suite.
"There's only one bed."
"Yep."
The bluenette glanced back and forth between Grima and the bed before announcing, "Here, I can sleep in the chair, okay?" and padding over to said piece of furniture.
"… What."
Chrom looked confused. "Well, I'm small, so I can fit in the chair, but you'd be too big. So you can sleep in the bed!"
Grima worked his mouth, flabbergasted. "You realize the bed will be more comfortable than the chair to sleep in, right?"
"Well, yeah…" Chrom shuffled his feet. "So—So that's why you should sleep in it! So that you can feel better!"
Gods above, what was this logic?
To be fair, Grima hadn't thought of a solution yet, but Chrom's idea didn't sit well with him. While it would cause discomfort to the baby Exalt—and Chrom's teary eyes on the verge of realizing betrayal flashed through his mind. No, nope. Not going there, not going there. Oh. Oh. That was it, he'd almost abandoned the child and scarred him for life, and now the thought of hurting him… well, sicken wasn't the right word, but something close. And really, what had the child ever done to him, since he hadn't dealt the injuries his future self would to the dragon? He'd cried on his cloak, sure… oh, that wasn't a punishable crime. So nothing, really. Grima had fed him of his own accord. All the child had truly asked of him so far was to save him from the bandit scum, which Grima had done. Why was the boy giving so freely to him, then?
"M-Mister Raven?"
A tiny yawn snapped Grima out of his musings. Chrom stood in front of the chair rubbing at his drooping eyes.
…
"… Come on." The albino took the boy's hand and led him over to the bed. "We'll share. Okay?"
"Really?"
"Mm-hm."
Chrom gave a sweet smile to him and hugged him. "Thank you, Mister Raven. Th-Thank you. For," he yawned again, "everything."
Grima gazed down at the princeling as the child's eyes fluttered closed and his breathing even out. A strange, but weirdly pleasant, feeling rose up in him at the sight. He slipped out of his cloak and draped it onto the floor, then took off both their boots and set them down. Then he laid down, pulling the covers up over himself and the boy. Chrom clutched at his shirt in his sleep, and Grima—
Grima gave a small, genuine smile.
"You're welcome, little blueberry."