Archive of Our Own ^beta

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."

Chapter Text

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.”

Chapter Text

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.”

Chapter Text

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 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.”

Chapter Text

“Long, long ago, there was a dragon. He was a big, and grand, and powerful dragon. He was so big, he could sit on an entire city and cover it all up!”

“Whoa. That’s big, Daddy!”

“Yes, very big. The dragon was a magical dragon, as all dragons are, but his magic was dark, unlike his counterpart whose magic was light. The dark dragon was a… very sad and angry dragon. His creator tried to kill him when he became too powerful for the man to control, and humanity kept asking the dragon to do all sorts of terrible things. They never gave him anything in return, by the way. Eventually the dark dragon became so angry he decided to take it out on the world and on the light dragon. Unfortunately that did not end very well for the dark dragon, and he was put to sleep for a thousand years.”

“A thousand?! But that’s so long!”

“Well, dragons live a very long time, you see, so what might be a thousand years for humans feels like ten years to a dragon. The light dragon was hoping that the dark dragon would never wake up again, but she knew that was not to be. At the end of the thousand years, the dark dragon was revived and continued on as if nothing had happened.”

“That’s silly. Wasn’t he scared of going to sleep again?”

“He wasn’t. This time, he was going to make sure he never went back to sleep ever again! But the light dragon still had one more ace up her sleeve—“

“What’s that mean?”

“… It means she had an extra trick left. The light dragon created a portal and… the dark dragon ended up going into it. He found himself in… a world that was very different from the one he had come. His world was gray and dark and dead. This world was bright and colorful and full of life. The dark dragon thought he might have a chance to do his plans over, but then… he found a lost little boy wandering in the woods. Now this boy was full of light and love, so full that he had some extra to spare for the dark dragon! The dragon was very confused. He’d never felt such a… wonderful thing in all his long life. So when he couldn’t find the boy’s parents, he took it upon himself to care for the little child. And he learned what it was like to love.”

“Was that dragon you, Daddy?”

“Now, now. That’s a secret~!”

“Hee hee! Goodnight, Daddy! I love you!”

“I love you too, little blueberry.”

The early summer sun streamed in through the window and illuminated silky sapphire locks spread out on a fluffy pillow. The nineteen-year-old owner of said locks cracked open one brilliantine azure eye and yawned. He snuggled down into his mattress in an attempt to catch a few more minutes of sleep.

When the light from outside brightened, he gave up and rolled over, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes. He stretched his arms above his head and gave another yawn. Then he slipped out of bed, went to his dresser and gathered his clothes for the day, and padded out of his room to the empty bathroom. The young man went through the motions of getting ready for the day, sliding on his threadbare light blue tunic and light gray trousers. Around his waist he wound a wide strip of navy cloth and buckled his belt on over top. His socks, navy fingerless gloves, and gray boots went on. He buckled his tome holster to his belt, slipped Umbra in, and finally shouldered on his gold-embellished navy blue tactician’s coat. He ran a comb through his fine hair and brushed his teeth before taking in his image in the mirror.

“Okay, day, let’s get going,” he said to his reflection.

In the kitchen his albino father-in-all-but-blood worked at the stove cooking the morning’s breakfast. The older man gave him a sleepy smile as he entered the room, flipping the scrambled eggs in the skillet.

“Good morning, Chrom.”

“Morning, Dad!”

As the two tucked in to their food, Chrom remembered the subject he wanted to broach for today. “I’m planning to head over to Southtown after work to see about bolstering their defenses against the raids. I probably won’t be back until tomorrow morning. You won’t mind?”

“Of course not, go ahead. I have business to attend to in Themis anyway. Just—be safe, will you?” Dad favored him with a worried look. “You’ll take your Thoron as backup, right?”

“Dad, I love that old thing to pieces, but it’s almost used up. I’m not entirely sure it’d do me much good.”

“Chrom.” Dad pointed his fork at him. “You’re not completely weaned off of tomes yet. Just take it, I’ll feel better at the very least.”

The bluenette laughed. “All right, all right.” He finished his food and got up, heading over to the sink to wash and dry his dishes. After putting them away, he went back into his room and grabbed his steel sword and Heal staff along with the Thoron and his book bag, buckling the blade and the staff on. Then he went back out and put the lunch his father handed him into his bag. “See you later!”

Dad grabbed him in a hug. “Don’t get hurt, all right? I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow morning.”

“Okay. Love you!”

“Love you too!” Dad waved at him as he left the house and headed to the old bookstore where the young man worked as a full-time employee. The bell jingled as Chrom opened the door to Dusty Pages Bookstore and snapped off a casual salute to the bookseller. “Good morning, Mr. Daniel!”

“Ahhh, good morning, young Chrom,” the old man returned with a smile. “And how is your father this fine morning?”

“He’s doing well, thank you.” The bluenette tucked his book bag into his usual cubby and took off his staff and sword, leaning them against the cubby. Mr. Daniel watched him with curious interest.

“Off on another adventure this afternoon, young man?”

“Yep! I’m going over to Southtown this time. I don’t want them to be hit like Middlefield was last week.”

“Hmm, that was a particularly awful raid.” Mr. Daniel held his chin in contemplation. “If it hadn’t been for your help and your father’s… well, let’s just say I’m glad you’re on our side, young Chrom. You two make such a formidable team, I’d be surprised if Middlefield gained a permanent reputation among the criminal folk as ‘Do not attack under any circumstances!’”

Chrom laughed. “Happy to help, sir.”

“Well, thank you! Now then! We just had a shipment of Ribald Tales of the Faith War come in,” Mr. Daniel led the young man out into the main store area, “and there’s also a crate of the second edition of The Lost Princess of Corona. Oh! and Mrs. Ford finally left her pristine copy of Together We Ride: A Summoner’s Guide to Tactics…”

As Chrom followed the bookseller and helped him set out the new stock, he grinned. He had a feeling today was going to be a great day!

Today was going to be a horrible day.

Okay, Grima might be exaggerating a bit. Just a bit. But seriously, why was it that when bandits saw him they immediately thought “Ooh! Prey!” and went after him?! This had to be the third group he’d dealt with in as many hours. It might have been funny the first couple of times it happened to him and Chrom (not the very first time, for obvious reasons), but still, being an apparent thug magnet was so old now it wasn’t even funny.

He wasn’t heading to Themis, by the way. Truthfully, he did have business there, but his meeting with his Grimleal informant wasn’t until this afternoon, so he made no effort to rush to the city. Instead, he was playing “Clear the Road!” as Chrom called it, on his way to Southtown. Hey, if they weren’t attacked today, Chrom’s job would be so much easier, right? Which would mean he’d be home sooner, safe and sound. Yes, it was a little manipulative, but if it was in his darling son’s best interests, so much the better, right?

Since when was he this overprotective?

Since a little boy asked you to rescue him and you complied, he reminded himself. Look how much better your life is, hmm?

“What the hell?!”

“Huh?” Grima looked up from his musings and found himself staring into a mirror. A living, breathing mirror. A living, breathing mirror with brown eyes instead of red.

Looks like he stumbled upon this timeline’s Robin.

Wait, you had a plan for him!

Grima snapped out of his daze and surged forward, seizing Robin’s head in his hands and pushing his memories into the man’s mind. Come on! Let me fuse with you and use your blood to unlock my missing power!

The human’s mind blanked and wiped, and his body slumped to the ground, unconscious. Grima blinked in confusion.

That… that did not go the way I expected it to.

Perplexed, he knelt by the young man’s body and stretched out his magic, sensing for his Heart. Oh. Ohhhh. It’s too weak. Oh, dear. Oops.

… Maybe I should’ve been a little more patient. The Fell Dragon scoffed a laugh. Am I picking that up from Chrom? I know he’s patient about many things, but he’s still reckless sometimes. Weird. Right, body in the road. Well, we can’t have that, now, can we? Grima stared at Robin for a moment, then levitated him and set his body down in the shade of a nearby tree. Hopefully he’ll wake up soon and we can try again later.

He glanced up at the sky and noted the sun’s position. Oh no! It’s almost time for the meeting! I took too long!

He’d have to resort to teleportation, then. Sighing, Grima vanished, leaving the Robin issue for another time.

Chrom smiled, closing his eyes and savoring the breeze on his face. The bay stallion galloped along the road on the way to Southtown, the late afternoon sun streaming down on the bluenette. Opening his eyes, Chrom beheld his destination—

That was currently on fire.

The young man gasped. Oh no, oh no, I’m too late! They’re already attacking and I didn’t get here in time to stop them! Well, who says I can’t help now?! “Come on, Eugene! Yah!” He urged the horse onward and leapt off when the stallion reached the outskirts of the town. Drawing Umbra, he charged into the main thoroughfare, blasting bandits left and right with his personal spell. Up ahead, the smoke cleared to reveal a blond pig-tailed girl wielding a silver-and-gold sword with a teardrop-shaped hilt. An entire squad of thugs surrounded her, and even though she fought fiercely, Chrom could tell she was on the verge of being overwhelmed.

“Umbra!”

Shadows slammed into the outlaws nearest him, leaving a gap in the circle. Chrom slipped in and took his position at the girl’s back. “You all right, miss?” he called out as he fended off the tide of adversaries. The girl laughed.

“I was doing pretty lousy until you showed up, Mr. Knight-in-Shining-Armor,” she replied, swinging her sword around and cutting at the throng.

Chrom grinned. “Well, I’m no knight, but I’ll help you as best I can! Hyah!”

In a few minutes, the two had dispatched the rest of the squad. Chrom turned to the girl and held out his hand. “Let me see to your injuries, miss… ah—“

“Lissa. You’re a healer too?”

“Yes, I am! I’m Chrom, by the way.” She took his hand and shook it, a look of familiarity in her eyes.

“Chrom, huh? Sounds familiar…” she mused. “Apparently I had a brother named Chrom, but he vanished before I was born.”

“I-I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be! You had nothing to do with it, haha! Ow…” Lissa clutched at a slice on her side, blood staining her cheery yellow uniform. Chrom raised his eyebrow and took out his staff, healing the injury. “Wow, thanks! You’re pretty darn good, you know that?”

The bluenette gave a kind smile. “I try to do my best in everything I take on. I’m glad my abilities are to your satisfaction.”

“No problem! Come on, we gotta get you to Robin, he’ll know where to deploy you the best. Ah—that is—if you’ll help us?”

“Of course! That’s what I came here to do anyway.”

“Awesome!” Lissa seized his free hand and dragged him through the town. The two reached a square, empty save for the two figures clashing near the bridge that led to the church. The red-decked figure moved into Chrom’s line of sight, giving him a clear shot, and he threw a spell at the thug, making him slump to the ground. The other figure, dressed in a familiar coat, slumped his shoulders in weariness. “Robin!”

The man turned, and Chrom tripped in surprise. “Da—you’re not—what the—“ He stared in shock at the almost perfect likeness of his foster father, meeting warm brown eyes instead of brilliant ruby red. “Ah—haaaa?”

The albino human blinked in confusion. “Chrom?”

“Yeah! Robin, this is Chrom! He’s an amazing mage and healer!” Lissa introduced. “Chrom, this is Robin. He’s an incredible tactician—and he’s also a mage too! I think you two will get along pretty well!”

Robin snapped out of his apparent daze and smiled. “Hi, there.” He offered his hand, and Chrom, clearing his throat in embarrassment, shook it. “Sorry if this is a weird question, but—do I know you? You’re giving me ‘I recognize you’ eyes, but I’m afraid I don’t remember you—then again, my memory consists of everything that happened today up to the moment Lissa and Frederick found me in a field earlier.”

“Wow. Really? How come you know my name, though? I’m fairly certain we’ve never met.” The bluenette frowned. “Unless you happen to know a man named Raven? Looks uncannily like you except for red eyes?”

“Sorry.” The other mage shrugged in apology. “Not ringing any bells. I’m not sure about the name either, it just came to me. Like my name did.” He gave a sheepish laugh and rubbed the back of his head. “Ah, you probably already know, but we’re in the middle of a skirmish here—“

“Right! Right, we can talk later. Where do you need me?”

Robin perked up. “Okay, so this is the current situation…”

“Seriously, that tome is so cool, though? I’ve never heard of Umbra before,” Lissa chattered afterwards. “Is it Plegian magic?”

Chrom blushed at the praise. “Actually, it’s something I developed myself. I had a lot of help from my father, he’d be the one to talk to about where most of his spells came from. I used his stuff for research, and he’s written tomes before, so he was the perfect resource in coming up with this.” He hefted the navy-bound tome.

“No way!” Robin gaped. “You wrote your own tome? How old even are you?!”

“Nineteen.” Chrom laughed. Robin’s eyes widened further.

“Seriously?!”

“Yep! Dad wanted to make sure I had the best in magic education. Sometimes the best way to learn is to develop your own thing.”

As the three neared the square by the bridge, Robin held his chin in thought. “Huh. I’m curious about this father of yours. You say he looks almost exactly like me? Wouldn’t that be a little too young to be your father?”

“Ah—“ The bluenette coughed. “He’s actually my foster father, for one—he rescued me when I was four and took me in. For two… well, he’s… not… human. He ages much slower than you or I do. Unless you’re actually related to him somehow and the amnesia made you forget?”

“I’m still surprised you immediately believed that,” the albino commented as the three noticed a knight in blue-and-white armor sweeping up stragglers atop a brown horse. “Frederick—that knight there—and Lissa have been getting to know me all afternoon, and Freddy Bear still doesn’t believe I lost my memory.”

Chrom quirked a smile. “Unlike him, I have a little experience in that department.”

“Oh! Really?”

At that point, Frederick came over and dismounted. “Robin. Milady.” He peered at the newcomer with narrowed eyes. “Who is this?”

“Frederick, this is Chrom—“

“What?! Really?” The knight grabbed Chrom by the arm and scrutinized him. “How old are you?”

The young man sweat-dropped. “Nineteen?”

The brunette’s eyes widened, and he released Chrom. He furrowed his brow, muttering under his breath. Chrom caught the words “… couldn’t possibly be…” and “… he’s the right age too…”

“Ah, everything okay there, Freddy Bear?”

Lissa sighed. “Not again. Frederick, we’ve looked all over—how can we be sure my brother is even alive at this point?” The bluenette mage gave her a nonplussed look. “Frederick’s been canvassing every blue-haired guy we come across who’s the right age since I started these patrols,” she offered by way of explanation. “He’s insistent that my brother is still alive and that we’re going to stumble upon him at some point.”

“Oh.” Chrom wilted. “I’m sorry. You… you must miss him, right?”

The blonde gave him a sad smile. “Can’t miss what you never really had in the first place.”

Chrom nodded. That… maybe he understood, just a little bit.

After speaking with the town leader, Frederick announced that the little group (apparently called the Shepherds) was going to continue on and make camp in the woods. “And you,” he addressed Chrom, “will come with us. Lady Emmeryn will wish to see you in person at the capital.”

“Wait, what?” The younger mage shook his head. “No way, I can’t go to the capital! I promised my father I’d be home by tomorrow morning! If I don’t show up, he’ll be worried sick and he’ll think I was kidnapped or something and he’ll—!”

“You are above the age of majority, are you not?”

“It makes no difference! Do you have any idea how protective he is of me? He’ll tear through the whole country looking for me!”

“That is not my problem.” Frederick dug in his satchel, looking for something.

Perplexed, Chrom sputtered. “Don’t you understand?! My father is extremely powerful, you have no idea what he’s capable of—“

“Found it.” The knight turned around and clapped a pair of silver handcuffs onto the two mages’ wrists. “This way, we will not have to worry about either of you bolting.”

“Wha—?!” Chrom stared down at the handcuffs, speechless. Robin looked to be fighting down laughter while Lissa glared at her retainer, unimpressed.

“Frederick.”

“Milady.”

Robin lifted his free hand and stifled a snicker.  He leaned over to whisper to his partner-in-predicament. “Just roll with it for the time being, okay? Freddy Bear’s ridiculously stubborn from what I’ve seen, so there’s no way we’ll be able to back out of this arrangement. Maybe you can ask this ‘Lady Emmeryn’ if you can write your dad and explain the situation.” Chrom gave him a flat look. “Hey, the Shepherds are the good guys, okay? I’m going along with them because I literally have nothing better to do and they could really use my tactics. It’ll be fine, Chrom, trust me.”

The bluenette sighed, then nodded. “If I die, Dad’s gonna bring me back just so he can kill me, you hear me?”

At this, Robin laughed aloud. “You’re really not kidding about the overprotective thing, are you.”

“Nope. You have no idea how he got that way, it’s crazy…”

That evening, as the four sat around their campfire eating their bear meat (well, the mages scarfed it—Robin likely because he had no idea when he’d last eaten, and Chrom because when you were this side of poor you didn’t turn down free food), Robin broached the question of “So, you said you have experience with amnesia?” to his handcuff-mate. Frederick and Lissa leaned in, their interest piqued.

Chrom nodded. “I really don’t remember anything until Dad rescued me when I was four. I have no idea why or how, and my father’s asked me about it, but we just don’t know. I do know, however, that before then I had a mother, father, and older sister… but I don’t recall anything about them or my time with them. All I know is that somehow I got separated from them and went wandering into the woods.”

“Wow.” Robin’s eyes gleamed, riveted to Chrom’s story. “And it doesn’t bother you that you don’t remember?”

The bluenette shrugged. “Not really. As far as I’m concerned, my foster dad is my family, and that’s all that matters.”

Frederick narrowed his eyes in disapproval. “It seems to me this ‘Raven’ kidnapped you when you were—“

“No! He didn’t!” Chrom’s eyes blazed. “He found me when I was lost and let me follow him while he looked for my parents. He even saved me from a pack of bandits! If it weren’t for him, I might be working as a slave in Valm or Plegia right about now! So don’t you ever,” he hissed, “disrespect him like that. He has worked too hard for too long to keep me safe and cared for, and I don’t want anyone accusing him of stealing me away!” He gasped and panted, out of breath from his impromptu tirade. Frederick and Lissa stared at him in stunned shock.

Robin regarded him with sympathy. “You okay?”

Chrom’s shoulders slumped. “No.”

“You’re really stressed about this, aren’t you.”

“Yep.”

The blonde swordswoman smiled at him, apologetic. “I wanna say that, on Frederick’s behalf, I’m sorry. I can tell you’re very loyal to your dad and that you care a lot for him.”

“Indeed.” Frederick cleared his throat and adjusted his collar. “I am naturally suspicious almost to the point of paranoia, as my job requires of me, but now I believe I have crossed a line.” He got up and strode over to Chrom’s log and offered the younger mage his hand. “I apologize. That was rather insensitive of me.”

Chrom took in the sincerity in the brunette man’s gaze and softened, taking his hand. “I forgive you. And I understand, protecting someone means you always need to be alert for every possible threat.”

“Did your father teach you that?”

“Of course! Among many other things, like ‘patience is a virtue’ and ‘don’t go too long without self-care.’” The bluenette chuckled. “There are those rare occasions when I forget to listen to those two.”

Frederick nodded. “It sounds like your father is a wise man.”

“He is… yes, he is.”

Sleeping handcuffed to another person was an experience Chrom was not keen on repeating anytime soon. Despite their truce, Frederick didn’t care that Chrom didn’t know the way back—that was what moping and fretting instead of paying attention to one’s surroundings cost you, and Chrom cursed himself for forgetting another piece of his father’s survival training. I’m certainly in smashing form today, aren’t I, he groused as he did his best to get comfortable on the spare sleep roll he had to share with Robin. “Oh, Chrom, you’re doing sooooo well remembering all that stuff I taught you for a reason!” Oh, it’s nothing, Dad, just stupidity as usual. Gods, I’m such an idiot! He huffed and burrowed down into the roll. Good going, Ravenson, you’ve officially screwed up this time. This is probably the worst you’ve done so far.

Although probably nothing could top Risen-Sarah. Okay, so he had some leeway here. He wasn’t a complete lost cause yet.

Chrom didn’t know how long he’d been asleep when footsteps woke him in what had to be the middle of the night. He glanced up and watched a petite figure get up and slip out of the camp. What the… What’s she doing up? Yawning, he sat up and nudged the form beside him. “Psssst, Rob’n… wake’p.”

The albino grumbled and shifted, rolling onto Chrom’s handcuffed arm. “Ow! Robin!” he hissed. He jabbed at Robin’s side with his trapped fingers. “Getoffgetoffgetoff!”

The other mage snorted and opened his eyes. “Whaaa… Chroooom?”

Yanking at his hand, Chrom whispered, “Get! Off!”

“Huh?” Robin’s bleary eyes widened. “Oh! Sorry, sorry, sorry!” He rolled back over and massaged the younger man’s sore arm. “Sorry about that, I guess I’m not very good sleeping handcuffed to another person.”

The bluenette gave a quiet snort. “You can say that again. Come on, Lissa’s out and about. I want to make sure she doesn’t end up in any trouble.”

“She’s pretty capable, you know.”

“Yes, I know, but if Frederick wakes up and sees she’s the only one missing, what do you think he’s going to think?”

“… Fair point. Lemme grab my tome just in case.”

“Good idea.” Chrom slipped Umbra into his holster and slipped his Heal staff on; the two then set out through the forest, tracing Lissa’s steps. They soon found her in a clearing glancing around, straining to hear anything. “What’s wrong?”

“You feel that?” she asked. “Something’s not right here…”

“Hmm…” Chrom frowned and listened to the silent woods. “Yeah, I think I can. There’s no ambient forest noise or anything. It’s too quiet.”

Underneath the trio’s feet, the ground shuddered. The bluenette squawked and spread his feet out in an effort to keep his balance, while Lissa latched onto Robin’s free hand for support. Robin scowled. “What the hell’s going on here?! Is this a regular thing in this part of Ylisse?!”

“No! It isn’t! There aren’t any fault lines nearby!” the blonde yelled back.

“Guys, we’d better run!” Chrom tugged at Robin’s arm. “We need to get out of here!”

The three set off in the forest towards the direction of their camp. The mages dodged through the trees, following the swordswoman, but the shifting ground cracked open and belched sizzling lava. Hunks of volcanic boulders rained down, narrowly missing the fleeing humans. A spark of the molten rock caught on the cuffs’ links, and when the two leapt apart to avoid falling rubble, the chain snapped apart. Chrom stumbled and hurried after Robin as fast as he could. The heat at his back scorched and burned, and the young man once again thanked his father for his special coat. I’d probably be dead already if it wasn’t for this old thing.

The trio made it to a safer area of the forest. Robin tore on ahead, shouting, “I’ll get Frederick! You two stay put unless you’re in danger!” Chrom bent over, coughing and choking on the smoke from the fires. When he glanced back up, he gasped.

“Lissa, look!”

The blonde turned. “What is that?!”

In the sky, a ball of gathering white sparks exploded into shock waves, extinguishing the forest fire in an instant. An enormous wheel of golden light depicting the zodiac shot out, and a semicircle of giant crystals opened up to form a huge, glowing aqua eye. The bluenette’s eyes widened in recognition. “It’s a portal! Something’s coming through from another world!”

Sure enough, two dark figures dropped out of the “eye” and fell to the ground. They stood, jerky and uncoordinated, groaning, cloth masks sewn onto their faces. Their eyes shone red.

Lissa drew her blade, Falchion, and moved in front of the young man. “Stay back, Chrom, you don’t have your sword.” Chrom complied, lips white and staff in his trembling hands.

Risen!

The undead monsters roared, black smoke issuing from their mouths, and charged. Lissa met one head on and sliced through it… but then its head turned and locked onto her. It lashed out at her again and she blocked the deadly axe strike before slashing through its guard. The beast fell to the ground, and she leapt up into the air, Falchion glowing blue and stabbing through the body before the monster disintegrated. Chrom found his attention torn away from the display by the second Risen’s advance towards him. He tripped and stumbled backwards, crying out, clutching his staff to his chest as he backed up against a tree. His heart leapt into his throat as the Risen raised its axe—then a third figure emerged from the portal and landed. Just as the Risen swung, the mysterious person appeared in front of him, catching the axe with their blade across the back of their shoulders. The mage lifted his head from his cower and glanced up, gasping at his savior. The person, who wore a blue-and-gold mask, kept the undead’s axe at bay, groaning with the effort. They turned to Lissa and barked, “Help!”

Lissa unfroze and streaked towards the monster with a holler. Distracted, the Risen snapped its gaze to her, and the masked interloper swung their blade at the same moment Lissa swung hers. The Risen died in a retch and a vaporing of smoke. Chrom relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness. But… where did these Risen come from?

Lissa examined the dark-haired swordsperson in the wan light from the portal. “That was a pretty cool entrance just now,” she commented. “What’s your name?”

Hoofbeats signaled Frederick’s arrival, and Robin dismounted from behind the knight. “Milady! Milord! Are you all right?” the brunette called to the two.

Chrom ran over to them, catching his sword when Robin tossed it to him. “Frederick! Robin! You’re okay!” But the sound of more Risen approaching made him freeze. He whipped around and beheld a whole company of the foul beasts. Shuddering, he wrung his hands on his staff, his nerves skyrocketing.

“Are these awful things commonplace around here?!” Robin cried in disgust.

The younger mage shook his head. “They’re not! Someone has to be making them, they don’t just crop up out of nowhere! You can’t have a Risen without a resurrector!”

“Nobody’s injured, at least?” Frederick scrutinized the party. “Thank the gods…”

“Thank the masked man who helped me out! If he hadn’t showed up, Chrom would’ve been a goner!” Lissa glanced around. “Wait—where the heck is he? He left!”

“Worry about him later, milady, after we put these… Risen, as milord says… back into the ground where they belong,” Frederick cut in, shooting a glance at Chrom that told him there would be an explanation as to how the young man knew about them. “Eyes open, now. Milord, what can you tell us about this enemy?”

Chrom gulped and switched his staff out for his tome. “Okay. Superhuman strength and durability, low sentience, and you must kill them completely in order for them to vanish. Ideally, if we can find the person controlling them and get them out of the equation, the Risen should all disappear. In the event that we can’t find their puppeteer, we need to destroy every single one of them so that they won’t continue to be a threat.” Gods, I wish I’d learned how to cut them free, I could really use that right about now. “This group appears to have some level of organization amongst themselves. They won’t be easy to fight.”

Robin spotted two structures in the distance. “Huh? Are those—“

“Abandoned forts, yes,” the brunette knight finished. The albino mage grinned.

“Excellent! I want all of you to take cover in them when you can. Frederick, Lissa, you two work well together, I want you in the fort to the south. Chrom, you’re with me in the fort to the northeast.”

“Captain Lissa!” a new voice called out nearby. “… agh, I knew I shouldn’ta left them behind!”

The party turned and beheld a red-headed cavalier arguing with a gray-haired noble-looking archer. Bemused, Chrom arched an eyebrow at them, his nerves settling. After about a minute of back-and-forthing, Robin got fed up with the new duo’s antics. “Hey! If you idiots want to stay alive, shut up and get over here so we can figure out our battle plan!” The two clammed up and joined the four, and Robin staged Sully, the cavalier, and Virion, the archer, together in the forest as an ambush. “All right! To your stations! You have your orders, let’s move out!”

“You’re pretty good at that, you know,” Chrom murmured as they made for their appointed fort. “The tactician sort of thing? Dad tried to get me into it, but I was more interested in studying magic.”

Robin chuckled. “Well, maybe staying focused like that has helped you more than you know! You’re an expert mage, in my opinion.”

“Ah, thanks, but you don’t have much of a sample to compare me to.”

“Fair, but I’m pretty sure writing a tome at nineteen still isn’t normal. Okay, how good are you with a sword? I didn’t see you use yours much at Southtown.”

“I’m relatively decent, but I’d feel more comfortable with a tome.”

“Huh, same here. You know what, why don’t we do this: one of us will fight with the sword in the front while the other casts from behind. We’ll switch out every now and then to give each other breaks.”

Chrom nodded. “Sounds good to me. Let’s get to it!”

Eventually, the Shepherds, the archer, and the mages finished off the last of the Risen. At that point, the masked swordsman (swordswoman? Chrom couldn’t really tell, something about his voice and body didn’t add up, but that didn’t seem important at the moment) rejoined them. Frederick glanced at the person and reported, “It appears all the Risen have been defeated. This young man took care of the others.”

The swordsman remained silent.

Chrom stepped forward, having finished healing the last few injuries. “I didn’t get to thank you for saving me before, so, um… thank you. That was very valiant of you.” He held out his hand. “My name is Chrom. May I ask what yours is?”

The swordsman locked on to him and looked him over, or at least it seemed that way from what he could make out through the mask. “… You may call me Marth,” the mysterious man supplied.

“Ooh! Marth? Like the Hero-King of ancient times?!” Lissa squealed in excitement. “Oh, you really fight like a true hero! Where’d you learn how to wield a sword?”

“I’m not here to talk about me,” “Marth” shut her down. “This world teeters on the brink of a horrible calamity. What you saw tonight was but a prelude. You have been warned.” So saying, the swordsman turned and left. Chrom blinked, bewildered.

Lissa dashed after her. “Hey, wait! What calamity? Teetering where?! Are you gonna tell us—aaaaand he’s gone. Dammit!”

“Cheery,” remarked Robin. “Pretty talkative guy.”

“It appears his skills are needed elsewhere. I wager we’ll hear his name again sometime soon,” Frederick mused. “But for now, we need to continue to the capital. If we make haste, we should reach Ylisstol in the morning.” He narrowed his eyes at the mages and the wrecked pair of handcuffs. Then he sighed. “I trust you both will stay with us?”

Robin shrugged with his hands up. “Again, nowhere else to go, nothing better to do. Chrom?”

“If your Lady Emmeryn will allow me to send a message to my father, then I’ll come.” The bluenette sighed. “I’m not keen on getting stuck with a pack of Risen all by myself.”

The knight nodded. “Very well, then. Onward!”

Oh, Father, I hope you’re all right…

Grima woke up in a cold sweat, shivers running down his spine. He clutched at his blanket until the ominous feeling of terror subsided, then frowned. Strange. That wasn’t my fear. But then… Chrom! The blood pact must have alerted me that he was in danger! However, the sense he got from the pact now showed Chrom was safe. Huh? What happened? Is Chrom really all right?!

The albino got up and paced his room before going out into the kitchen and making a cup of tea to soothe his nerves. He sat in his chair by the embers of tonight’s fire and closed his eyes in an effort to get back to sleep. Unfortunately, rest evaded him and he ended up staying awake until dawn broke.

Later, when the sun shone high, the man went out in hopes of greeting his son—but there was no sign of Chrom. It wasn’t until noon that he concluded that something was wrong.

Chrom hadn’t come home.

Why was he different? Why did he dress differently, why did he wield a staff and tome?! He’d never shown that he had an aptitude for magic, much less an interest! What had happened? How could this all have gone so wrong? How come Aunt Lissa, who could barely pick up the sacred sword, was wielding it without a problem?! Was she in the wrong timeline?

No, Naga wouldn’t have done that, she only put me into my own past. But then how?!

Why was it all wrong?

Father, why don’t you wield Falchion?!

Chapter Text

He wasn’t here.

Grima had arrived in Southtown around noon and spent his time questioning the folk there if they had seen Chrom. Most people who saw him had only glimpsed him in the middle of the battle that had taken place yesterday. Because of course there was a battle. And his son had been in the thick of it. If he hadn’t gotten the sense of worried-but-safe over the pact’s bond, the albino would’ve panicked long before now. Well, panicked more than he was panicking now. Still, he knew he wouldn’t rest until he saw his son for himself, safe and sound.

“Huh? Eugene?”

The horse that Chrom always borrowed from Mr. Sackhouse whinnied from the stable next to him. He went over to the animal and rubbed his snout.

“This handsome fella yours, mister?” asked the stableboy nearby. Grima turned and shook his head.

“He actually belongs to a friend of ours, my son always takes him whenever he needs to get around. You wouldn’t happen to have seen my son, have you? About my height, blue eyes, soft blue hair, wields a unique tome? Came in yesterday and probably helped fend off the raid?”

The youth tapped his chin in thought for a moment. “Oh! Yeah, I think I know who you’re talking about! Last I saw, he was speaking to the mayor with a brown-haired knight, a blonde swordswoman, and a white-haired mage who looks the spittin’ image of you. I’ll take you to the mayor, he’ll probably know where he is.”

“Ah, thank you. I appreciate it.”

As Grima followed the boy to the town center, he mused on the descriptions of the other people the boy had mentioned. It could be anybody… then again, I ran across Chrom almost immediately after I came to this timeline. With our luck, it’ll be brigands, or… hmm… He wracked his brain for people he remembered that would fit the other two (clearly Robin had gone with them after waking up).

They arrived at the square, and the elderly mayor approached them. “Oh, you came back? I have to say, that was impressive work yesterday—“

Grima held up his hand, fighting off a laugh. “I hate to disappoint, but you must be talking about my… twin, Robin.” Yeah, that would do for now. “I’m Raven. I came here looking for my son, the blue-haired mage?”

“O-Oh, yes. My apologies, you two just look so similar.”

“No offense taken.”

The mayor held his chin in contemplation. “Ah, yes, I remember that young man. Mr. Frederick said he and his Lady Lissa were heading back to the capital last evening and took Robin and your son along. He was very insistent that your son come along. Really, he went so far as to handcuff the two mages together!” The mayor chuckled, unaware that Grima’s blood burned at hearing his son had been manhandled. “Oh, but if he’s with his uncle, I wouldn’t worry too much about them.”

Grima shook his head. “Unfortunately, last I heard, Robin was suffering from amnesia, and Chrom’s never met his uncle—he lives far away from us.” He sighed. “The capital, huh? Well, I thank you for your time.”

“Your son isn’t by any chance a criminal, is he?” the old man inquired, concerned. “I mean, he was a wonderful help, but I just can’t help but wonder—“

“Oh, no, no, no! He’s the perfect law-abiding citizen! He’s probably just dealing with a case of mistaken identity and is very frustrated that he didn’t come home like he promised me he would.”

“I see. Well, I wish you luck in finding him!”

“Thank you.” Grima nodded to him, then turned to the stableboy. “If you’d be so kind as to help me get that bay stallion ready?”

“Of course, mister! Right away!”

Hang on, Chrom. I’m coming for you, my little blueberry.

“Oh, my goodness! This is Ylisstol?!” Robin exclaimed as the party passed through the gate. “It’s beautiful! Look, Chrom, this place is amazing!”

Chrom glanced up and his jaw dropped as he beheld the city in awe. “It’s… it’s so pristine and gleaming… almost like something out of a dream—“ Or a memory? No, Dad had never taken him to the capital before, so that couldn’t be it. But maybe in the Before… no, that didn’t make sense, either. The bluenette resigned himself to setting that puzzle aside for later. Right now, there was a city to admire right in front of him.

It’d be easier to admire if his dad were here. I hope he doesn’t think I broke my promise on purpose and disobeyed him, he thought, morose. I’d rather he not get mad at me again. Way too scary!

“Chrom. Psst, Chrom.” Robin nudged him.

Chrom snapped his head up. “What?”

“The Exalt! Look, she’s walking among the people up ahead. Isn’t that cool? Frederick says she’s practically a living symbol of peace, too!”

“She is?”

Robin rolled his eyes. “Have you been listening to anything Frederick’s saying?”

Oops. “Uhhhh…”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’ then.” The albino huffed. “Basically, the First Exalt fought a war against the Fell Dragon a thousand years ago. Lady Emmeryn upholds a policy of peace, much like what Ylisse strove for back then. So she’s kind of very important to Ylisse because she supports peace when most people would want war—besides the obvious fact that she’s their ruler. Your ruler? Our ruler? Whatever.”

Chrom regarded the blonde woman—what he could make of her, anyway—with curiosity. “It can’t be easy to work for such an ideal. She must be very strong to be as popular as she is now. Ylisse is lucky to have her as a ruler.”

“She’s pretty awesome, isn’t she?” Lissa piped up. “And she’s a terrific older sister!”

Robin sputtered in shock. Chrom looked back and forth between the two with renewed interest. “Wait, if you’re her sister… That means you’re the princess, aren’t you.”

“Yep~!”

“You said you guys were ’shepherds!’” Robin defended, reddening. “But if you’re—oh, wait—Oh. Ohhhhhhh. I get it now.”

Chrom laughed. “They are ‘shepherds’—of a sort.”

“Yes, I gathered that, thank you.” Robin sighed, still blushing. “I apologize if my conduct was unseemly in your presence, Princess Lissa.”

Lissa waved her hand. “Oh, no, no, please don’t! We can drop the formalities, okay? Just ‘Lissa’ will do!”

“O-Okay.” The older mage rubbed his face. “Can’t believe I’ve been hanging with the princess of Ylisse, godsdammit.”

“You guys, she’s heading back to the castle. Wanna say hi to her?”

“It is imperative that she meet with them anyway, milady,” Frederick cut in. “I am certain you can imagine why. Let us be on our way, you two.”

Chrom still couldn’t help but drink in the city as they made their way to the palace. Wonder what it would be like to live here… Dad could get a better job… but I’m not sure I want to move away from Middlefield just yet…

“I am glad to see you all return safe and sound, Lissa, Frederick.”

“Of course, milady,” Frederick replied, bowing to Exalt Emmeryn.

“How were your travels?” the stately blonde woman inquired. Chrom couldn’t help but stare at the mark on her forehead. “Are our people well?”

“They’re fine!” Lissa reassured her. “We shouldn’t have to deal with any more bandits for a while. Although…” she tilted her head, “we’re probably still gonna have to keep an eye on the borders—we’re pretty certain they came over from Plegia.”

Well, that explained the raids on Middlefield. Still, Southtown was further from the border from his hometown; why had the brigands gone for the other village? Strange, Chrom mused. The pegasus knight standing next to Emmeryn spoke up, apologizing for not being more vigilant on that front. Lissa waved it off.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Phila! I’m glad you stayed here to keep the capital safe! Besides, we had help!” She gestured to the two mages, and Emmeryn turned to look at them. “Robin’s a great tactician, and Chrom here is amazing at magic! They really helped us against the bandits, and I think they’ll make fine Shepherds—”

“I-I’m sorry.” Emmeryn frowned in confusion. “Lissa, did you say this man’s name was ’Chrom?’”

Oh, dear. Frederick stepped forward. “I have reason to believe that he may truly be your long-lost brother, milady. He’s the right age and has the right name, and he looks very much like a grown-up version of young Prince Chrom. I brought him here to the capital in the hopes that—“

“Oh, Frederick.” Emmeryn gave him a sad smile. “I appreciate your effort, but this young man looks terrified out of his wits. Did you handcuff him again?” The knight hesitated. “I thought so. You have my apologies, Mr. Chrom, on behalf of Frederick and his behavior. He is a loyal knight and an old friend, but his methods can be a bit… too much at times. I do hope no harm has come to you on his account.”

“Of-Of course not,” the bluenette stammered. “Ah, no physical harm anyway, I’m just worried about my father. I promised him I’d be back this morning. He must be worried sick by now.”

“My goodness. Well, I will help you sort this out as soon as I can. And it seems I owe you both a debt of gratitude. Ylisse thanks you for coming to defend her citizens.”

“Milady,” Frederick added, “if I may, Robin here claims to have lost his memory, but it is nothing more than that—a mere claim. We must not rule out the possibilities of his being a criminal or even a Plegian spy.”

Okay, that was offensive. Lissa apparently thought so, too. “Frederick!” she scolded the older man. The brunette gave her an unapologetic look. Chrom sighed. Robin facepalmed.

“You welcomed him into the castle, Lissa. Do you believe he is truly trustworthy?” asked the Exalt.

Lissa nodded, fierce determination in her eyes. “He put his life on the line to help us protect our people. Both of them did. That’s good enough for me!”

“I see.” Emmeryn smiled at the albino. “In that case, if you have earned Lissa’s faith, then you have certainly earned mine as well. You as well, Chrom,” she added. “But… thank you for being cautious, Frederick. Lissa is blessed to have such a peerless protector watching over her.” Her expression turned wry. “I do hope she remembers to give you her gratitude on occasion.”

“I believe she expresses something like it every once in a while, milady,” the knight replied, a twinkle in his eye. At this, Robin caught his fellow mage’s eye and smirked. Chrom grinned back. So he did notice, then. Interesting. The bluenette could already see the ways the older mage would use this to tease the knight.

Just don’t go too far, Robin, and piss him off or something.

The conversation moved on to the Risen, which had been plaguing the countryside, at least near Middlefield, on very infrequent occasions; apparently now their sightings had become more common. Chrom frowned. Who exactly could be building an army of Risen? And why? Done like the mindless drones he’d seen, they only brought death and destruction. He’d yet to see any of the relatively more intelligent ones. Thank goodness, they’d probably be a pain to go up against. Although maybe it’s possible to talk them down? The mage-healer shuddered. How about we steer clear of that idea for the time being?

“Well, Lissa, we will need to hold council soon today, but first, could you please settle our newest Shepherds in?” the Exalt asked of her sister. “Afterwards, please come to the council room for the meeting.”

“Sure thing, Emm!”

Emm?

“Sometimes Emm lets me sleep in her bed when I have scary dreams!”

Huh? I-I… I thought I remembered something just now… did I? Or… no, my mind’s wandering. Gods, I’m exhausted. When this is all over I’m going to take a very long nap.

“Frederick, I know you insist on finding my brother, but fifteen years have passed. Is it not so hard to believe he has either left Ylisse or… worse?”

“Milady, we must keep our hopes up. If anything were to happen to you, Lissa would be far too young to take the throne as she is.”

“I was ten. By that standard, she is plenty old enough.”

“Inexperienced, then. Emmeryn, she is simply not ready to shoulder such a heavy burden!”

“She is surrounded with wonderful people who support her wholeheartedly. I believe she will be just fine. She may make mistakes, but then, I have made my fair share of those, have I not? Besides, I have many more years to go before I hand the throne over to her. Unless someone sees the sense in providing me his hand and an heir?”

“… I still wish to keep the promise I made to you, Emm.”

“Oh, Frederick. We were children—”

“I chose to become a knight and protect you because of him. Emmeryn, I will bring your brother home. I promised it then and I promise it now. I will do everything in my power to reunite him with you and Lissa.”

“Oh, Frederick…”

“Allow me this, milady?”

“Well, I suppose I cannot say no. Anything for you, my darling Freddy Bear~!”

“Thank you, Emmeryn.”

The Shepherds’ barracks gave off a warm, friendly feel. When the three arrived, they found a pegasus knight decked in pink armor and a bare-chested blond man with an axe in the foyer. Lissa turned and waved her arms as she ushered the boys in. “Here we are! This garrison is specifically for the Shepherds. Feel free to make yourselves at home!”

“Ooh, cozy,” Robin commented. Chrom gave a hum of agreement.

“Lissa, darling! Are you all right?! I’ve been on pins and needles waiting for you!” A pink-clad woman with bouncy blond curls and a parasol rushed over and hugged the princess. Lissa hugged her back.

“Hiya, Maribelle.”

“Don’t ‘hiya’ me! Do you have any idea how many gray hairs I’ve sprouted just worrying about you?!”

Robin hid a snicker behind his hand. “Join the Worriers’ Club, I’m sure you could give Chrom here a run for his money. He’s been freaking out about his old man since yesterday.”

The bluenette narrowed his eyes. “Robin.”

The albino grinned back. “Chrom.”

The axeman took this time to butt in. “Aw, I’m sure Lissa here can handle it! Although I bet you had a harder time without trusty old Teach, eh?”

“So you’re ‘Teach’ again, Vaike? Huh.” Lissa pretended to ponder. “I thought you had to be born without brains, I didn’t know you could pass it on!”

“The Vaike does not disappoint!” Vaike grinned, flexing his arms. “… That was a compliment, right?”

The two mages burst out laughing. The pegasus knight, meanwhile, went to check Lissa over and catch up with her. Chrom watched the woman with the ash-brown hair and considered her. That’s right, I never did find out if Tia made it to the pegasus knight squad. I wonder if this woman knows about her? Maybe I should ask her sometime.

“Who’re the newbies, cap?” Vaike interrupted.

Lissa freed herself from the other two women’s ministrations and grinned. “Say hello to Chrom and Robin, everybody! They’re new members of the Shepherds. Robin is our new tactician, and Chrom is a great healer. Both of them are fantastic mages! You should see what they can do out there!”

“Eh? Sounds like Teach’s gotta measure their skills! But can they do this?” Vaike let out a particularly long and loud belch. Chrom went red and covered his face in mortification while Robin covered his mouth in an attempt to fight a snicker.

“Vaike! How disgusting!” Maribelle wrinkled her nose and gave a dainty sniff. “Must you sully the air with such wretched buffoonery? Be more like our dear Middlefield guest, he is quite embarrassed on your account!” She curtsied to the mage duo. “My apologies on this oaf’s behalf, Mr. Ravenson, I know you have much more restraint and dignity than him. Robin, I’m disappointed in you! Don’t encourage him!”

Robin shrugged. “Oh, sorry about that. I’m not really surprised he went and did that, it’s just hard not to laugh.”

“Hmph.” The woman turned and walked off, her nose in the air.

The pegasus knight smiled at them in apology. “Sorry about her, Maribelle can take a while to warm up to people. I’m Sumia, by the way! It’s nice to meet you both.”

“You as well,” Chrom nodded to her. “It’s really a pleasure to meet all of you. I’m afraid I’m not planning to stay, however—I need to get home to my father—but Frederick was rather insistent that I come along. Uh, not to say that I won’t help!” he clarified. “It’s just that, well, my father must be distraught right about now since I haven’t come home. We’re very close, you see, and he’s very protective of me. He just doesn’t want anything untoward to happen to me, that’s all. In fact, if anyone would be so kind as to point me towards the nearest pen and paper, I’d like to write him and explain what is going on.”

“Oooh, sounds like somebody’s a daddy’s boy!” Vaike teased. Chrom rolled his eyes and chose not to comment.

The door swung open and Frederick marched in. “The exalt has asked us to travel to Regna Ferox. She believes their strength and their warriors will be just what we need to combat the new threats. Unfortunately, given recent events, it would be unwise for Lady Emmeryn herself to make the journey, therefore we’ll be setting out in the morning. This mission is completely voluntary, except in the case of the princess, so if any—“

“I’m up for it! You’ll be needing ol’ Teach to getcha through!”

“I’ll go as well,” said someone behind Chrom. The bluenette whipped around—and then he gasped, grinning. “Chrom?! Is that you, man?”

“Kellam! What a pleasant surprise! I didn’t know you joined the Shepherds!”

The armored knight clapped Chrom’s forearm in a friendly shake. “I figured I might as well try to do something to help out.” He looked the young mage over. “Still short, I see. You still living out in Middlefield with your dad?”

“You know it! And what about you, how’s your family?”

“Doing well, though Mum sometimes wishes she could move back. She misses the old town, you know? But we’re pretty okay. You know, if your dad ever wanted to come up, there’s this apothecary that’s looking for an assistant. I may have… let something slip about your dad. It pays pretty well, too.”

“Wow! Really?! Kellam, you’re amazing!”

The others looked on in confusion and no small amount of surprise. Lissa spoke up. “Gee, Chrom, I didn’t know you knew Kellam here! You’re like the first person we’ve come across who’s noticed him right away. Most of the time we don’t even realize he’s there!”

Chrom laughed, patting Kellam’s shoulder. “Kell and I go way back. We grew up together in the same town and he was one of my best friends. Though I agree, he’s ridiculously quiet and practically invisible sometimes.”

“Gee, thanks, friend. Really feeling the love here.”

“That was for the ‘short’ comment,” the young mage fired back. Kellam patted him on the back, grinning.

Frederick blinked, then cleared his throat. “Anyone else?” Sumia, after some hesitation, volunteered, and so did Robin. “Excellent! We’ll meet out here eight o’clock sharp. Until then, pack your bags and make sure your armor and weapons are in perfect shape. Milord, I’ll need to speak with you in private.” He gestured for Chrom to follow him while Lissa led Robin over to the dormitories. “The Exalt will need all the information you can supply on the Risen.”

The bluenette glanced back at Kellam, who mouthed “Milord?” and mouthed “Tell you later” back to him. The armored knight quirked an eyebrow, promising to find him later for the explanation.

Council won’t be fun. At least Kellam is here. I’m surprised Maribelle recognized me, though, to be honest…

“Shouldn’t we call them ‘the undead?’”

“But if there are a different variety of types of undead, we’ll need to distinguish these monsters from amongst them. I propose we call them the ‘Revived.’”

“Clearly these creatures have no semblance of vitality to them, so labeling them as ‘revived’ would be inherently misleading…”

Yeah, I already hate it here, Chrom groused. Separation anxiety notwithstanding (thank you, Robin, for diagnosing that), his bad mood plummeted once he overheard the councilors’ arguing—over what to call their newest threat, of all things! Really, some people were just so stupid, focusing on the most negligible details. The mage almost wanted to toss them into the middle of a Risen ambush and see how they’d fare just so they could grasp how ridiculous they were being. But I don’t want them hurt, necessarily… Ugh.

“Your Grace, ladies, gentlemen.” Frederick bowed to Emmeryn and to the assembly. “I have brought one of our newest Shepherds to help us with this new threat. Milord Chrom has experience with these creatures and is an invaluable resource on how to combat them.”

Emmeryn gave the young man a kind smile, but the other nobles in attendance turned scrutinizing looks onto him, and whispers began to fly—except from the ruler of Themis, Duke Avignon. He rewarded the mage with a bright smile. “Ah, young Chrom! It is good to see you again, I must admit, though I do wish it were under better circumstances. You’ve grown into quite the fine young man, I see. Is your father well?”

“He is, thank you, sire.” The tension left his shoulders. The Duke of Themis, from what he remembered of him from visits to the border city, was a pretty cool guy, always willing to work with the father-son duo regardless of Dad’s propensity for dark magic. That made things much more likely to work out. Some of the other nobles, though, gave the duke bewildered looks. One, a stern-faced man with a balding head and a trim mustache, turned his incredulous expression upon the bluenette mage, then switched it back to the duke.

“Avignon, you know this boy?”

“Why, yes, indeed! If it weren’t for him and his father, Themis would have been overrun years ago by brigand companies.” The duke’s posture filled with pride. “He is a capable young man and very powerful. You would do well to listen to him, as he will know that of which he speaks.” He gestured for the boy to continue. “Please inform us, young Chrom. The more we know about this threat, the better.”

“They’re called Risen,” Chrom addressed the assembly. “They’re created through a dark ritual and must have their summoner controlling them, or else they’ll be little more than feral beasts. If you can find the summoner and take them out, the Risen will vaporize. There are ways to cut them out of the control of their summoner, but usually it’s best to eliminate them if they are hostile. They are extremely strong, do not feel pain, and are far more durable than the average human. What may be a killing blow to a human may only inconvenience them—unless that blow is to their neck or head. They can be overwhelmed by multiple fatal blows.” He paused and took a breath. “They have ranks and a variety of soldiers, just like any other army. The higher the rank, the more difficult they are to defeat. They typically have very low sentience, but there are the occasional few who can speak a couple coherent words.”

“And why do you know all this, boy?” one man spoke up, suspicious gaze zeroed in on him. “How did you come by all this information? Are you, perhaps, a dark mage from Plegia?”

Frederick scowled, and Duke Avignon glared, both of them apparently offended. Chrom ignored them. “And if I am? Why would I share such information with you when it would be—I assume—to my benefit to keep it to myself?”

“You could be feeding us false information!” another council member interjected.

The mage fought the urge to roll his eyes and opened his mouth to retort when the brunette knight stepped forward. “Milord’s information proved accurate when we fought off a Risen skirmish in the middle of a forest two nights ago on our way back to Ylisse. If not for his aid, I imagine that we would have come out of the experience with far more injuries than we suffered. As it is, we prevailed with no casualties.”

“Why do you defend this child, Frederick?”

Oh, no, please don’t go there, this is not the time or place—

“I believe this man is the lost Prince Chrom. I trust that he has our best interest in mind.”

—aaaaaaand he went there. Gods, man, couldn’t you, I don’t know, not mention that at all?! Or if you really wanted me to gain their trust up front, maybe lead with that first?! Wait, no, that would derail the entire discussion like I bet it is now. Chrom covered his face and sighed.

“Frederick, this is the fifty-eighth time you have brought a man who looks like he could be the prince, why should we take your word for it?”

“He could be a Grimleal who altered himself to look like an Ylissean!”

“What disgusting magic must he have used to attempt a likeness to the prince?”

“I doubt it’s actually a person, it must be a dark construct—“

Duke Avignon stood, hushing the councilors’ speculations. He directed his hawk-like gaze to each of them. “I understand that you are suspicious to the point of paranoia and wish to see this young man as a threat. However,” he raised his voice, silencing their protests, “I have known him since he was very young. I can tell you with absolute certainty that he has always been a genuine, kindhearted youth who only wishes to help to the best of his abilities. Were his father here, he would give the same testimony. If you wish to have anything done about the Risen threat at all, you would be wise to listen to his counsel.”

“He could be deceiving you!” one noble threw out. Chrom hung his head, frustrated. The councilors continued to bicker with Avignon supporting the boy, but the bluenette felt this session had become a waste of time. Emmeryn waved him and Frederick over.

“Frederick, if you could please escort him back to the Shepherds’ barracks?”

Chrom frowned. “But what about the information I gave you? Will anyone remember it?”

The Exalt smiled and motioned to a young scribe sitting at a desk in the corner of the room. “Anselm here has already transcribed it. We will be able to go over what you have given us when cooler heads prevail.” She bowed her head to him. “Thank you again, Chrom, for your help. May your travels be safe and uneventful.”

“Chrom! You’re just in time! Sumia made dinner tonight and it’s fantastic!” Robin waved the bluenette mage over as soon as the younger man stepped into the garrison. “Come on, you gotta try all this! Quick, get a plate and help yourself!”

Chrom chuckled at his new friend’s cheery spirit and grabbed a plate, loading it with dumplings, mushroom stew, and pasta salad. He found an empty chair next to the other mage and seated himself, setting his plate down. Picking up his fork and knife, he cut into the stew-drenched dumplings and took a bite. “Mm!” He chewed and swallowed the delicious morsel before speaking. “Sumia, this is incredible! My compliments!”

“O-Oh! I’m glad you like it, Chrom!” Sumia blushed from her seat across from Robin. “I may be clumsy, but at least I know how to cook!”

“Very much so!” Then he remembered his thought from earlier. “Pardon me for asking, but I couldn’t help but notice you’re in the pegasus corp. Do you happen to know a woman with red hair named Tia? She’s an old friend of mine and Kellam’s.”

The ashette frowned in thought. “Tia? Hmm… Tia, Tia, Tia… where do I know—oh! I think I know who you’re talking about! My dear friend’s first name is Cordelia, but her middle name is Tiamo, right? She said she used to go by the nickname Tia when she was younger.”

“Exactly! She didn’t like being called Cordy, so she took a nickname based off her middle name.” Chrom grinned. “Wow, first Kell, then Tia—I can’t believe I ran into people I know or who know people I know on my first day here!”

“Maribelle seemed to recognize you, too,” Robin pointed out.

“Oh, well, Dad and I have visited her city before to help out with bandits. We’re probably not close enough to be friends, but we have shared tea together.”

“Hey, I didn’t know you knew Maribelle already.”

“Gah! Kellam!” Chrom swiveled around in his seat to find a smirking raven-haired knight behind him. “Really?!”

Kellam shrugged. “At least I waited until you didn’t have food in your mouth,” he said, taking a seat beside the blue-haired mage-healer.

“Hasn’t stopped you before.”

“Name one time.”

“Sixth grade, May, lunchtime after arithmetic.”

“Ooh, going for the low blows already.” Kellam narrowed his eyes at him. “Punk.”

“Jerk.”

“Shortie.”

“Ninja.”

“Is this normal behavior between the two of you?” Sumia spoke up, a look of mild concern on her face.

The boys glanced over at her and burst out laughing. Kellam slung his arm around the shorter boy next to him. “Yeah, this little goof and I have been teasing each other since day one. Don’t worry about it, it’s always harmless.” He patted the bluenette’s back and went back to his food. “Although the one subject is pretty touchy…”

“Kellam, so help me, if you say ‘Risen Sarah’ one more time—“

The ravenette man laughed. “Nah, I know I’ll get slapped.”

The other two at the table fixed their attention on Chrom. “What does he mean when he says ‘Risen Sarah?’” Robin asked, eyebrows raised. Chrom shook his head, his smile turning weak.

“Some other time.”

“Aww, fiiiiiine, okay.”

After they finished their meal, the bluenette followed his white-haired companion to the dorms, where Robin led the younger man to his room. “I don’t think anyone else is sharing with me, so, uh, feel free to claim the other side? Kellam’s already bunked with somebody named Stahl, I’m afraid, but I thought I’d offer seeing as you could probably use a friendly face right about now.”

“O-Oh, thank you, Robin, that’s very thoughtful of you—“

“Actually, Frederick wants you in the room across from mine and Maribelle’s,” Lissa interrupted from outside in the hall. “He’s been saving that room specifically for my missing brother if he ever finds him.”

“Seriously?! That guy’s a maniac!” Chrom sighed. “Sorry, but I’d feel more comfortable rooming with Robin, if that’s fine with you.”

She grinned, winking at him. “I figured as much, that’s why I took the liberty of filling out your room requisition form and processing it before Frederick got his hands on it. He won’t be able to do anything about it, hee hee~!”

“Wow, really? Thanks!”

“Oh, and there’s stationery and writing utensils in your desk,” the blonde pointed out before she moved further down the hall. “Feel free to let your dad know what’s going on.”

“Really?!” Chrom dived over to his desk and shuffled through the drawers, looking for said objects. Sure enough, the top drawer was stocked with three each of inkwells and quills, the middle held a stack of writing paper, and the bottom contained a box of envelopes, a stick of gold-marbled blue wax, and a seal. “Oh my goodness, you’re a lifesaver!” He rushed back out into the hallway and called out “Thank you!” to the retreating figure of the princess.

“You’re welcome~!”

The bluenette slipped back into the room and glanced at the bunk beds on the left wall. Robin followed his gaze. “Oh, yeah, I took the liberty of waiting for you first before picking out my bunk. I figured since the top bunk doesn’t have as much leeway overhead you’d probably go for it.”

Chrom gave him a flat look. “… I am only two inches shorter than you, there is literally no difference between who gets the top bunk.”

“Suit yourself.” Grinning, Robin took off his coat and flung it up onto the bunk before stripping his gloves off. The sight of a familiar purple mark caught the bluenette’s eye.

“You have one too?” At the albino’s confused look, the younger mage explained. “Dad has a mark just like that one in the exact same place. I have one as well,” he slipped his coat off and then his shirt, “but Dad gave it to me. I asked him to put it over my heart so I’d always keep him close no matter what.” He pointed to the six-eyed mark on his breast. “Dad says the way he gave it to me is basically the same as a blood pact since he’s a dragon, so… yeah.”

Robin got up to examine the mark. “That is so cool,” he murmured. “So maybe I made a blood pact with your dad at some point? Although why does he have it as well? Aesthetics, maybe?”

“Dunno.” Chrom shrugged. “Again, he was into some pretty dark stuff, so I have no idea. Maybe you can ask him when you meet him?”

“Sounds like an idea.” Robin stretched as Chrom put his shirt back on. “Welp, I’m gonna read a book or two before I go to bed, I already checked my gear for tomorrow.”

“Oh, good, I’ll need to do that too. Hey, you wanna read Umbra?” Chrom held out the tome. “If you do, just take good care of it, okay?”

Robin’s eyes lit up. “Really?! Wow, you’re the best, Chrom! Don’t you worry, your priceless spell is in good hands!” He took it and clambered up to the top bunk, settling down to read. Chrom chuckled, then turned to his desk and fished out the necessary supplies for writing a letter. Then he sat down and got to work.

“Dear Father…”

Grima nursed his water as he watched the bustling tavern before him. He still had a day or two before he got to the capital, and the thought made his heart clench. I hope that fanatical fool of a knight has not harmed a single hair on my precious little blueberry’s head, for his sake. Really, Chrom is too good for those people. Ylisse? Bah! He deserves the entire world!

But he can’t have the world if you burn it all down, a traitorous voice whispered in his heart.

The Fell Dragon blinked. Oh. That… that is a very good point. But they all betrayed us! They deserve to rot in their graves or as my Risen! Or Chrom’s Risen! If only I could convince him it was all right to try the spell again with my help, he could have his very own Deadlords! Or better! He could be the Risen King without being a Risen himself! And I, I would be the god of our dead world!

Wait, but if everything’s dead, how am I going to be able to support Chrom?

And Chrom really wouldn’t like it if Grima killed whatever friends he had. Ah, the boy was so sentimental… but strangely enough, that was exactly what made him perfect. He has such a tremendous heart and capacity for love…

Maybe the whole destroying the world idea wasn’t nearly as valid as he’d believed. Well, then what am I supposed to do? I still think Chrom would be the perfect ruler, everyone would love him for his kindness and giving heart—no, I can’t let anyone take advantage of him! If he was in a position of power, he could just say no… but I know he won’t. Hmm, this is quite a conundrum. Why didn’t I think of any of this before? That was what running through your master plan on autopilot while raising a child did. Grima sighed.

I still really want my body and power back, so that plan is a definite go. Robin is… what am I going to do with Robin, anyway? Meh, maybe I’ll try winging it when I get there. Hmm… I wonder… Ruling the world doesn’t sound so bad. I mean, there’s obviously tons of details I’d need to think about, but that’s what delegation is for. You know what would be really adorable: if I somehow got Chrom to become my Hierophant. He practically worships me anyway—no, I can’t use my sweet boy like that. But he will have the highest place in my worldwide kingdom aside from me, that much I’m certain of.

Well, now that that’s settled, time to inform Validar and Aversa there’s been a slight change in plans. And then, off to rescue my darling blueberry from the clutches of the Shepherds!

Chapter Text

“Did you get the latest update from our lord?”

“Hmm, no, I don’t quite think so. It’s rather sad, but he seems to be giving me only the bare minimum. It’s a shame, really. Have I not always been faithful to him?”

“Of course you have. Sugar?”

“Ooh, yes, thank you. Well, this is rather saddening. What did he tell you?”

“I have the letter here, you can read it.”

“… I don’t… I don’t understand! He is asking you and Aversa to be two of his trusted deputies in his new world order?! Why wasn’t I informed?!”

“That isn’t the concerning part. Is it not strange that he is planning for such a thing in the first place? I thought he was simply going to wipe out everything and be done with it.”

“True, true. How strange. What else does it say… new Hierophant? But does that mean someone is replacing you?”

“If I were one of his deputies, I imagine that might be the case. Who would be up to the task, though? Who else is Marked with the Fell Brand?”

“Robin? Oh, no, he says the boy will be the Advisor to the new Hierophant. But who—ohhhhhhh, that would be incredibly, deliciously satisfying! Inventive, truly!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I have reason to believe that our lord is behind the disappearance of the Ylissean prince fifteen years ago. Why, around the same time the child was reported missing, our lord appeared in Valm Harbor with a boy matching the prince’s description, and the boy never left his side the whole time they were in the port! I wonder… It would be a magnificent stroke of revenge if he had taken Naga’s wretched Chosen and… educated… him in our ways. Oh, the payback will be glorious!”

“I’m not certain you’re correct, but I’ll leave it be. In the meantime, I think we should think of a contingency.”

“Whatever for?”

“Just… in case.”

“Hmm. Well, I believe I have a few ideas, listen here…”

Grima passed through the gates to Ylisstol, urging Eugene onwards. In his time the city had been a broken, dead husk of the shining jewel that currently stood upon Capital Mount, and he lifted his gaze up to the palace glistening in the sunlight. I wonder what Chrom thought when he first saw this sight. That is, if he saw it—that idiot knight fanatic went far enough to cuff him, he might have gone further and knocked him out. The albino gritted his teeth, growling low in his throat. His mount shied and whinnied, nervous. Oops. Forgot. Sorry, old boy.

He continued along the main thoroughfare until he came to the castle. There, the guards at the gate stopped him. “What is your business with the Exalt, sir?” one of them called out.

Another squinted at the dragon in confusion before lighting up. “Hey, weren’t you with the princess and Sir Frederick when they returned?”

“I’m afraid not, though I do know who you’re thinking of.” Grima gave them the same story he’d given the Southtown mayor: that Robin was his twin (false) and he was searching for his son (true). “Have you seen anyone like him? From what I heard, he came in with the princess, her retainer, and my brother.”

A third guard gave him a suspicious look. “And if we did? Why would we tell you?”

The albino blinked in shock. “I’m sorry, did I not say I was his father? His foster father, to be precise. Yes, I’m aware I look young, that still doesn’t change the fact.”

The guards shared a look of silent communication among each other. “Sir, with all due respect, Sir Frederick believes he is our lost prince. Now, some of us may doubt that that’s true,” the first guard sighed, “but the point is that he will be kept under twenty-four-hour protection until Sir Frederick has determined whether or not he is the prince. It’s what he calls the Chrom Protocol.” One of the other guards coughed “protochrom.” “Shut up, Kyle.”

“Or Princess Lissa could’ve enlisted him in the Shepherds!” piped a fourth guard.

“Or that. Wait, what?”

“Yeah! I overheard them talking, she wanted both of those mages in!”

“Oh. Yikes.” The first guard winced. “If that’s the case, he’s left the capital. The Exalt sent a contingent of Shepherds to Regna Ferox to ask for an alliance, and it’s likely Sir Frederick took him with them.”

“W… What?!” Grima clenched the reins in his hands. “How dare he, that—! Ahem. Please excuse my outburst, it’s just that I’ve been very worried over the past few days.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I’m afraid there’s nothing else I can do.”

“Oh, but if we do get word from him, we’ll pass it on to you, all right?” the fourth guard suggested.

Grima sighed, then nodded. “I would very much appreciate that. If you need to find me, I’ll be staying at… um, what’s the best inn here at the lowest price?”

After the guards directed him to a nearby bed-and-breakfast, the Fell Dragon slumped into a plush chair inside his reserved room, weary. Oh, Chrom… I do hope you’re all right. My son, I want to tell you the plans I have—but only just a little bit. I think you might like them, although you’ve never been drawn to power and authority… Just wait and be patient. I’ll free you from those lowly worms who wish to force you into their royalty and take you away to a place where you’ll be safe from them, since Middlefield is clearly no longer out of their range. We can travel the world together… you’ll be the only person I’ll ever need…

Eventually he slipped into a dreamless sleep.

“How’re you doing this fine day, Freddy Bear?”

“I must ask you to refrain from calling me that, Robin.”

From his mount the platinum-head pouted at the brown-haired knight. “Aww, then what am I gonna call you? Fredders? Fred-Man? Frederico? Frederickson?”

Chrom snorted into his fellow mage’s shoulder. “You might wanna quit while you’re behind there, Robin.”

“Why can’t I call you ‘Freddy Bear?’ Ooh, is it because someone close to you calls you that? Is it your mom?”

Frederick’s lips tightened. “…”

“Is it your dad?”

“…”

“Is it your sist—“

“If you must know, it is Lady Emmeryn who calls me by that endearment. Privately.”

“Oooooooh, Chrom, we were right! Our hypothesis has been proven! Fair frigate Fremmeryn has set sail!”

Chrom burst out laughing. “Robin, you are officially the weirdest person I have ever met.”

“That doesn’t seem to be a problem for you.”

“No, no, it is not. Compared to Kellam and me, though? You definitely take the cake.”

“Wowwwww,” drawled the raven-haired armored knight. Robin jumped and squawked. “You’ve spent how many years with me and how many days with Robin and already you think he’s the weirdest?”

The older mage gave him a flat look. “In my opinion, a guy who sneaks up on people in full armor is eligible for the title. How—Why do you even do that, anyway?!”

“It’s funny.”

“I may or may not have given him the idea when we were kids,” Chrom commented, adjusting his handcuffed grip around Robin’s waist. “Instead of getting upset about not being noticed, now he goes around and pranks people with it. I keep telling him he needs to go study the ninja way to fully realize his potential.”

“Silent armored knight is very useful though.”

“… Okay, I’ll give you that.”

Chrom shifted in his position behind Robin and looked out over the convoy. In the back, Vaike gave him a friendly wave, his missing axe from two days ago strapped to his back. Next to the blonde, Kellam smirked and gave a jaunty salute. In front of the two mages and Frederick, Stahl, the green-haired knight who roomed with Kellam, chatted with Sully, who ignored Virion’s input (he rode behind her on her horse). Up ahead in the front, Lissa and Miriel, the red-haired glasses-wearing mage, kept a sharp eye out for any potential interlopers. Sumia had stayed behind to take care of an injured pegasus—Chrom hoped she was all right.

The bluenette snuggled down into his roasty-toasty coat. Snow dotted his eyelashes and bangs, though his hood covered his head. Similarly, Robin kept his own hood up, enjoying his own cloak’s comforts.

Writing the letter to Dad had taken quite a load off of Chrom’s chest. Now he only had to worry about it actually getting to his father, but hopefully the palace guard he’d been instructed to give it to would be able to fulfill his mission. Maybe after this journey to Regna Ferox the two would meet up, Chrom could assuage his father’s worries better, and then he could introduce him to the Shepherds. I hope he’ll think about that job offer… and I wouldn’t be a bookseller’s assistant, I’d be a Shepherd myself… I’d have to let Mr. Daniel know and get his opinion. Besides, all my friends are based in Ylisstol now, it’s so logical—why can’t I just say yes? An image of the old cottage he’d lived in nearly all his life flashed in his mind. Oh… He sighed. Dad probably loves that old place, too. It is home, and I’m not sure that’s what the capital is yet, although the Shepherds are doing a fantastic job of making it feel that way… If only we could, I don’t know, teleport it to the city or something… but Middlefield—and the bandits… except the Shepherds are supposed to deal with that kind of thing… Ugh, I wish I had Dad’s opinion.

In the distance, a long strip of dark gray stone set against the drifting snow caught the mage-healer’s eye. That must be the Longfort. I remember learning about it in school, but… gods above, it’s way more impressive in real life! As the group drew closer, Chrom made out several figures standing on top of the fort. “That’s a lot of guards up there. Are they dealing with attacks as well?”

“Who knows.” Robin shrugged. “Honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if they were.”

A voice from the Longfort rang out. “Halt!” A woman with short blonde hair and heavy armor stood at the front. “Who goes there?!”

“We’re from Ylisse!” Lissa called back. “We’re an envoy from the capital, here to see the Khans—“

“Do not take another step! We are armed and ready for an attack!”

Frederick rode to the front and cleared his throat. “I believe there has been a misunderstanding. We were sent by the Exalt herself. She wishes to discuss matters of mutual interest to us—“

“My only interest is in keeping you brigands safely out of Regna Ferox!” the woman yelled.

Uh-oh. As Chrom watched the two go back and forth, he frowned. Imposters? Sounds like they’ve had pretty bad trouble on their end. That’s disturbing. He tuned in just in time to hear Frederick announce that both Princess Lissa and Prince Chrom were with the company!

“Ha! Now I know you are not who you say you are! The prince has never been found, and no Ylissean would claim he was with them!”

Chrom and Robin glanced at each other, eyes wide. “He actually went there?! Can you believe him?! The nerve!” The bluenette face-planted directly between his platinum partner’s shoulder blades.

“Ow.”

“Sorry,” the younger mage mumbled into the older’s coat.

“They want to settle this with violence.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” Chrom sat back up just in time to see several lancers throw their weapons at the blonde princess. His heart stopped. “LISSA!”

Swish!

The mage-healer gasped, his heart now pounding, and glanced up to find Sumia flying on the formerly-injured pegasus with Lissa riding behind her. He breathed a sigh of relief. As the other Shepherds fell into their positions, Frederick galloped over and unlocked the boy’s cuffs. “It is my understanding that Umbra is not lethal to human beings. We will need your proficiency if we are to come out of this without any losses on either side.” He helped Chrom off of the horse. “Robin, loath as I am to trust you, we need a battle plan. How shall we proceed?”

Robin smirked as he dismounted. “I have just the idea…”

“Y-You have my apologies!” the guard captain, Raimi, stammered, bowing to the Shepherds. “We truly took you to be brigands, trying to take advantage of us—but no imposter could fake such skill in battle! I will send word to the capital that you have arrived and personally escort you there myself!”

“Thank you! We appreciate it!” Lissa chirped. “And don’t worry about it, I understand. We’re dealing with bandit issues too.”

“Then I will make my report.” Before she strode off, Raimi pulled Frederick aside. “Is it true? Is he…?”

Chrom huffed and pulled his hood all the way over his head; Frederick just nodded. “I am certain that he is, although he insists to the contrary.”

“In that case, you have my congratulations.”

After she left, the bluenette lifted his hood enough to glare at the steward-like knight. “Do you have a problem, or are you just that sadistic?”

“My guess is probably both,” Robin muttered. “Can we go now? I know Chrom and I are doing just fine, but Vaike is freezing.”

“Yes, of course.” Frederick took the lead along with Lissa. “Let us be on our way.”

If the Longfort was impressive, Arena Ferox was beyond incredible. Chrom couldn’t help but gawk at the massive structure that held the city and the arena where the Khans and their champions fought for supremacy. He wished his father could be here to see this, but such was life. Oh well, maybe after they met back up they could take a trip around the world before settling back down—although in order to get enough funds first, the two of them would have to work hard and save up enough to even make it out of Ylisse. That was an issue for another time, however; right now the group had been led to the throne room to meet the Khans. Or one of them, anyway.

“What do you think the Khan is like?” Robin wondered to him as they stood in the enormous, warm hall. “If he’s a warrior, I imagine he’s a great big bear of a man, with a furry chest, massive muscles, loads of scars—“

“Am I, now?” said a blonde woman with light-brown skin and red-accented armor as she stepped into the hall. The platinum-head froze, and she laughed. “Oh, don’t stop on my account. By all means, continue!”

Chrom giggled as his friend covered his face in mortification. “I’m gonna shut up now, nothing to see here.”

“Oh, Robin, maybe the other Khan is like that.”

Robin glanced up at him, eyes goggling. “There’s another one?!”

“Yeah.” The bluenette nodded. “It’s how their nation is ruled: one Khan for the area of East Ferox, and one for West Ferox. Every so many years the two Khans hold a tournament to see who can beat the other. Winner gets to rule all of Ferox until the next tourney.”

“Huh. That’s different.” The older mage took a good, long look at the female Khan while she talked business with Lissa and Frederick. “I guess this Flavia is the Khan of East Ferox?”

Chrom sighed. “Yeah, but last I heard, she wasn’t the Khan in charge. That would be… Basilio, I think his name is? The West Khan. Anyhow,” he scratched the back of his head, “she won’t be able to authorize any aid for us—although, I wonder… when the next election tourney comes around…”

“Or we could just go to Basilio.”

“That too.”

Apparently Flavia had been thinking the same thing as Chrom, for she asked the Shepherds to represent her in the next tournament, and Lissa accepted. Since the tournament was still a few days away, the Khan organized room and board for the Shepherds and had a few guards lead the group to their new quarters. The mage boys ended up sharing a room again, with Kellam and Vaike right next door and Frederick and Virion across the hall. Chrom picked the left side of the room and dumped his pack next to his bed, flopping down on the mattress. “Haaaahhh…”

“I know, right?” Robin copied his action and sighed. “Gods, I’m exhausted. I don’t think I like riding horses for such long stints.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“Speaking from experience?”

Chrom sat up and grinned. “How else do you think I get around Southern Ylisse so quickly?”

“Fair enough. Oh, hi, Kellam.”

The beefy knight, out of his armor and in casual tunics, leaned against the doorframe. “This is nice, huh? How’re you holding up, Chrom?”

“As well as can be expected. I wrote a letter to Dad, so hopefully he gets it and stops worrying so much.”

“Gotcha. I’m gonna see about lunch, the guys and I are famished. If you two want to tag along, you’re absolutely welcome to.”

“Awesome.” Chrom got up and stretched. “And when we’re done, I’m going to see if there’s anything resembling a library in this whole place.”

Robin snickered, following the two out of the room. “You and me both.”

Lunch was altogether rather raucous and enjoyable. Chrom found Feroxi cuisine delicious, even though he stayed away from the spicy stuff. He was definitely going to get that one goulash recipe and adapt it for him and his father to try sometime. Afterwards, he headed to the arena library where he found, to his pleasant surprise, a whole section on epics of the great warriors. He’d picked one out and now had his nose in it as he wandered back to his shared room. Further down the hall, footsteps echoed on a trajectory towards him, but he paid it no attention—that is, until he smacked right into the person and sent them both tumbling.

“Eek!”

“Aaah!”

Chrom crashed onto his butt hard and winced, the book flying out of his hands. “Ughhh… are you all right?”

“I-I’m okay, th-thank you…”

The bluenette glanced up and beheld a blushing pink-haired girl his age in a white outfit with flowing brown gauze sleeves and pants. His cheeks warmed in embarrassment. Getting up and gathering his book, he held out his hand to help her up. “I’m s-so sorry about that, I r-really should’ve been watching where I was going. My father always gets on my case for reading while walking.”

The girl covered her mouth, hiding a giggle. “Is this something you do frequently?”

“Sometimes. It kind of annoys him—though to be fair, he has done it once or twice.”

“Like father, like son, then?”

Chrom laughed. “Well, it would be if he were my biological father. I’m actually adopted. He rescued me when I was very young and has cared for me nearly all my life.”

“Really?” The girl perked up. “That sounds a lot like my experience with Basilio. He rescued me as well and he’s been like a father to me ever since!”

“So you know what it’s like too!” The bluenette beamed and held out his hand. “I’m Chrom.”

“Olivia.” The pinkette shook his hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Chrom, it’s not often I come across someone with similar experiences.”

“I know what you mean. You said Basilio raised you? Are you here for the tournament?”

“Oh, no, no!” She blushed and covered her face with her hands. “I’m really not! I’m just here to watch, I’m no good at anything other than dancing… and I’m not even good at that!”

Chrom reddened again. “O-Oh, I see. Uh, but maybe you could show me anyway? Or is it that embarrassing?”

“I-It is…”

“Okay, well, never mind, then.”

Olivia lifted her face from her hands. “R-Really?”

The mage shrugged and held the book close to his chest. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. Trust me, I know a thing or two about horribly embarrassing yourself.”

“Would that have anything to do with Risen Sar—ow!”

Chrom had jumped, whipping around and slamming his book down on Robin’s head. The blue-haired mage yelped in shock and flushed bright red, hiding his face behind the book. Olivia gave a little giggle as the platinum-blonde tactician rubbed his sore head, grimacing. “Can you not pull a book on me next time?”

Chrom squeaked an unintelligible apology from behind his book.

From around the corner, the other guys from the Shepherds appeared. Kellam practically radiated smug energy while Stahl and Vaike cackled at the bluenette’s expression. “I knew Robin was too curious to let the subject drop for long, so I thought I’d let him sneak up on you and spring the question, but that reaction? Priceless.” He slung an arm around the albino, grinning. “Consider your hazing passed, weirdo.”

“Wow, I feel so accepted now,” Robin snarked as Chrom nailed the ravenette knight in the head with the book and proceeded to pull his hood over his flushed face in lieu of the book.

Olivia stepped beside the flustered mage-healer and, after hesitating, laid her hands on his shoulders. “Um… Chrom? A-Are these men bothering you?”

Chrom paused, then shook his head side-to-side in a “so-so” manner. Kellam laughed and shook his head. “Sorry about that, it’s just that the topic you guys were talking about—embarrassing yourself, right?—was too perfect, and hey, look what happened! Prime example!”

“Okay, but is Risen Sarah really that ba—Ow! Mother of Grima, Chrom, is that Thoron level?!”

“All right, all right, all right.” Kellam patted a slightly smoking Robin in the back. “We’re starting to cross a line here, you know you’ve gone too far when he starts zapping you. And to answer your question, yes, it really was that bad, and believe me, I know what I’m talking about, I was there for it. Wait until he feels comfortable enough to open up about it, okay? Chrom, I’m sorry about my part in it, I know that wasn’t really fair to you.” He held the book out in apology.

“’S okay.” Chrom took the book back, nodding to show Kellam and the others he’d forgiven them.

The cheers of the crowd hammered down on the young bluenette’s ears as the two teams awaited the start of the tournament. Chrom glimpsed a familiar masked swordsman on the opposite side and narrowed his eyes. What is Marth doing here? He came from the same portal as those Risen… what does he stand to gain in all this? Lissa must’ve noticed him too, because she tried to get a response out of the enigmatic man, but he remained silent. Then the two swordfighters drew their weapons—and the mage gasped at the sight of another Falchion. Isn’t that sword one of a kind?! How does he have one just like it?! He shook his head, pushing memories of his father’s bedtime stories out of his focus. When this fight was over he was going to find Marth and get some answers. He drew Umbra and stood in a ready stance.

Lissa rushed at Marth, leapt high, and spun downwards like a ball, landing with her Falchion blocked by its twin. The two swiped and slashed at each other, Marth using his small frame to pull off a barrel roll. Chrom bit his lip as the two clashed in a lock. They’re both small, thin, fast, and very strong. They could be evenly matched, but… wait. That grip looks very familiar. Isn’t that how I hold my sword?

“Hey, Marth! Where’d you learn to fight?” Lissa called out, disengaging and pushing back.

The two fighters lunged at each other, swords scraping against each other. Marth launched himself into the air with the same maneuver Lissa had started the fight and yelled, “My father!” He just missed catching the princess as he landed. Getting up to face the Shepherds, he pointed his “Falchion” at them in a clear challenge.

Robin signaled at them to charge, and the fight was on. Chrom paired up with his fellow mage, and together the two whirled about the arena in a storm of magic and blades, Robin shouting the occasional order to the other Shepherds. Kellam and Sully slashed and jabbed in perfect synchrony, clearly used to working together. Vaike covered Lissa’s back as she fought her way towards the other end of the arena. Frederick—well, Frederick galloped about, pretty much unstoppable. The mage duo eventually found themselves up against Marth.

“When you said your father, who were you talking about?” Chrom challenged as he readied his tome.

The swordsman’s left hand twitched in his direction, very minute. “I’ve said enough for one day, sir,” he replied. At that, Robin scoffed.

“Oh, so what, do you have like a quota of words you can use per day or something? Is that supposed to fit with the ‘mysterious stranger’ stereotype?”

“Robin.”

“What? I had to! Perfect opening!”

Chrom sighed. “Look, you saved my life, and I’m very grateful for it. Unfortunately, I’m here on behalf of the East Khan and Ylisse. I won’t hold back… but I also have no intentions of humiliating you.”

“Heh,” the bluenette swordsman chuckled, seemingly confused, “never expected such youthful arrogance…”

“Say what now?”

“We shall see who shames who!” And with that, Marth ran up, stabbing at Chrom, who blocked with his trusty old steel sword. Robin shot a bolt of Thunder at the masked man, hitting him in the stomach. The three traded slashes and spells with the bluenette mage aiming just off target—Umbra being as strong as it was—and Marth called out, “Let us fight with honor. May the best soldier win!” before charging again, this time at the albino. Robin took a cut to his left arm and slammed another Thunder into the sword-wielder, knocking him down and out of the fight.

Marth shook his head. “Impressive… if not surprising…”

With the swordsman’s defeat, the announcer declared the match over and the East Khan victorious. Flavia came down to thank the Shepherds and assure them of Ferox’s alliance with Ylisse before running off to prepare victory celebrations.

“Oh, great! That girl, always jumping at the chance for a party…”

The group turned and beheld a buff dark-skinned man with an eyepatch striding towards them. Lissa frowned. “Sorry, but have we met before?”

“Now we have. I’m the West Khan you just dethroned!” He looked the blonde princess over. “I’ll give it to you, li’l missy, you’re sharp with a blade. I was positive my champion was better…”

“What about him?”

The Khan waved her off. “Oh, he’s just some merc who’s got delusions of grandeur. He did beat my old champ soundly and I fell in love immediately—which I’m too old for, hahaha!”

Something clicked in Chrom’s head. “Oh! You’re Basilio, aren’t you! Olivia told me about you.”

“Olivia, eh?” Basilio turned his gaze on the mage-healer. “You’ve gotta be Chrom, then, she won’t stop talking about you. You made a solid impression on her, kiddo, I’ll be darned! Although,” he stepped forward, scanning the boy, “I heard whispers that Prince Chrom had been found. I’m assuming that’s you?”

“I-It-It hasn’t been proven yet!” Chrom cried, flustered. “Frederick just thinks I am!” He got a glare from the knight for that.

“Soooooo, that Marth then.” Robin steered the conversation towards a (slightly) less frustrating topic. “Where’d he disappear to?”

“Oh, he checked out pretty much the moment the winner was announced. Sorry if you wanted to speak with him.”

Well, there went that idea. Great, just great. I wanted to know more about where he came from.

Could it be… he and I are from the same world?

While Frederick wanted to return to Ylisse immediately, the Shepherds wound up staying another night and day at the Feroxi capital thanks to the blizzard outside. The West Khan had very kindly gifted Lon’qu, the gruff myrmidon who had been Basilio’s old champion, to the group as Ferox’s first soldier to support Ylisse. Flavia had invited the Shepherds to a victory celebration that night, where Chrom had encountered Olivia again, and this time the two spoke more at ease with each other. Lon’qu had come up during their conversation and told the bluenette to treat her well or he’d skewer the mage with his blade. Turned out the myrmidon and the dancer considered themselves brother and sister! Chrom had calmed the man by relating the similarity of his experiences with Olivia’s, and the ravenette had patted him on the back and offered him a ghost of a smile before slipping back into the crowd. Afterwards Basilio told the mage-healer that Lon’qu had basically adopted the boy as his younger sibling. Chrom had been flattered and found the action sweet of the Chon’sin man.

Now, though, he sat in his room, perusing another epic (he’d managed to finish the first one in his free time before the tournament). Olivia had lent him this one with the promise that he would take good care of it and return it to her the next time they met. His coat hung on his chair; a fire crackled in the hearth across from the door, sparks popping out on occasion. He slouched forward in the chair over the book as he read. I wonder if I should write Father again… nah, he should have gotten my letter by now. Although… no… Gah, make up your mind, Chrom!

Someone knocked on the door and opened it. “Come i—Frederick?”

“Milord. I believe it is imperative for you to begin integrating yourself into the Ylissean hierarchy upon our return to Ylisstol. Therefore,” the knight strode over to the boy’s desk and plopped a set of documents onto it, “it is important for you to become better acquainted with the state of our affairs through the scrutiny of these files. Doing so will ensure you are not behind when it comes to the politics of the realm.”

“Okay, you know what?” Chrom slammed the book shut and pushed back his chair, standing up. “This whole ‘missing prince’ thing has gone on far too long. I realize it’s been about two weeks now, which isn’t very long, but it has got to the point where it needs to stop. You’re irritating the princess and everyone else in the Shepherds with it, the Khans are wondering why I’m not there at strategy meetings—yes, I made sure I avoided you for those, I wouldn’t have anything new to give you—and the Exalt clearly wants you to knock it off from what I saw of her in the capital! Can you stop making this harder for everybody and just admit I’m not the person you’re looking for?!”

“I will not.” The brunette man glared down at him. “I made a promise to find the prince and I will fulfill that duty to the best of my abilities.”

“Clearly this is a promise you can’t keep! There’s nothing wrong with that, you know—“

“I know you are the prince,” Frederick insisted. “I know exactly what he looked like at the age he disappeared, I know what the previous Exalt and queen looked like in their prime, and I will tell you now, I see them both in your face. You have your father’s features and your mother’s eyes and hair. You are a perfect amalgamation of the two of them and the exact adult image of the prince—“

“How do you know I’m not just a lookalike, huh? According to the council, there are at least fifty-seven other people who look like me!”

“Your name is Chrom. The same as the prince’s.”

“i could’ve gotten lucky! Maybe Chrom was a popular name after he was born and my parents decided it was a fine name for me!”

“Why do you continue this childish denial?” Frederick growled. Chrom backed into his desk, the angry knight coming over him. “You insist and insist that this is all one enormous coincidence, but the truth of the matter is that you are the prince!”

“Where is your proof, huh?!” the bluenette threw back. “Where. Is Your. Proof?!”

Frederick snatched the collar of Chrom’s shirt and tore it open over his shoulder. Chrom gasped, eyes wide in horror and heart pounding, staring into the knight’s own shocked eyes. The older man furrowed his brow. “No… that’s not right, where is it?! It couldn’t have disappeared—!” He grabbed the opposite side of the collar and ripped the shirt open over the other shoulder. “No, no, no! It can’t be! Why is it gone?! Why isn’t it…”

The knight’s ramblings fell out of the bluenette’s awareness as he sucked breath into his tightening chest. His knees trembled and weakened, his vision began to fog. The cozy room in Arena Ferox melted into the hallway of Middlefield’s schoolhouse. Vague shapes danced in his periphery, resolving themselves into his classmates from eighth grade. A buzzing started in his ears, clearing into their taunts. “What a pathetic loser!”

“How could he do such a thing?”

“I bet he’s a demon or something, his dad probably made a pact with him…”

“He doesn’t belong here!”

“Let’s take him down!”

Hands scrabbled at his clothes, tearing them into rags. “Look at that! He kinda looks like a dead guy now!”

Stop…

“Why don’t you go join your lover in the dirt, you freak!”

No…

“Sarah wants some company~!”

Please…

“She’s coming after you, she’s angry at you!”

No more…

“Chrom and Sarah, sitting in a tree—except you’re dead!”

Stop!

“Milord! Milord, you have to calm down! Oh, gods, I don’t know how to deal with this—Milord!”

Someone’s arms held him in the person’s lap as Frederick’s voice cut through his hearing. Someone else screamed in the distance, hands were clutching the front of his shirt—those were his hands, Frederick’s chest on his left side—Frederick’s arms around him as he kneeled doubled-over in the man’s lap—his throat hurt, he was making noise—he was the one screaming. Oh.

Chrom gasped for breath and coughed, shivering. His eyes welled with tears, and he gave a weak sob. Another, and another, and soon he wept, his eyes and throat burning, his heart hurting.

A few minutes went by before his sobs turned to sniffles. All the while, Frederick held him, silent but supportive. Chrom finally gave a shuddery sigh and relaxed. “‘m okay now.”

“Ah—all right, then. Do you need help getting up?”

The boy nodded, and the knight helped him up, leading him over to sit in the chair next to his desk. Chrom glanced down at his feet, hands clutching at his shoulders where his shirt had been torn.

“Milord—Chrom—I must apologize. Our tempers were high, and I acted rashly in the heat of the moment.” The bluenette lifted his gaze up to the man. Frederick regarded him with a soft gaze, vestiges of his alarm from earlier lingering in his eyes. “I must admit, I did not expect such a… violent… disturbing reaction to what I did. It is clear that I triggered a highly adverse response, possibly linked with something you have encountered before?”

Chrom fiddled with his fingers. “… I… I made a big mistake years ago,” he rasped out. “I paid restitution to the people who got caught up in it… my classmates were not so understanding. Kell and Anna helped protect me… but they weren’t always there… the bullies liked tearing my clothes that my dad had worked so hard to get…”

“I see.” Frederick shifted from foot to foot. After a minute, he spoke again. “If you will allow me, I would like to fix your shirt as penance for my actions. I will also fetch you a glass of water if you wish. Do you… perhaps need a shirt to wear while I repair yours? Ah, that is, if you’ll let me.”

“… That’s very kind of you… Frederick…” The boy turned to his satchel laying against his bed. He stood up, trembling, and made his way over, opening it. Pulling his extra shirt out and laying it on the bed, he slipped his ruined tunic over his head. Frederick took it from his hand, and the bluenette put on his other shirt. Then he fell onto the bed, his strength depleted.

Frederick lifted the blanket over him and tucked it in with gentleness. “I’ll see about that water, milord,” he murmured as he slipped out of the room.

When Grima opened the door, the courier outside handed him a cream envelope with a blue-and-gold marbled seal. “I apologize that this didn’t get to you sooner, sir, there was quite a mix-up and miscommunication—“

“Is it from my son?”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

Finally! “Oh, thank you!” The albino heaved a sigh of relief. The courier left, and he tore into the envelope, drinking in the words his son had written on the paper.

“Dear Father,

“I apologize for not coming home at the time I said I would. There was an attack on Southtown and I ended up helping a group called the Shepherds beat the bandits back. I met the Princess Lissa, her retainer Frederick, and an amnesiac named Robin, who looks just like you (except he has brown eyes). I’m a bit curious as to the last one; he said he woke up in a field that day with no memory of who he was. The odd thing, now that I think about it, was that he recognized me by name—I think?—he said my name just came to him like his own name did. If not for the fact that he has amnesia, I would’ve guessed him to be your nearly identical twin. I mean, I would’ve liked a heads up as to whether I have an uncle or not. I don’t know if this is that important, but he has your mark in the same place you do. Maybe he’s your son or something? I don’t know. I guess I’d just like some answers about him. I will say, however, that he is a great tactician, an acceptable mage, and a good friend. I don’t know how I know this (maybe it’s because he looks so much like you), but I would trust him with my life.

“Back to the story, when Lissa introduced me to Frederick, he kind of freaked out. He went up to me and asked how old I was, then proceeded to announce that he believed I was the missing prince of Ylisse. I mean, come on, the prince? That’s ridiculous! He was very insistent though (still is, unfortunately), and handcuffed me to Robin just to make sure I wouldn’t run away. Robin suggested I just go along with it, which was probably wise considering Frederick would probably hunt me down and drag me back to the capital himself if I escaped. We made camp in the forest and had a supper of bear meat; I wouldn’t exactly recommend trying it again, but you know our situation. Lissa was not happy about Frederick bringing back a bear for food—she thinks it’s messing with the food chain. (I just realized I should mention that Frederick is a cavalier who wields a great axe and Lissa is a swordswoman who wields this beautiful blade named Falchion. According to her it’s a one-of-a-kind dragon-killing sword wielded by the Exalted family and was even used by Hero-King Marth!)

“Anyways, we were woken up in the middle of the night by an off feeling. Robin and I followed Lissa into the forest where this strange earthquake set the forest on fire. We made it out safely, but then a portal opened up in the sky! And Risen came out of it! I would’ve been killed if it hadn’t been for this swordsman calling himself ‘Marth’ rescuing me. Robin fetched Frederick and the rest of our weapons (we’d left our swords behind and grabbed our tomes), and we were joined by two other Shepherds, Virion, a bowfighter, and Sully, a lance cavalier. We used the forts in the nearby area to take cover and fight the Risen off—thank goodness I studied your spellbook before and knew their weaknesses. I now wish I knew how to cut them out from under their summoner’s power though. When we meet up again, I—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—I want you to teach me all the spells in your spellbook. I might never know when I need them, and it’s always good to be prepared.

“We spent the next two days riding to Ylisstol, which is beautiful by the way, and met with the Exalt Emmeryn. She is a very kind woman and I admire her strength in upholding the value of peace when most people… wouldn’t. Apparently this is not the first time Frederick has dragged somebody he thinks might be the prince to the capital (I was number fifty-eight, according to the council I was unfortunate enough to attend). However, Lissa wanted us both to be in the Shepherds, so she led us to the group’s personal garrison and introduced us to a few members before settling Robin and me in. I saw Lady Maribelle there, you probably remember her (I’m a bit surprised she recognized me though). I also met this pegasus knight, Sumia, who knows Tia! And there was this coarse axe-wielder named Vaike. You’ll never guess who else was there: Kellam! He was just as pleasantly surprised to see me as I him. I got to catch up with him a bit tonight at dinner, and he knows this apothecary in the city who needs an assistant. If we really wanted to move to the capital, I could work for the Shepherds and you could get a better salary in the job Kellam told me about. You’ll have to let me know what you think when we meet up.

“Frederick came back and asked for volunteers for a mission to Regna Ferox to ask the Khans for help. Then he dragged me off to a meeting with the council to get what information I know about the Risen. Maribelle’s dad was there, and he supported me, but the rest of the council was weirdly suspicious of me, especially when I revealed what I knew about the Risen. Frederick announcing to them that he thought I was the missing Prince Chrom really didn’t help matters at all. Fortunately Emmeryn’s scribe took the info down, but the council was too petty and focused on the wrong things to do anything well. To be fair, I was very stressed at the time, but when I came in they were arguing over what to call the Risen. The ridiculousness! Suffice it to say that I am very glad I’m not the prince. Maybe it’s selfish, but maybe it’s not—I certainly wouldn’t want him to deal with such lousy people (Avignon not included).

“I came back to the barracks and had dinner (Sumia’s an amazing cook, by the way, so I’ve been well-fed), then Robin led me to the dorms. He and I are sharing one; Frederick apparently wanted me in this room he’s had reserved for the prince, but Lissa dealt with my paperwork before he could. She also got me stationery and writing tools! I have her to thank for being able to write this letter, really. I realize it’s become quite lengthy, but I’ve kind of been through a lot the past few days.

“Know that at the time of this letter, I am safe and unharmed and among friends. Since Frederick is so insistent on my supposed true status, he’ll most likely assign me to the mission to East Ferox. If I’m not here in the capital when you arrive, I’m most likely there or on my way there. I don’t know how long the mission will take, but it would be nice to meet up with you there and introduce you to my new friends. I’ll be thinking about you and trying to stay out of trouble as best I can.

“All my love,

“Chrom.”

Grima smiled as he finished off the letter. His baby was safe for now—well, had been—and Frederick, human as he was, admittedly wouldn’t let any harm come to the one he believed to be the prince. Which is hilariously ironic, but of course I can’t tell them that. Maybe it’s a good sign that Chrom doesn’t want to be the prince… for now, anyway. It seems he would have to… entrust the knight to keep his sweet son safe from harm for a little while longer. Unfortunate, and far from ideal. He wondered if the knight had seen the Mark of Grima on the boy’s heart yet. If he hasn’t, I’ll just have to get there before he does. He’d probably hurt Chrom if he saw it, prince or no.

All right, East Ferox. Time to get back on the road again!

Chapter Text

“Hey, uh, Robin? Why does Lon’qu look like he’s glaring daggers at Frederick?”

“Beeeecause he is?”

“Okay, yeah, but why?”

“Oh, that’s right, you weren’t there for that,” Stahl spoke up next to the two mages. Chrom looked at him in confusion. “You didn’t come to dinner last night, so you didn’t see what happened.”

Last night? Oh… yeah, he remembered that. Robin had come up with dinner for the bluenette and ended up staying with him after the… thing… with Frederick. “What happened, then?”

“Well, you didn’t show up, so Robbie boy here decided to bring your food up to you in case you were in the middle of reading or something. Right after he left, Frederick came looking really, really dejected, and I mean, really dejected. Like I’ve never seen on him, and that’s counting all those times he found out the guys he thought were the prince weren’t.” Chrom winced. “He sat down and we asked him what happened. He said he tried to prove you were the prince by showing that you had the Brand of the Exalt on your shoulder. Except the way he went about it—tearing open your shirt?” Now the blue-haired boy shuddered. “Apparently it set off a really bad reaction from you and he had to calm you down.”

Robin frowned. “What does that have to do with Lon’qu?”

“Well, he was there hanging out with us. Basilio said the guy kind of unofficially adopted you?” Chrom nodded. “Yeah, well, when Kellam explained why you reacted the way you did—which, I gotta say, bullying sucks—Lon’qu got pissed. Now he doesn’t yell, he hisses, and it’s literally the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. He basically threatened to kill Frederick if he ever treated you like that again.”

The bluenette glanced up at the front of the convoy, where Frederick rode, and then the back, where Lon’qu and Kellam marched. “Is that why he put himself as far away from Lon’qu as he could?”

“Yep.”

“Well, that’s… very loyal of Lon’qu.” If he’s this protective towards me, whom he barely knows, how much luckier is Olivia to have him as her brother? The thought warmed Chrom’s heart. I’m glad he’s with the Shepherds.

Robin craned his head back towards Chrom. “Did your shirt ever get fixed?”

“Yeah! Frederick did it, he felt really bad about the way he treated me last night.” The mage-healer grinned. Frederick had entered his room that morning while the boy was checking his stuff over to ensure he had everything packed. The knight had shifted his feet, hands held behind his back.

“I’m afraid no apology can make up for the damage I caused last night, but at the very least I have mended your shirt as restitution. I hope the work is acceptable; I may have taken some… artistic liberties.” So saying, he held out the clean, folded up shirt. Chrom took it and unfolded it, holding it up. The knight had folded back and sewn down the torn edges of the tears, leaving two identical V-shaped cutouts on either shoulder. He had then cut and sewn small holes along the edges of these cutouts, through which he’d threaded silken blue strands. The result—matching laced-up V-shaped cutouts on either shoulder of the shirt—seemed to enhance the shirt and make it more stylish.

Chrom gasped. “Frederick, this… it looks wonderful! I-I-I can’t thank you enough!” He hugged the shirt to his chest, tearing up.

“I am glad to see it is satisfactory to you, milor—Chrom. Chrom. My apologies.”

“I-It’s okay, Frederick, I forgive you.” Chrom clutched the shirt close one more time before folding it up and packing it into his satchel.

“I like what he did with it, it looks much more unique than it did before.”

“Can I see?”

Chrom rolled his eyes. “Robin, you saw it when I was changing this morning!” The albino cackled. “You’re evil, you know that? Pure evil.”

“Don’t let Freddy know, he’d be onto me even more than he is in an instant.”

The bluenette sighed, then laughed. Weird Robin may be, but he was also a good man, and his antics cheered up the younger mage. “I appreciate you messing around with me, Robin, you’re fun to be around.”

“Seconded,” remarked Stahl.

At that point Lissa called for a break, and the Shepherds moved to a grassy plain just off the Northroad. The mage duo dismounted and led their horse to a nearby stream where the other cavaliers set their horses up as well. Rations left packs and everyone spread out on the grass to enjoy lunch. Chrom sat between Robin and Kellam, the latter having taken off some of his armor and laid it beside him. Sully, Stahl, and Lissa chatted with Vaike; Virion told a rousing romantic tale to Sumia and an uninterested Miriel; and off to the side, Frederick swept the path, clearing it of pebbles.

“Hey, you.” Kellam nudged his shoulder. “How are you doing today?”

“I’m better now.” Chrom took a bite of his sandwich, chewed, and swallowed. “Frederick made up for it, so we’re good in my book.”

“If you say so. I’m still keeping an eye out for you.”

The bluenette laughed. “Thanks.” He paused. “Um, Stahl said you explained why I had my panic attack? What did you tell the others, exactly?”

“As little as I could.” Kellam took a swig of his water. “Basically said you had a bad experience when we were younger and our peers beat you up for it. Money’s always been tight for you and your dad, and they made it worse by vandalizing your stuff. The other guys got the idea pretty quick.”

“Oh. Thanks, Kell.” Chrom gave him a grateful smile.

“Lon’qu wants to murder Frederick, by the way, since he sees you like a little brother or something now.”

“Yes, I know.” The blue-haired mage shook his head, chuckling.

The myrmidon himself came up to the group, having scouted the perimeter of the temporary camp, and sat down in front of Chrom with his food. He directed his intense, dark gaze straight into the bluenette’s eyes. “You all right?”

“Y-Yeah, I am,” the boy stammered. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“Good,” the Chon’sin man grunted, biting into his rice roll.

“Um, but please don’t kill Frederick, okay? Maybe he sort of started it with the whole ‘you’re the prince of Ylisse’ thing, but we were kind of both yelling at each other before he acted and I p-panicked.” Chrom waved his hands when the swordsman’s eyes darkened. “I asked for proof! Now, maybe he could’ve gone about it differently, but I just wanted to know why he was so certain.”

Lon’qu frowned, thoughtful.

“So please don’t kill him, okay? Gods only know he’s beating himself up for this. I know he said something about a promise—he’s pretty desperate to find the lost prince. He means well, he just didn’t do well in this case. He won’t do it again, okay?”

“… If you say so.” Lon’qu nodded at him. “I’ll give him another chance.”

“Thank you. That’s all I ask for.”

He was definitely going to outlaw bandits when he ascended to his rightful godhood and installed Chrom as his High Priest.

Grima glanced down at the remains of the brigand group in disgust. “You know, if your kind didn’t keep throwing themselves at me, you’d all be much more successful in the long run. Do you all just have a death wish or something?” No response. “I mean, come on, this is pathetic.” Silence. “Aaaaaaand I’m talking to a bunch of corpses. Congratulations, Grima, you’ve finally cracked.”

The Fell Dragon sighed and returned to the forest path where he’d left Eugene tied up. He’d tried a different tactic this time: running away from the bandit squad. Unfortunately, they’d dogged him every step of the way and he’d veered too far off of the Northroad before he finally had enough and wiped them out anyway. Now the sun had almost set and he needed to find shelter and food for both him and the bay. The lights of a nearby town caught his eye, and he urged his steed on towards the settlement.

He arrived in Northshire, according to the welcome sign, right when dusk settled in. Finding an inn took only a minute, and soon he was in a cute little cream-colored room accented with mahogany furnishings, a hot meal of pork hash and greens sitting on the coffee table. As Grima dug in, he took the letter from Chrom out and studied it. It’d been dated several days before he’d received it, and the delaying of the information worried the albino. Yesterday evening he’d felt a tremendous amount of fear and panic from the boy’s end of the pact-bond. He’d tried to narrow his little blueberry’s location through the surge of emotion, but the overwhelming feelings coming through muddied his perception and he only got a vague sense that the boy was northwest from him. After some time the fear-terror-help-stop had calmed down into shaky-tired-better, leaving the boy’s signature too weak to track. Grima glared at the letter as the memory returned.

He was fine. He was fine! What happened?! Who set off one of his panic attacks?!

The dragon wondered if it had been one of the Shepherds. Except Kellam was there with them, and he would know how to avoid Chrom’s pressure points. So unless the black-haired boy went and used those against his sweet blueberry, Chrom should’ve been safe. While realistically Grima knew Kellam would protect his son, it didn’t hurt to be over-cautious (after all, Tia had, even though she hadn’t meant it, broken the poor boy’s heart).

And now he had strayed too far off course. Grima growled, stabbing his food harder than necessary. If it had been one of the Shepherds, Chrom would still be horrified if the albino tried to kill the culprit. Good thing he had a back-up. The Fell Dragon smirked, remembering when he’d taken revenge on the horrible teens who bullied Chrom after the Risen Sarah disaster. A few terrifying nightmares of death, destruction, and his dragon form would do the trick. Already he felt better at the thought!

And if it wasn’t a Shepherd, he’d kill them anyway.

I can’t wait to see their frightened faces and hear their screams… Oh, Chrom, my sweet blueberry muffin, don’t worry. Daddy’s coming to make it better!

Ylisstol sent Chrom’s heart racing the moment he saw it. Finally, I can leave and find my father! The Shepherds returned to the garrison in high spirits, everyone unpacking and unwinding after the success of a mission accomplished. The bluenette passed a slightly peppier Frederick in the dorm hallway and gave him a kind smile, to which the knight relaxed just a bit. Chrom entered his and Robin’s room and set his pack on his bunk while the albino ran around putting his stuff away.

“You know, you never know when you’re going to be sent off on a mission. It could be at any moment.”

The platinum-head gave him a flat look. “Yeah, and I just got done leading you all through Risen ambushes, a violent misunderstanding at the Longfort, and a Feroxi tournament, I think I’m allowed to relax.”

Chrom laughed. “I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, just be prepared. I mean, we got roped into one about the moment we came here—“

“Tactician.” Robin pointed at himself. “Possibly lost prince.” He pointed at Chrom. “It’s obvious.”

“Well, yeah, but still.”

“Somebody’s chipper today.”

“Hey, can you blame me? I want to see my dad! Come on, let’s go ask the guards if he’s here yet.”

Amused, Robin followed the bluenette out of the garrison and over to the castle where the younger mage inquired about his father. The duo didn’t meet with success until they asked the contingent at the front gate. But,

“What?! What do you mean, he left for Ferox?!”

The captain on duty shrugged in apology. “That’s what he told us, sir. He said he was on his way to meet up with you there.”

“I-I don’t understand! When did he get my letter?”

The guards glanced at each other. “I delivered it to him right when I got it a couple of days ago,” one volunteered. “The lieutenant who gave it to me said there’d been a big misunderstanding—“

“Only two days?! Oh, gods.” Chrom buried his face in his hands in frustration. “I wrote that letter over a week ago, and he’s heading to Ferox now? Why didn’t we pass him on the road, that would’ve made it so much easier… ughhhh.” He gave a long sigh before looking back up at the guards. “Is there any way we can reach him?”

“Well, you’d have to go back to Ferox for that.” The captain hung his head. “Sorry, sir, I know we messed up big time.”

“I-It’s all right.”

“Maybe you could write him another letter and have one of these guys give it to him when he comes back?” Robin offered.

“Robin, the idea is that I won’t need to because we’ll be in the same place at the same time.”

“Still.” The albino grinned. “Remember what you said earlier? We could be deployed at any moment~!”

Chrom glared at him. “… I hate you.”

“I have a point, though.”

“Yeah… you do. All right, then. Captain, in the event that I end up leaving before my father returns, would you please send the message I’ll give you to him? Preferably with all haste?”

The captain saluted. “Yes, sir! You can count on us! I will alert the other shifts so they know what to do!”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

The two mages made their way back to the garrison, where they ran into Miriel. The redheaded mage regarded them both with interest. “Can I perhaps intrigue you in continuing our conversation and experiments regarding your case of apparent retrograde amnesia, Robin, and the magical and scientific development and properties of your tome, Chrom?”

The two looked at each other and shrugged. Hey, might as well, they had nothing better to do.

“Don’t say it. Do not say ‘I told you so.’”

“Hey, I’m just as annoyed about this as you are,” Robin replied. “I mean, Gangrel’s a nutcase if he thinks a Shepherd attacked his border without provocation. Isn’t that against the Shepherd code of conduct or something? Plus, Maribelle really struck me at the type to be a rule-follower, sooooo…”

Chrom sighed. “This whole thing is ridiculous. Why would he lie about who started it? Is he trying to get a rise out of Ylisse or something?”

The white-haired mage shrugged, clasping his hands behind his head as he walked. “Dunno. I mean, Frederick seems to really not like Plegia, so maybe there’s something to it?”

“Ylisse doesn’t like Plegia as a rule,” the bluenette pointed out, kicking a pebble along the road. “The council I dealt with before Ferox was pretty racist—except for Avignon.” Robin gave him a blank look. “Maribelle’s dad. He’s the duke of Themis,” he clarified.

Speaking of Themis, the Shepherds had been sent to the border between the two Archanean countries to mediate and to rescue Maribelle. According to Ylissean intelligence, the dukedom had been attacked by Plegian soldiers and Lady Avignon had been captured while protecting her city. A squadron of pegasus knights came along to protect the Exalt, who had made clear her determination to broker peace. Studying the stiffness in Lissa’s shoulders, however, told Chrom this wouldn’t end well. He sighed again and adjusted his fingerless gloves, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Before long, the party reached the meeting point. Two figures, one in a horrendous black, white, and yellow costume, the other in a skimpy black getup, leered down from their vantage point upon a short cliff just off the road. The man could only be Gangrel, but Chrom frowned in confusion at the woman. Maybe she was his advisor?

Gangrel sneered down at the Ylisseans. “What is this, my darling? Has the Exalt herself made an appearance here? How blinding her radiance! Bwahahahaha!” He cackled at his own joke. Emmeryn stood firm and ignored his behavior.

“I have come here, your Highness, to uncover the truth of the unfortunate incident that took place. I wish to understand what happened between us.”

“Is that so?” simpered the brown-skinned woman. “Well, I can certainly give you the truth. Oh, but pardon me, I must introduce myself. My name is Aversa. I am King Gangrel’s right-hand woman.”

Guess I was right, then.

Emmeryn nodded at her in acknowledgement. “Miss Aversa, I must ask, is Maribelle unharmed?”

“The little blonde brat?” The king smirked. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Chrom glanced up and beheld the prim Shepherd on a higher cliff with a Plegian soldier, her hands tied. Her face was red, probably from the indignity of being a prisoner. “Unhand me this instant, you lily-livered, lowbrow, dastardly gutter-born troglodyte fodder!” Beside him, Robin covered his mouth, a snort of amusement leaking through. The bluenette shook his head.

The negotiations only deteriorated from there. Aversa claimed that Maribelle had crossed the border without permission and then attacked the Plegian soldiers who escorted her back (Maribelle called her a liar for that). The seductive advisor used the blonde cavalier’s outbursts as “proof” of her guilt. Then Gangrel accused her of being an Ylissean spy. Back and forth it went, with Lissa growing more and more frustrated, until the desert king demanded the Fire Emblem as restitution. At this, Chrom frowned, deep in thought. From his schooling he’d learned about the magical shield that had been used to protect the world from threats all the way back to Marth’s time. Maybe Plegia had suffered in the past from the Fell Dragon and wanted to share in Ylisse’s protection? Perhaps Ylisse could devise an agreement where the two countries would hold custody of the shield with it going back and forth every few years? It seemed to him the best way to avoid a war.

Except then Gangrel announced he wanted every last Ylissean dead. The bluenette facepalmed. Racist much? Guess that’s what war does, you grow to hate the opposite side. What did the previous Exalt ever do to you?

… What did the previous Exalt do to you?!

Chrom shivered when he heard the Mad King’s accusations. If even half of the things he said were true, the previous Exalt would be as much to blame as Gangrel for this mess. No wonder his son disappeared, I know I wouldn’t want a guy like that for my father. Thank goodness I have Dad.

“That’s enough, your Graceliness! Consider these negotiations over! I will have the Fire Emblem, and if I have to pry it from your shiny dead hands, so be it!”

“Uh-oh.” Robin put a hand on his tome holster, and Chrom copied his motion as three Plegian soldiers advanced on the group. Up in front, Lissa stood guarding Emmeryn, but when one got too close, she cut him down!

“If you want to live, don’t come any closer!” she hollered at the dead soldier’s fellows.

Gangrel cackled again. “That sounds like a declaration of war to me… a bloody bloodbath that will bleed Ylisse dry! Bwaaaahahahaha!”

The bluenette craned his head as Aversa went over to Maribelle and spoke to her, though he couldn’t make out what the two were saying. While the other Shepherds drew their weapons and the Plegian soldiers readied theirs, a sudden gust of Wind sent the bandit guarding the blonde noble flying! Chrom’s eyes widened as a young mage ran up to Maribelle and blasted Aversa back before grabbing his fellow Shepherd’s hand and running. “Robin! There’s a mage kid who rescued Maribelle and needs to get the both of them out! Up on the cliff! Aversa’s after them!”

“Ricken’s here?!” Lissa yelled. “I told him to stay back and guard the garrison!”

“Well, good thing he didn’t listen!” the albino sniped back. “Miriel and Frederick, I need you over there extracting Maribelle and Ricken! The rest of you, advance on the forts in your formations!”

“Wait, Robin!” Chrom rushed after his friend. “Aversa’s over there, let me go and get them! I don’t know about the others, but I have the most experience with dark magic out of all of us! I know how to counter it effectively, plus Maribelle’s given me pointers with a Rescue staff before! Let me extract them!”

Robin gave him a measuring look, then nodded. “Aaron!” he called to the Shepherd’s grizzled quartermaster. “Get Chrom a Rescue staff ASAP! Miriel and Frederick, I need you to watch Chrom’s back! He’s going to get Ricken and Maribelle out! Gods, I hope you know what you’re doing, Chrom,” he muttered.

“Me too,” the bluenette murmured as he switched out his Heal staff for the Rescue.

The mage-healer charged up the hill, slamming Umbra this way and that into the Plegian’s ranks. Miriel and Frederick fired and slashed away right behind him. As Chrom reached the cliff, he found Ricken stumbling to a stop near the edge, Maribelle beside him. While the knight and other mage defended the bluenette’s back, Chrom reached out with the Rescue and focused his energy on Maribelle, feeding his power into the staff and cycling the ambient magic into his reserves like he’d been taught. A moment later he opened his eyes to find Maribelle standing beside him.

“Ricken’s still in trouble!” she cried. The boy lost his footing and tumbled over the edge! Chrom pushed the staff into the troubadour’s hands and concentrated, gathering his power and sending a gust of Elwind upward underneath the younger mage. The blast of air slowed his fall, and he landed on his feet in front of the bluenette.

Maribelle glanced at the mage-healer in bewilderment. “You can cast without a tome?!”

“Fight now, logistics later!” Chrom snapped. “Miriel! Frederick! Get these two out of here, I’ll cover for you!”

The group chopped and spelled their way back to the Ylissean envoy, but Chrom found himself falling behind trying to protect the other’s backs. When he turned back around to join the four, a black pegasus flew down and blocked his path. Its rider, Aversa, smirked at him.

“Lost, little boy?” she mocked. “You know, I remember seeing a picture of the previous Exalt. He looked a lot like you at your age.”

“So I’ve been told. Now get out of my way.”

“I don’t think so.” She took out a dark purple leather-bound tome. “Do you know how much leverage we could hold against Ylisse if we captured you and said we had her missing prince?”

Chrom readied Umbra. “Too bad they already know I’m not him!”

“It won’t make a difference! Ruin!”

“Umbra!”

The shadowy Umbra spell locked onto the Ruin one and swallowed it up. Aversa paled. “What?! How do you know dark magic?! Nobody in Ylisse teaches it!”

“That’s where you’re wrong! My father taught me everything I know about it! He helped me develop my personal tome to the best of our abilities!” The bluenette readied another spell. “Say hello to Umbra, second edition!”

“Wha—argh!” The white-haired woman leapt out of her way as her pegasus caught the full brunt of the blast and slumped to the ground. “Y-You wretched little—how dare you! Nocta is my dearest friend!” She threw another Ruin spell at the boy, but he countered it with Umbra again. “I’ll kill you for killing her, you slimy little brat!”

“Someone’s not very observant,” Chrom muttered as he blew another Ruin apart.

“I heard that!”

“Chrom! You need to get out of there, we’re retreating! You’re blocked in!” Robin’s voice bellowed over the battlefield din. Sure enough, the Plegian witch had driven him up against the same cliff from which he’d Rescued Ricken and Maribelle. Aversa advanced on him, throwing Ruin spells at him as fast as he could, while he batted them back with Umbra. The woman’s face held an ugly snarl as she fought.

“I’ll kill you, pathetic brat, don’t think you can get away!”

Chrom kept up, heart pounding in his ears. I have to get out of here, but the moment I turn my back she’ll kill me! Wait, I don’t have the Rescue staff, I gave it to Maribelle! W-What do I— In his mind’s eye, the diagrams for his father’s teleportation spells manifested. But if I try that, there’s no telling what’ll happen! I could be killed! But it might be my only chance—I have to take the risk! I don’t have time for anything else! He forced the pact-bond as wide open as it would go, drawing on Dad’s power for support. Calling up a visual of the plains just outside the border pass, Chrom focused all of his power and pulled.

The furious visage of the Plegian advisor fell away as his surroundings darkened and blurred. Pain spiked through his head and nausea swirled in his gut. His heart thudded too quickly in his chest. Then, after an infinite second, the scene resolved around him into the grassy plains, the Ylissean delegation several feet away from him. Robin sped toward him, shouting, but he couldn’t make out the words… His tome slipped from his numb fingers… His body lurched… The horizon swayed…

He slipped into darkness before his body hit the ground.

Grima stiffened. For a moment, the pact-bond had opened further than it’d ever had and Chrom had pulled on his power. It snapped shut before he could get a lock on his son. The Fell Dragon gasped and shuddered.

Chrom?! Chrom! Not again!

He roared and threw his teacup into the fire where it smashed into jagged fragments. Then he flipped the coffee table over and stomped on it, cracking it. The nearby inkwell went flying against the wall, shattering and leaving a giant black splatter. A picture frame was torn down and tossed into the mirror, cracking it and the frame’s glass. The sheets on the bed got torn into shreds. The dresser was upended. A porcelain figure on the mantle exploded against the headboard. The oil lamp on the nightstand was smashed into the furniture piece.

After several minutes of raging, Grima slumped in the middle of his demolished inn room. He gazed out at the destruction with an empty, aching heart.

My son… My son…

He fell to his knees and bowed his head, bottom lip quivering. A few tears leaked out onto his cheeks and he swiped at them, sniffling.

The door creaked open. “Is everything all—right…” Stifling a sob, the albino looked up into the stunned face of the innkeeper. “What… what happened here?”

Grima scrubbed at his face, wiping away more tears. “I-I just… Don’t worry about it.” His voice quavered. “I’ll r-replace everyth-thing.”

“O-Okay…” The plump woman wrung her hands. “Is, um… is there anything I can get for you, sir?”

The dragon gave a watery scoff. “Unless ‘anything’ includes my missing son, no, not right now.”

“Okay, then…”

After the woman left, he sighed and extended his magic. Shards, rags, fragments—all flew through the air in a whirl, piecing themselves back together under the Fell Dragon’s power until everything had been restored as if nothing had happened. Grima clutched his aching head. The amount of power he’d had to expend to fix everything… Yeah, I’m not doing that ever again. Slipping off his boots and coat, he stumbled toward the bed and fell face first into a dreamless sleep.

Walking around Everdale, a town in Northwest Ylisse near the Northroad, helped clear the albino’s mind a bit after his impromptu nap. The Longfort lay a few hours ahead, and if he got started soon, he might make it there before nightfall. How much longer is he going to be in Ferox? Are the negotiations going well? I hope I’m not too late.

The cool air this far up north felt refreshing on Grima’s skin. He closed his eyes and lifted his face up to the sky, drinking the feeling in.

All right, time to head back to the inn and pack up.

But when he turned around, he found a very familiar mop of blue hair only a few feet away in his vision! Grima blinked once, then twice, then, “Chrom!” He ran over to the blue-haired person and swept them up in a hug. “Chrom, you’re okay, you’re safe! Oh, I’ve been so worried about you, worried sick, you hear? Sick! They’ve been feeding you properly, yes?” He cradled the bluenette’s head to his chest. “We’re not going back to Middlefield, I’m afraid, not if they were able to find you like that—we’ll go to Valm, I’m sure you’ll love it there! You loved it last time, I know! Just let me know who set off your panic attack and I’ll deal with them!”

The young man squeaked unintelligible gibberish. Grima stroked his hair. “It’s all right, now, Chrom, you’re safe, okay?”

When the youth continued muttering under his breath, the albino frowned and pressed the boy closer to him. “… let go let go let go let go let…” Confused, he clasped the boy’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. His blue eyes. His blue unmarked left eye and his blue Branded right eye.

“Wait, you’re not Chrom. You’re Inigo.”

Chrom’s son from the future flinched and curled away from him. Grima blinked. “Are you okay?”

Inigo’s chest rose and fell in quick little heaves. The boy lifted his timid gaze to meet the older man’s red orbs. “… a-are you R-Robin or G-Grima?”

“Robin died the moment I took over—“

“L-Let go…” The teen struggled in his arms. Grima sighed.

“Let me get one thing straight: I’m not going to hurt you. I am looking for your father because he was taken away. If you help me, I will make sure you stay in a safe place.” Inigo stopped struggling. “I love Chrom, and you’re a part of him. I’ll protect you, all right?”

The boy bit his lip and studied his face. Then he glanced down and nodded.

“Excellent. Come with me, I know a place where you can get a good meal into you.”

The two returned to the inn and Grima ordered dinner brought up to their room. He waited until Inigo finished his meal before broaching the conversation. “How long have you been here? In this timeline, I mean?”

“Ab-About six months.” The shy eighteen-year-old eyed him. “Why are you doing this? Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

“What? I told you: because I love Chrom and you’re a piece of him.”

“If you loved him, then why did you kill him?”

What?

The memory of the moment he took over Robin’s body for the first time flashed in his mind. They’d just defeated Validar and Chrom had helped Robin up when the Fell Dragon received control of the mage’s body. He’d conjured up a spear of lightning and-and he’d—he’d—No… no, no, no, no, no, I-I did that?! I hurt him, my… my son?! His imagination replaced the image of the other Chrom with his Chrom. No… I didn’t—!

I did… I did, and it’s all my fault!

Grima wailed in despair, his face buried in his hands and tear streaks running down his face. He sobbed, anguish and regret and guilt rolling over in waves until he felt like he might drown. That Chrom hadn’t been his Chrom… except it had. The boy’s character hadn’t changed—he’d just grown to care for him. Oh, Chrom… Oh, Chrom… Oh, my son… I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I failed you, my sweet blueberry, I failed you…

“R-Robin?”

Inigo’s voice broke through the albino’s moping. He sighed. “Not Robin.” Scrubbing at his tearstained face, he sniffled and regarded the boy. “You’re right, I… I did k-kill him. Oh, gods…”

“Um… if-if it’s any consolation, that was the other timeline.” The little bluenette offered a handkerchief to Grima, who took it and cleaned up his face. “He hasn’t died yet… has he?”

The man snorted. “Of course he hasn’t, I’ve been keeping him alive. Gods only know how he made it through the first timeline,” he muttered.

“When you say ‘keeping him alive’—“

“I haven’t hurt him.” Grima looked him in the eye. “I have never, and I swear this upon my very soul, I have never allowed harm to come to Chrom Lowell by my hand.” His eyes hardened. “And anyone whom I could not protect him from, I paid back their transgression tenfold. I have slaughtered countless bandit groups all because they harmed a hair on his head. That is why I am looking for him: he went missing and I am going to get him back.”

“I-I don’t understand,” the boy stammered. “If you really are Grima, then why do you care so much about him?”

“Because I’ve spent the last fifteen years raising him as my own son, why else?”

“Fifteen years?!” Inigo shrieked. “Why haven’t you destroyed the world yet?!”

“… I was busy raising your father as a single parent? I, who had never even gotten near a small child before then?”

“B-But why—he would’ve been four—why didn’t you kill him?!”

“I…” Grima frowned, thinking back to that fateful day. “Well, I mean, like I said, I’d never gotten to see a small child before. I think at first I was too shocked to do anything about it… although I did think he was extremely cute. You know, I’m not sure why I didn’t kill him immediately, I guess it just felt too wrong even for me. I do have standards, you know.” A fond smile crept onto his face. “He was quite sweet at that age… and terribly selfless even then.”

Inigo gaped at him for several seconds. “… Can you just start at the beginning and tell me everything that happened?”

How the boy hadn’t fainted by the time the dragon had finished his tale, Grima honestly did not know, but the little bluenette looked about to keel over, blanched white, eyes filled with horror, tiny shivers running through his slender body. The boy stared openmouthed at the albino, petrified terror filling his scent. Grima sighed and, making slow movements so as not to startle the child, slipped out of his seat and lifted the boy into his arms. He cradled the teen close and murmured soothing sounds that had always helped Chrom calm down from a panic attack or nightmare, gently rocking him back and forth. Eventually the boy relaxed in his arms and curled up closer to him.

“Better?”

“The Fell Dragon is my adoptive grandfather.” Inigo gave a hysteric giggle. “I am very much not better.”

“Inigo. How many times—I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to protect you. And before you ask ‘why when last time we were on opposite sides,’ it’s because—“

“I’m my dad’s son,” he finished, “and you love my dad as if he were your own son.”

“Yeah.”

Inigo breathed a shuddery sigh. “I-I’m… I’m going to need some time to process all this…”

“Of course. Take your time. In the meantime, will you travel with me? I’ve been saying Robin’s my twin whenever people ask me about my relation to him, so you could do the same thing with your dad. I mean, you’re only a year younger than him and I’m sure if we explained things a certain way he’d be happy to cover for you.”

“Um… okay. I s-suppose that could work. Where are you heading next?”

“Ferox, I was hoping to get to the Longfort tonight, but clearly that’s not going to happen,” the albino snarked. “We’ll stay the night tonight and then head there tomorrow morning.”

“Okay. That sounds good.” The boy glanced up at him, then down at his arms. “Um, you can put me down now, I’m okay.”

Grima set him down on his feet… and then glomped on him again. “Mini blueberry!”

“Kyah!”

“Sorry, sorry!”

Most people were afraid of the dark. But when your dad literally was the dark, as he’d stated about himself before, you didn’t have anything to be afraid of. Or at least, Chrom didn’t. The dark meant warmth, protection, safety. He’d glimpsed his father’s dragon form in the dark, enormous black feathers sweeping around him like a fatherly embrace. He enjoyed the sensation of just… being in the void, floating along without a care in the world.

There was… soft cloth underneath his fingers. A fluffy cushion holding up his body. The scent of clean linen. Warmth on his face. Low voices drifting nearby. A pillow under his head. A pain in his head. A churning in his gut. A sour, herbal taste in his mouth. Light on the other side of his eyelids.

Chrom opened his eyes and beheld the whitewashed ceiling above him. Nearby, the voices grew louder, more urgent. Cloth rustled and footsteps sounded as they drew closer. A blob of light gold filled his vision.

“You’re awake! Finally. I thought you’d be comatose for at least a week considering the extreme mana exhaustion you put yourself through!”

“… Maribelle?” the teen rasped. He coughed, and someone eased him up into a sitting position, putting a cup to his lips. He sipped the cool water inside as the troubadour continued her tirade.

“Near-complete mana depletion, do you hear me? Do you have any idea how serious that is? You could have permanently burned out your mana supply, which would mean you’d never be able to wield magic again! Do you know what you did? You attempted a self-Rescue, which is not something the staff is meant for in the first place, but without the actual staff! How you didn’t accidentally splice or kill yourself, I haven’t a clue. Thank Naga your mana regeneration is a bit above average, it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to your magic right now!”

“Yeesh, Maribelle, go easy on the guy, he literally felt he had no other option at that point.”

“R-Robin?” Chrom’s voice steadied after he finished the water. The albino glanced down at him, a dangerous smile playing on his lips.

“Although if you had waited long enough, I could’ve gotten a few of the Shepherds to get Aversa off your back.”

The bluenette winced. “Sorry. You told me to get out and I followed orders.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have gotten to the point of utterly and completely exhausting yourself.”

Chrom sighed. “If Dad finds out, I’ll never hear the end of this, I’ve never suffered burnout this bad since I was seven.”

“What were you doing at age seven?”

“Trying to learn my first Wind spell.”

“You were seven?!” Maribelle gaped. “No one ever starts learning magic that young! When did you learn how to use a Heal staff?”

“… When I was four?”

“What?!”

Chrom coughed, giving them a weak grin. “Hey, I thought it was cool and I wanted to help people. Dad was all for it. He taught me how to use my power to the best of his abilities. In fact, it was his teleportation spell I tried pulling off to escape—although I wish he’d help me learn how to do it beforehand. And all the other spells in his spellbook.”

“Y-Y-You performed a teleportation spell in the middle of a battlefield without ever having tried it before?!” Maribelle’s left eye twitched. “How are you even alive?!”

“Well, like you said, it’s all thanks to my ‘mana regeneration,’ as you called it—“

“That’s the official terminology—!”

“Because Dad made absolutely sure I had good replenishing techniques and could do them without having to concentrate in preparation for casting without a tome.”

“You can cast without a tome!” Maribelle shrieked. “That’s the other thing, what on Naga’s green earth did you think you were doing?!”

Chrom shrugged. “It was just Elwind.”

“‘It’s just Elwind,’ he says!” The blonde noblewoman threw her hands up in the air. “What is wrong with you?! You don’t cast without a tome unless you have years upon years of practice casting with tomes beforehand! The youngest human to cast without a tome was recorded to have been forty years old! You’re only nineteen!”

The bluenette held his finger up. “I was fourteen when I first completed Umbra.”

“Fourteen—!” Maribelle’s mouth opened and closed, her face bright red and eyes wide.

Robin cackled. “Chrom, you’re a genius. You only have to say the truth about your magic to send Maribelle into a conniption fit.”

Chrom gave him a flat look. “I have no idea how you’re supposed to learn magic, I was under the impression my education was fairly standard—if a bit more vigorous, considering my subpar talent.”

“Subpar—!”

“W-Well, I have to study harder to make up for the fact that I’m not as much of a natural at magic as the other mages!” the bluenette said, confused.

“Not a nat—who told you that?! I’m going to box them over their ears!” Maribelle got up and swept out of the infirmary. Then she whirled back in. “You’re on bed rest for one week while you recover! Low-grade magic spells for two weeks after that!”

Chrom blinked. “So El-level spells, then?”

The blonde squawked in outrage before fleeing again.

Robin quirked an eyebrow at his younger friend. “You know, being an amnesiac and all, I’m not an authority on what the typical magical curriculum looks like, but I’m fairly certain yours was meant for genius-level mages.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

He’d fled. He hadn’t used Warp Powder. Who was this child?!

Aversa growled while she brushed Nocta’s mane. To her tremendous shock and relief, the pegasus had survived that Umbra spell with no apparent harm whatsoever except some exhaustion. The witch couldn’t fathom it. Who would use dark magic to make such a harmless spell?! Apparently this Plegian-raised Ylissean boy, of all people! Who was his father?! Aversa very much wanted to introduce him to Goetia!

The woman snarled. Surely he had to be that missing prince. Plegia would gain the most wonderful bargaining chip with him in their hands. Her snarl turned into a sly grin. Father was going to carry out the mission to assassinate the Exalt soon on their lord Grima’s orders… surely then would be the perfect time to snatch him. A pity she had her own mission with Gangrel ongoing. Ah, well, that didn’t stop her from… visiting the boy every once in a while.

I’d like to learn more about this “father” of yours, little blue brat. He could prove quite a useful addition to our ranks, heheheh…

Chapter Text

Grima hated snow.

Being a dragon, and thus a cold-blooded creature, he’d always found comfort in the desert of Western Archanea. It’d been wonderfully warm, unlike that horrid labyrinth, and back then a specific seaside country had become his home. Besides physical warmth, this little nation had held emotional warmth in the form of a certain young ruler who had extended his kindness to the terrified and disoriented young Creation. This gentle youth had helped the dragon choose a name, shown a desire to understand him, and given his companionship to him. There, Grima had learned how to control and combat his frightening urges for the first time, and his dear royal friend had applauded his first transformation into a human form. They’d been happy together, him and his friend and his family. Nobody had felt a need to fear him then.

Until the Naga of that time forced him into a hundred-year slumber to “protect” him from the machinations of a far more dangerous dragon at that point.

Still, though, the little nation held all of the Fell Dragon’s good memories in his past. Even after it had been subsumed into Plegia, the dragon had stayed in the general area in honor of his closest friend. As such, he’d never had a need to travel to Regna Ferox of all places and thus never became accustomed to the cold, even in his human form or vessel. Maybe he was being petty on top of being tired and stressed, but killing the frozen flakes that drifted down onto his head seemed like a good idea right about now, amazing bespelled coat’s warmth notwithstanding. Although when he looked down and beheld his foster grandson’s hair and eyelashes dusted with the stuff, he couldn’t help but relent with a chuckle.

“You look like a frosted blueberry, mini one.”

“What is it with the blueberry thing, anyway?” Inigo muttered, wrapped up safely along with the albino in the large tactician coat. (The hood was big enough for only one person, hence the boy’s uncovered head. Hopefully they wouldn’t be here long, otherwise Grima would’ve gotten him a hat and gloves back in Everdale.)

The dragon laughed. “Your father asked something similar the first time I called him that. Isn’t it obvious? You both have blue hair and are very sweet.”

“Do you mean ‘sweet’ as in figuratively, or literally?”

“I’m offended that you think I would try to taste either of you. That’s just wrong. I’m not a cannibal.”

Inigo shrugged. “I had to ask. I still don’t trust you, kind of.”

Grima huffed in annoyance. “It would make things easier for both of us if you did… although I did tell you to take your time.”

“Can you blame me? I’ve been effectively told I have to make nice with the monster that’s terrorized me and my family almost my whole life.”

“That’s… fair.” The albino’s shoulders drooped. Poor little thing. Even more evidence his “burn the world” idea was the wrong one from the start. What would M—his old friend say? Except he’s dead now thanks to that cursed goddess dragon witch he worshipped. Divine, my foot. I could’ve prolonged his life if she hadn’t put me to sleep.

Great, now he was back in his previous sour mood. Why was it snow of all things that dredged up his ancient, painful memories?

“Um—Grima?”

“That’s ‘Grandfather’ or ‘Granddad’ to you, little one,” he muttered.

“A-Ah… but I-I’m not comfortable calling you that right n-now…” Inigo fidgeted with his fingers. “Um, b-but I can’t just call you ‘Grima,’ n-now that I think about it. Or Robin, either.”

Grima sighed. “The name I use here is ‘Raven.’ You can call me that until you are ready to accept your place in my family.”

“Why do you have to make it sound so ominous?!”

“Huh? I’m not trying to.”  He sighed again. “Sorry, Inigo. I’m just in a very bad mood right now. Old memories coming to mind and whatnot. You haven’t done anything wrong at all, I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.” He cuddled the boy a little closer. “I’m actually really glad you’re here. Once we get your father back, we’ll be a family together again.”

“I-I can’t! I can’t tell him I’m his son yet, he hasn’t even married yet!” The bluenette paused. “Has he married yet?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, so you understand why I can’t say anything until I’ve been born at the very least.”

“You know, there are actually plenty of different theories as to how temporal physics and laws work, we have no idea which ones apply here,” Grima pointed out.

“Yeah, Laurent’s said that before.”

They made it to the Longfort in good time, but the captain of the border guard ordered them to halt before they got any closer. “Ferox has no place for any—Robin, is that you?”

“He’s my twin,” Grima called back. “I’ve been looking for him and my son—can we maybe organize this and talk like civilized people instead of yelling at each other over a wall? We only have a spellbook and a couple steel swords on us. Inigo, throw your sword down,” he ordered, doing the same with his blade and spellbook. “Okay, now we’re unarmed.”

“There could be any manner of weapon concealed in that cloak of yours!” the captain shouted back.

“Are you people freaking kidding me?! It’s freezing out! Ugh, you might as well just arrest us and have us questioned if you’re going to be like this!”

“Throw down your—what? Arrest you?” The captain seemed to consider his words. “No brigand’s ever asked us to arrest them before. Very well, they may enter!”

Grima sighed in relief as the guards ratcheted the portcullis open. Then another thought occurred to him as he dismounted and bent down to grab their stuff. “What about your Brand?”

“It’s concealed by an illusion Naga put on my eye. It’ll come off when I need to reveal myself to my parents.”

The albino grabbed the reins and led Eugene towards the fort with Inigo still riding along. “But I saw right through it.”

“You’re a magical dragon who already knows who I am, it’s not meant for you!”

“… Point taken. I'm still going to find a better way around it after we're done here.”

Inigo merely shuddered in response.

The two were ushered into the deliciously warm fort by two lancers. When Grima asked the captain of the Longfort (Raimi, apparently) about Chrom and Robin, she frowned. “Yes, two men with those descriptions came here over a week ago with the Shepherds. They were here to ask aid of the Khans—though you understand, I cannot tell you whether they were successful. It’s a Feroxi matter and they helped us with it.”

“Okay, well, I already knew they were coming to Ferox for help, Chrom told me as much in his letter. I just want to know if we need to continue on into Ferox or go back to Ylisstol.”

“You got a letter from him?” the blonde knight inquired, confused.

The albino nodded. “I received it a few days ago, though it was dated before he left Ylisstol, which would’ve been… two or three days before he came here, I believe.”

“What I don’t quite understand is why you are so insistent on finding him. After all, he is an adult, is he not? And besides, he was with the Shepherds both times. I cannot think of a safer place for him to be in that case.”

“I…” Grima frowned, not quite knowing what to say to that. “Let’s just say I had a prophetic dream of something terrible happening to him again. I’m unfortunately prone to that kind of thing, experimenting with magic and all.” He sighed. “I guess he went back, then? They finished their mission?”

“To my knowledge, yes.”

“All right, well, thanks. You’ve been a great help.” He slung an arm around Inigo’s shoulders. “Come on, kiddo, let’s go back—“

“Wait!” one of the younger lookouts piped up. “Do you need an extra coat?”

The bluenette boy blushed at her offer. “Oh, n-no thank you, w-we’ve managed just fine…”

“Oh. All right, then…”

As they left, Grima shook his head. “Let’s get back on the road, mini blueberry. Hopefully we can catch your father this time around.”

Only his second day in the infirmary and already Chrom felt stir-crazy. Robin and Kellam visited him often to chat or give him the odd book they found in the library for him to read. Miriel also came by to ask questions about Umbra—she’d been given custody of the tome on Maribelle’s orders while the bluenette recovered. Lon’qu popped in every now and then to check on him, exchanging the occasional short conversation. Frederick pretty much avoided him altogether, though the others often came by with messages from him every so often. He likely still felt guilty over the way he’d treated the teen back in Ferox. The thought made Chrom snort. Either Frederick was a fanatic, a perfectionist, or both.

The door opened and a few of the Shepherds streamed in, looking worse for the wear. The recovering mage-healer eyed them with interest. “What happened to you all? On a mission or something?”

Lissa sighed. “We were on patrol down at the Farfort when we came across this village that had been overrun by bandits. The bandits had captured all of the villagers, so we went and dealt with them. We got lucky we had help—and a new recruit!” She brightened. “Donny, this is one of our newer members. Say hi to Chrom!”

A farm boy with curly brown hair and a bronze pot on his head shuffled in. “H-Hi there, sir. The name’s Donnel, an’ her Highnessness was kind enough ta lemme join them Shepherds, ya see. I-I thunk I could do somethin’ good ‘round here helpin’ out other folks like them bandits set upon, ya know, protectin’ them meself.”

“I know exactly what you mean, Donnel.” The bluenette gave the other teen a kind smile. “My father and I live down in Middlefield, and we’re frequently on call for the surrounding area to weed out brigands and other criminals.”

The farm boy’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Middlefield, ya say? I think I’ve heard of ya two before! Some o’ them bandits what took over my town were talkin’ about that area and how it’s done make the list o’ top hardest places ta make a livin’ thievin’ and such.” Donnel frowned. “‘Cept here ya are now, sir, an’ they’s been sayin’ the ‘Platinum Demon’ done disappeared along with—ah, tha’s what they call yer pa, sir.”

He laughed. “Chrom. Just Chrom will do fine.”

“Ah, yessir Chrom, sir.”

Chrom chuckled, then sobered. “I knew my father came up here to look for me, but in all the stress I guess I forgot that we’ve basically left our town unprotected.” He sighed. “I really need to meet up with him as soon as possible.”

Donnel fidgeted with the hem of his tunic. “Ya sure do love yer pa, don’tcha, mister Chrom sir.”

“Yes, yes, I do. He’s very protective of me.”

“Yeah? Ah, if’n ya don’ mind my askin’, mister Chrom sir, what’re you done did ta get yerself stuck in here?”

“Extreme mana exhaustion, or so Maribelle tells me,” the bluenette said as the blond troubadour swept into the room and began directing the members of the scouting group to various beds. “Basically, I used up too much of my power in one go and need to rest to recover it.”

“Yer a mage, sir?”

“That’s right.”

“Virion, sit still and don’t move, you’ll only aggravate that muscle. Sully, get off of that ankle, you’re hobbling around like a drunkard. Stahl, do not pull that out, you’ll open the wound up and it will bleed all over,” Maribelle ordered as she ran around tending to the other Shepherds. She came to a stop in front of Donnel. “Who is this?”

“Ah, I’m a new recruit here, ma’am, her Graciousness lemme come along an’ be a Shepherd with y’all.” The brunette took his pot off his head and bowed to the blonde. “Name’s Donnel, milady, an’ I’d be honored ta serve.”

Maribelle scrutinized him from head to toe. Then,

“Shoulders back, chin up, tuck in your stomach.” Confused, Donnel obeyed. “Well, you might not look like much… but you certainly have potential… Hmm…” She turned and walked off to work on her other patients. Bewildered, the farm boy glanced at Chrom.

“Um, mister Chrom sir? What was that jus’ now?”

Chrom smirked. “Well, I might not know her terribly well, but I think Maribelle just approved of you.”

“You are going to get in so much trouble for this, Chrom.”

The two friends strode along the moonlit main pathway of the palace gardens, passing a torchlit arch every several meters. Up in the heavens, the stars and waning crescent of the moon shimmered with a benevolent glow. Robin held an arm around his fellow mage’s shoulders as the bluenette kept up a slow pace. Chrom breathed in the fresh air and gazed up at the sparkling night sky, smiling. “Thank you for sneaking me out, I couldn’t stand to be in there another minute.”

The platinum-head snorted. “You couldn’t last three days in the infirmary? How long did it take for you to recover from your last worst case of burnout?”

“Um, about a week or so? Dad made me rest every day, but he also had me do some light exercise each day as well after he saw how antsy I got. Laying in bed all day without at least getting up and walking around a bit is torture.”

“Maribelle is going to kill us both if she finds out I snuck you out.”

The mage-healer chuckled. “She’s going to almost kill us both, heal us, and then do it again over and over until she’s satisfied. Dad sometimes threatens to do that to people—not in their presence—only he says he’ll kill them, resurrect them, and repeat.”

“You know, if you didn’t turn out so well, I’d say your dad has a bit of a sadistic streak.”

“You have no idea. You want sadistic, watch him tear up a bandit pack after one of them gives me a light scratch.”

“Wow.”

“Mm-hm.”

The two continued their stroll in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Chrom spoke again. “Remember what Gangrel said about the previous Exalt at the border pass?”

Robin groaned. “I’d rather not. Something about how he was the instigator of the last conflict?”

“Yeah…” The bluenette sighed. “I’ve been reading those history books you found and talking to a couple of the servants who knew him. Robin, he… he waged war on Plegia for many years. The war only ended with his death fifteen years ago and left both countries in shambles. He conscripted people, Robin, farmers, peasants, people like Donnel, people like the ones I know back in Middlefield! H-He sent them to the frontlines to die, but because he was drafting farmers, food production slowed to a halt! His actions caused an artificial famine! The halidom nearly collapsed!” He panted for breath for a moment. “Honestly, I don’t blame Lady Emmeryn for choosing the path she did. I can’t imagine what a mark that must’ve left on her… and on her brother. I almost wonder if he understood what his father was doing, if he ran away to get as far as he could from such a horrible man. Emmeryn was only ten when he died, and the legacy she got stuck with? The animosity and hurt between both our nations?” He shook his head. “I admire her for staying true to her ideals all this time.”

“That’s incredible. How does she continue to offer patience when she’s met with adversity?”

“Well, I think she has tremendous strength… and plenty of loyal people to support her. Lissa says she’s stood by Lady Emm’s side all this time and helped her.”

“Whoa. I think I understand better when people venerate her as a symbol of peace,” Robin commented. “I don’t think any ordinary person could be so forgiving. But… Gangrel seems keen on abusing that forgiveness.”

Chrom sighed again. “I only wish I knew what drove his attitude. I want to understand why he does what he does.” Robin nodded in thoughtful agreement.

“Well spoken, sir.”

The two mages whipped around to find the masked swordsman behind them. Chrom swayed a bit, but Robin steadied him. “Marth? You finally came back! I-I have so many questions to ask you!”

Maybe it was just the bluenette’s imagination, but Marth looked vaguely baffled. “Good evening to you.”

“Hello yourself,” Robin muttered. “Were you invited here, or did you just sneak your way in?”

“That cleft in the castle wall, behind the maple grove.”

The white-haired mage gave him a nonplussed look. “So you snuck in. How’d you know about that, anyway? I was the only other person to see it, and I didn’t tell anyone else.”

“What happened?” Chrom wondered.

“Oh, Lissa was training and I kinda spied on her—for tactical purposes only!” Robin waved his hands in defense. “That girl may be tiny, but she’s got a mean swing. She sort of… broke that part of the wall and tried to cover it up. This was while you were still conked out, by the way,” he clarified at the younger mage’s confused look. “But yeah, Lissa saw me and swore me to secrecy. She was pretty embarrassed about it.”

Marth nodded. “Your secret is safe with me.” He took a step forward. “I come here only to warn you.”

“About what?”

“The exalt’s life is in danger.”

Chrom felt a chill crawl up his spine. “What? L-Lady Emmeryn’s in danger? I don’t understand… Robin, we have to alert Lissa!”

“Chrom, the castle is crawling with guards,” Robin pointed out. “Anyone would be hard-pressed to get to her.”

“W-Well, it’s not completely impossible, is it?”

The masked swordsman considered them. “What if… What if I told you I have seen the future? Would you believe me? A future where Emmeryn is killed. Here. Tonight.”

Puzzled, the two mages glanced at each other. Chrom frowned, deep in thought. “I mean, it’s not impossible. From what I’ve learned, if you have favor with one of the gods, they’ll sometimes send visions to you, either of the past, the present, or the future. Maybe something like that happened with Marth here?”

“Are you sure that’s an ability they have?” Robin asked his friend.

Before the bluenette mage could answer, Marth sighed. “Yes, I expected you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Hey, now, we didn’t completely discount the possibility yet—“

“So allow me to prove it!”

“Huh?!”

Marth drew his “Falchion,” and, alarmed, Robin drew his Elthunder tome, passing Chrom Umbra. The bluenette wondered when his friend had found the time to snag the tome from Miriel, but settled into a ready stance anyway, opening himself up to the ambient magical energy swirling about the place. The delicious healing sensation of mana pouring in and soothing his exhausted power revitalized the mage-healer, and he fought down a grin. Oddly enough, Marth wavered. Chrom stretched out his magical presence like his father had taught him and opened himself up further, sensing the barest traces of emotions from the two people near him. Wait, that’s not my imagination.

Marth is bewildered.

But the swordsman recovered his composure. “I’m about to save your life. … From him.”

Movement in the nearby bushes caught Chrom’s eye and a flash of steel gleamed as a bandit burst out of the shrubbery. Marth flung Falchion up, leapt up and over the intruder, and swung as he landed. The bandit fell to the ground, lifeless. The bluenette mage gasped as the swordsman stood and swept his blade to the side. “I trust this proof will suffice?”

“… I believe him,” Robin commented, wide-eyed.

More movement shuddered through the greenery. Chrom’s eyes widened. “Look out!” He darted forward and caught Marth by the arm, pulling him away just as the second assassin came down. The blue-haired swordsman stepped on the dead thug’s blade, however, and tripped as he turned, and the living bandit’s blade cleaved the blue-and-gold butterfly mask neatly in two. Long, flowing blue hair slipped free in Chrom’s periphery as he blasted the assassin back with a more powerful Umbra than usual. So much for low-level spells, Maribelle’s definitely gonna kill me now. He turned from the bandit’s body and… stared at Marth as she got up. “Wait, you are a woman!”

She glanced at him. “And quite the actress, too.” She’d dropped the affected masculine voice. “Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out until just now.”

“Ah, well, I kind of had an inkling when we first met.” Chrom shrugged. “You just seemed a bit off.”

Marth’s brow furrowed, the swordswoman’s eyes full of subtle but deep-seated confusion. I wonder if she wasn’t expecting to see me in this world. She seems to recognize me, but she also seems like she doesn’t know what to make of me. If so many Risen came out of that portal, could it be… her world… maybe our world… was overrun? Did my parents send me to Ylisse for my own safety? Is that why I can’t remember anything before I met my father?

Boom! An explosion in the direction of the castle went off. The three whirled around, then dashed towards the palace, Chrom’s musings about his connection to the mysterious swordswoman set aside for the moment.

Hang on, Lady Emmeryn, we’re coming!

Chrom burst into Emmeryn’s chambers, where the Exalt and Lissa stood in their nightclothes, the older blonde wearing a dressing gown over her nightshift and the younger having hastily thrown her uniform on over top. “Lady Emmeryn, are you all right?”

“Chrom?” she called out in surprise. “What are you doing here?! Maribelle said you were supposed to be on bed rest! Lissa, take him and get out of here while you can!”

“We’re not leaving you unguarded, your Highness!” Robin shouted. “You stay here where you’re safe, I’ll establish a perimeter around your room! Lissa, have the other Shepherds roused yet?”

The blonde teen nodded. “Yeah, I just came from leading them in the back way. They should be here any minute.”

“Excellent!” The platinum-headed mage folded his arms, gaining a look of intense concentration. “We’ll take out their leader as best we can—hopefully that should cause them to flee. I think I saw him on the way in, he’s a tall, skinny guy with crazy black hair and a goatee. From what I can tell, he’s high up in the Grimleal.”

“That’s not good,” Chrom commented. “Why are they masterminding an assassination?”

“Who knows? Either way, he gives me the creeps. I do not like the look he gave me when he saw me.”

“‘I recognize you’ eyes?”

“Of the disconcerting variety.” Robin shuddered.

Something flashed in the corner of Chrom’s eye. He turned and beheld a confused Marth staring at her glowing blade. “Falchion is gleaming…” she murmured.

The bluenette mage frowned. “Why? What makes it do that?”

“It’s not your concern.”

“Of course it isn’t. You know, when this is all over, I’d very much appreciate some answers from you.”

She grimaced. “My apologies.”

Robin looks back and forth between them, then sighed. “All right, well, Marth? You’re one of the best swordsmen here next to Lissa. Stay here and guard Emmeryn’s door while we go out and weed out the assassins.” He swept out of the room. “Chrom, Lissa, with me!”

“Right away!” Lissa called.

The three left the room and caught up with the other Shepherds. While Robin organized their defenses and paired up various fighters, Chrom caught Maribelle glaring at him. Fortunately, the blonde troubadour stayed silent, though the bluenette figured she’d go all out on him after they’d routed the assassins. Frederick caught his eye and tilted his head in a “how are you?” gesture. Chrom smiled at him, and the knight nodded, satisfied. When it came time for him to join a group, Robin put the younger mage with Sumia and himself. “Okay, you have your teammates and your positions. Get to them!”

Chrom glanced back and found Frederick placating Emmeryn by her chamber door before the knight took his place next to Marth. “Did you do that on purpose?”

The white-haired mage smirked as they took the western corridor. “He’ll feel much better if he’s protecting her and thus feel motivated to do so to the best of his abilities. It’s simple.”

“Whatever you say, captain of the Fremmeryn.”

The three advanced down the torchlit hallway and soon ran into a group of assassins. Robin and Sumia took the lead, shooting and stabbing while Chrom held back and treated his friends’ wounds with his Heal staff he’d snagged on the way to the Exalt’s chambers. A dark figure slipped by the pegasus knight and older mage, and the bluenette switched his staff for his tome. “Stop right there!”

The figure froze. In the wavering firelight, Chrom made out a vibrant head of familiar strawberry-blonde hair, and tucked into a strap on the man’s chest—were those… lollies, of all things? An old memory from the bluenette’s childhood resurfaced. He and his father had just moved in to their home in Middlefield… a marketplace… Dad’s spellbook, missing… a chase… an older boy… a traded lollipop…. This man… is it… is that…

“Sugar Boy?”

The thief’s eyes widened in recognition. “Blue?! Is that you, kiddo?”

Chrom gasped and grinned. “You remembered me!”

“Of course I did, I told you I’d never forget you!” The orange-headed man took a step forward and shook the bluenette’s offered hand. “It’s good to see you after all this time! Man, you sure grew up quite the looker and everything! I bet the ladies love you, kid!”

“Aww, I wouldn’t know that,” the young mage laughed. “My real name’s Chrom, by the way.”

“Gaius. You here to keep the Exalt safe?”

“Yes, I am. Which reminds me—“

Gaius held up his hands. “Hey, I was told it was a burglary job, not murder! I’m not down for that, she’s innocent!”

“Oh.” Chrom sighed in relief. “Okay, thank goodness. You wanna switch sides? I’m sure the Shepherds would love to have someone with your skills.”

The orangehead grinned. “I dunno, how well do you pay?”

“How’s this for an advance?” The mage-healer took out a bag of wrapped chocolates he’d gotten back in Ferox. “If we both sign on officially with the Shepherds, there’s more where that came from.”

Gaius practically squealed as he took the bag and peered inside. “Oooooh, you know just how to get me, Blue! It’s a deal!”

“Chrom! Chrom? Chr—hello-o, earth to Chrom.” The bluenette glanced at Robin and Sumia, who had apparently finished clearing the hall while he was speaking to Gaius. Robin gave him a flat look. “You’re supposed to be watching our backs, ding-dong.”

Chrom winced. “Sorry. You two all right?”

“Sure, sure, no thanks to you. Who’s this guy?”

Gaius stared at Robin for a long moment. Then he leaned over to the bluenette and whispered, “Is it just me, or does he look almost exactly like your old man?”

“Trust me, you’re not the only one who’s wondered about that.”

Robin crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Don’t tell me you know him too, Chrom.”

“Ah, that would be lying.” Chrom laughed, scratching the back of his head. “I met him when we first moved to Middlefield. He tried to steal my dad’s spellbook and I chased him. Eventually we caught up to him and I offered my lollipop to him in exchange for the book—he has low blood sugar, so he has to eat sweet stuff a lot to make sure he doesn’t get sick.”

The platinum-haired mage blinked, then shook his head. “Only you, Chrom, only you.” His attention turned to Gaius. “We’d have to let Lissa know, she’s the leader of the Shepherds, but if you can help us drive back the other assassins, I’ll consider you clear in my book. I’m Robin, the Shepherds’ tactician.”

“Robin, huh? Name’s Gaius. You tell me where to go and what to do and I’ll do it.”

“Awesome! Now come on, there’re still more left!”

The Grimleal leader of the group was tall. Chrom frowned, still holding his place in the back while Robin and Sumia went at him. Gaius watched his back, daggers at the ready. A blast of dark magic caught the pegasus knight and flung her back. The mage cried out and rushed to her side, but another blast whizzed by his face. He turned and flung up his empty hands as a third blast rushed toward him, channeling his power. Blam!

The bluenette shivered as power flooded his body and sent the excess towards the Plegian mage, who growled and leapt out of the way. The older man focused his piercing red gaze on the blue-haired boy, fury smoldering in his eyes. “So. You are the little Ylissean brat who thinks he can play at being a dark mage. Aversa told me all about you and your performance at the border.” He took a step, studying Chrom’s features before his eyes widened in recognition. “Oh. Oh. Excellus was right! You do look like him! Oh, but this begs the question: who taught you?” The man sneered. “Who taught you Plegian dark magic, boy? Only those loyal to Grima himself are allowed such a thing!”

Chrom gulped down his terror. “My father taught me!” Power welled up in him again, and he pushed it out, creating the biggest blast of Umbra he’d ever slung in his life! The enormous shadow ball caught the Grimleal square in the chest and expanded, engulfing the man.

“No, no, no! This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

Robin unleashed Elthunder on the man, and the hallway exploded. Dark and light flew everywhere, and a shockwave knocked the four fighters back. Chrom got tossed onto his side and hissed in pain as he hit the hard stone floor. He lay there, dazed and disoriented, shuddering and gasping.

After about a minute, the bluenette pushed himself up onto his hands, taking in the destruction of the hallway. The walls, floor, and ceiling had been hollowed out where the explosion had gone off, and cracks jutted out in the stone from the epicenter. Chrom gaped in disbelief. “W-What just h-happened?”

Nearby, Robin got to his feet. “Huh.” He glanced at his fellow mage. “Has this ever happened before? With Umbra, I mean?”

“Um, w-well, I’ve never tried t-to combine it with an-another spell.” The mage-healer coughed. “But I’ve also never unleashed that big of an Umbra before. I-I don’t know what happened—“

“Ugh…”

The tactician’s head swiveled toward the sound. “Sumia? Sumia!” He ran over to the woman, who lay slumped on the floor to the other side of Chrom, and felt for her pulse. “Sumia, are you okay?”

“‘m fine, Rob’n.” The ashette swatted at his hand. “Just… blegh.”

Chrom felt power filling up his body again. “Robin, here!” He crawled over to them and took a hold of Sumia’s hand, pushing the power into her. The three, including Gaius, watched in shock as the lancer’s wounds and the lingering dark magic disappeared, leaving the woman completely healthy. The bluenette stared, first at a perplexed Sumia, then down at his shaking hands.

“Whoa.” Robin whistled. “Unbelievable.”

Chrom trembled. “W-What’s happening to m-me?!”

The older mage patted him on the back. “I’d say,” he said, a slow grin spreading onto his face, “that it looks like you just mastered casting without a tome.”

Chrom shifted from foot to foot as the Shepherds debriefed with Emmeryn and Phila, fiddling with his tome. The sensation of overflowing power had calmed down, but if the bluenette reached for it, it came back just as strong. How could I possibly have so much magic at my fingertips? Or is this what it’s supposed to feel like all along? Sighing, he searched the group with his gaze for Marth. Wait, where is she? Did she leave again?! He cast another glance at the group before slipping out of the hall, where the edge of the swordswoman’s cape disappearing out the door caught his eye. He ran after her and caught up with her just outside in the courtyard. “Hey! Wait up! Marth!”

Marth turned at the sound of her name. Her gaze widened just a fraction as Chrom approached her. The mage crossed his arms. “You know, most people say goodbye whenever they’re leaving just so that other people are aware of it. They don’t just… leave.”

She winced. “Yes, I’m afraid I have a few bad habits.”

“I mean, you have at least one good one too—saving lives. Like mine, and the Exalt’s.” He sighed. “I want to repay you, but how? And as I told you earlier, I have questions only you can answer. I-I need to know… would I have to give you something more in return?”

Marth shrugged and chuckled. “Hearing you offer is reward enough.”

“Um, but couldn’t we maybe trade or something—“

“I already have what I came for: history has been rewritten.”

“History?” Chrom gasped. “W-What do you mean? You…”

The bluenette swordswoman faltered. “After the exalt’s untimely assassination, the Fire Emblem would be stolen. This, in turn, would lead to a great war, and soon to the end of mankind itself.” She shook her head. “… But I’m sure that sounds like madness to you.”

The boy’s head whirled with the new information she’d given. History rewritten… seeing the future… the world overrun by Risen… Marth, who bore a resemblance to him… he gasped again. The implications of all this…! If… If she’s… from where I think she is… and possibly myself as well…! I-I have to process all this, but… this is more than I hoped to get! He gave her a weak smile. “I… I think I believe you. I still have questions, but… I think you might have just given me answers! How can I ever thank you for this?”

Marth looked confused, but she smiled back all the same. “Perhaps one day you shall. Until then…” And with that, she strode off into the dark starlit night.

Chrom watched her go, before ducking back inside and rejoining the group. Robin gave him an odd look. “Where’d you disappear to?”

“I went after Marth. I’ll tell you later what she said.” Crystal blue eyes fell on the leather-clad, furry woman with long ears who stood talking to the Exalt. “Who’s that?”

The platinum-haired tactician grinned. “That’s Panne. Lissa recruited her when she came in to save Emmeryn. She’s a taguel, a rabbit laguz.”

“What?! No way!”

“Way. I can’t wait to see what a giant bunny can do on the battlefield.” Robin giggled, rubbing his hands together. “I already have a few ideas of how I can deploy her… and with whom…”

“Of course you do.” Chrom rolled his eyes. “And it has nothing to do with getting her a potential life partner.”

“The taguel are near-extinct,” the older mage pointed out. “In my opinion, I’d be helping her out.”

“Oh…”

“Humans hunted her kind down. She’s the last one.”

Chrom bit his lip, his hands clenching into fists. Why was it that people could be so cruel?! Why did they have to destroy innocent lives with their greed and selfishness? Why did the ordinary people have to suffer because of those like the former Exalt and Gangrel and Aversa and the Grimleal? Why can’t people be more considerate and giving? His heart ached, and he clutched his fist to his chest, quivering.

Robin nudged him. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the infirmary.”

Snap.

Someone’s life had been taken—one of his Grimleal. Validar. Well, now that was a surprise. What had he been doing to get himself killed? Grima frowned, trying to recall what had happened around this point in the original timeline. Ohhhhh, that’s right, Emmeryn’s assassination. Wait, but if Chrom’s in the capital with the Shepherds—! But the pact-bond brimmed with safety-confusion-empathy and power. Oh… has he somehow triggered the Awakening? No, if he had, I would’ve felt it, there would be far more power in there. Hmm… does this have to do with when he called upon my own power? I wonder…

Wait, I’m getting sidetracked. Validar’s dead. I need to do something about that.

He stole another glance at Inigo, who lay asleep in the other bed. The boy had resisted sharing a bed with the albino, which was understandable, so Grima had made sure to get an inn room with two mattresses. He stroked the boy’s hair—fine and soft and blue like his father’s—and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. Being patient and waiting for your trust is hard, mini blueberry. But, as I’ve always said, it is a virtue. I’ll wait as long as you need, little one.

He went over to the lone chair and settled himself, diving down into the shadow realm where he had access to the souls that had passed on. Validar was easy enough to find, his Grimleal regalia stood out among the darkness. “There you are.”

The man froze. “Who—Who are you? How did you get here?!”

“Why, Validar, I’m shocked. I thought you’d recognize me.” He chuckled. “I still have plans for you, you know. You’re not allowed to just go and kick the bucket like that.”

“You—it can’t be! That’s impossible!”

“And yet you believed the letters I sent you, did you not?” Grima smirked. “I made my presence known to you for a reason. I have been working the past fifteen years to put my plan into motion. Do you not remember the last letter I sent you? About my new world order?”

The old Hierophant gaped, then prostrated himself. “My lord! M-My apologies, I had no idea it was you!”

Amused, Grima shrugged. “I can’t blame you, I never did show my face to you.”

“My lord, if you would be so kind… I have questions, and I believe you have the answers.”

The Fell Dragon’s smirk grew sharp and wicked. “Oh? And you think I will give them freely to you? Tell me this, Validar: why should I reveal anything to you when you just now got yourself killed? I would think that assassinating the Exalt would be a simple matter.”

“Someone alerted the Shepherds and the palace guard beforehand!” Validar’s eyes glinted with anger. “Robin was there, he helped them foil us! And that boy… the blue-haired one! He’s the lost prince of Ylisse, isn’t he! He can wield dark magic unlike any I’ve ever seen! He’s the one who killed me along with my own son!”

Oh. Oops. How did Chrom accidentally killing off his subordinates never cross his mind? I’m afraid I’m going to have to fix that. “Is that so? You really shouldn’t speak that way to your potential High Priest.” He held up his hand, halting the Grimleal’s questions. “Whether he is the prince or not, he is the most gifted mage I’ve ever come across. He’s a prodigy who just needed a nudge in the right direction.” His smile softened, love welling up in his heart. “And he utterly and completely loves and trusts me like I am his father by blood.”

“S-So you’ve been preparing him—“

“Ah-ah-ah. I’m quite busy, I’m afraid. Don’t worry, I’ll come back to get you out of here when the time is right. For now… I don’t know, take a break or something. You’ll need your rest for the next stage.” And with that, he left the man in the shadow realm and reverted to the real world.

So Chrom is in the capital tonight… if only Inigo and I can catch him there again.

Chrom sat on his designated bed in the infirmary as Maribelle and the palace healers checked him over. He avoided the troubadour’s thunderous expression as she worked, instead staring out the window while he mulled over the information he’d learned this evening. Finally, the noblewoman set her staff aside and dismissed the other healers. She placed her hands on her hips and regarded the bluenette boy for a long minute. Seconds ticked by. Then, she spoke.

“Your mana exhaustion is completely gone. Your reserves have filled themselves back up, they’re nearly overflowing as it is. As for your mana regeneration, your channels have been literally blasted open. You’re constantly cycling ambient mana to replace what you’ve used with an efficiency only the most skilled of mages would employ.” Her flat, emotionless tone gave nothing away. “Technically, there is nothing wrong with you. You have no reason to linger in the healing halls.”

“U-Um… okay.”

“Do you understand the ramifications of a higher connection to ambient mana?” Now her voice quivered a bit in anger. “You’ll always have access to more power than you might be capable of wielding! You could overload yourself with magic and accidentally kill yourself!”

“I’m s-sorry.” Chrom’s shoulder’s shook. “I-I don’t know what h-happened, I don’t know h-how—“

Maribelle sighed. “No, I don’t suppose you do.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re discharged from the infirmary. But I want you to work with Miriel in the next few weeks if we have free time to better understand what your limits are.” She waved him on. “You’re free to go.”

The boy nodded, numb, and stood up, shuffling out of the infirmary. Outside, Robin waited, and the two set off for the Shepherds’ garrison.

On they walked in comfortable silence, until the albino spoke up. “According to Lissa, there’s been a change of plans. When we head back out to Ferox tomorrow, we’re going to swing by the eastern palace and drop Emmeryn and her guards there since Ylisstol isn’t safe for her anymore. You’ll need to have everything packed and ready to go tomorrow morning—uh, if you’re joining us, of course.”

“I might as well. Hopefully Father will meet us there when we get to Ferox.”

Robin nodded, and the two lapsed back into silence for a few more minutes.

“… What did you learn from Marth?”

Chrom bit his lip. “She said she came here to rewrite history—that she was here to prevent Lady Emmeryn’s assassination. She said if the Exalt was killed, the Fire Emblem would be stolen, war would be waged, and the end of the world would come.”

“She saw all that?”

“Robin, I think she lived all that. Remember the portal she came out of? How so many Risen went through? I think her world was overrun by the Risen and their summoner, which would definitely signal the end of the world! I think the world she came from was our future! A-And you saw how she has blue hair just like me? How she looks so much like me?”

“Go on,” the platinum head urged, skeptical but listening.

Chrom took a deep breath. “I told you I don’t remember anything about my birth family, only that I had a mother, a father, and an older sister. What if… what if I’m from the same world as Marth? What if I can’t remember anything before my father adopted me because it was too horrible to remember? What if I came through a portal just like hers?” The older mage’s eyes widened, following the bluenette’s train of thought. “Robin… I think…

“I think Marth is my older sister!”

Chapter Text

“I’m taking it off.”

Inigo shook his head back and forth. “Noooooooo, please, don’t,” he whimpered. Grima sighed.

“Look, I can always put a better one on, you hear? Or you could just walk around with a patch over your eye, but if you don’t want to, I have to take the old illusion off first before I can put a new one on.”

“Why do you want to switch it out, anyway?”

The albino frowned, then got up and twirled around. “See my coat?”

“… Yeah? Is that a new one?”

“Nope!” Grima grinned. “It’s actually the same old coat you’re familiar with.”

“Oh… really?”

“Yep! So now that I’ve told you that, does it look any different to you?”

The bluenette teen studied the coat, shifting around in his chair to get in every angle. “Umm… no, it doesn’t look any different to me. It’s still black with silver and blue.”

“Exactly! Now, I’ve had this illusion in place for fifteen years. Not one person has noticed it as a Grimleal coat ever. I’m just that good. So you see why I want to switch the illusions out?”

Inigo bit his lip, shrinking into himself. “I… I guess you’re just gonna do it anyway, why ask me?”

“Because it’s your eye, you have a say in the matter.” Grima rubbed his temples. “Look, I’m trying to protect you. And before you ask, yes, it’ll come off in only the specific circumstance you need it to, and no, it will not hurt, whether I’m putting it on or taking it off. We clear?”

“… Okay. Go ahead.”

The dragon winced at the defeat in the boy’s voice, a pain shooting through his heart. How he wanted to destroy the person who had hurt the child—but of course, that person was himself. He couldn’t be more glad that he’d made certain he had never hurt Chrom than he was now. If only he could take away his sweet grandson’s distrust and fear in an instant… he supposed this was his punishment for… killing… Chrom… in the original timeline. Medeus below, he could barely even think the thought! No wonder the boy was afraid of him…

He bent down and got to work untangling Naga’s illusion. Working the filthy threads of light free from the boy’s eye disgusted him, but he’d raised a healer—this was comparatively child’s play. Although to be fair, Chrom’s magic was not Naga’s. Result of the ancient blood pact it might be, his son had fashioned it into something that was uniquely his own and specific to Chrom himself. Grima couldn’t help but let a smile steal onto his lips as he worked. Maybe after this was all done, he’d have to see if Inigo had inherited any of his father’s potential (Chrom would definitely want to teach his son about magic). It didn’t matter whether he was as good as the older blueberry, just the thought of the mini blueberry standing side-by-side with Chrom and learning how to cast his first spell made his smile widen into a goofy grin. We could be a whole family of mages, we—

“Ow. Ow! Ow ow ow ow…”

Inigo’s pained cry snapped Grima out of his musings. He glanced at the child to find his right eye squeezed shut in pain. Confused, the albino traced the threads he’d been working on and then snarled. “How dare she—it’s not supposed to hurt you! You never put a harmful illusion into such a sensitive part of the body! That fake hypocrite of a dragon witch—! How dare she place it on a child! I’m going to kill that woman!”

Inigo’s cries turned into sobs. The albino blanched and swept the boy off the bed into a hug. “Shhhh… it’s okay… it’s okay… it’s all right, mini blueberry… shhhhh…”

“W-Weren’t—s’posed—t-take it—off,” the boy stammered out through his tears. Grima hugged him tighter, pressing kisses into his soft hair.

After a few minutes, the boy calmed down a bit and sat sniffling on the older man’s lap. The dragon rubbed his thumb up and down the boy’s shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“I’m so sorry, mini one. I had no idea it was going to hurt you like that.”

“Not s’posed—“

“Inigo. A mage should never put a harmful illusion in someone’s eye of all places. There’s always the possibility that it could backfire and you could end up blind, or worse, suffering brain damage.”

“W-What…?”

Grima nodded. “Yep. It’s happened before. Now that I’ve started taking it out, I have to finish it, or else it could cause you real harm.”

“… Ok-kay…”

The albino resumed his work. By the time he was done, the boy’s eye was bleeding—but thankfully unharmed. He wondered if the illusion had been a slapdash job at best and that was why it had been harmful. After all, he’d been on the heels of the Future Children when they’d gone through the portal, Naga probably wouldn’t have had time to put a proper illusion in place. He sighed and got up, setting Inigo on the bed and hunting for a clean handkerchief to wipe the blood off. As he cleaned the area around the eye, he remarked, “I can’t put another illusion on your eye today, not after the one I just took out. Your eye will need to rest and heal from the old one for at least a day. I’ll find a patch to put on it, and tomorrow after we get to the capital I’ll check it again before putting a new illusion on.”

“Okay…”

The bluenette teen peered at him with his open left eye. Grima caressed the boy’s cheeks with his thumbs and planted a gentle kiss on the boy’s right eyelid. “I’ll be back with breakfast and a patch, okay?”

“Mm-hm…”

It occurred to Grima while the two rode towards the capital that Inigo might need to use a false name. After all, temporal laws were a finicky thing, and using the boy’s real name might cause his father to name him differently, especially since the child hadn’t been born yet. In matters of the safety of my family, I must take the path that keeps them from harm. So he spent the time wracking his brain for the perfect pseudonym for his time-displaced grandson. Finally, he hit upon one that made him grin with delight. “I know what we should call you when we can’t use your real name.”

“What’s that?”

“Ciel.”

“Nooooo!” Inigo moaned, shaking his head. “Please don’t name me after the main character of The Earl and the Dragon, please don’t!”

“Why not?” Grima had particularly loved the way the Rosannean name rolled off his tongue. “What is The Earl and the Dragon, anyway? I’ve never heard of it before.”

The boy sighed, his shoulders slumping. “It’s this teen detective series that was pretty popular back at home. It was all about this kid who was the son of an Ylissean earl, who was kidnapped and had his parents killed by the Grimleal. They took him and used him in a ritual to summon an evil dragon, but the kid made a contract with the dragon first and had him wipe out the cultists. Then he went back home, took on the title of earl, and worked with the dragon as his butler and right-hand man to do the dirty work of the Exalt.” He shuddered. “I personally never had an interest in it, but Owain loved it. He always wanted to act out scenes from the books with me.”

“Let me guess: he wanted you to be the earl while he played the dragon?”

“Yeah…” The boy shrunk into himself. “We had the right hair colors for it, too. Plus I have my Brand in my eye, just like the earl had the dragon’s symbol in his eye.”

Grima grinned. Now he loved the name even more! “All the more reason to use it, then!”

“Noooooooo! No-ho-ho…”

“Aww, come on, Inigo, it’s perfect! Ciel is a perfectly normal name from Rosanne, and I personally love the sound of it.”

The bluenette whimpered in response.

The Fell Dragon chuckled. “You’re so cute, just like your dad. I can’t wait for you to meet him~!”

Inigo gave a whine at that.

Chrom very quickly decided that mountain passes did not agree with him.

His feet hurt from all the marching they had done today, and once again he wished whoever had organized the trip had had the foresight to get everyone a mount just so they wouldn’t have to walk so much. The party had been pushing hard all day to get to the eastern palace as soon as they could, so breaks for food and rest had been few. The hierarch, some Ylissean official who’d been a friend of the Exalted family for a long time or something like that, kept gravitating towards him and cozying up to him as if he were the missing prince. On top of that, the setting sun shone directly into his eyes when it wasn’t blocked by the mountains, the air was too warm, and there wasn’t even a whisper of a breeze in sight.

Robin, bless his soul, must’ve been thinking the same thing, because he called out, “Hey, Lissa! I don’t know about you, but we’re exhausted! Can’t we take a quick break? Not all of us have your stamina!”

“Oh, Robin, if you’re tired, just say so!” Sumia suggested. “I would be happy to give you a ride on Bellemere here!”

The white-haired mage shook his head. “No, no, Sumia, as much as I’d love to, we can’t have him tire out carrying both of us! He has to stay fresh in case we run into an ambush or something!”

“… Robin, the same could be said of us,” Chrom pointed out.

“Which is why I’m suggesting we take a break.”

The bluenette glanced at the jagged hills surrounding them. “While I really, really, really want to agree, unfortunately I think this place is perfect for that ambush you’re talking about. The hierarch looks like he thinks so, too.” Sure enough, the green-clad man was also looking up at the hills. Chrom frowned. “There’s something wrong here…”

“Who’s there?!” Sully yelled from the back of the line. Several Plegian soldiers sprang out of the roadside bushes, brandishing their weapons at the group. Wyvern riders flew up out of the nearby ravine and hills and surrounded the party, trapping them on the road. One of the riders landed his mount at the top of the nearest hill, leering down at the Shepherds and their charges. As one, the Shepherds drew their weapons. Chrom fingered Umbra before leaving it in his holster and tapping into the power waiting to fill him up. It answered his call and he directed it into his hands, ready to cast it.

The rider in front of them, probably the leader, grinned and took a long sniff. “Ahhhhh. Men, the smell of good fortune is on the wind today! Looks like we’ve caught ourselves an Exalt—and maybe a prince, too!” he exclaimed, setting his eyes on the mage-healer. Chrom groaned and rolled his eyes, then started when the hierarch rushed to the front of the group.

“Wait! Hold your fire! Good sir, I am the man King Gangrel would have informed you about!” Oh, great. The guy was colluding with them. Of course he was. “You received orders to take me into your protection, did you not? From the king himself!”

The wyvern captain regarded the hierarch. “Hmm. Yeah, I was ordered to protect a man… but I don’t see a man here! Do you, guys?” The other soldiers guffawed. “We’ve got a pig here, boys! A yellow-bellied traitorous hog who sold out his own country and sovereign! And what do we do with pigs, hmm?”

White-faced, the hierarch stammered, “Um… per-perhaps… let them go f-free?”

“Ooooh, are you a chicken now?” The soldiers surrounding the group made bawking and clucking noises. The wyvern captain laughed. “We’ve got a whole full barnyard here! Pigs, chickens… what’s next, am I gonna have to call you a cow, too?”

Robin gave a snort. “I’m sorry, but that last one was pretty funny,” he muttered to Chrom.

“Robin. Come on.”

“Hey, I mean, he doesn’t seem to approve of treach—holy mother of Grima, that was uncalled for!” the tactician yelped as one of the nearby Plegian axemen swung his weapon and sliced the hierarch’s head clean off of his body. Chrom blanched and gulped down a mouthful of bile as the headless form crumpled to the dusty ground.

“And now for the main event, ladies and gents!” the captain called out. “Ylisseans! You know what we want: hand over the Fire Emblem and your sorry wench of a ruler and we’ll spare you this guy’s fate!” He gestured to the hierarch’s body. “Or don’t, and we’ll slaughter you all like sheep! Haaaahahahaha!”

“Frederick, get Emm down to the end of the column,” Lissa ordered. The knight nodded and offered his hand to the blonde Exalt, sweeping her up into the saddle behind him. Then he urged his steed around and galloped to the end of the line. In the distance, a white speck in the sky grew to reveal a flying white pegasus carrying a rider with vibrant red hair. Phila turned her own mount and took off, heading towards the new arrival. Robin shouted out orders to the Shepherds and the group began to pair up, with Vaike moving up to cover Lissa’s flank and the tactician getting on behind Sumia.

“Kellam, you’re with Sully! Make a wall and keep off any reinforcements! Donnel, you ride with Maribelle! Protect her while she does her healing!”

“Yessir, Robin sir!” Donnel took the blonde’s hand and mounted up behind her.

“Virion, you’re with Panne! Panne, you’re going to hate me for saying this, but you need to let Virion ride on your back! He’ll deal with the enemies at range while you maul them up close!”

“What?!” The transformed taguel—geez, those teeth and claws were sharp!—gave him a pissed look.

“Just do it!”

The rabbit laguz huffed. “Fine. Get on, man-spawn.” She took the back of the noble archer’s collar into her teeth and tossed him up onto her. Virion squawked when he landed but regained his composure and situated himself.

“Lon’qu, I need you with Ricken! Make sure nobody gets to him so he can cast his spells!” The myrmidon grunted in acknowledgement. “Gaius, same thing goes for you and Chrom! Miriel, you’re with Stahl! Everyone push back down the way we came, we’re making a retreat!” The tactician finished this off by pulling out a green tome and firing at the nearest wyvern. “Elwind!”

The Shepherds exploded in a whirl of death and destruction, taking down any soldier that got near. Chrom fired off bursts of Wind at the wyverns that came too close, while Gaius slashed and stabbed at the soldiers around them. In the bluenette’s periphery, the pegasus with the red-haired rider drew near. Then a familiar voice called out, “Chrom! Chrom, is that you?!”

“Tia!” Chrom grinned. “You’re here! I can’t believe this!”

“You can’t? I can’t believe you’re here!” Cordelia cried. “What are you doing so far away from Middlefield, anyway?”

“Case of mistaken identity!” he yelled back. “Gaius, I need to get a lift to properly take those wyverns down, they’re harassing the pegasus knights!”

“Get on it then, Blue! I’ll go with Kid Genius and Shush-Kabob!” Gaius dashed down the road, heading for Ricken and Lon’qu. Chrom jumped and pushed a gust of Elwind underneath him, propelling himself into the air. He reached up and Cordelia caught his hand, swinging him up behind her onto her pegasus. He wrapped his left hand around her waist as he slung a blast of Wind at a wyvern behind them, the green blades tearing into the beast’s wings and sending the animal and its rider plummeting into the ravine.

“I have to say, Chrom, this is the very last place I expected to find you!” Cordelia yelled as she banked the pegasus around. “I had no idea you joined the Shepherds!”

“Like I said: case of mistaken identity! They thought I was the prince!” He fired off another green blast. “I’ve only stayed with them because I was hoping to reunite with Dad!”

“Isn’t that him down there?” she asked as she rolled to avoid a wyvern’s jaws.

Chrom sent the scaly mount spiraling into the hill with a well-aimed Elwind. “Nope, that’s Robin, our tactician. I have no idea where Dad is at the moment!”

“Oh. Well, okay then.”

“Guess who else is here!” He pointed to the armored knight fighting beside Sully. “Kellam!”

“Kell’s here, too?! Awesome! All we need is Anna now and the gang will be complete!”

“I know, right?!”

As the two swooped down toward the wyvern captain, Cordelia asked, “Hey, Chrom! Remember that spell you were going to show me? Did you ever finish it?”

“Oh, yes I did!” The bluenette grinned and gathered more power into his hands. He let go of her and pushed toward the captain. “Umbra!”

The redhead cheered as the ball of shadow rammed into the Plegian man and sent him tumbling to the ground where Lissa finished him off, though not before he choked out something about storming the border. Chrom went white and gasped. “Oh no… is that true?”

Cordelia nodded. “I just came over from the border.” Her shoulders slumped. “I… I was the only one who survived…”

“Oh, Tia.” Chrom hugged her around the waist. “I-I’m so sorry.”

She landed the pegasus on the edge of the Ylissean group and dismounted with the bluenette, and Chrom watched as she warned Emmeryn and Phila about the invasion force that had smashed through the border. Oh, no… Themis… Middlefield! Is everyone all right there? What is Gangrel doing?! Why is he invading?! The words the Mad King had hurled at the border confrontation came to mind. No… no… he’s going to commit genocide! He’s going to slaughter all the innocent people in his way! And he wants Lady Emm and the Fire Emblem!

“I’m going back to the capital.”

Emmeryn’s words made his heart freeze and stutter in shock. A sick feeling rose up in him as the others pleaded with the Exalt to reconsider her decision, but she held firm. Then she strode over to him and took something out from beneath her robes. A small, gleaming golden shield with four empty sockets and a white gemstone set in the fifth lay in her hands.

“Chrom, I know you may not be my brother, but…” She looked into his eyes, gaze fierce. “I’m entrusting this to you.”

The bluenette balked, horrified. “W-What?! The F-Fire Emblem?! Your Highness, I can’t—”

“You all were on your way to Ferox before we were attacked.” Emmeryn stepped closer to him. “Please, take it. Keep it safe there.”

“And leave you here all alone?! No way, sis!” Lissa cried. “We’re not leaving you behind!”

“Lissa.” The Exalt flicked her gaze to the blonde swordswoman. “The Fire Emblem is the most important part of House Ylisse. Nothing else supersedes it… not even my own life. It is one of the most powerful artifacts of which we have care, but… already too much blood has been spilled over it for want of that power.” She pressed the shield into Chrom’s trembling hands. “You are talented and capable, Chrom. I only hope it finds you a better guardian than it did me.”

“Emm, don’t say stuff like that! You can’t just give up!” Lissa’s lip quivered.

Emmeryn shook her head, green eyes full of resolve. “I am not giving up. I am only giving what I can… to protect my people… and to protect you.”

The others continued to beg with her, but Chrom’s ears filled with white noise. He stood frozen in his place, clutching the Fire Emblem in his hands, as Phila offered to accompany Emmeryn back to Ylisstol. Then the pegasus knight captain ordered Cordelia to stay with the Shepherds, to which the redhead assented. Lissa pleaded with her sister one more time, but Emmeryn declined. Then she, Phila, and the remaining pegasus knights turned and went down the path towards the capital. As the smaller company left, the bluenette watched on, tongue thick in his mouth and heart heavy in his chest. How he wished he could say something to her! Why had she chosen him? Why not Lissa, who would be more worthy of protecting the Emblem? Lissa wielded Falchion, the holy sword that had slain Medeus twice and Grima once! And he… he was just a kid from a Southwest Ylissean town with a knack for magic and healing. Who… looked a lot like the lost Prince Chrom and was from a destroyed future. But aside from that last thought, what was so special about him?

Why me?

A hand on his shoulder startled him out of his stupor. Robin gave him a sympathetic smile. “Come on. We need to find a place to set up camp by nightfall.”

Chrom swallowed and nodded, following his friend as the Shepherds filed through the pass.

“Oh! There he is! Sir! Mr. Raven, sir! We have some news for you from your son!”

Grima gasped and spurred Eugene onward towards the castle gate where the guard captain from before stood waving his hands. He arrived and dismounted in front of the man, who held out two letters to him. “Mr. Raven, sir, he left early this morning with the Shepherds and the Exalt. They were taking her to the eastern palace before heading on to Ferox.”

“Ferox?! I just got back from there!” The albino buried his face in his hands and sighed. “This is getting ridiculous!”

“Well, um, if you leave tomorrow, sir, it takes about as much time to get to Ferox from here as it does from the eastern palace. You’ll be more likely to meet up with him then, they should’ve arrived at the palace by now.”

“… All right, fine.” Grima took the letters. “Thank you for your help. Do you know if the inn I stayed at before has any vacancies? Ciel and I need to settle down for the night before we get back on the road again tomorrow.”

The captain nodded. “Sure thing! Ah, be sure to let them know that Captain Ross is paying for your stay.”

“R-Really?!”

Captain Ross shrugged. “It’s the least I can do to make it up to you. It must be hard running around after your kid.”

Grima gave him a small smile. “Thank you. I appreciate it a lot.”

“No problem, sir.”

The albino tucked the letters into his pocket and swung back up onto his horse, then headed for the inn he’d stayed at last time. There, he got a room for both him and Inigo and plopped down onto one of the beds immediately after they entered the room. “Ugh… so tired…” He glanced up at the bluenette teen, who fiddled with the straps on his white medical eyepatch. “Don’t mess with that, you’ll aggravate your eye.”

“Sorry,” the boy whispered.

Grima closed his eyes and allowed his body to relax into the mattress. Chasing Chrom down was so tiring… and working around Inigo’s trauma… and plotting to take over the world…

He slipped into a deep sleep, unaware that as soon as he did, the boy slipped from the room and fled from the inn.

Inigo panted, bent over with his hands on his knees. He’d run all the way to the palace as fast as he could without stopping for fear that he’d wake up the Fell Dragon and bring about his own end. Despite Grima’s assurances to the contrary, the young prince did not believe for a second that the sweet-talking albino vessel wouldn’t kill him the moment he did something the older man didn’t like. How he hadn’t worked up the courage to escape while the dragon slept, he didn’t know, and he didn’t care to find out. Nearby, the guards milled about the gate, on the lookout for any threats.

The bluenette shivered in the cool evening air. He hadn’t stopped to snag the horse Grima and he had been riding the past few days, and now that he’d escaped, he had no clue where he wanted to go. Anywhere in the opposite direction of the albino seemed ideal, though, and he’d been planning to return to Ferox… Perhaps heading south would be the best idea. But first, he needed a horse. Maybe if he somehow got in with the guard, he could stay at the castle until the dragon left the next day and then continue on his way. I wish Luci were here… she would know exactly what to do about all this. She’s lucky she has Falchion… meanwhile I’ve got just a measly old steel sword. It wouldn’t be much good against the Fell Dragon, it’d be like a toothpick to him.

“Ho there! Who goes there?”

The boy gasped and whirled around, finding a squad of guards behind him. The leader peered at him. “You seem familiar… have I met you before?”

“Oh, come on, not you too,” one of the men groused. “We get enough of this from Sir Frederick as it is!”

The captain dismounted and walked over to the boy. “Maybe so, but Ylisse needs him. We’re at war with Plegia now, or did you forget? Finding him would provide a significant boost of morale to the whole country!”

“H-Huh?” Inigo took a step back, confused. “W-What are you—“

“Hold still, kiddo.” The man looked him over and frowned, before gently lifting the medical patch off of the bluenette’s still-aching eye. Inigo blinked as light assailed his right eye, but not before the captain gasped. “Look! The Brand! It’s in his eye!”

The other soldiers gasped and glanced at each other, then dismounted and ran over. “Really?!” “You’re not serious!” “No way! He’s—!” “Impossible!”

“W-Wait—!” Inigo protested.

The guards lifted him onto his shoulders. “WE FOUND THE PRINCE!” they cheered. The other squad nearby came over to see what the commotion was about and joined in. Inigo hid his reddening face in his hands, shaking with fear and shock. If he thought Grima was bad, this was almost worse. As the soldiers carried him through the gate and into the palace, more servants and guards waved at him and whooped with joy. His throat clogged up, and he choked out a sob, tears leaking out onto his cheeks. Another sob, and another, until he was weeping freely into his hands. He didn’t know how long it was until they set him down onto a soft, plushy chair.

“Hey, your Highness, are you all right?”

Inigo only cried harder. Around him, the servants bustled, but he had no idea what they were doing. Maybe trying to get him something to calm down? His stomach grumbled. Oh, right, he hadn’t had dinner yet, he’d been too focused on getting out of the Fell Dragon’s clutches. He really should have planned this out better.

After several minutes, his wails quieted to sniffles, and he slumped down in the chair, exhausted. A kindly middle-aged woman appeared in his vision. “Your Highness, are you feeling better? We’ve got a bath drawn for you and fresh clothes!”

“N-Not th’ prince,” he mumbled. The woman shook her head.

“Oh, tish-tosh! Clearly you are, you hold the Brand of the Exalt! Your Highness, you’ll feel ever so much better after a soak.” Gentle hands lifted him out of the chair and led him into a large bathroom with a sparkling white pool for a tub and elegant carved pillars around the walls. He offered no resistance as the servants undressed him and led him into the water. They scrubbed his body and his hair free of dust from the road before rinsing him and leading him back out to towel off. The servants then dressed him in a loose navy tunic and pants and led him back into what turned out to be a large set of royal bedchambers. One man sat him down behind a mahogany desk and placed a plate covered with a silver cloche in front of him, lifting the cover to reveal a hot meal of roasted quail and greens. His mouth watered at the tantalizing food, but he lifted a trembling hand and pushed it about an inch away. Naga above, he was exhausted!

“Your Highness?” The woman laid her hand on his shoulder. “Are you well? You must be hungry, please, eat!”

“I-I can’t,” Inigo whispered, numb and weary. “I sh-shouldn’t. I’m… I’m n-not the one you’re l-looking for.”

The servants glanced at each other, confusion worn plain on their faces. “But you have the Brand of the Exalt, your Highness!” insisted the man, a butler. “The prince also had the Brand as well! How can you possibly believe you’re not the prince?”

The boy gulped. He couldn’t do this to his father, he couldn’t take his place without the other man even knowing it! What if he wasn’t born as a result, what if Lucina wasn’t born?! He couldn’t imagine a world without his older sister! He wet his lips with his tongue.

“A-All I know… is that th-this isn’t right. I can’t s-steal the real prince’s p-place for mys-self.”

He looked up at them and found bewildered expressions on each of their faces. Then the woman regained her composure and smiled at him. “Well said, your Highness! So selfless! At the very least, you must eat something, dear, you look famished!”

“Um… o-okay.”

Why was it that he decided to escape in Ylisstol of all places?!

“Hey there.”

Cordelia’s voice snapped Chrom out of his fire-gazing musing. He gave her a weak smile. “Hey.”

“So.” She sat down on the log beside him, watching the rest of the Shepherds around the camp. “It’s sure been a while, hasn’t it.”

“Yeah. How, um. How have you been?”

She shrugged. “Pretty good. Being a pegasus knight is everything I dreamed it would be… the other knights are practically my sisters! Or, they were… I guess I mostly just have Sumia now.”

The bluenette placed his hand on her shoulder. “Listen, I know it hurts that you’ll never get to see them again… but you have to carry on in their memory. Fight with them in your heart and use your memories of them to empower you with strength. And, you know, when the new recruits come, you can be a big sister to them, you see?”

The redhead laughed. “Phila said about the same thing. The ‘keeping them in your heart’ part, that is.” She put her finger to her lips in thought. “My folks are doing just fine, Dad loves his job and Mom gets to work on her quilting since she doesn’t have to be a breadwinner. Cael went off on an expedition with her relief corps and fell in love with one of the guys who works with her. They’re married and expecting their first kid.”

“Aww, that’s so cool!”

“Yeah, I can’t wait to be ‘Auntie Tia’ to them! Oh, and Cal found a part-time job in a bakery, so he works there after school. He loves it there, says he’s finally found something he can be passionate about. He might also have eyes on the baker’s daughter,” she giggled and leaned over to him, “we tease him all the time about his ‘girlfriend.’ He might deny it, but even the baker can tell he’s sweet on her!”

Chrom sniggered. “Oh, that’s awful of you. You’re a terrible big sister.”

“The worst,” she agreed with a grin. “What about you?”

“Oh, I work full-time at the bookstore now, been doing it since I graduated school. Dad’s still got his assistant’s job. We still play ‘Clear the Road’ every so often when bandits come around. Or, we did. Can’t believe it’s been a few weeks now since I left.” He sighed and waved at Kellam and Robin as the two walked over to join them.

“Yeah, how did you end up with the Shepherds, anyway? You said it was a mistaken identity thing?”

Robin laughed as he sat down next to the pegasus knight. “You’ve met Frederick, right, ah, Cordelia?”

“Yeah?”

“He, uh, thought Chrom was the prince of Ylisse.”

“Oops!” The redhead covered her mouth as giggles escaped. “That’s a very big case of mistaken identity right there!”

“Yeah, well, from what we heard, Chrom proved him wrong,” Kellam supplied as he sat next to Chrom. “Nice to see you again, Tia. How are Cael and Cal doing? Last I heard, Cael was going to have a baby. Is that still a thing?”

“Yep! She keeps complaining about how she wants the kid out now so she can smother them with kisses already—although we know she’s just tired of being pregnant. Cal’s got a crush on his boss’s daughter, though he won’t admit it. And, well, there’s me, my life is the pegasus corps.”

The white-haired tactician held up a finger. “I’m sorry, but who are Cael and Cal? Siblings of yours, Cordelia?”

She nodded. “Yes, they are! And it’s just Tia, please. Caeldori is my older sister and Calodire is my younger brother. We’re each three years apart.”

“Wow.” Robin whistled. “Wait… is it just me, or are ‘Caeldori’ and ‘Calodire’ anagrams of ‘Cordelia?’”

Chrom laughed. “It’s a family thing,” he explained to his friend. “The Delacours have a tradition of naming their children with an anagram of ‘Cordelia.’ It started with… I think it was your great-great-great grandmother Cordelia?” He looked at his friend for confirmation, and she nodded. “Yeah, she started it when she married into the Delacour family. Now it’s a tradition.”

“Ugh, even the name ‘Delacour’ sounds like an anagram of ‘Cordelia!’”

“From what we know,” the redhead spoke up, “she had something of a weird sense of humor. And we also think it was her way of getting back at her in-laws for not approving of her.”

“Huh. Whaddya know?”

Cordelia smoothed out her uniform. “Well, I want to know what the craziest thing Chrom here got up to in the past five years! Besides completing his spell, that is.” The bluenette fished out his tome and handed it to her. “Oh, wow. Man, you really did write a whole tome!”

“That’s the second edition, by the way,” Chrom commented. “But you really don’t want to know what the craziest thing I did is. I’ve never seen Dad get so angry at me before or since! Plus there was the… bullying afterwards.” Cordelia winced. “Yeah, it was pretty bad. I mean, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Chrom, your dumb stunts always start out with ‘it seemed like a good idea at the time.’”

“Yeah, but this one was the backfire to end all backfires.” The bluenette bit his lip. “Frederick kind of accidentally poked at it recently—“ he shivered, “but I think you, Tia, have a right to know. Kellam was there, so he witnessed the whole thing. Robin…” he fidgeted with his gloves, “I… I think you should listen too. I trust you, and you’ve had my back even though you don’t know me all that well. I hope you don’t think any worse of me after this.” He took a deep breath and then told them the story about how Sarah Piers died, how he wanted to help her family, how he used a spell from his father’s spellbook, and how the undead girl went feral. He told them about the villagers’ reaction, his father’s reaction, his attempt at restitution, the bullying he suffered for a few weeks, his father’s anger at the bullies, and the way Kellam and Anna had stuck by his side. Robin and Cordelia were wide-eyed by the time he finished.

“Wow.”

“No wonder you kind of just froze up when we first encountered the Risen,” Robin commented, looking dazed. “Sheesh, that… Chrom, I can’t even begin to say how sorry I am, and I wasn’t even your friend at that point!”

“You did something stupid, but your heart was in the right place.” Cordelia laid her hand on his arm. “And I’m proud of you for that.”

Chrom favored them with a weak, but heartfelt, smile. “Thanks, you guys. You have no idea what this means to me.”

Grima woke up to find it dark outside. He yawned and stretched, getting up and rubbing his eyes. I’m surprised I slept that long, poor Inigo must’ve been hungry and I didn’t get him food first. He glanced around the room and made the embers in the hearth flare into a fire with a flick of his fingers. Wait… where’s the mini blueberry?

He frowned and searched the room, turning it over for signs of the boy, but the staleness of his scent implied the bluenette teen hadn’t been in it since they first entered. Where did he go? Did he leave while I was conked out?! He rushed out of the room, down the hall and stairs, and into the tavern area where a few patrons lingered. The albino went up to the bartender and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, have you seen a kid with blue hair and an eye bandage in the past few hours? He was with me earlier when we got our room?”

The bartender frowned. “Hmm. Yes, I did see him. He left several minutes after you two went upstairs, slipped out like he didn’t want to be seen. Was he the son you were looking for last time?”

Grima sighed. “No, he’s apparently my son’s younger brother. I wasn’t aware anyone from his birth family was still alive, but I want to protect the kid, you know?”

“Yes, I do.” The man chuckled. “He looked like he was heading north, towards the castle. I’d start there with your search. I hope you find this one quickly!”

“Thank you!” the albino called back. He dashed out of the tavern and into the dark night.

It took him a few minutes to get to the palace, following the faint traces of Inigo’s scent all the while. Fortunately, the bartender appeared to be right: the boy had gone to the castle. For what reason, Grima couldn’t fathom. Weren’t he and his little band of time-travelers trying to save history or something, not screw it up even worse? Why would he go to the castle? Up ahead, the front gate loomed, the familiar guard company scattered about. The albino went up to them and found Captain Ross, who looked surprised and confused, and oddly enough elated. “Mr. Raven, sir! What brings you to the palace at this time of night?”

“My charge gave me the slip and flew the coop,” the dragon explained. “I’m trying to track him down.”

“Oh, the young man that was with you earlier?” Ross leaned over and whispered, “Are you aware that he was the missing prince of Ylisse?”

“… What.”

“Oh, yeah! Captain Oslow saw him earlier and it turns out he had the Brand in his right eye…” Ross’s explanation faded into the background as Grima’s brain tried and failed to restart. Inigo had gone to the castle. The guards had seen him and taken off his eyepatch. They’d seen the Brand and thought he was the prince. They had probably taken him into the castle and had set him up in the prince’s chambers, or maybe they were interrogating him about his “captors” or some other nonsense, or worse, they suspected him of brainwashing or treachery and had thrown him in the dungeon! He shivered. No. No, he couldn’t let his sweet grandson suffer through all that, the poor timid boy must be terrified out of his wits! “Mr. Raven, sir? Sir?”

“H-Huh?” Grima snapped out of his panicked thoughts. “I-Is Ciel all right?”

“You mean Prince Chrom? Well, yes, last I heard the servants were taking care of him.” Ross frowned. “Why, is everything okay?”

The Fell Dragon’s blood chilled at the sound of “taking care of him.” That could mean anything! He gave the man a weak smile. “Yes, it’s fine. I was just worried about him.”

“Oh, don’t worry, sir, the prince is in good hands!”

“Th-Thank you.” He bowed, turned, and went back down the road towards the inn.

Once he got out of sight of the gate, he teleported to the inside of the castle wall, crouching in the shadow of the brickwork. He cast an invisibility illusion over himself and grew his wings out of his back, taking flight into the night sky. If he remembered correctly, the prince’s quarters had been on the west side of the castle. Grima flew, silent and unseen, towards the west tower and landed on a balcony. The glass doors allowed him to peer into the dark, moonlit bedroom, where he caught sight of a figure sitting up in the bed. The figure yawned and rubbed their eyes, then stopped and stared at the white-haired man standing outside.

“Mini blueberry?”

“Mini blueberry?”

The glass doors muffled the sound, but the coat-clad figure standing on the balcony couldn’t be mistaken for anyone other than the Fell Avatar. Inigo gasped. He-He found me! How?! The figure motioned for him to “come here.” Shaking, the bluenette got out of the huge bed and tiptoed over to the doors, unlocking them and opening them. Immediately, Grima reached over and glomped onto the boy.

“Mini blueberry, you’re all right! Oh, I was so worried when I couldn’t find you! You almost gave me a heart attack when I woke up and you weren’t there! Oh, you poor thing, you must’ve been so scared! Shhhh, it’s all right, I’ll get you out of this mess, okay, sweetie?”

Inigo choked on his breath and sobbed. The albino’s grip tightened around him. “Oh, Inigo… it’s going to be okay, all right? Here.” He felt Grima slip his arm underneath his knees and lift him up, carrying him over to the bed. The man set him down on the mattress and cradled him close. “Shhh… shhh…” Strong hands caressed his hair and rubbed his back in circles. The bluenette cried for another minute or two before lapsing into shivering silence. His energy felt completely drained, what with his emotions going through the ringer the past few days, and he slumped against the older man’s chest, exhausted.

“Better?”

Inigo shrugged in response.

“We should get going if we want to get back to the inn and get enough sleep before we leave again tomorrow.”

“W-We can’t.” The teen coughed and shuddered. “Th-They think I-I’m the p-prince. They’ll… They’ll panic if-if they come in t-tomorrow and f-find I’m g-gone… I-I can’t just l-leave.”

Grima sighed. “I don’t think your dad would appreciate it if you ended up taking his place.”

“D-Do you th-think I want t-to be here? A-And anyw-way, you never t-took him back h-here, why do y-you c-care?” Inigo’s voice had quieted to a fearful whisper.

He felt the man shrug. “I didn’t think they were worthy of him. Besides, his father was a horrible man who couldn’t appreciate his son for who he was, he didn’t deserve to continue raising Chrom.” He paused. “And then once we got word that his parents were dead, he decided to stay with me.”

“B-But Aunt Em-Emmeryn—“

“Is a wuss.” Grima snorted. “Chrom seemed perfectly happy staying with me, so I let him.” He sighed. “Look, if you really don’t want to stay at the inn with me tonight, then tomorrow, I don’t know, say the Brand is an illusion that a Plegian sorcerer put in your eye when they come in to check on you.”

“What? N-No, I can’t do that!” Inigo’s breath quickened, and he slipped out of the albino’s hold. “I-I can’t say that—“

“It’s actually very plausible, mini blueberry.”

“N-No… I’ll talk to Aunt Emm tomorrow, she’ll understand!”

“Kiddo, she’s not here right now, they were on their way to the eastern palace.”

“W-What?!” The bluenette’s heart rate sped up.

Grima shrugged and started rubbing the boy’s back again. “That’s what the guards said. My guess is you probably won’t see her until the end of the war, and by then it’ll be too late.”

“But  I-I can’t! Why do you want me to s-say that, anyway?!”

“Because I’m trying to help you.”

“No… please don’t…”

“Mini blueberry—“

“I can’t! I can’t use your help! My dad died because of you, I can’t just take your help!” The man flinched. “I-I’m sorry, but I can’t.” Inigo trembled, his breathing slowing back down. He’d done it. He’d told the Fell Dragon he couldn’t use his help. Maybe he was definitely going to die now, but he was scared and alone, and his sister and friends weren’t here. Only the big bad. He hung his head, waiting for the man to do something, maybe snap and kill him, torture him, anything other than rubbing his back (which… felt really… nice, by the way, he couldn’t remember the last time someone had done that).

“Long, long ago, there was a little dragon.”

Inigo’s head snapped up in confusion. Why was the Fell Dragon telling him a bedtime story, of all things? Perplexed, fearful, and maybe the tiniest bit curious, he listened. “The dragon was very sad and lonely. He had nothing except a bunch of Risen for company, and he lived in a giant labyrinth that was sealed up and forgotten. The alchemist that created him had tried to kill him, and the terrified dragon had ended up killing the alchemist in self defense. So the dragon lived in the labyrinth by himself. He spent most of that time sleeping, for there was hardly any food, and when he was awake, he was often overcome by terrifying and destructive urges. Parts of the labyrinth had been clawed or blasted to pieces by his power. He didn’t understand why no one would come to help him.

“The little dragon hadn’t quite reached his thousandth year when people finally came into the labyrinth, led by a green-haired man with a dragon-fanged sword. The dragon was confused but also relieved. Maybe they were here for him! Well, they were… to defeat him, that is. The green-haired man beat the little dragon, who disappeared in fright. But when he reappeared, it was outside the labyrinth, in a world full of life and greenery and fresh air as he had never seen before! The starving dragon came upon some farm animals nearby, and in his hunger he devoured them. The farmer panicked and chased him away. Frightened, the dragon fled. For a while, he lived like this, eating whatever food he came across and occasionally making a mess when his destructive tendencies surfaced.

“Eventually he was caught and put in a cage and brought before the green-haired man, who was now the ruler of the entire continent. The man looked at the dragon and said, ‘I don’t know what to do with him, but someone else I know might.’ The little dragon was put on a ship and sailed the sea to the continent to the east.

“When he got there, the little dragon was taken before the ruler of a little island nation in the southwest end of the continent. The dragon looked into the blue-haired prince’s eyes expecting the fear and revulsion that all people seemed to show whenever they saw him… but the prince’s gaze was filled with only kindness, sympathy, and curiosity. The prince ignored his advisor’s warnings and let the little dragon out of the cage. ‘Hello there,’ he said. ‘What is your name?’

“The little dragon was confused. ‘I do not have a name,’ he replied. ‘I have always been referred to as the ‘Creation.’

“‘Well, that isn’t a name at all!’ cried the prince. ‘Here, let’s pick out a name for you, one that you like and can use to refer to yourself.’”

Inigo couldn’t help but admit that Grima was an excellent storyteller. Was it all the years of raising his father? The albino continued, “The dragon picked out a name that he believed was grand and wonderful, and the prince liked it and told him it suited him. He let the little dragon stay in his palace and said he had a friend who was coming over to help him.

“The friend turned out to be another dragon. She was the daughter of the resident dragon leader of that continent, and she showed the little dragon how to make a very important tool called the dragonstone. ‘It will help you,’ she said, ‘and it will make it easier to control yourself and your powers.’ Intrigued, the little dragon followed her instructions and condensed his power. When he opened his eyes, he found he now had a new form: a human boy with fluffy white hair, two red eyes, and pointy little ears. His power was now contained in an iridescent black dragonstone. The dragon girl and the prince were delighted and applauded the little dragon boy.

“The prince was always kind to the dragon boy and treated him as if he were just another person. The boy grew to care deeply about the prince, and when he learned the prince was going to fight another war, he wanted to join in.” Grima sighed. “But it was not to be. The dragon girl’s mother invited the dragon boy over to play with her daughter, but when the two went to sleep, she put a spell on the boy. He woke up later and was very confused when he saw the dragon girl and asked her about the prince, only for her to say that the prince had died a while ago. Then he found out the truth: an evil dragon had resurrected and the dragon goddess had put the boy into a hundred-year sleep. The prince had grown old and died while the dragon boy had been asleep.”

“Oh, no,” Inigo whispered. “That’s…”

“The dragon boy was heartbroken. He left the dragon goddess and wandered the world in search of someone like his friend the prince. But the world was full of horrible selfish, greedy men who either made fun of the dragon boy or wanted him to do things for him. The dragon goddess didn’t help—she said the boy, because he was made instead of born like any other dragon, was an abomination and a perversion of nature. The dragon boy grew into a dragon man, but he was always tormented by the world around him. Time passed, and his pain and anger grew, until finally, after nine hundred years, he decided he’d had enough. He remade himself into the destructive terror that everyone thought he was.

“And that,” Grima finished, “is how the Fell Dragon came to be.”

Inigo gasped. “You… you were the little dragon boy? B-But… how? I don’t understand…”

“History hasn’t been kind to me.” The albino shrugged. “But mini blueberry, the past fifteen years with your father were some of the most wonderful years I have ever had.” A smile crept onto the man’s lips. “I see so much of my friend in your father… and my friend wouldn’t want me to destroy the world. So you see? I can’t do it… for him… for your father… and for you.”

The bluenette teen opened and closed his mouth, speechless.

“I-I know I kind of dumped a lot onto you just now, but it is late and we both need our rest.” Grima stretched and yawned. “I think I’ll see if I can find a comfy chair around here…”

“Um, n-no, that’s okay. You should go back to the inn and get your rest there.”

The dragon pouted—pouted!—at him. “Can’t I stay with my cute little grandson?”

He probably wouldn’t leave until Inigo said yes. Naga above, how scary was it to go to sleep only to wake up and find your friends had died? The boy felt thankful he hadn’t had to experience that with any of his fellow Shepherds… but there had been those civilians… So it was kind of understandable, but did he really want the Fell Dragon in bed with him? And his story… well, no, it felt genuine. Inigo sighed.

“I don’t know if there’s a guest bedroom anywhere nearby, but… um… if you really want to stay here, you could get the bedclothes and blankets from there and bring them in here. B-But you’ll have to put them somewhere where the servants can’t find you.”

Grima’s eyes lit up. “Yay! Don’t worry, mini blueberry, we’ll sort out this mess tomorrow!” He planted a kiss on the bluenette’s head and dashed out of the room, returning a minute later with a bunch of fluffy comforters and blankets. He spread them out on the floor and pushed them under the bed, lifting the bedskirt and slipping underneath. He popped back out a second later with a flat look directed at the teen. “No ‘monster under the bed’ jokes, understood?”

Inigo lifted his hands up in an “I didn’t say anything” gesture.

Grima nodded. “Good.” He ducked back under the bed. “Sweet dreams, mini blueberry.”

Inigo sighed and fell back onto the bed, burrowing under the covers. In a few minutes, he, too, was fast asleep.

Chapter Text

Inigo awoke to birdsong and sunshine and pounding on his door.

The boy yawned and stretched, snuggling further into the mattress. But the pounding continued. “Milord, wake up! Milord, the Exalt has returned!”

“Hmm?”

The teen sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He glanced around at the familiar bedchambers and sighed. Time to get up for another day… but Father was home, so he’d be looking forward to seeing him again. Mother would be especially happy, she had all sorts of stories from her last patrol that she’d been hoping to share with everyone. Luci was probably busy wrangling with the council with Aunt Lissa’s help. In his opinion, politics came after breakfast—the other way around was sure to spoil one’s appetite. How his big sis could do it, he had no idea. He slipped out of bed and padded over to the door, opening it.

An unfamiliar butler stood in the doorway. “Milord Chrom, quickly! We must get you dressed and ready to meet your sister! Oh, she’ll be so delighted to have found you, milord!”

Inigo stared in shock. Chrom? Sister? Found him?

Then the events of the previous night and days and years came crashing down on him. He wasn’t Prince Inigo Lowell, and this wasn’t an ordinary day in the castle; he was Inigo the Future Child, and this was the past of his father. His father, who hadn’t even been raised as the prince, but as a mage and the son of the Fell Dragon. His stomach churned with rising horror and the color left his face. He trembled and backed away, willing to go back to the pleasant reality he’d just thought himself in moments ago.

The butler bustled in and ran about setting out clothes for the boy. “I’m afraid these are a shabby job at best, milord, but we tried to use the clothes you were wearing as a guide, so they should fit.” He came over, led the boy into the bathroom, and started undressing the bluenette teen. Inigo watched, feeling detached from his body as the older man dressed him in something reminiscent of the navy outfit his father so loved to wear, except this one had both sleeves. Then the man ushered him out of the chambers and into the hall, down the hall and into an enormous dining room, and into a seat at the right of the head of the table. The other servants finished setting the table, turned, and bowed to a blonde woman who strode into the room wearing green-and-white robes and looking very tired. She waved the servants away and they departed as she took her seat.

Inigo had never met his Aunt Emmeryn, having been born years after her assassination, but the woman sitting to his left could not be anyone else but her. She favored him with a kind, sympathetic gaze. “Hello there, young man.”

“H-Hi,” he squeaked back.

Emmeryn chuckled. “You need not be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you.” She regarded him with curiosity. “What is your name?”

I will not use that name, I will not use that name! The bluenette swallowed. “C-Ciel.” Great. Just great. He hoped the Fell Dragon hadn’t overheard him, the man would probably rag on him later and be entirely too gleeful that he had used the man’s suggestion. He was so not telling Owain if he ever lived to see his cousin again.

The Exalt gave him a kind smile. “That’s a lovely name, Ciel.” She gestured to the food. “Please, eat. We will speak as we take our meal.”

Inigo nodded and dug in to the food. Palace fair was always top-notch, but of course, the servants saw to it that the Exalted family had only the best. He polished off a delectable slice of quiche and took a bite of fruit mousse before Emmeryn spoke up again. “So my captains in the palace guard told me this morning that they had discovered my brother. Now you must understand, it has been fifteen years, anything could’ve happened to him. I’m afraid I hold out little hope that he can be found, though my loyal retainer, Frederick, insists on looking for him.” She looked straight at him. “So you must believe I mean you no offense when I say I doubt you are him.”

The bluenette teen nodded. “Y-Your Grace, I don’t blame y-you. I think your m-men were overly… um, excited last night.”

“Yes, perhaps.” She tilted her head. “Although the strange thing was, they kept repeating ‘He has the Brand! He has the Brand!’” She stood up and walked over to him. “May I see it?”

Inigo gulped and set down his silverware, turning to face her. She put her hand on his cheek and studied his face. After a minute, she offered a sad smile.

“You look so much like him… and you have the Brand of the Exalt… but you are not my brother.”

The teen hung his head and nodded. “I’m s-sorry, your Grace. I never meant to get y-your hopes up.”

Emmeryn shook her head as she returned to her seat. “I believe you could be of some relation to us,” she said, “but my brother had his Brand on his right shoulder, and you have yours in your right eye.”

“I-It’s an illusion.” Naga above, he could practically hear Grima smirking with delight. “A sorcerer th-thought it would be f-funny to place an-an illusion of the Brand in m-my eye. Y-You know, to-to throw off who the prince really w-was.” He sighed. “I did t-try to warn your people.”

She nodded. “I’m so sorry about this, Ciel. While I’m experienced with magic, I’m afraid illusions are quite out of my purview… but I will see what I can do for you. If you happen to know—“

Boom!

Inigo gasped and whipped his head around in the direction of the explosion. Emmeryn stood, her mouth in a tight line. “They’re here.”

“Wh-Who?”

“Gangrel’s men. Cordelia said they were half a day’s march away… they must have arrived. They’re here for me and the Fire Emblem.”

“W-What?!” Inigo shot up out of his chair. “Y-Your Grace, we have to get out of here! If they find us—“

“If they find you,” she fixed her steely gaze on him, “there’s no telling what they’ll do. I’m not worried for my life, I knew this might happen when I gave the Fire Emblem to Chrom. But you, Ciel, are an unknown. I can’t let an innocent person die because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

The teen’s lip quivered. He couldn’t speak, but instead threw his arms around Emmeryn. She hugged him back tightly, warmth and love in her arms. The she grabbed his hand and led him out of the dining room into a secret passageway that took the two to her bedroom.

In the end, it didn’t matter. The Plegians found and captured them anyway.

Grima yawned and sniffed the air. The scent of smoke filled his nose, and he frowned in his sleep. He flipped over to his other side, but the acrid odor remained. He grumbled and went to sit up—Bam! “Ow!” Falling back on his pillow, he looked up to find the underside of a bed above him. “Huh…?”

Oh wait, that’s right, he’d spent the night here with Inigo instead of at the inn.

The albino wriggled over to the edge of the huge bed and flipped up the bedskirt. Okay, coast was clear… He slid out from underneath the bed and got up, turning to bid good morning to his grand-blueberry. “Rise and—shine…” He frowned at the empty bed. “I guess I missed you waking up? Weird. I must’ve been ridiculously tired last night.” Well, he’d made use of his wings. That power was sure to wear at him without his usual reserves. How he wished for his old body back… He’d have to generate a new dragonstone, however, if he wanted to continue lavishing affection onto his cute little blueberries. Being the size of a city would be quite the cumbersome obstacle in trying to hug two sweet but squishy humans.

He walked around the suite looking for Inigo, but the bluenette was nowhere to be seen, and the smell of smoke had strengthened by the time he returned to the bedchamber. He went over to the door and slowly opened it, keeping a sharp eye out for servants. To his surprise, he found Plegian soldiers milling about and rifling through the castle’s goods. Wait a minute, what happened? Did I just sleep through an invasion force?! Gangrel hadn’t taken Ylisstol quite so early in the previous timeline… or had he? Because Emmeryn’s assassination had been thwarted this time (and he liked to think that was all due to Chrom and his education), so what was going on?

“Lookie them jewels jus’ lyin’ around like trash. Ain’t it disgustin’? These Ylisseans live like filthy rich pigs, they do.”

“Well, now’n we gots the Exalt an’ the prince, we oughta move along an’ take what’n we can get, heheheh!”

Grima’s heart stopped. They had Chrom?! No wait, Inigo had been here. They had Inigo?! No, no, no, no, no, I am not gonna let my grandson suffer! Oh no, I never had a chance to put a new illusion on his eye! Gangrel’s going to hurt him when he arrives in Plegia! If I go now… but wait, I don’t know where he is! He could be halfway to the border by now! What am I going to do?!

The Fell Dragon bit his lip and closed the door. Okay, think. Chrom and the Shepherds were heading to Ferox for reinforcements. If I go there and let them know Inigo was captured—no, they don’t know about him, that wouldn’t be right. Ylisstol was captured? Oh, wait, isn’t the blonde princess with them? She’ll want to know how her sister is doing. Maybe I can convince them that we need to get to Occasus in order to prevent her sister and my grandbaby from being killed or executed!

Okay. He was going to have to retreat now, but it was for Inigo’s good. He turned and put his invisibility illusion back on, grew back his wings, and took to the air, flying out of the open balcony doors. Below him, the Plegian army pillaged and vandalized the castle, though Emmeryn and Inigo were nowhere in sight, and he couldn’t get their scent on the wind. Sighing, he flew down to an alley near the inn, took off the spell and retracted his wings, and rushed into the inn, slipping past the soldiers and running up to the room he’d gotten last night. After checking to see he had everything, he ran back down, found and saddled Eugene, and took off towards the Northroad.

I won’t let your son die, Chrom! We’ll rescue him together!

It was good to be back in Ferox, though the mood of the Shepherds could’ve been better. Chrom really didn’t blame them—being shouldered with the responsibility of the Fire Emblem was nerve-wracking at best, mind-numbingly terrifying at worst. Raimi led the party through the halls of Arena Ferox to the Khan’s throne room, where they waited for the Khans. Frederick looked particularly glum, probably because Emmeryn’s life was in danger. Some of the Shepherds went up to him to offer words of consolation or encouragement. Even Lon’qu had put off glaring at the guy and gave him a pat on the back in sympathy. The brunette knight barely responded, however.

Sumia went up to the knight and yelled, “Frederick, snap out of it!” and punched him in the face! Chrom gasped, and next to him Robin sniggered.

“Ack!” Frederick massaged his jaw. “And what, pray tell, was that for, Sumia?”

“O-Oh, um… did-did I do it wrong? Captain Phila always says a good slap to the face helps break anyone out of their blue moods.”

Robin outright cackled. “Sumia, sweetie, a slap is done with an open palm. You just punched Frederick in the face! Haha-hahahaha!”

“Robin! I was only trying to help! Oh, dear, what did I do?! Frederick, are you all right?”

The knight gave a chuckle. “While I daresay that hurt, I suppose it’s the thought that counts. Thank you for trying to cheer me up, Sumia.”

“Wow.” The tactician leaned over to Chrom. “We finally found something that just might be Freddy Bear’s match—Sumia’s fist!”

The bluenette rolled his eyes. “Robin, that’s just dumb.”

“Hey, my gal can sure dish it out, can’t help you if you can’t take it.”

“Your gal, huh?” Chrom felt a ridiculous grin spread across his face. “Does somebody have a cruhhhhhh-sh? Are you in loooooove, Robin?”

Predictably, the white-haired tactician went bright red. “For your information,” he hissed, “the attraction is mutual between the two of us! I’ll have you know that she’s an amazing cook and an excellent book buddy! Although her tastes in romance lean towards the more lurid side…”

“Robin! Ribald Tales of the Faith War is a tame book compared to the other series I read!” the pegasus knight rebuffed, walking over to them. “It is a perfectly acceptable adaptation of historical events that occurred back in ancient times!”

“Oh, yeah, that one,” Chrom remarked. “I actually though that one was fairly interesting, I read it when it came into the bookstore before.”

Robin blinked at him. “Well, okay then. I never said it was bad. I actually thought the characters were fairly well-written and sympathetic—even Arvis, who deep down was just trying to do what was best for his country.”

“Sigurd’s and Deirdre’s romance is one for the ages!” Sumia sighed. “Oh… and the tragedy of them being torn apart, and Deirdre losing her memory only to find love elsewhere…”

“Ooh, I wanna know the answer to this question,” the platinum-head said, turning to Chrom. “Who’s your favorite character in the book?”

“Well, I actually really identify with Saias.”

“Of course you do.” Robin facepalmed. “Go with the illegitimate son of the emperor who’s extremely powerful and crazy charismatic. Actually, you know what? That kinda does sound like you a little bit.”

“… Okay? I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.”

“He was a great tactician, you should be flattered.”

“Psst, guys.” Kellam nudged Chrom and Robin. “Flavia says the Feroxi army has mobilized. We’re probably going to be heading out soon, you hear?”

The bluenette nodded. “Got it.” Then he jumped a bit as the doors swung open and Basilio strode in with Olivia trailing behind him. The pinkette waved at Chrom and slipped over to his side, head tilted in query. He shrugged, and she nodded, frowning. He caught Robin’s wickedly gleeful grin and Kellam’s thumbs-up out of the corner of his eye. Olivia gave them a confused look, but turned her attention back to the West Khan.

“I’ve been looking for you all over, Lissa! Our scouts just got back, and they have grim news to report. A witness who was there also arrived.” The brown-skinned man shook his head. “There’s really no easy way to say this: Ylisstol has fallen.”

“What?! Oh, no, Emm!” the blonde princess cried. “Tell me she’s okay!”

“I’m afraid not. The witness says the exalt was taken behind Plegian lines, along with a boy they believed to be your brother.” His eyes fell on Chrom when he said this. “Gangrel’s going to have the two of them executed within the moon.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

The bluenette gasped as a familiar figure with white hair, red eyes, and a black tactician’s coat swept into the room. “Father?! Father, is that you?!”

“Chrom!” Dad’s eyes widened, and he ran over to the young mage as Chrom ran towards him. The two collided in a tight, loving embrace, Dad whispering sweet nothings into his ear as the older man clutched him close and stroked his hair. “Oh, Chrom, sweetheart, I’ve been so worried, I was so afraid you were hurt or worse! It’s okay now though, Daddy’s here, everything’s fine, you’re fine…”

“Oh, Father!” The stress that had piled up on the young teen’s shoulders lifted and vanished as he snuggled into his father’s arms. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here! I was so stressed about you, whether you were worrying about me, it was so much.”

“Shhh, there there now, it’s all right, you’re safe, I’m here…”

Basilio cleared his throat, and the two glanced around, then melted out of the embrace, sheepish expressions evident on their faces. “I’m glad you were able to find your father, Chrom. You two will be able to catch up later, I’m sure, but right now we need to figure out how to rescue your Exalt and prince.”

Dad’s face took on a resolute look, and the bluenette mage-healer could see his mind working on the problem at hand. “Ciel isn’t the Prince Chrom—he’s just unlucky enough to look like the prince. When I first found him, a sorcerer had left him with an illusion of the Brand that the boy was unable to dispel, and when we went to Ylisstol, the guards saw him and took him in.” His red eyes gleamed with a furious light. “I will not let Gangrel put this innocent child to death, not when it was my fault he got there in the first place!”

“I can’t help but think this is a trap,” Robin spoke up. “Surely he knew your scouts were going to report back. He’s trying to provoke us to do something—but what?”

“Well, we need to think over our options here—“

Lissa cut Basilio off. “Shepherds! We march on Plegia tomorrow!”

“You can’t just do that!” Dad hissed. “We need a strategy first—“

“He’s gonna kill my sister—!”

“And he’s going to kill Chrom’s brother! If we don’t think this through carefully, they’re both going to die, and we will be at fault! If you rush in to this, you will lose more lives than you can afford!”

“Quiet, both of you! Lissa, take a breather for a moment,” Flavia interjected. “Look, we’re not saying not to act at all. We’re saying to do it wisely. Raven is right, we need a plan for how we’re going to get to the capital in time to save them both.” Her gaze was stern. “We need both guts and brains if we’re going to pull this off successfully.”

Robin nodded. “I’ll figure out a strategy for us to use, Lissa. Raven, do you know tactics?”

“I do.”

“Then you can help me put a plan together. You can trust us, Lissa, we’ll make sure your sister comes home safe and sound.”

Lissa glanced between the both of them, then gave a sharp nod, her eyes filling with determination. “All right. I’ll leave you two to it, then.”

“You sure you’re up to the task, you two?” Basilio asked. “I know Robin’s only worked with the Shepherds so far, and I know nothing of your experience, Raven. You’ll have both the Exalt’s and Ciel’s lives as well as all of our own to keep in mind.”

Dad gave an evil grin. “Oh, I have plenty of experience,” he practically purred. “Gangrel won’t know what hit him.”

“We won’t take this responsibility lightly,” Robin added, gaze fierce. “I know we’ll rise to the challenge.”

“… All right, then.” Basilio rubbed his bald head. “Either you two are the ballsiest geniuses I’ve ever met, or you’re complete fools. Gods help us all…” Then he laughed. “Well, I guess we’ll see the answer to that on our march! Ylisseans, we’ve got ourselves an Exalt and a prince-lookalike to save!”

While the Shepherds checked over their gear and packed up extra supplies, Chrom followed his father to the Feroxi war room. As the two approached, the din of people yelling reached their ears. “Father, I have to go! I might not be much of a fighter, but I can help in other ways! Please, I just want to help!”

“Olivia, it’s dangerous out there! Humor an old man and stay at home, please?”

Grima frowned and pushed open the doors to the room. He cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the West Feroxi Khan and the familiar pink-haired dancer. “Sorry, are we interrupting anything?”

Basilio perked up. “Raven, you know what it’s like, sending your kid out there, how scary it is, right?”

“I don’t necessarily send him out anywhere—a lot of the times I go with him. Letting him be on his own is one of the scariest things I’ve encountered.”

Chrom sighed. “Dad—“

“I’m not saying he’s not capable! Far from it!” Grima put his hands on his hips. “But I really, really don’t like the idea of him getting hurt. That being said, he’s technically an adult and can take care of himself.” He paused, then amended, “Mostly. He still struggles with the sword for some reason.”

“Basilio, I know you’re afraid for Olivia,” the bluenette spoke up. “I also know how she feels, wanting to do something good where you can. I know you want to leave her behind, but the truth is, she’s actually safest with Dad and me watching over her. She’s my friend, and I don’t want her to get hurt. And Dad is extremely powerful and extremely protective towards the people he cares about. Between the two of us, Olivia will not get hurt.”

Olivia’s eyes widened. “Oh… thank you, Chrom, that’s very kind of you.”

Grima couldn’t help his mental smirk. This is the mini blueberry’s mother, it’s in all of our very best interests that she not be harmed. Out loud, he said, “Chrom is right, both about my power and protectiveness. Your daughter will come out of this unharmed.”

Basilio blinked. “You two really are sure about this.” His brow furrowed in contemplation. “Okay. Raven, Chrom, I’m putting my daughter’s life in your hands. I trust you’ll take care of her to the best of your abilities.”

“Of course.” The albino nodded. “From one foster father to another, I promise you I’ll treat her like my own daughter.”

The Khan grinned. “Thank you.” He slapped the dragon on the back. “Well, Olivia, looks like you’ve gotta get packing!”

“Oh, thank you, Father! Thank you, Mr. Raven! Thank you, Chrom!” The pinkette went around and hugged each of them. “I’ll do the best I can out there!”

Chrom coughed, and Grima chuckled at the blush that dusted his cute son’s cheeks. “Don’t worry about it. Hey, since I’m all done, do you want me to help? I’m pretty good with fitting lots of stuff into very few bags.”

“That would be very much appreciated,” she replied with a shy laugh. “Come on then, let me show you to my room…”

As the two walked out of the room, Grima leaned over to Basilio and commented, “I ship it.”

“Da—ad, you’re just as bad as Robin!”

That sent the two older men into a fit of giggles!

“Okay, dancing rings, steel sword, extra steel sword, extra clothes, light cloak—Chrom, are you sure I need a cloak? It’s hot out in the desert.”

The bluenette glanced up from the bags he’d readied. “Trust me, you’re going to want the extra sun protection. Your clothes are loose and flowing, which is good, but they don’t cover all of your skin. If you don’t fully cover up, you’re going to get a nasty sunburn real quick.”

“What if we travel at night, though?”

Chrom grinned. “That’s where my dad’s spells come in. He can put one on your cloak such that it’s cool in hot weather and warm in cool weather, just like our coats!”

“Oh!” Olivia gasped in delight. “Oh, that’s clever! I didn’t know your dad was capable of such a thing!”

“Oh, he’s like the best mage ever. He can do all sorts of different spells, plus he helped me write my tome.”

She tilted her head. “That’s right, you mentioned that last time, didn’t you.” Then she frowned in thought. “Have you ever been to the desert before, Chrom?”

“A couple times.” The bluenette took the clothes she handed him and packed them into one of the bags. “Middlefield is south of Themis, and both towns are next to the border between Plegia and Ylisse. I don’t know if I told you this, but sometimes Dad and I go out to other towns and deal with bandits every so often.”

“And you went to a Plegian town? To find out where the bandits were coming from?”

“Well, no.” Chrom sat back, lost in thought. “We chased this one brigand group across the border once and came upon this little oasis village. We decided to take a break there and found out the people were getting harassed by the group as well.”

“Oh, no! What did you do?”

“Well, we drove the bandits off—the villagers were happy about that. Turns out they were short on food. So, I organized a relief mission with the help of the other Middlefielders, and Dad and I went back with food and supplies for them.” He smiled. “If we ever need to stop in Bubblestone during the campaign, they’ll be happy to help—though we should help them in return if they’re dealing with a shortage again.”

Olivia laughed, shaking her head. “You know, Chrom, I don’t think I’ve ever heard about such kindness towards the Plegians in a while.” She smiled at him. “You’re very sweet to think of them.”

The bluenette felt his face flush, heat creeping into his cheeks. “Ah, w-well, I—ahem—I don’t blame the Plegian people for what their king does, or what their Grimleal do. At the end of the day, they’re just people like us, you know?”

“Huh. That is true. Did your father teach you that?”

“Well, what he does say is that race doesn’t matter in the case of good and evil, so, um… I kinda extrapolated from there. Race doesn’t matter in the case of innocence or guilt.” Chrom sighed. “I wish some people would understand that.”

She handed him another set of clothes and some dancing rings, and he resumed packing. “I think that’s a very wise outlook, Chrom.” Then she laughed. “Look at me, I’m perfectly fine talking to you like this! I have no idea what Dad was so worried about!”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

Olivia’s face colored a bit. “O-Oh, just that… w-well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but… I’m kind of… shy… around guys. I-It’s not your fault!” she cried, waving her hands. “I just… had a bad experience, is all. When I was younger, I mean.”

Chrom took the rest of the dancing rings from her and put them on top of the others. “I have at least two or three of those—bad experiences, I mean—so I might understand.”

“Oh, okay. So, um… when I was a preteen, I really loved to dance. I mean, obviously I still do now, but I kind of always have. Um, so one day I was practicing for a performance out in the orphanage yard, because I didn’t want the other kids watching me. They were all busy doing other things. This, um, this guy rides up, and he has this whole retinue—I think he was an Ylissean noble or something. I’m not sure what he’d be doing in Ferox, maybe visiting someone? Anyway, so he saw me, and I wasn’t paying attention,” she explained, “I sort of get really into it when I’m dancing, you see.”

“So he saw you and… what, was he rude to you?”

“Oh, not at all! Actually, he complimented me on my performance from a couple days before, and he said he wanted to talk more with me. In his carriage.”

Chrom frowned as he packed her swords up. “Why in his carriage? Couldn’t you both just talk outside of it?”

“Well, that’s obvious to us now, but then I was just a dumb kid who didn’t know any better. So I say yes and he takes my hand and helps me in—then he yells at his driver to go as fast as he can! He says something about ‘getting what he came for’ and I kind of freak out. It kind of hits me that maybe I’ve been kidnapped. I start screaming and kicking and just raising a fuss in general. He tries to get me to shut up, sort of, not trying to hurt me, just restrain me.”

“Did anyone hear you?”

“Basilio did,” she replied. “He was out with some of his buddies that day, thank goodness. They were going to a tavern, but before they got there, the noble’s carriage came roaring down the road, and I’m screaming and everything and they heard me. Basilio goes out and stands in the middle of the road, and his friends cover all the other exits. The carriage barely stops just in time, and I get thrown to the floor. The noble is asking his driver what’s going on, so I make a run for it—well, I try to, he caught my hand before I could get out the door.”

The bluenette finished packing her things and sat with his legs crossed on the floor as he listened to her tale. “Basilio comes up to the door and says, ‘Is there a problem here?’ The noble says no, I panicked because there was a fly or something.” Chrom snorted at that. “Yeah, I thought it was dumb, too. So Basilio leans in and goes, ‘I don’t know what’s legal down in Ylisse, but up here we don’t make off with little girls.’ The noble, of course, looks down his nose at him and says, ‘Well, what are you going to do about it? Tell the Khan?’”

“Oh, my gods!” Chrom burst out laughing. “What did Basilio say?”

“He leaned in even closer and said, ‘I am the Khan.’ The noble went white!” Now she was giggling, too. “And Basilio took my hand and led me out. The noble started saying something about a dowry or something, he was like, ‘What’s her bride price, I’ll pay double!’ So Basilio goes, ‘For a national treasure? You can’t afford such a priceless thing!’”

“Oh, my gods! Oh, he really gave it to him, didn’t he?”

“He sure did!” she agreed. “The noble sped off and Basilio asked if I was okay and if he needed to walk me back home. He was just a complete gentleman and everything.” She gave a happy sigh. “I kept thanking him over and over for saving me, I asked him, ‘Is there anything I can do to repay you?’ And he goes, ‘No, that’s okay, I’m just happy you’re all right.’ Well, I kept insisting, and finally he said he’d think about it. Next week, he comes to the orphanage and asks me, ‘I’ve thought about it, and I’ve decided: would you do me the honor of being my daughter, Miss Olivia?’”

“Aww!” Chrom was grinning so widely his cheeks hurt. “That was so kind of him! And you said yes?”

Olivia laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t,” she said twirling. “But yeah, that’s why I’m not really comfortable around guys. Except for Lon’qu, we see each other as siblings. Basilio kinda adopted him too.”

The mage-healer nodded. “You know, your story is actually very similar to how I met my own father—except I met him first, then he saved me. I think I mentioned that when we first met?” She nodded. He ran through the story with her of how they’d gotten caught by a pack of bandits and Dad had stepped in to save him.

“Chrom, that’s… wow.” She tapped her chin, deep in thought. “When you say he scared them off, what do you mean?”

Chrom glanced around in case anyone was eavesdropping, then leaned in closer. “He’s… well, Dad’s not human. He just looks like it. He can manifest aspects of his other nature in his human form, although he doesn’t have enough power to fully transform—at least, that’s what he said.”

“What is he, then?”

The bluenette grinned.

“He’s a dragon.”

Olivia gasped. “Your father’s a—no way! Chrom, that’s incredible! Do you have any idea how rare dragons are nowadays?”

“Extremely so.” Chrom’s expression turned sad. “They haven’t been treated well in so long… it’s really heartbreaking.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “Well, you let me know if there’s anything I should be careful about around him.”

The boy beamed. “Olivia, have I ever told you you’re one of the most considerate people I’ve ever met?”

“Aw, Chrom! Now you’re just flattering me!”

“Hahaha, nooooo, it’s true! You are!”

Chrom found his father in the dining hall with the other Shepherds, eating over a spread-out map of Plegia along with Robin. He sat down next to the red-eyed man with a bowl of stew and scooped a spoonful into his mouth. “How’re things going?”

“Well enough.” Robin took another bite of roasted chicken. “We just finished putting together a viable plan for the extraction. Now we just need to implement it.” He nodded his head at Dad. “Your dad’s been a fantastic resource, I had no idea he was native to Plegia.”

“You are?” The bluenette turned to his father with a look of surprise. “Well, that explains how you know the desert so well. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

The older mage-dragon shrugged. “You never asked. Besides, it…” his face went tight, “it has some good memories that… are particularly painful. I… I lost someone who lived there, someone close to me.” He sighed. “I’d never had a happier time in my life… until you came along.” He favored the blue-haired youth with a gentle smile.

A few of the Shepherds came over and sat around them with their food. Sumia took a spot on Robin’s right while Frederick sat to his left. Kellam sat in the empty space on Dad’s left, Cordelia sat next to Sumia, Lon’qu seated himself on the other side of Chrom, and Gaius slid in next to Frederick. The orange-haired thief grinned at Dad. “Hi there again, Bubbles Sr.!”

Dad’s eyes narrowed. “You’re that kid who tried to make off with my spellbook all those years ago.”

“What?! You remember me?”

“Of course.” Dad smirked. “Nobody else has ever tried to steal my spellbook from me while it’s on my person.”

Kellam whistled. “Dang, Gaius, I had no idea you were that kid. I was wondering why you and Chrom seemed to know each other.”

“You tried to steal from Raven?” Cordelia peered down the table at Gaius. “Please tell me that was temporary insanity on your part. Nobody steals from him and gets away with it!”

Gaius shrugged. “Blue here saved my skin. Kiddo traded me his lollipop to get the book back. I told him I’d never forget him for it.” He glanced at the redhead and the ravenette. “How do you two know about him anyway, did you grow up with Blue or something?”

Dad nodded. “Kellam and Tia were two of Chrom’s friends growing up in Middlefield. Which reminds me…” He turned his head and locked a glare onto the older pegasus knight, who gave him an uneasy grin.

Chrom rolled his eyes. “Dad. I told you before, please don’t take revenge on my friend.”

“Little blueberry, may I remind you—“

“She left without saying goodbye, yes, I know. It’s been five years, we made nice and everything, please drop it.”

The red-eyed albino gave him a skeptical look. “And you’re not just saying that to get me off her case?”

“It’s true,” Cordelia spoke up. “I apologized for hurting his feelings and we agreed to just be friends.” She chuckled. “We felt we both grew out of our mutual crush from then.”

“Ha! Told you, Robin! Pay up!”

“Aww, come on, you have the advantage of knowing them!” Robin dug in his coat for some gold and handed it to a smug Kellam. “Why did I even get into that bet, anyway?”

“You’re the resident shipper here, you were sooooo convinced it was unrequited love!”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait.” Gaius held up his hands. “Is no one going to acknowledge the fact that Bubbles Sr. calls his kiddo ‘little blueberry?’”

Kellam, Cordelia, Robin, and Sumia burst out laughing. “We’re going on about Chrom and Tia’s relationship and that’s what you get hung up on?” Kellam asked in amused disbelief. “Raven’s called him that for as long as we’ve known the both of them! It’s his nickname for him!”

Lon’qu looked Chrom up and down, then shrugged. “Makes sense to me.” That set off another round of laughter from the other four.

The bluenette grinned. “You want to talk about goofy nicknames, how about the fact that Gaius calls you ’Shush-Kabob?’”

“Does he really?!” Sumia squealed as Chrom joined the others in cackling. Even Dad laughed. The thief shrugged.

“Hey, come on, he’s silent, and he skewers people. Shush-Kabob.” The laughter ratcheted up a notch. “Why is that so funny to you people?!”

“Of—Of all the people you could give a weird nickname—Lon’qu is the last person we’d think of!” Robin choked out. “Oh, gods… ow, my aching ribs.” Another wave of giggles went through. “Ow-how-how… man, I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard. You guys are all amazing, you know that?”

“Well, I can’t speak for the rest of you, but Chrom on the other hand,” Dad started, setting off more giggles. “Hey, I raised the kid, I know exactly how awesome he is.”

“Aww, Dad!” A warm and fuzzy feeling filled Chrom’s heart as he looked out over the table at his father having fun with his friends. This… this is really nice. I missed this, having my dad along. A tender smile graced his lips, and he leaned against his father’s shoulder, the love in his heart bright and warm. Dad put his arm around him and kissed the top of his head, making the bluenette beam.

“I have to go deliver our notes to the Khans,” he said, gathering up the map and papers scattered on the table, “but I’ll see you later tonight.” He stood and nodded to the group. “Be back at a reasonable hour, little blueberry, you’ll need your sleep!”

“All right, Dad!” Chrom called back. “See you later!”

After Dad left, Kellam scooted over into his vacated seat and Cordelia switched to sitting next to him. “Quick, Frederick, hide!”

“What? Why?” The knight gave them a flatly bewildered look.

The two rolled their eyes. “Because Raven is stupidly protective of Chrom,” the big man said, “and when he finds out you were the one behind Chrom’s panic attack when we were here last time? The only thing that will stop him from killing you is if Chrom deploys the infamous Puppy Eyes and pleads with him to spare you.”

“What? I do not have puppy eyes!”

“Yes, you do. Out of everyone we’ve ever come across, your dad is the least immune to them.”

Frederick cleared his throat. “While I would not ordinarily advocate such a thing, would it not be easier to simply not tell him what happened?”

“Oh, no, he already knows,” Chrom commented. “He definitely would’ve felt it through the pact-bond, it’s only a matter of time before he figures out who it is.”

“A pact—I’m sorry, what?”

Kellam and Cordelia glanced at the others at the table, then at the bluenette mage, who gave them a nod. “Raven’s not human,” the redhead revealed. “Not very many people know about this, though.”

The brunette knight’s eyes narrowed. “Not human?” His brow furrowed. “If he has a pact-bond with Chrom, does this mean he’s a demon?”

“What? No! Nonononono!” Chrom waved his hands in a placating gesture. “Dad’s… well, he’s… he’s a dragon.”

“What?!”

“He was created as an experiment.” The pegasus knight looked at Chrom for confirmation, and the youth nodded. “Basically, he was supposed to be some sort of perfected being, but the alchemist who created him tried to kill him when he got too powerful for him to control. He didn’t have any family until he adopted Chrom.”

The bluenette fingered the area near his heart, where his father’s Mark lay inked deep in his skin. “The pact-bond was something I asked for when I was younger. Dad didn’t remember until we started dream-speaking with each other that what he’d done was that sort of thing. It’d been over a millennia since the last time he’d made such a bond.” He shrugged. “It’s at its most powerful only when we’re both asleep near each other and dreaming, but it’s been helpful in other ways. Dad can use it to sense how I’m feeling.”

“Oh.” Frederick looked pale. “So that is how he knows that you had a panic attack.”

“Mm-hm. With that amount of strong emotions, definitely. It’s happened before.”

“Oh.”

Robin leaned over to the knight. “Sorry, Freddy Bear, sounds like you’re a dead man. Oh well, you were fun while you lasted.”

Frederick’s gaze sharpened on the tactician. “Are you saying you are going to help him find me and exact justice upon me for something which I have already been considered forgiven?”

“Nah, just offering my condolences.”

“That is not going to help.”

Chrom bit his lip. “Look, I’ll talk to him at some point, okay, Frederick? I’ll do my best to get him to understand that you weren’t trying to hurt me, you had no idea I would react that way. Just… be prepared for any retaliation on his part. He’s not very forgiving to people who hurt me.”

“Case in point: ‘Clear the Road,’” Cordelia muttered. “Does he still do that, by the way?”

“Yep.”

The bluenette finished off his food and gave a small yawn. “Well, I’m off to bed. See you guys bright and early tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Robin sighed. “Time to get back at Gangrel.”

Grima lay back on his bed, coat and boots lying discarded next to his dresser. Being with the Shepherds as an ally instead of an enemy was a… bizarre experience, to say the least. Already he could see Robin and Sumia’s relationship putting out buds, and of course his sweet, sweet son had begun to fall in love with Olivia. Well, maybe it wasn’t love yet, but the connection the two had made was undeniable. Maybe it was their shared experiences in adoption? The dragon hadn’t known much about the dancer other than she was a Feroxi, shy around men and about her dancing, and adopted by Basilio. Perhaps this time around the two had more that they could relate to given Chrom was now a foster child and had some embarrassing stories of his own. Grima chuckled. He liked it better this way instead of the “love at first sight” nonsense that had happened in the other timeline. Soulmates or no, his son needed to get to know his potential partner first before figuring out whether said person was worthy of the bluenette’s hand. Olivia had better measure up, otherwise there would be no mini blueberry in this timeline—which wouldn’t be fair at all to Inigo.

Poor child… first he’d lost his parents and been forced to survive in a dying future, then he’d been separated from his friends in the past, then he’d been found by Grima (who he didn’t know wasn’t an enemy to him), and now he was probably sitting in some rotting Plegian dungeon not knowing whether he was going to live past the next moon. The albino sighed. How he wished he could just teleport over to his little grandbaby, he hated that he’d had to effectively leave him behind! If only he had a blood pact with the child… but the boy would never consent to it as his father had. So teleporting was out of the question.

He was going to tear Gangrel to shreds bit by bit for endangering his darling grandson!

“Father?”

Grima lifted his head and looked up as Chrom slipped into the room. He sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed, regarding the bluenette. “Ready for tomorrow?”

“Mm-hm.” The boy took off his boots and set them next to his own bed. He shucked his coat off, and Grima frowned in surprise at the laced-up slits on either shoulder. Those were definitely not there last time he’d seen him.

“What’s with your shirt? You spruce it up while I was gone? It looks really good.”

Chrom reddened and ducked his head. “Oh, this isn’t my handiwork. S-Someone else did it.”

The albino got up and studied the needlework. “Mm, well, whoever did it, they did good—“ Wait. They were over where the boy’s concealed Brand was. “When did you get it done?”

The bluenette gulped and looked down at his feet. Uh-oh. That was not a good sign.

“Chrom, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Why don’t you want to tell me about it? You know you can trust me with anything, right?”

“F-Father…” The boy trembled and looked back up at him, eyes wide and glassy, hands clasped together. “Promise me you won’t hurt him! He had no idea what he was doing was going to set me off, I asked for proof and—“

Grima blanched. “This… this is a result of… of your panic attack?” His eyes hardened, smoldering. “Who did it?”

“Father, you have to understand, our tempers were high, we were yelling at each other, I asked him for proof and he tried to g-give it to me!”

“By ripping open your shirt?” the dragon hissed. “… Was it Frederick?”

The boy gave a sob. “Father, please don’t kill him! He’s already beaten himself up for it so much, even Lon’qu threatened to kill him!” By now the bluenette was trembling. “Please… please don’t… I can’t… please don’t…”

Grima’s stomach roiled at his precious child on the verge of tears, pleading for the life of his abuser. Oh, how he hated to see the boy this way… but something had to be done about Frederick. “Chrom, I have to do something about him, I can’t just let this go unpunished!”

“Father, please! It’s like what happened with Risen Sarah, remember? I messed up so badly that the results of my mistake were punishment enough! It’s the same thing here!” Chrom hiccuped, tears leaking out onto his cheeks. The Fell Dragon’s heart broke at seeing his sweet baby in such distress. No, he couldn’t kill or maim Frederick and hurt Chrom like that. He sighed and drew the bluenette teen into a tight hug, cradling the boy’s cheek in his hand and rubbing his own cheek on the boy’s soft hair.

“All right. I won’t hurt him. Okay?”

Chrom sniffled and nodded. “Okay. Thank you, Father.”

“Of course, my sweet little blueberry.”

After the boy had finished calming down, he asked the older man a question. “Father, is… is Ciel really my brother? I-I can’t recall having one—a younger brother or a twin, or even an older brother…”

Of course he had to ask the question that couldn’t be answered. Grima gave him a weak smile. “I can’t tell you what your exact relationship is with him, I’m afraid. He asked me not to tell you. I can, however, tell you that you are related by blood.”

“Oh.” Chrom frowned. “Is he the real Prince Chrom?”

The albino laughed. “No, he’s not. He said as much, and anyway, he thinks his Brand is in the wrong location.”

“Right… Frederick said the prince’s Brand was on his shoulder.”

“Hmm, I see.” Grima cupped the boy’s face and tilted it up to look into glimmering azure eyes. “What’s wrong? You haven’t wondered about your birth family in a long time.”

Chrom shook his head. “I-I don’t know, I just kind of… met someone recently, and she… she recognized me but… she looked surprised to see me. Like she wasn’t expecting me to be here or something.” He shrugged. “I guess it’s just… there was a portal that opened up the night I helped out at Southtown, and she came through along with a bunch of Risen. She said she saw the future—what was going to happen—I think she actually lived through it. And now that I’ve seen her and learned things, I can’t help but wonder… who am I?” He looked up at Grima. “Father, who am I?”

Grima’s mouth opened, but the words stuck in his throat. He must’ve met one of the Future Children… one of the girls, from the sound of it… but why was he questioning his identity? He shook off the thought and cupped the boy’s face with both hands. “Who do you want to be?”

Chrom gazed at him, a sweet smile spreading onto his face. “I want to be your son.”

“Then that is who you shall be.”

“Thank you, Father.” Chrom hugged him tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my little blueberry.”

Chrom lay awake that night, deep in thought. He laid out the facts that he’d gathered from everyone and the information he’d learned from Marth in his head. First of all, the Exalted family had noticed his similarity to the missing Prince Chrom, who had disappeared as a child. However, he didn’t have the Brand at all—which apparently wasn’t a new thing, Lissa had said she didn’t have the Brand, yet she could wield Falchion just fine. On another note, Falchion could be wielded only by members of the Exalted family and then only by those it deemed worthy. Marth wielded a future version of Falchion. She recognized him. So Marth was probably a descendent of the lost prince.

She recognized him. Maybe she thought him dead in the future? Did she have any siblings? Well, he’d established that she was most likely his older sister. But everyone thought he looked like Prince Chrom.

Wait! What if I look like him because… because he’s my father? And Marth and I are his children! That must be it! And the reason why we have the same name… Oh! That must be it!

I think I know who I am now! I… I must be…

Prince Chrom Lowell… the Second!

Where was he? What was this empty, dark void? It felt horribly suffocating and depressing. Oh, there was some light over there! He ran towards the light, and it grew brighter and more… purple? He stumbled on the uneven rocky… there was ground? He glanced around himself and found a dark, grey, wilted wasteland around him. In the distance, bright golden light gleamed and flickered. He rushed toward it… was it fire? In the castle? The castle! Where were his lieges?! He whirled around, looking for any sign of them. The castle was surrounded by Risen. They noticed him and growled, lumbering toward him. He didn’t have a weapon… He took a step back… into something wet and… rusty smelling? He glanced down behind him and found a river of blood flowing by. He ran upstream and followed it. He found its source in the roots of a dead tree. Hanging from the tree was a figure. It was a woman. It was Emmeryn. She was dead. She was dead!

Frederick gasped awake and sat bolt upright, shivering in a cold sweat. Outside, an owl hooted, and the dim embers of the fire in the hearth crackled. Weak moonlight glowed through the windowpanes behind him.

The brunette knight took deep breaths to calm his racing heart. It hadn’t been real. It was just a dream.

He breathed a sigh of relief and went back to sleep.

Not a minute later, he woke up again, this time screaming.

From his dreamscape, Grima grinned. This was great fun, tormenting the fanatical knight with nightmares! Why had it taken Chrom’s classmates bullying him to implement this kind of punishment? Ah well, better late than never.

The Fell Dragon could watch over the Shepherds in place of the retainer tomorrow. Frederick wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight!

Chapter Text

It was dark, and cold, and dry inside the cell. It stunk, too, of unwashed bodies and filth. Inigo sat curled up in the furthest corner, head on his knees and arms wrapped around his legs.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, went the saying. Why did his life seem to be a succession of hotter and hotter frying pans? Was this the fire, or was there still worse to come? Oh gods, nothing could be worse than this! He’d survived the vengeance of the Fell Dragon only to be executed before he was even born. Oh, he didn’t want to die, not before he saw his sister again! Was Lucina even all right? The frightening image of Robin leaping, angry and fanged and six eyes glowing red, behind his sister just as the bluenette boy fell out of the portal had been enough to set off one of his panic attacks. He’d fallen to the ground, shaking and gasping, in the middle of Northwestern Ylisse, all alone with no backup. It had taken what felt like hours to calm down from the overwhelming panic that had overtaken him.

Robin… it was Robin… Father and Robin had gone in to kill Validar, and only Robin had come out.

The sheer heartbreak and sorrow in the albino’s brown eyes had made them all believe Robin had tried to save the Exalt from death and failed. But Robin pouncing after Lucina in the portal like that made Inigo think. The six eyes… Grima’s symbol… on Robin… the dark power emanating from the man that was so unlike his own… no, it couldn’t be! But it made entirely too much sense. Somehow, Grima’s spirit could enter into Robin’s body and control him.

Father had gone in with Robin, and Grima had surfaced and killed him.

He’d felt sick then. His uncle, the man that Father had viewed as a brother, and Grima had used him to kill Father. What kind of sick, twisted humor was that? He’d laid on the ground for a while, unwilling to get up and continue with his life. He had no idea where he was in the past (it was supposed to be around the time that Aunt Emm was assassinated, but he couldn’t be sure), and none of the Future Shepherds had appeared with him. Eventually, when it began to grow dark, he’d gotten up and dragged himself to the nearest town, which happened to be a cute little place called Everdale, not that he’d cared. He’d gone and gotten himself a room at the inn and fallen asleep, miserable and lonely.

The next day he’d woken up to realize that he was in the past—Grima hadn’t been resurrected yet. He was free! Or was he? Was Lucina alive, had she survived? He didn’t know, and he was too tired to care. The nightmare that had been his life the past few years had melted away, and he needed to rest and recover as best he could. So he’d taken odd jobs around the town, working as a freelancer. After six months had passed, he’d saved enough to get a horse and ride to Ylisstol. He’d even started flirting with the occasional girl again to work more on his shyness.

Then he’d been walking along one evening, and someone had glomped on him and started saying bizarre things like they’d been worried about him and they wouldn’t be going back to Middlefield—wherever that was—and instead they’d go to Valm. But the thing that had caught his attention was that the stranger had called him by his father’s name. Which was understandable, he looked quite a lot like his father, but why was this random person so happy to see him? Or, more accurately, Chrom? He’d freaked out, and the person (a man) had started stroking his hair. So he’d panicked more. After a couple minutes, the man had let go of him and turned to face him—

And Inigo met red eyes where there should’ve been brown.

Grima’s story had been fantastical, unbelievable. Until the bluenette teen saw his father in the flesh, he had no reason to take the dragon vessel’s words at face value. His father was likely already dead, and he and his sister would probably never be born. Though why Grima continued to lavish… affection… on him was inexplicable. He’d wondered if Robin was fighting through Grima’s hold on his body, but the tactician had never in his life called the young prince “mini blueberry.” Inigo couldn’t help but be reminded of the villainess in The Lost Princess of Corona: all overly loving and cutesy names, a façade hiding the selfish, greedy nature underneath. And if Grima’s story had even a shred of truth, his poor unsuspecting father had been thrust into the princess’s role, believing the Fell Dragon had only the best for him at heart. It sickened the time-displaced boy. If his father wasn’t dead, then he’d probably become something worse, a monster of Grima’s making.

Although… that story Grima had told him the night before his capture had drawn his curiosity. Was the dragon the way he was because of the way he’d been treated? Or, that is, mistreated? He wondered if the albino vessel had ever told his father such a tale, he seemed to have practice with the art of storytelling.

Unfortunately, Inigo couldn’t find out the truth locked up in this Plegian cell. At least Aunt Emmeryn was alive and unhurt. That had to count for something, right?

“Robin! Psst, Robin! I figured something else about me last night!”

“What’s that?” the tactician asked as the Shepherds and Feroxi made their way south towards the Border Sands. They hadn’t yet reached the Longfort in that area, but they were drawing close.

Chrom grinned. “Okay, so you know how I realized Marth is my older sister? Well, I was thinking, and I hit upon the fact that I look so much like Prince Chrom. I even have the same name, but obviously I’m not him! So then I figured this out: I’m his son from the future! I’m Prince Chrom Lowell the Second!”

Robin’s eyes went wide. “Chrom, that’s… you know, that makes a lot of sense actually. You were really young, maybe you hit your head when you fell out of the portal and it wiped your memory.”

“But I don’t recall being injured when Dad found me.”

“That’s just it! You don’t remember! Or maybe someone found you and cared for you first, but you ran away and then forgot.”

“Ooh, that’s a very good point.”

After several minutes, the Khans called for a lunch break for everyone. The Longfort stood clear and tall in the distance, and on the other side of it swirled golden sand. Chrom dismounted from his horse and helped Olivia down. Robin got down from behind Sumia and dusted his coat off. All around them, the Shepherds took out rations and settled themselves down to eat. Dad came over from scouting ahead and sat on the other side of Chrom, fishing his own lunch out of one of his coat pockets.

“I’m curious, what’s your relationship to me, Raven?” Robin asked as he munched on a piece of jerky. “We look like almost identical twins… although I’m human and you’re… not. From what Chrom tells me, anyway.”

Dad tossed him a curious look, and Chrom shrugged. “I trusted Kell and Tia with the info, I figured Robin and a couple others who can keep secrets deserved to know.”

“Is everyone going to find out I’m a dragon by the time this whole mess is over with?” the older albino muttered. “To answer your question, Robin… it’s complicated.” He frowned in thought. “I did make a blood pact with someone over two millennia ago, so maybe it’s a side effect of that? Or the other one I did afterwards.”

“Oh. Huh.” Robin tilted his head in contemplation. “Cool.”

Chrom looked out over the temporary camp. Virion was flirting (unsuccessfully) with Panne, who looked equal parts amused and annoyed; Kellam and Sully sat near the bluenette, chattering over their food; Cordelia had drifted over to Stahl and complemented him on his cooking (he’d helped make the rations); Maribelle was giving out etiquette pointers to Donnel, who took notes as fast as he could; and Lissa and Vaike had engaged in a game of playful shoving, giggling like idiots. In front of him, Robin grinned. “Isn’t it wonderful? Love is in the air!”

“Robin, some of these people just met, what are you talking about?”

The tactician smirked. “Oh, you know… fighting on the battlefield is the quickest way to strengthen one’s bonds… and constantly fighting alongside the same person… is going to foster feelings.”

“Robbie dear, real life isn’t like a fairy tale where you can pair people up and expect them to fall in love,” Sumia commented.

“Ah, but Mia, my darling, having one’s back on the battlefield is bound to grow trust. And trust, we know, is the foundation of any relationship.”

Olivia giggled from Chrom’s left. She leaned over and murmured, “Robin’s very enthusiastic about this, isn’t he.”

“He’s in love with a romantic, and Kell says he’s the Shepherds’ resident shipper, of course he’s enthusiastic about this,” Chrom pointed out.

Dad looked at them, then glanced over to Frederick, who for the first time since Chrom met him had bags under his eyes. “What about Frederick? Have you paired him up with anyone yet? I think Miriel might be an interesting choice for him.”

“Noooooo, no no no no no! He’s given his heart to Emmeryn already!” Robin exclaimed. “Why, we found out when we first went to Ferox that she calls him ‘Freddy Bear!’ In private! Plus Miriel’s sort of married to her work, I doubt she’d be interested. So please, good sir, do not attempt to sink the fair ship Fremmeryn.”

Dad blinked, looking nonplussed. “… Okay then.” He muttered something that sounded like “I had no idea he liked her” under his breath.

Robin gazed at the older albino, deep in thought. “Hey, what about you, Raven? Have you ever been in love before? Do you have your heart set on one of the amazing ladies here?”

“Huh?” Dad looked confused. “Um, I’ve never actually thought about romance in relation to myself. I mean, I have loved someone before, just not romantically.” He shrugged. “I just… never really thought about it. Besides, I’ve been busy raising Chrom for the past fifteen years, I doubt I’d be a good candidate.” He looked over at the bluenette. “Plus, if I ever did fall in love with someone, Chrom would have to approve. We’re talking about his potential mother figure here!”

“Oh, Dad!” Chrom laughed. “I’m sure whoever you fall in love with will be good enough for me as well!”

Dad sniffled. “My baby… you grew up far too fast…”

“Human. We do that compared to dragons,” the bluenette mage reminded him.

“I know, but still… I miss when you were four. You were the cutest little thing I’d ever seen…”

“Awww!” Sumia cooed. “You must’ve been downright adorable, Chrom!”

“He was. I have proof.” Dad reached into his left breast pocket and took out the picture he’d taken of Chrom with his magic all those years ago. He handed the slip of inked-on paper to the ashette, who squealed in delight over the image of the then four-year-old.

From behind him, Kellam spoke up. “Is he busting out the baby pictures again?”

“Yep.” The mage-healer chuckled and shook his head.

Sully frowned and wiped her hand on her pants. “Here, lemme see,” she asked to Sumia, who showed the picture to her. “Huh. You’re right. And here I thought Raven was being the usual biased parent.” She handed the picture back to the pegasus knight. “Never seen a guy that gaga over his kid, usually it’s the moms.”

Dad shrugged. “I raised him by myself, I have every right to fawn over him.”

“Da—ad.”

“What? It’s the truth!”

“You know, I have no idea how we got this far without getting caught, but it’s weirding me out,” Chrom murmured to Robin as they traversed the Border Sands. “There haven’t been any of the Plegian guard around. Where are they at?”

“Occasus, maybe? If Gangrel wants to trap us, I’d pin my guess on the capital,” Robin answered. “He’s sure taking his sweet time, though.”

Up ahead, Frederick rode towards them on the way back from his scouting. The bluenette wondered again at the bags under his eyes. Had he not gotten enough sleep last night? Strange… The knight rode over to Lissa and reported, “Milady, there seems to be some sort of engagement about downfield. I’d watch your step and see if we can avoid it.”

“Let’s get moving, then, we don’t want to be caught in whatever’s going on,” she replied. The group picked up the pace, though the sandy plain proved difficult for the less sure-footed members of the crew. Sumia had opted to stay on Bellemere and had covered her head and face with a scarf. Robin, Chrom, and Dad had pulled the hoods of their enchanted coats up, and Olivia had put on her own cloak, which Dad had bespelled for her during the lunch break. The other Shepherds wore head- and face-scarves, light cloaks, and other light, skin-covering articles. Except for Vaike, who’d taken his metal collar off. Panne seemed irritated with the boots and cloak she’d been provided, shaking out her feet every so often. The bluenette couldn’t help but feel bad at all the sand that she’d have to clean out of her fur after they got out of the desert.

In the near distance, the massive bones of some long-dead creature rose out of the dunes. Next to him, Dad shuddered. They must’ve been dragon bones… The thought hurt Chrom’s heart, but before he could think on it longer, he caught sight of a small figure fleeing from just around the skeleton. She ran towards them and paused to catch her breath, hands on her knees. She glanced behind her before taking off again. “GET AWAY FROM ME! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Another figure, that of an older man, rounded the skeleton, running after her. “Why is little lady not understanding?! Gregor only trying to help!”

“GYAH! GO AWAY!”

“Please be keeping with the voice down!” the man hissed after her. “You giving away position! Very bad! Gregor not wanting to be experiment!”

“Noooooo! Stop trying to kill meeeee!”

“Gregor trying to keep little lady from bad men! Good grieving…”

Lissa ran out in front of the company towards the two with Falchion drawn. “Hey, you! Big creeper! Leave her alone!”

The man, probably Gregor, stumbled to a stop. “Who creeper? Gregor? No, no! Gregor friend! You be having wrong idea!” He sighed. “Today is being unlucky day full of insults and punches to groin. And for doing good deed! Gregor just want a drink!”

Dad sniffed, and his eyes widened. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, several armed figures swarmed the dunes in front of the Shepherds, led by an old robed man with a cap decorated by an eye. The man saw the runaways and sneered. “There you are, you slippery scamp! Time to get a dose of Grima’s wrath!”

Chrom missed Gregor’s worried shout, because Dad’s eyes glowed bright red, and his eyeteeth sharpened into fangs. His nails lengthened into claws, and he snarled in anger, trembling.

“Dad?”

“How dare they,” the older albino hissed. “How dare…”

The Shepherds moved to intercept the girl, but one of the Plegian soldiers ran towards her and Gregor. She cried out and lifted something sparkly in the air. A massive flower appeared and closed around her before exploding into light and water. In the girl’s place flew a large green-and-yellow dragon, her leafy wings beating the air. Chrom gasped as she spat out a ball of water at the soldier and knocked him over, allowing Gregor to finish him off. She giggled and flipped. “Wow, that was fun! I feel kinda better now!”

“She’s a dragon, too!” Robin cried. “A real, live manakete… incredible! Come on, let’s help her deal with these guys!”

Chrom drew his sword as Robin began giving out orders. Gaius, Lon’qu, and Miriel took off for the little settlements on the edges of the area to warn them while the others paired up and began charging at the enemy. The bluenette stuck by Olivia as she parried behind his back; he blasted spells left and right, fending off the attackers. Nearby, Robin had gotten back on Bellemere and took to the skies with Sumia, raining down thunderbolts and fireballs. To his left, Lissa and Vaike slashed and chopped in a whirl of fury through their foes. And Dad… he went all out, deadly purple spikes flying everywhere and impaling their opponents.

Several soldiers ganged up on the princess and axe-fighter duo, and Lissa slipped on the sand, falling over the other side of the dune, Falchion flying as she went. The mage-healer gasped. “Olivia, quick! Vaike and Lissa need our help! Come on!”

“Right!” The pinkette followed him and took a place behind Vaike’s back, defending against the onslaught. Chrom ran for the divine blade and sheathed his as he snagged the longsword out of the sand.

Gods above and below, this thing is heavy! How in the world can such a tiny woman wield such a thing?! He squawked and rolled underneath a rogue axeman’s swing, getting up and slicing across the man’s chest. Falchion cleaved through flesh, bone, wood, and metal in a single swipe. The blue-haired teen gasped at the sheer power the sword emanated and the hum resonating deep within his bones in response. W-What is this?! This sword is incredible! He held the hilt with both hands and charged, stabbing and parrying through the mess of foes that ran between him and the princess. He reached the top of the dune and slid down the gritty slope to where the blonde swordswoman had rolled. “Lissa! Catch!” He hurled the sword at her, and she leapt up, caught it, and decapitated the nearby dark mage with a swipe.

“Thank you!” she called out.

Vaike and Olivia crested the dune, and Chrom grabbed the dancer’s hand, leading her towards the rest of the enemy force. “Are you all right?”

“Not a scratch! Though I’ve got sand everywhere,” she lamented.

As the two fought their way towards the opposite end of the Border Sands, the mage caught a glimpse of his father making a beeline towards the capped man. A dark, flaming area surrounded Dad, and two black feathery wings extended from his back.

Oh, dear. He looks livid. What is he going to do?

Either the pathetic Grimleal mage didn’t know what danger he was about to be in, or he didn’t think the danger was that great, because he yelled, “How dare you defy Grima! You think you can stand against the god of annihilation?!” as the albino dragon-mage stalked towards him.

“What. Were. You. Going. To. Do to her?!” Grima roared.

The man cackled. “She is to be offered as a sacrifice to our great lord! Her life force will be given to him!”

“Grima,” the albino growled, “is a dragon himself! What makes you think he would condone such a disgusting act?!”

“And who are you to say what our lord wants?!”

The Fell Dragon swatted the man’s tome out of his hands and seized the front of his robes, yanking the mortal towards him. He bent down next to the Grimleal’s ear and hissed, voice low and dark and deadly.

“I am Grima… and you are not worthy of serving me!”

With this, he punched his hand clean through the mage’s chest. The man’s face went white with horror and realization as blood spurted out of his mouth. He choked and gasped out, “M-My… lord…” before Grima reached over and ripped his head off, summoning an Expiration spike and impaling the dead cranium with it. He stomped on the body’s foot and tore his hand out of the corpse’s chest cavity, flicking off gore as the body crumpled to the ground.

“D-Dad?”

The dragon whipped around and found Chrom standing a few feet away with the pink-haired dancer, his face pallid and his hand clutching his chest. For a wild moment, Grima thought he’d accidentally revealed his true identity, but a second later the boy asked, “W-Was he really that bad?”

Tired, the albino slumped a bit. “He was going to sacrifice her.” The rage in his veins reignited. “He was going to sacrifice a dragon, to a dragon god! How dare he even think of such a despicable act! The Grimleal should’ve had him excommunicated and and executed for treason against his own!”

The other Shepherds glanced at each other. Then one by one, they came forward, faces hard with fury, and stabbed their weapons through every part of the dead man’s body. Lissa was the last one, plunging Falchion through the corpse’s heart, before Miriel summoned a fireball and tossed it onto the corpse. The flames consumed the body, leaving nothing but ashes. Chrom stepped forward, sapphire eyes cold, and sent a huge gust of Arcwind at the remains of the Grimleal, blowing them far away into the desert beyond. Then the group turned and went back to the dragon girl and the mercenary, Gregor.

Ricken had put his hands on the girl’s shaking shoulders and was rubbing them as they returned. The green-haired girl gave a sob. “Ugh! Worst. Day. Ever!”

“I-I’m so sorry, miss,” the little mage offered in sympathy. “I can’t imagine what you must’ve been through…”

“Please do not make with the crying of tears,” Gregor added. “The evil people are dead people! This is good, no? Please be cheering up, wee one!”

The manakete sniffled. “Aww, th-thanks, you guys!” She laughed. “I’m sorry about earlier and what I did to you,” she addressed the red-haired mercenary. “I-I just get nervous with people who aren’t my age, you know?”

“Your age?” Gregor guffawed. “Gregor closer to your age than others here! Ha!”

“Except for Raven,” Robin pointed out. Grima gave him a raised eyebrow, but the girl’s eyes went wide at the sight of the red-eyed albino, and she gasped.

“HIIIIIII!!!!” She ran over to the older dragon and glomped on him. “Dragon! Dragon! Dragon! We can be dragon buddies! How old are you? What’s your dragonstone look like? Do you know any famous people? Why haven’t I seen you before? What’s your name? You must be super cool!”

Grima stammered as the girl continued yammering on rapid-fire questions. He glanced up at the other Shepherds and found a few, like Gaius, Sumia, Cordelia, and Kellam, snickering into their hands. Olivia stood chuckling next to Chrom, and Lon’qu had a soft expression on his face. Everyone else looked lost, shocked, or mind-blown. Well, his species was definitely out now. He looked back down at the manakete and patted her head. “Please, slow down. I can’t answer all of your questions at once, young one.”

“Young?!” She disengaged from him and gave him a pout. “I’ll have you know I’m over a thousand years old!”

“And I’m over three thousand, I think I have you very much beat in the elder department.”

She slumped. “Aww, okay.”

Grima chuckled. “It’s all right, little leaf, I’m actually very happy to see another dragon around.” That brightened her up. “I’m Raven, and this little blueberry here is my human foster son, Chrom.” He gestured to the bluenette, who waved to the manakete. She waved back, a huge grin on her face.

“He’s adorable! I like him already~!” she decided. “I’m Nowi, by the way! Pleased to meet you~!”

Ohhhhhh, so this was Nowi. He’d heard about the manakete before, but she’d died before his resurrection. Well, now that he was here, he’d make sure she’d live a long and full life. After all, Nah, her daughter, was also a dragon, and he preferred to have more of his kind in the world. Besides, she approved of Chrom, and that made her automatically good in the Fell Dragon’s book.

Lissa came over from speaking with Gregor. “Okay, guys, Gregor is going to be joining us. I just hired him, and he says he’s an excellent sell sword—former employers notwithstanding.”

“But what about me?!” Nowi cried. “I won’t go back to the auction block again!”

Chrom gasped. “Y-You were sold? As a slave?!”

“Yeah, to horrible, despicable men, the worst kind.” Her shoulders drooped. “They forced me to transform for them… made me do tricks… just treated me like an animal in general. I’m not going back to them!”

“Of course you aren’t,” Lissa decided. “I think it’s obvious, but you should stay with us! Although, we are kind of in the middle of a mission… but still!”

“Really?!”

Grima nodded. “Of course. We dragonkin need to stick together. It’s only fair you should come with us.”

Nowi gasped, then jumped up. “Yay! Oh, thank you thank you thank you!” She hugged the albino dragon, then a chuckling Chrom, then Lissa. “Don’t worry about me, I can take good care of myself, you guys! I’ll help watch out for you!”

As the group moved back out, Frederick shook his head. “What would the Grimleal want with a manakete? We’ll have to take measures to be careful that she and Raven don’t fall into their clutches.”

Grima’s eye twitched in offense. I can take care of myself perfectly fine, thank you very much! But before he could voice this, Robin spoke up. “Um, sorry, I feel like this is maybe a question with an obvious answer, but, um… who are the Grimleal, exactly? I think I’ve heard that term thrown around a couple times now.”

“They’re loyal followers of the Fell Dragon, Grima,” the brunette knight answered. “He’s the very dragon the First Exalt defeated a thousand years ago before the Great Schism.” He sighed. “Even nowadays there are those who hope and prepare for the fiend’s return.”

Chrom tilted his head in confusion. “What did Grima do, though, exactly? That we’d need to defend against him in the first place?”

The dragon wrapped his arm around the bluenette’s shoulders as Frederick continued. “Well, he tried to destroy the world. I think that would be concern enough, wouldn’t it?”

“But why?” The boy frowned.  “What happened to him that he felt that was necessary?”

Oh, bless his darling son’s sweet, sweet heart. Oh, he’d definitely raised him well. Maybe it was all those bedtime stories he used to tell the boy, all of them true and from his own past. Grima’s heart swelled with pride for his empathetic little blueberry. Maybe when he revealed his true identity, Chrom would be sympathetic. Oh, he’d make the most wonderful High Priest!

Frederick’s response was unfortunately lacking. “No one knows. It hardly matters anyway, seeing as he is dead.”

Grima bit back laughter at the irony of the situation. Now he knew how the knight’s nightmares were going to go tonight!

They made camp that evening just south of the Border Sands. Chrom helped set up tents and bedrolls with Olivia, Kellam, Sully, and a few others. Cordelia and Stahl took over cooking duty while Frederick got a fire going, and Donnel went around with Maribelle checking for injuries. The bluenette caught glimpses of Nowi running around with Ricken’s hat and Ricken chasing after her. A smile crossed his face at the two “youngsters” and their antics. Over on a rock nearby he found Virion running a comb through Panne’s fur, helping her get the sand out, and Lissa and Vaike were setting up patrol shifts for the camp. Robin and Sumia sat poring over a map by the fire, and Dad joined them, pointing out different places and explaining about them.

He’d just finished with the last tent when Lon’qu came over and gave him a hand, helping him up off the dusty ground. “Oh! Thank you.”

The myrmidon nodded. “You all right?”

“Oh, um, yes. I’m fine, thank you.”

“Good.” The ravenette favored him with a critical look. “Your swordplay needs work. You would have died last battle without your magic.”

Chrom stammered, heat rising in his cheeks. “U-Um, I, um, have had Dad say that before. The-The swordplay thing, I mean.” He shrugged. “I guess when you put all your focus in one area, the others suffer. I mean, I’ve been working with magic, counting healing, since I was four. But bladework? I didn’t start using the sword until about ten years later, when Dad and I started running into more bandits and whatnot.” The bluenette sighed. “And I haven’t exactly been practicing on a regular basis.”

“That is going to change. You and I will spar regularly to improve your skill.”

“Ah, w—okay, I guess…”

“Chrom.” Lon’qu looked him straight in the eye, dark orbs intense. “You are crucial to Olivia’s happiness, and I see you as a brother. I wish for you not to come to harm. Therefore, I will help you get better until you can hold your own.”

“Oh.” A warmth grew in the bluenette’s heart. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you.”

The Chon’sin man nodded again. “You’re welcome. Now,” he unseated his sword, “draw your blade!”

“What?! Here, now? It’s almost suppertime!”

“If you can defeat me before then, we will both be on time. Do your best!”

The impromptu spar turned out… frankly pathetic. Chrom knew the basics of swordfighting, but his low strength coupled with average stamina proved unable to keep Lon’qu from scoring a hit. The fight lasted less than a minute and ended up with the bluenette mage flat on his back. The myrmidon stood over him, a faint look of concern on his face.

“You know, I suddenly have an appreciation for Lissa and her training with Falchion.”

Lon’qu grabbed his hand and hauled him up. “I rely on speed and precision. The princess focuses on strength and power.”

“I’ll say!” The boy rolled his sore shoulder around. “That thing is stupidly heavy, how does she even wield it?!” He gave a dreamy sigh. “Cuts like a hot knife through butter, though.”

The ravenette’s eyes widened. “You… You wielded Falchion?!”

Chrom nodded, confused. “It was really quick, during last battle. Lissa lost her grip on it and fell on the other side of the one dune. So I picked it up to get it over to her and took out a couple of soldiers on the way. Why?”

The older man grabbed his arm and pulled him closer as they walked towards the mess tent. “Do you not understand the significance?”

“Uh, w-well, I know it belongs to the Exalted family and was used by the First Exalt to kill Grima,” the bewildered boy supplied as they each got a plate and filled it up. “Marth had a Falchion, too, though to be fair I think she’s from the future.”

Lon’qu gave him an annoyed look as they each found a seat. “Marth.”

The bluenette blinked, then remembered. “Ohhhhh, that’s right! She beat you out to be Basilio’s champion!”

“So you found out, then.”

“… Well, yeah, during the night we stopped Lady Emm’s assassination, of course. Weren’t you there?” He took a bite of beef soup. “Mmm~! Wow, I think we found our cooking dream team!” He turned and gave a thumbs-up to Cordelia and Stahl, who grinned and waved back at him.

“You did not realize she was a woman before?”

Chrom blinked. “Um, not really? I sort of had an inkling that she didn’t seem quite right for a guy, but…” Then he remembered something Olivia had confided with him earlier. “Oh. Oh! Is that how you lost to her?”

To the teen’s surprise, the ravenette turned bright red. “It was embarrassing. I hesitated, and she pressed the advantage.”

“Oh, dear.” Chrom gave a chuckle. “That’s unfortunate. Maybe she knew something, though, and that’s why she challenged you?”

“Why do you say that?”

“She knew about Lady Emm’s assassination, things no one could’ve predicted unless they were part of the Plegians’ plan—which I doubt, seeing as she carries Falchion and made sure Lady Emm survived. She said something about trying to avert a destroyed future.”

Lon’qu frowned, spooning some soup into his mouth. “Do you know why the Exalted family wields Falchion?”

“Other than to protect the halidom?”

The man fixed him with a steely gaze. “They are the only ones who can wield it. It will not cut for any other. And only the worthy ones in the family may wield it.”

Chrom felt the world drop out from underneath him. “W-What…?”

“That is what Lissa told me when Vaike tried to use it. It would not cut for him, but it did for her.”

This… this is… Was it him, or was the room spinning? No, that must be his head. “B-But… I-I… I don’t have the Brand.”

“Neither does she,” Lon’qu pointed out. “Yet she wields it without problem.”

The air in the bluenette mage’s chest felt thick and heavy. “S-So… you… are you saying I’m-I’m related to them?” He gasped. “Then… Then I must be right! My theory… it must be true!”

The ravenette gave him a confused look, so Chrom explained what he’d deduced based on everyone’s reactions to him, Marth’s information, and all the other facts he’d picked up about his relation to the royal family. By the time he got to the conclusion he’d shared with Robin earlier, Lon’qu’s eyes had gone wide with shock and disbelief. The man frowned in thought, apparently mulling over the situation. Chrom ate a few more bites of soup while he waited for his unofficial older brother’s verdict.

“It… It sounds like madness,” the swordsman murmured after several minutes. “And yet… the way you have connected the information makes sense.”

“I know, right?! That’s kind of what Robin said, too!”

“But time travel?”

The bluenette shrugged. “It’s not impossible. I’ve actually seen diagrams of portals like the one Marth came through in my dad’s spellbook. His notes say they can lead to other words, including the past and the future.”

“I… see.” The ravenette glanced over at Dad, who was speaking with Robin and Frederick in the corner of the tent. “Is it possible that your father was experimenting with portals and pulled you into this time?”

Chrom shook his head. “Marth intended to come here, which means someone on her side made the portal.”

“Hmm. So perhaps you did escape.”

The mage-healer looked at his father and tapped his lips in thought. “I believe so…”

Chrom got to share a tent with Robin that night. He went in to the empty tent and sighed, taking his cloak off and basking in the warmth of the tent. He’d seen Dad running around after dinner enchanting all the tents so that they would be warm during the freezing desert night. Why Lissa wanted to march through the day and sleep through the night instead of otherwise baffled him, particularly since Dad had argued against it. Although to be fair, they did want to get to Emmeryn and Ciel as quickly as possible, and waiting till nightfall to switch schedules could be considered a waste of time. The bluenette still thought going nocturnal would serve them better. Oh well, at least they had Dad’s spells to help them out. Once again, the boy felt grateful he’d reunited with his father.

He unbuckled his belt and unwrapped his obi, shaking the sand out of them onto the ground, away from the bedrolls. He had just slipped his shirt off when someone entered the tent. “Chrom, Robin would like—oh, my. Please excuse me.”

Chrom turned around as Frederick cleared his throat. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t know anyone else was coming—aah!” For the knight had seized him by the forearms and pulled him close, eyes riveted to a spot on the boy’s skin.

To the Mark on Chrom’s breast.

Frederick went white, then his expression hardened, his eyes blazing with fury. “How… this… how dare you,” he growled, voice low and threatening.

“Um, w-what?” the bluenette stuttered.

“Don’t play coy with me. You infiltrated the Shepherds in order to throw off our plans. You’ve been feeding information to the enemy!”

Chrom’s knees felt weak. “I-I don’t understand… what-what are you talking about…?”

“I should have known.” The knight tightened his hold on the boy’s arms, causing him to cry out. “Your aptitude with dark magic, your familiarity with Plegia, your sympathy with Grima, and now this!” He gestured to the violet, six-eyed Mark. “And of course, your uncanny likeness to the prince! Well, you thought you could get this far, but you shall go no further,” and here he lowered his voice and hissed, “Grimleal!”

What?! “Grimleal?! What are you talking about?! I may have heard about them, but that doesn’t mean I am one of them!”

“And yet you wear the Mark of Grima plain as day.”

“The… Mark of Grima?” Chrom glanced down in confusion at the Mark. “Is… is that what this is?” He furrowed his brow. “But… that just doesn’t make any sense! Maybe it just looks like the Mark of Grima—“

“It is the Mark of Grima!”

“But it can’t be because my father gave it to me! It’s the evidence of his blood pact with me!”

If it was possible, Frederick became even more livid. “Your father, who taught you about Grimleal magic and gave you a Mark of Grima.” He growled again. “We’ve let two of them in our midst! And I trusted you,” his voice rose, “because you look exactly like the prince! How could I have been so foolish?!”

“Stop! Please!” Chrom gave a fearful sob as the bigger man dragged him out of the tent. “I had no idea any of that was like that! And Dad can’t be a Grimleal because… well, he can’t be one now, clearly he hates them!” He gave a squeak of pain as the brunette threw him to the ground and drew his axe. Terrified, the boy curled up into a ball, tears leaking onto his cheeks. “No… please! No!”

The axe swung—and stopped. Chrom glanced up and beheld his father standing above him, gripping the axe by its handle above his head. Frederick strained and pushed down on the weapon, but Dad didn’t budge an inch. Around them, the Shepherds murmured and whispered. Lon’qu and Olivia ran up to help the bluenette to his feet, and Gregor and Kellam seized the knight’s arms, holding him tight as he struggled to get out of their grip. Dad plucked the axe from the angry knight’s hands and tossed it to the side, away from Chrom. The boy stood, shivering behind his father, who emitted a dark aura from his body.

“Now, Frederick,” Dad said, voice calm and dark and pleasant, “I hope your senses have temporarily taken leave of you, because I can’t think of a viable reason why you would attack my son.”

The knight growled, baring his teeth. “Your son is an affront to the Exalted family and an abomination!”

The air around the older albino dropped several degrees. He sauntered forward and took the struggling man’s face in his hand. “I’ve been called that before,” he crooned. “Abomination…. freak… monster… Perhaps I earned it, perhaps I didn’t.” His voice turned icy, and his eyes glowed red, nails digging into Frederick’s face. “But my son has never been called that before, and he has never earned that horrible expletive. You don’t deserve to even stand in his presence!”

“Father, please!” Chrom stepped towards the angry dragon, hands reaching out. “Please don’t do this, he was just doing his job! He had every right to suspect—“

“He had no right!” Dad roared, looking at him. “This man has gone too far! He continues to be a threat to your health and safety! He cannot be allowed to live if he carries on like this!”

The conversation with Lon’qu earlier came to mind. “I know how to make him stop!”

That caught everyone’s attention. Chrom felt their stares burning into him, all too reminiscent of the Risen Sarah debacle—except this time, he hadn’t even done anything. Robin hurried up to him and wrapped the younger mage’s coat around him, and his shivering subsided. He gulped, then repeated, “I know how to make him stop.”

Dad let go of Frederick and regarded him with curiosity. “How?”

“I…” He took a shaky deep breath. It was now or never. He had to tell them.

“I can wield Falchion.”

Shock and gasps ran through the company around them. Chrom held his father’s gaze, which had blanked with surprise and… was that recognition? No, probably not. No one moved, everyone held their breath. Then Lissa stepped forward and unsheathed the divine blade.

“It was during our last battle, wasn’t it.” He nodded. She held the sword out to him, and he grasped the hilt, the tip of the blade falling to the ground. Vaike ran up with a thick log from the wood supply and held the ends of it in each hand. Lissa nodded to the bluenette, and he breathed and closed his eyes. The power of the blade from before called out to him, and his entire being sang with the rightness of the magical blade in his hand. Falchion whispered, Home. I have come home.

Chrom opened his eyes, feeling them blaze with the amount of power he was channeling, and lifted the sword. Then he brought it down, slashing through the log with a single stroke. The piece of wood split into two, both faces perfectly clean and smooth.

Silence reigned. Then the company exploded with wild cheers and applause. Lon’qu and Robin lifted the bluenette onto their shoulders as Gregor and Kellam let go of Frederick, and the other Shepherds rushed in, parading the boy around the camp. Frederick looked as though his mind had shut down from an overload of disbelief, and Dad? Well, he didn’t look surprised in the slightest, but he beamed with pride and love for his son. A small smile grew on Chrom’s face and widened into a grin.

He knew who he was now! He had proven it!

Frederick didn’t know what to think anymore.

The boy looked exactly like the prince, he’d thought it absolutely certain the boy was the prince. But then he’d found that the boy didn’t have the Exalted Brand, which the prince had. This evening he’d discovered that the boy had the brand of the enemy, the Mark of Grima, in his skin. And yet, as shown by the display he gave, the boy could wield Falchion, which no spell or hex or other kind of magic could fake.

Who on earth was this child?!

Raven had let him off with a warning not to antagonize the bluenette teen any further—this was his last chance, according to the dragonkin—before letting him go and following the procession carrying the boy around. Frederick was ashamed to say he stood there frozen and dumbfounded for several minutes. Lissa had had to yell at him several times for him to come to his senses. Now the knight sat in his bedroll in his tent he shared with Virion, trying to come to grips with the reality of the situation.

Exalt Archibald and Queen Elaine had had no siblings when they married and had their children, so the Exalted siblings had grown up without cousins. Was it possible, however, that an old offshoot of the family could potentially produce such a child? One who had no Brand but was deemed worthy by Falchion? And Raven had either found the child and rescued him, true to their story, or he had kidnapped the child and tried to brainwash him. After all, the Grimleal likely thought it would be a terrific insult to Naga’s Chosen to take one of her children and turn him against her champions. And yet… the sheer rage Raven had displayed when he learned from the Grimleal mage that Nowi was to be sacrificed… perhaps Chrom was right, and Raven had split with the Grimleal over doctrinal differences. The bluenette had said he asked for the blood pact, and looking at the tremendous care and love Raven treated the boy with, it didn’t seem quite so likely that the pact had been forced onto the boy. So what did that mean?

Puzzling over the problem, Frederick fell asleep, but his dreams were full of horrific images again. Chief among them was a frightened, weeping Chrom shying away from a faceless crowd that jeered and scratched at him. Monster, abomination, freak, defiled, they called the poor boy. The knight reached out to the child, then noticed the axe in his hands. His arms swung, out of his control, and brought the axe down on a screaming Chrom. Frederick woke up screaming as well.

Eventually Virion hogtied and gagged him to try to get some measure of sleep that night.

Chapter Text

"Happy Birthday, #marth, and Happy 30th Anniversary, #fireemblem! To celebrate, I drew kid versions of my three most favorite FE characters, Marth, Chrom, and Grima! I hope you love them as much as I do~!" pic. /a8WX9480Cy

— Violin Cameos (@violin_cameos) April 20, 2020

Chapter Text

Sand, sand, and more sand, as far as the eye could see. Having been to Plegia a couple of times, Chrom had learned to expect such from the desert country, although Dad had said that it hadn’t been quite like that back when he had first come down to the southwestern end of the continent. In fact, Altea had been a lush island kingdom in its prime. Of course, a lot could change in two thousand years, like the climate. Still, the bluenette held out a bit of hope that they’d get to pass through the former nation at some point—even though Dad would probably rather not revisit the area he had once called home.

Speaking of Dad, he had sidled up to Frederick during the journey and started making small talk with him. The knight looked a bit worse than he had yesterday, which was really saying something. Chrom frowned. Was the older man getting enough sleep? He must be worried sick about Emmeryn.

“Gee, you look exhausted, Frederick,” Dad remarked. “Did you not sleep well last night?”

The brunette scowled at him. “I did not sleep at all, as a matter of fact. I’m afraid I disturbed Virion during the night.”

“Oh dear, what happened?” The albino dragon’s voice sounded the wrong side of pleasant. Just what was he doing? “Strange noises keep you up at night? Insomnia? Nightmares?”

“It was nightmares, no doubt,” Virion chimed in. “Only a nightmare could produce the dreadful thrashing and screaming that assailed my senses last night.” The nobleman sighed and shook his head. “’Twas most upsetting, really. I was forced to tie him up and gag him so I could get any semblance of beauty sleep.”

Was it his imagination, or did Dad look a little too innocent? “Goodness, really? They must’ve been pretty awful nightmares to wake the mighty Frederick.” He held his chin in thought. “I wonder… what could possibly disrupt your sleep so badly? Were they nightmares of your fair Emmeryn? Or maybe Princess Lissa? Or… were they of my darling Chrom?”

Frederick twitched at the mention of the bluenette’s name. Chrom frowned. What is he doing… has he been doing that?! “Hey, Dad? Could I speak to you a minute?”

The older mage waved at Frederick before skipping up to the boy’s place in the column. “Yes, my little blueberry?”

“Can you please stop antagonizing Frederick? The poor guy is worried sick about Emmeryn on top of his usual duties, which he goes above and beyond to complete, and on top of that he isn’t sleeping well.”

Dad rolled his eyes. “He tried to kill you last night.”

“Don’t you think maybe he sort of snapped under the pressure? I don’t think he would’ve done that with a clear mind!” Chrom narrowed his eyes. “Did you… have you… were you dream-planting?”

To his credit, the albino looked faintly sheepish. “Um… maybe?”

“Father! You can’t just do that right now, we need his help to rescue Ciel and Lady Emm! He won’t be able to do that if he’s sleep-deprived!”

“Well, I can’t just kill him!” The man flung his arms out. “You pleaded for his life! I’m not about to go against that!”

“You can’t just give him nightmares, either! That’s not resolving this like adults!” A thought struck the bluenette. “Is… did you do this with the bullies before?”

Dad glanced away, biting his lip.

“Dad. I appreciate your concern and how much you care for me, but you can’t punish everybody that doesn’t treat me right, you see?”

“Chrom, sweetheart, I have to so they won’t hurt you again. You’re far too forgiving—though I don’t want you to change that. So if you can’t deal with them, I have to.”

The bluenette sighed. “Well, in this instance it’s really unwarranted. Aren’t you kind of in the same position as him? You know, trying to save somebody you love while also trying to protect somebody else you love at the same time? Would you want somebody taunting you and putting you down all the while?”

Dad flinched as if slapped. His expression twisted in nausea. “I… I guess I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“See?”

His father’s shoulders slumped, and the man looked downright miserable. “You… You do have a point…” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll stop until we’re done with this mess.”

“Father.”

“He was going to kill you,” the dragon hissed. “I think in this case I’m being merciful.”

Chrom shook his head and facepalmed. How he loved his father, but the man had a protective streak a continent wide and a fierce sense of justice where the bluenette was concerned. He might have to sit down with him afterwards and get him to realize the mage-healer could take care of himself now. Mostly. His bladework was still only partly decent. Maybe Dad did have a right to worry. Hmm…

Either way, they both would have to figure out what they wanted to do after the war. For now, though, the two trekked side by side as the company continued onward to the capital.

“Master Grima, the Exalt is to be executed tomorrow, as well as a boy believed to be Prince Chrom. Events have been trifled with, but they will soon be back on course.”

“…”

“I really should never have doubted your words, my lord, heheheh. One cannot simply cast the yoke of destiny off! Even in their resistance, the Shepherds write your future for you, O mighty one!”

“… My future… is not what we believed it was. My destiny is to rule the world and to make everything right in it! I will accomplish this without fail!”

“Ah… er… are you certain? My lord? … Master Grima? My lord?!”

Inigo lay on the cold stone floor of the dungeon, trying and failing to get to sleep. His thoughts kept going round and round in circles. He’d finally remembered when Aunt Emmeryn’s assassination was and what the date was in relation to that. She was alive this time around! The assassination hadn’t succeeded! But who was responsible for thwarting it? Had Lucina gone to warn the Shepherds and gotten there in time? Had his father been there? Had she seen him? What was he truly like? All these and many more questions darted around the bluenette teen’s brain. He could only hope that the Shepherds would be able to rescue him and Aunt Emm in time.

The blonde Exalt sat in the cell opposite him, probably to help dissuade them from comforting each other through touch. Gangrel might be insane, but he sure understood basic human psychology. At least the boy still had his mother’s ring. He took the ring off of his finger and studied it in the dim light like he had so many times in the hours and days since he’d been brought here. Despite the thin layer of grime it had accumulated, the ring still sparkled in the flickering glow of the lone torch. Inigo put the ring back on and sighed. Mother… Father… please stay safe and live… for Luci’s and my sake.

A clanging and voices echoed through the hall, and the door at the end of the cell block jiggled open. Several guards and the Grimleal advisor, Aversa, strode in and unlocked the two inhabited cells. One of the guards dragged Inigo out, and he spotted Aunt Emm being brought out as well before Aversa told hold of his chin, capturing his attention. She scrutinized the boy, lips pursed in thought.

“… Well, he certainly looks like he might be the prince, but his face is all wrong,” she decided. “He definitely came from the wrong father. How about that? The Exalted queen doing her fair share of treachery behind her husband’s back? Ha!”

The other guards laughed and jeered. Inigo trembled, whether from fear or indignation he didn’t know. The tan woman brushed the skin underneath his Branded eye with her thumb, cocking her head. “He has the Brand. I personally don’t think he’s the prince we’re looking for, but he’ll do in a pinch. Come on, false princeling, off to your death!”

Two burly soldiers seized his arms and led him out of the prison, with two more bringing Aunt Emm along. As they walked out, a crowd of Plegian soldiers greeted them outside, mocking the two Ylisseans and throwing insults at them. The bluenette shied away from them and shrunk into himself. One of the guards cackled. “Betcha miss yer mommy now, don’tcha, squirt? Well, guess what? Yer mommy’s dead, same as ours!” An uproar of howls and hoots went up from the assembly. Inigo whimpered and closed his eyes, biting his lip hard.

“Stay strong, Ciel.” Aunt Emm’s quiet voice stood out in the crowd. “Don’t let their anger and hatred tear you down. Acknowledge their suffering, but don’t allow it to dishearten you.”

The teen opened his eyes and glanced at her. “D-Do you think we’re gonna make it out of this alive?”

“I don’t know.” She gave him a sad smile. “But I have faith we will anyway.”

Grima caught Chrom favoring Robin with a worried look. “Are you sure you’re all right, Robin? I mean, that must’ve been some nightmare.”

The younger albino shrugged. “I slept fine the rest of the night. Although hearing Validar talk to Grima about the execution was pretty unnerving. I mean, they should both be dead, right?”

Whoops. He’d forgotten that the young vessel was still connected to him via his Heart. He’d have to take more secure measures when speaking to the old Hierophant next time. The talk with Validar had been a bit strange, though maybe not enough for concern. Perhaps it had slipped the man’s mind that Grima’s purpose had changed. After all, he should’ve received the letter detailing the Fell Dragon’s new plans before the assassination, right? He wondered if maybe the man didn’t actually want to work underneath him in his future kingdom. Odd, but not unlikely. Oh, well, in that case, he’d have to figure out a replacement for the man, just in case. Nowi might be a good idea—then again, she was still a teen by dragon standards. Robin, he’d now decided, might not have to give himself up as the dragon’s vessel. The tactician would do much better as Chrom’s right-hand man, the High Priest’s Protector. He was the bluenette’s friend now, and a good one, it seemed, so there was no way he was getting rid of the mage. That was fine; this vessel worked just as well anyway.

The streets of Occasus simmered in the desert sun, sand-packed thoroughfares empty and foreboding. That could only mean one thing: everyone was at the execution. The dragon grit his teeth. As the Shepherds reached the courtyard of Plegia Castle, he made out three figures standing atop one of the horns of his true form’s skeleton. His superior eyesight zeroed in and resolved the figures into Emmeryn, Inigo, and an axeman, likely their executioner. The thought of his sweet little grandbaby being murdered over his literal dead body caused bile to bubble up on his throat. As he looked on, he noticed the blonde woman clutching the blue-haired teen to her chest, away from the axeman. Well, that was curious. What was she doing? Did she think the executioner would care? He could just as easily throw them both over the edge and let them fall to their deaths! The albino shuddered. Not good, not good, not good.

Gangrel came out in all his jestery finery and addressed the crowd in the courtyard. “Good people of Plegia! Peasants, soldiers! Welcome, all of you! I can feel your anticipation rising!” The crowd cheered. “Now, we all remember the crimes Ylisse has paid us, yes?” The cheering turned into boos and jeers. “How about we have their witch-queen and their devil-prince answer to us for them? How about today? Here? Right now?” More cheering. “Yeeee-esssssss! Finally, justice will be served!”

Grima growled, fangs coming out and pupils narrowing into slits. How dare that pathetic worm slander his poor mini blueberry! Inigo couldn’t be even more of the farthest thing from the devil if he tried! “I’ll show you a devil,” he muttered under his breath. Chrom’s shoulder brushed up against his, injecting clarity into his mind. His wits sharpened, and his power began to build.

“Now, executioner~? If you would do the honors, please~!”

“Raven, now!”

The white-haired dragon hurled a lethal purple spike through the air, and it sank into the axeman’s chest, knocking him off of the massive horn. Grima grinned in wicked satisfaction.

And Robin gave the order: “EVERYONE, GO!”

The Shepherds burst out into the open and met the Plegians head on. Lissa’s voice carried above the clangor. “Everyone deal with the soldiers first, we’ll handle Gangrel later!”

“Oh, will you now, little princess?” The Mad King cackled. “We’ve been expecting you, you know, hahaha! Men? Kill her. Kill her friends and her troops and anyone else with her!” His cackling grew louder. “KILL THEM AAAAAAAAAALLLLLL!”

“I’LL KILL YOU FIRST, YOU PATHETIC WORM OF A DASTARD!” Grima roared. “THAT BOY IS MINE TO PROTECT!”

“Dad! Focus! We need to get them out of there!” Chrom cried, slinging Umbra spells at the onslaught all around them. “Rage at Gangrel later! Emm and Ciel come first!”

Right… he was right. Inigo needed him. He glanced at the bluenette mage, who gave him a nod, and then took off running for his dragon form’s skull.

The fighting grew thick and heavy around them. They were on the Plegian’s home turf, so it didn’t much surprise Chrom. This was supposed to be a trap, after all. As he and Olivia cut and blasted their way through, the bluenette noticed a person nearby with long blonde hair, white clothing, and a Mend staff strapped to their back, wielding a sharp axe through the enemy throng. One soldier snuck up behind the person, however, and raised his dagger to stab them. Chrom blanched and sped towards the person.

“UMBRA!”

The spell slammed into the soldier and knocked him back. Chrom’s momentum carried him past the blonde axe-healer, whose eyes widened in shock. He gave them a cute smile and whipped around, blowing another swordsman back.

“Young Chrom?! Is that you?!”

The person recognized him? Olivia covered his back while he turned to the person—and then his eyes lit up in recognition! “You’re that healer from way back in Valm! The one who let me learn how to use a Heal staff!”

“You remember!” The man swung his axe and hooked it around a nearby lancer’s weapon, yanking them forward. Miriel, who had fought through with them, blasted the lancer in the face with a fireball. “Oh. Thank you, miss.”

The redhead straightened her glasses, a small smirk on her face. “You are welcome. My pleasure.”

Eventually, the fighting in their area wound down enough to allow the four a reprieve, and the axe-wielding healer offered his hand to the bluenette mage in thanks. “I appreciate you coming to my aid, young one. Have you perchance come here to save the Exalt and the prince?”

“You bet! But what are you doing here, all by yourself?”

The taller man’s countenance fell. “A contingent of my Nagalyte brethren and I had heard of the Exalt’s and prince’s capture. We crossed the desert with their salvation in mind, but… the Grimleal ambushed us.” He sighed. “I am afraid I am the only one left of our party.”

Chrom laid his hand on the man’s shoulder. “If you want, you should come with us! The Shepherds could use your help, umm…”

“Libra,” the axe-healer supplied.

“Libra! Excellent! So you’re with the church of Naga now? We should let our tactician, Robin, know you’re joining with us.”

“Oh, praise the gods,” Libra murmured. “At last my purpose is renewed! Their favor gives me strength!”

Chrom spotted his platinum-haired friend striding over to them with… was that woman a dark mage? She sure had eyes for Robin, that was certain. The older mage reached the group and waved to them. “Hi, guys! Guess what, Tharja here has decided to defect! She’s gonna fight with us!”

“Charmed,” the woman snarked.

Robin glanced at the blonde. “And who’s this person? You look kind of like the clergy I’ve seen around Ylisstol.”

“Libra’s part of the priesthood of Naga,” the bluenette explained, “and the one who first sparked my interest in healing. Way back in Valm, that is.”

Miriel cocked her head to the side. “I believe Libra’s addition would bring up our efficiency and effectiveness. Religion is often a potent motivator as evidenced by the existence of military chaplains, and skill with both a weapon and healing has proven to enhance our performance in battle, Chrom being our first and foremost example.”

“Ooh, sweet!” The tactician brightened. “I think Princess Lissa would really appreciate having such an awesome woman of the cloth!”

“… Man, Robin, man of the cloth.” Chrom giggled. “Libra is a guy.”

Robin’s face went bright red. “A-Ah, so sorry, ma’am—sir! Sir! So sorry, sir!”

“It’s no trouble.” Libra smiled. “It is a mistake oft made by those around me.” He winced and cried out, hand going to his hip. Tharja blasted the offending assassin with a flick of her wrist and her open tome. “Ah, thank you. I should have kept a more wary eye.”

“Here.” Chrom gathered his power into his hands and pressed them to the man’s bleeding side. The magic flowed from his hands into the priest’s body, sealing up the wound without a trace. Libra glanced down at his now uninjured side, then back at the bluenette, shock and awe clear in his green eyes. The teen shrugged in response. “I’ll let you know the long version later. Short version, my mana channels apparently got broken wide open.”

Libra stared at him as he made to leave, and only moved when Miriel tugged at his hand. “Truly, that child must be of the gods himself,” he breathed.

Grima streaked across the ground, impaling soldiers left and right. Up ahead, his left horn loomed, Emmeryn and Inigo still on top. They saw him and dashed down the horn, only to stumble and back up at the sight of more soldiers. The blonde Exalt reached out towards his grandson, but she missed as he ducked a swipe from a swordsman and lost his balance. Grima’s heart froze as the boy screamed and slipped off the horn.

“INIGO!”

Within moments the Fell Dragon was in the air, wings beating furiously as he shot up to meet his falling grandson. He reached out and caught the boy bridal-style, clutching him close to his chest, and shrieked at the Plegian army in rage. The boy sobbed and curled into the older man’s embrace.

“You saved me, you saved me, you came for me, you saved me…”

“Of course I did, mini blueberry,” Grima cooed, soothing the boy. “I made a promise to myself and to your father that I would protect you. You mean so much to me, little one.”

Inigo glanced up at him, shock and, surprisingly, hope glimmering in his teary eyes. “R-Really?”

“Yes, little one. I love you.”

The bluenette teen stared at him before biting his lip and nodding. “Okay. I… I think you do. B-But we have to save Aunt Emmeryn still, so…”

“Right, right.”

“She looked out for me, you know,” the boy whispered. “She tried to make sure I was hidden away when Ylisstol was attacked. She… She stood in front of me to protect me from the enemy, e-even though she knew I’m not her brother.”

Huh. That was… interesting, indeed. So the wishy-washy peace monger wasn’t quite the wuss he thought her to be, and she’d kept his mini blueberry safe to the best of her abilities. To his surprise, Grima’s respect for the blonde Exalt ratcheted up a few notches. Maybe letting her die here wasn’t such a bright idea. And if Chrom ever found out his relation to her, and Grima hadn’t ensured her safety? The thought made him shudder. He adjusted his hold on Inigo, wrapping his arm around the boy’s waist while the bluenette flung his arms around the dragon’s neck. “All right, then, let’s rescue her!” With his free hand, he swept a wave of spikes out towards the soldiers who had backed the Exalt upon the tip of the horn, killing them instantly. Emmeryn turned and saw the flying duo, the shock on her face morphing into gratitude. She waved at them, and Inigo gave a tentative wave back. The white-haired dragon snuck a peek at the courtyard, where Chrom and the Shepherds had broken through and defeated General Campari. Hey, they’d picked up Libra and Tharja! Now there were only three more Shepherds left to find to make the complete set.

A trio of pegasus knights landed in the courtyard as Grima continued spearing wave after wave of Plegian soldiers away from Emmeryn. They readied their mounts, and the dragon deduced they had been sent to rescue the Exalt. Well, couldn’t he just teleport her away? Although as he continued casting, his arms and heart began to burn. Uh-oh, not good. I didn’t realize I’ve used up most of my power. Ugh, I can’t do this for too much longer… and I still have Inigo to think about.

Gangrel yelled in fury at the trump card Robin had played with the pegasus knights. But wait… what was Aversa doing? Grima’s eyes widened, and he hollered, “EVERYBODY GET DOWN!”

An entire platoon of Risen swarmed the courtyard in an instant as the Plegian king cackled in delight at the new development. The undead archers shot at the flying pegasus knights, and the Fell Dragon gasped in pain as an arrow caught him in the stomach—he’d dodged too slow. If he stayed up here, Inigo would surely be killed. Giving an apologetic glance to Emmeryn, he swooped down and settled on the ground underneath the horn, snapping off the majority of the arrow shaft. The bodies of the pegasus knights and their mounts followed soon after. Setting Inigo down and gripping his hand, Grima took off to regroup with the rest of the Shepherds. He fished an eye bandage out of a pocket in his cloak and tossed it to the bluenette, who caught it and put it on with his free hand.

Chrom, it’s up to you now. My strength has waned too much…

“Come on, now! Beg for your pathetic, useless lives!” Gangrel jeered at the surrounded Shepherds. Chrom had managed to obliterate several of the Risen (Umbra version two had been engineered to destroy undead enemies since they couldn’t be put to sleep), but more took their place. Olivia guarded the bluenette’s back, and nearby Libra and Miriel stood back to back along with Tharja and Gaius, as Robin had paired the four into two duos. In the front with Robin and Sumia, Lissa stood holding Falchion in a guard position.

“I’m not gonna beg for my own life from you, I’d rather give it up first!” she hollered back.

“Oh-ho-ho! Would you like that on your gravestone, perhaps? I’ll carve it in myself!”

Great, now the two had gotten into an antagonization contest. Chrom sighed and glanced at his father as the older man slipped through with a blue-haired eyepatch-wearing teen. That had to be Ciel… or Inigo? He’d have to talk to Dad later about that, clearly the man hadn’t meant for that to slip out. Ciel Inigo… Hmm…

Wait, was Lady Emm still up on the horn of the giant dragon skull?! Why hadn’t Dad gotten her down, too? But the platinum head clutched his hand to his bleeding stomach, exhaustion evident in his features. Chrom made to move towards his father, but the Risen around them pointed their weapons at the dragon and the other bluenette. A sick feeling rose in the mage-healer’s throat. They couldn’t fail here, they had to get Lady Emm to safety! He looked up to where she stood, wishing he had a Rescue staff.

Actually… he technically did have a Rescue staff, didn’t he! Well, true, he’d tried the teleportation spell that one time and knocked himself out using it—and he couldn’t tap into his father’s power when the older man’s supply was running low. But he did have access to all the ambient mana the place was thick with, the massive dragon skeleton practically glowed with how much it gave off. Maybe… maybe it was possible…

He had to make a decision, and quick, because Gangrel had once again demanded the Fire Emblem. If any of the Shepherds moved, Emmeryn would die. And then he remembered: he had the Fire Emblem, not Lissa! “Princess!” he spoke up. “No matter what, you can’t sacrifice your sister!”

“Chrom’s right!” Robin added. “There’s gotta be another way we can save her!”

“Well, if there is, I’m not seeing it!” she yelled back. “Oh gods, I can’t do this…”

Chrom looked into his father’s eyes, fear and hope and despair warring within him. Red orbs met blue, and Dad mouthed, I believe in you.

Okay. Okay. He had to do this. It was their only hope. Lissa had just ordered them to throw down their weapons, maybe he could use that as a distraction to gather his power—

“Enough!”

Gangrel turned at the sound of Emmeryn’s voice. “SHUT UP!”

“King Gangrel, is there no hope of you listening to reason?” she continued. The king sighed, annoyed.

“You mean reason as in your self-righteous, sanctimonious, goody-two-shoes harping?! No thank you! I want to listen to the thunk of the arrows hitting your body and the splat as you splatter all over the ground!” He sneered. “Take one long final look from your perch up there, your Gaudiness. I’m surprised you aren’t enjoying yourself, you do love looking down on people. After that, prepare yourself to meet your maker—on the ground! Unless, of course, somebody gives me the Emblem right this instant!”

“OKAY!” Lissa shouted. “Okay… I’m sorry, Emm, but… this is the decision I feel right making.” Her shoulders sagged. “You know, maybe in the future there’ll be a time where we might need it… but… but we need you more! Our people need you! I need you! You’re all that I have left, Emm!” She took a breath. “If we need to face a threat later on, we’ll do it together! With you!”

“Lissa…” From her position, Emmeryn straightened. “Thank you. I know what I have to do now.”

She stepped forward on the jutting horn and raised her voice. “Plegians! I beg you, listen to me and the truth in my words! War rewards you with nothing more than pain and suffering, whether in you own borders or out of them! I ask you to free yourselves from this cycle of pain and hatred and vengeance! Free yourselves and heal! Do everything you must… as I will.” She took another step, and Chrom suddenly felt a nauseating wave of foreboding wash over him.

“See now that one selfless act has the power to change the world!”

Lissa gasped. “Emm! Emm, no, don’t—!” She bolted, running for the base of the skull. Chrom drew as much power as he could inside of himself—from the environment, the skeleton, even the Fire Emblem—as he kept his eyes fixed on the Exalt. She strode to the very edge of the tip of the ledge and clasped her hands in prayer.

And then… she fell.

The bluenette opened himself wide and reached out for her signature, her words ringing through his head and all around him.

“Chrom… Lissa… and all my people…

“Know… that I always loved you.”

He grasped and pulled—

Something passed through his body—

And Lissa stood looking down at the ground before falling to her knees with a sob.

Chrom gulped down the rising bile and dashed over to her, dread growing with every step. He stumbled to a halt next to her and found himself staring down into the maw of the dragon’s skull. A torn white and green robe, splattered with blood, hung on the inside, caught one of the teeth.

“N-No…”

He’d failed.

He’d failed.

Absolute silence. Then,

“GANGREL!” Lissa shrieked. Chrom gave a sob, as did Inigo. Grima clutched at his wound, swaying a bit, as Gangrel howled with laughter.

“How disgustingly, pathetically noble!” he mocked. “Such a lovely, graceful fall! And I thought death was only supposed to be ugly!”

“I’ll show you an ugly death!” the albino snarled, teeth grit in pain. Inigo motioned for Libra to come over and slipped his shoulder underneath the wounded man’s arm, supporting him.

The Mad King sighed, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “Ahhh, what a lark… Truly a tragedy fit for the finest stage! So ends Emmeryn, the most exalted of Ylisse! Your sacrifice will be remembered, your Shininess—but how do we make it so?” He leered. “Why don’t we gather your dead body and put it up on display, hahaha!”

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU, GANGREL!” the princess screamed.

“Not today!” Basilio ran up along with Flavia to the Shepherds in the courtyard. “We’ve got an escape route, we need to get out of here now!”

“But her body—“

“Your body’ll join hers if you don’t run! Now go! Robin, make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid!”

Chrom ran back with Lissa and slipped his arm underneath the older albino’s other shoulder. “C-Can’t heal—drained—power,” he choked out. “Gotta get—you out…”

Grima took one last look at the Plegian king before acquiescing. Then they fled.

As the Ylissean-Feroxi group began to retreat, a lone figure ran up and then stood watching from a distance.

“No! No… I’m too late… Our bleak future is written once more… And darkness awaits us all.”

We failed… Inigo, Cynthia, Morgan, everyone…

I’m so sorry.

Darkness.

Pain.

Softness.

Light?

She blinked and found herself staring up at a patched wooden ceiling. Her side throbbed—she must’ve scraped it. She eased herself up into a sitting position and glanced around the room. Sunlight filtered in from a window in the wall in front of her, and to her right stood a dresser with knickknacks scattered on top. Over on the desk under the window lay a familiar navy-bound tome, and a shelf above the dresser held a variety of old tomes ranging from Wind to Arcthunder, all of them used up. She glanced down at herself and found her side a bloody but mostly-intact mess. Wait, why was she in just her undergarments?!

She squawked and stumbled out of the soft, cushy bed, clutching her side. Slipping out of the bedroom, she found herself in a cozy living room and kitchen area. To her right—oh good, a bathroom! She hurried inside and rinsed the blood off as best as she could. She searched the tiny cottage, for that was what it was, and found a vulnerary in one of the kitchen cupboards. It tasted different from what she was used to, but the pain went away and her side healed up. She made a note to apologize and pay back the owners for infringing on their hospitality as she went back to the bedroom for clothes. The ones in the dresser were a bit… hmm, small. So she went into the room to the left of the bathroom, another bedroom, and looked in there for clothes. These were a bit bigger; they would have to do.

As she pulled on a beige tank top and gray pants, the picture frames hung up around the room caught her eye. They all portrayed the same boy, from childhood to young adulthood. It had been many years, but she had not forgotten that sweet, sweet face.

“Oh! It is you!” she breathed.

“Chrom!”

Chapter Text

Running.

Fleeing.

Sand in the air. On the ground.

Hot sun beating down on their heads.

Whinnies and snorts from horses and pegasi.

Silence from everyone else.

Chrom slipped into the convoy wagon, where his father sat resting on a crate as Libra healed the arrow wound. The bloodied arrowhead lay broken and discarded on the wooden planks of the wagon, and the bluenette gathered the pieces up before tossing them out of the wagon. He seated himself next to the albino as the priest finished up, mouthing “Thank you” to the blonde man. Libra gave a nod and bowed, exiting the wagon.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Chrom glanced at Dad’s wound, the skin showing no trace that he’d been injured. The man’s drained expression told him otherwise. The boy bit his lip and fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve.

After a minute, Dad shifted and sighed. “I was an idiot… I used up too much too quickly. If I hadn’t, I could’ve gotten her down…”

“I-It’s not your fault… I tried, but… I failed.”

The older man snorted. “I felt you activate the spell, so I don’t know what went wrong. Maybe you just needed more practice…”

Gulping, the teen glanced down. “I-I’m sorry, I… I should’ve waited first, I know how you are with the spells in your spellbook and whatnot, I shouldn’t have—“

“You’ve done it before.”

Chrom paled and looked at him. “Yeah… It was in the middle of the border pass battle. I got stuck and Robin told me to get out. So I did the only thing I had available at the time.”

“And you were successful, too, weren’t you.”

Pride shown in his father’s tired gaze. The bluenette mage gave a weak chuckle. “If by successful you mean I did the spell and then knocked myself out for a day or two, yeah, I was successful. Maribelle was pissed.”

“Was that when you completely bypassed your natural instinct to draw from a tome?” Dad asked, curious. The boy shook his head.

“The teleportation thing was before that. I think catching a dark spell with my bare hands is what, as Maribelle says, blasted my mana channels wide open.”

“Huh.” Dad smiled and lifted a hand, patting Chrom’s arm. “You know, I’m proud of you. You did the best you could in the circumstances.” He sighed. “I just wish it hadn’t been at the cost of… her.”

Chrom nodded, his chest heavy. “Yeah.”

“She protected Ciel, I wish I could’ve done something.”

The young mage raised his eyebrow at the older man. “Is it Ciel, or Inigo?”

Now it was Dad’s turn to pale. “Oh, shoot. I said that out loud?!”

“You screamed it for the whole castle to hear, Dad.” Chrom huffed a laugh. “Look, I don’t know what he asked you not to reveal or why, but… I trust you. Just… I don’t know, be honest with me like you always are. If I don’t need to know something, let me know at least why.”

“I know, I will. I can’t tell you anything more about him, sorry.”

“’S okay.”

Chrom gave his father a hug before exiting the wagon. He found Olivia nearby, and she gave him a watery smile, taking his hand. Up ahead, Vaike had his arm around Lissa, the princess’s posture slumped and defeated. The bluenette regarded her with a lump in his throat. How in the world could he help her? She’d lost her brother before she could remember, and now she’d lost her sister, and she was next in line to rule the halidom. At least she had Vaike to comfort her. Near the two, Frederick rode with his head bowed and shoulders hunched over. The mage-healer weaved his way over to the knight and looked up at him.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

The brunette shrugged. “You did what you could. We all did.” He sighed. “And in the end, it wasn’t enough. I had hoped to never feel such a thing again.”

“Um…” Chrom bit his lip, already guessing the answer to his next question. “When was that?”

“… When we lost the prince.”

“If you don’t mind… could you tell me?”

Frederick regarded him with a steady, if pain-filled gaze. “Emmeryn and I were good friends in our childhood. I was the son of a knight, she was the crown princess… we got along well. Unfortunately that was what caused the tragedy…” He cleared his throat. “The Exalt had been fighting in the war alongside his troops, so the queen decided she and her children could do with a change of scenery. They left the castle and traveled to a small resort south of the capital. I came along, but I was more interested in playing with Emm than watching out for her brother.”

“Uh-oh, I think I can guess where this is going.”

The older man nodded. “We all went out to a clearing for a picnic one day. While I was playing with the princess, the prince wandered off into the woods. It was only when we were called to dinner that I realized he was missing.” The look on his face turned heavy with sorrow. “We searched the area thoroughly, but our efforts were all for naught. We had to leave soon after due to the reports of Plegian soldiers making their way into the country.”

Chrom’s face fell. “And you never found him?”

“Never. He had completely vanished into thin air.” Frederick sighed. “I promised Emmeryn then that I would become a strong and powerful knight, worthy of protecting anyone. And I would find her brother and bring him home to her.” He gave a dry scoff. “Not that it seems to matter anymore. She… she isn’t here.”

“Lissa is,” the bluenette reminded him. “She needs your help. She’s next in line for the throne, right? She’s gonna need all the support she can get, and you’re one of the best Ylisse has.”

The knight gave him a long look before nodding. “You… You’re right. I must stand by her, as I stood by her sister.” He glanced away, shoulders trembling.

“I-I’ll leave you alone, then?” Frederick gave no answer, so Chrom waited for Olivia to catch up and walked beside her again.

“Where did you learn Plegian dark magic?”

Chrom gave a muffled squeak and whipped around, finding Tharja behind him. Her dark eyes bored into him, and he gulped. “M-My foster f-father taught me.” At her puzzled look, he clarified, “The mage that looks almost exactly like Robin. He rescued the, um… well, he isn’t the prince, they just thought he was. His name’s Raven.”

“… I see.” She glanced down at his hip where Umbra sat holstered. “Never encountered that spell ever before, though.” Her eyes flicked back up to his face. “Where did you get it?”

“I w-wrote it. Dad helped me.”

“Hmm. Interesting. It’s not everyday you run across an Ylissean dark mage.” She smirked. “And you’re pretty powerful, too, from the looks of it. Did you do any rituals to strengthen your magic?”

“… No? I just practiced a lot and learned how not to burn myself out. I-I mean, I didn’t think I was that powerful.”

“‘Course you are!” Nowi piped up, swinging hers and Ricken’s joined hands. “People with dragon’s blood’re always stronger than normal people. Just look at Lissa! She sure swings the ol’ fang around without breaking a sweat! Wheee!”

“D… Dragon blood?” Chrom furrowed his brow in thought. “Are you talking about the blood pact I made with my father?”

The verdant-blonde pouted. “No, silly! The other one! It’s wayyyyyy old, the runs-in-your-family kind!”

“You have two blood pacts?!” Tharja’s mouth opened in shock. “No wonder you’re so powerful.” Her gaze lingered on his shoulder a moment before returning to his face.

“T… Two… b-blood pacts…?” the bluenette asked, feeling faint. “How… I had no idea… what…” That’s… I’m going to have to talk to Father about this. Did he know? He must have. Did-did I not want to remember the other one because it’s linked to my birth family? I don’t know… This is so confusing…!

The dark mage grinned at him. “If you like, we can do some… experiments when this is over.” She slunk back behind Robin and Sumia, who marched near the bluenette and pinkette with Bellemere. Gaius ran up to her and asked her a question, and although she snapped a sarcastic retort to him, the Plegian woman looked a bit less unapproachable. Chrom glanced at Olivia, who shrugged back at him.

Two blood pacts?!

“Come on! There should be carriages waiting for us just past the ravine!” Basilio shouted, waving them through the rain. Chrom shuddered, his hood up and boots squelching in the sandy mud. He glanced back at Lissa, who had stopped a ways away, her loose hair hiding her face. The West Khan yelled, “Princess! Let’s go!”

“R… Right. I-I’m coming,” the blonde answered, following them.

“We’re almost there, every—Blast! Plegians! I should’ve known it wouldn’t be so easy!”

The bluenette’s stomach dropped at the sight of the soldiers that swarmed the Midmire, and he bit his lip. I-I don’t want to fight anymore… I don’t want to see anyone else die today… The bulky general in the midst of the Plegian company evidently thought the same. “Hold it right there, Ylisseans! Surrender now and I will let you live!”

“Surrender?” Basilio scoffed. “Can’t say I’m familiar with the word. Everyone, prepare to fight!”

“Wait!” the general cried. “Emmeryn, your Exalt, she wouldn’t have wanted this to come to bloodshed—“

“HOW DARE YOU!” Lissa screamed, rushing to the front of the Ylissean party. She drew Falchion and stood, trembling, rage clear in her stance. “YOU DON’T DESERVE TO SPEAK HER NAME!”

The general regarded her with sad sympathy. “Your anger is justifiable, Princess Lissa. But… her final sacrifice… the meaning of it was not lost on me.” He glanced around at his fellow soldiers. “I think I speak for the rest of us when I say that many of my countrymen who heard her final words agree.” His stance filled with noble resolve. “Lay down your weapons and I swear to you, I will protect you to the best of my abilities.”

Frederick’s eyes narrowed. “And why should we believe you after what your barbaric king has done?” He hefted his axe. “I prefer to take our chances with our weapons in hand!”

“I thought you might say something like that.” The general sighed. “Very well then, Princess Lissa. My men and I will endeavor to honor you with a swift and noble end!”

Chrom felt sick as everyone readied their weapons. Some of the Plegian soldiers conversed before, incredibly, the general ordered those who didn’t want to fight dismissed from the battlefield. The bluenette’s eyes widened. They… They had heard Emmeryn’s message, too! They were just people trapped in horrible circumstances like the villagers in Bubblestone! The boy clenched his fist. No… he could not fight them. There had to be a better way—a way without shedding blood! If what the general had said was true, these soldiers’ families were in danger! He wouldn’t take their lives, he wouldn’t let them become more Emmeryns!

He glanced at his tome and felt the weight of the Fire Emblem in his coat. Yes… that could work!

The general readied his weapon. “My name is General Mustafa of Plegia. If you desire to keep your lives, you must win them!”

Stop…

“I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU AND EVERY LAST PLEGIAN HERE!” Lissa screeched.

No…

“So be it!”

Enough!

“STOP IT!”

Everyone’s attention turned to the teen mage who had rushed in between the two sides. He held out his hands, palms facing towards each side, desperation in his heart and eyes.

“Please… I can’t bear to see anyone else die today,” he pleaded, glancing between the Ylissean and Plegian parties. “Not Ylissean, not Plegian—no more taking innocent lives! I can’t fight against you knowing you’re victims of circumstance!”

“What do you plan to do, boy?” Mustafa asked. “Our families’ lives are at stake! How do you expect us to back down?”

“You won’t have to!” Chrom took out Umbra. “There will be a battle… and everyone will make it out alive!” He gazed down at the cover of his personal tome. “I have a spell that I created myself. It uses dark magic to send the target into a deep sleep. You’ll wake up again eventually if you’re hit with it. It was specifically designed not to harm a living being, and it never has.”

The Plegian axe-wielder looked interested. “Are you saying you want to take on my army all by yourself?”

“I-I mean,” he glanced at Robin, “Robin could probably help. I don’t necessarily need the tome itself to cast the spell.”

The white-haired tactician shrugged. “I’d be happy to give it a try.”

“Why are you suggesting this?” a Plegian lancer spoke up. “Why go to the trouble of having us fight you?”

“Because we can’t let Gangrel suspect anything. If he comes upon you and sees that you basically let us go, he will kill your families! But if he comes up and sees you fought us and were defeated, he’ll spare you and your families! At least, that’s the plan,” he explained.

Flavia and Basilio glanced at each other, then burst out laughing. The latter shook his head. “Now I can officially say that is the ballsiest plan I have ever heard in my life! You got guts, kiddo!” He grinned. “Well, I’m for it. Anybody else?”

The two sides looked at each other before agreeing. Robin strode out and took Umbra from Chrom’s outstretched hand. The two mages stood side by side, facing the Plegian company.

“Give me the best that you’ve got!” Chrom yelled. Together he and Robin called out,

“UMBRA!”

“I can’t believe that actually worked,” Robin muttered as the carriages drove the Ylissean party on their way out of Plegia. “I’m not completely sure I was ready to cast Umbra, though.”

In the seat opposite the tactician, Chrom shrugged. “I think you did just fine for a first try. The first version was more of an Arc-level tome, I think. This one is up with Rexcalibur and Thoron and Bolganone.” He picked at his sleeve. “At least, that’s how powerful it’s supposed to be.”

“S-So you really did write your own tome?” the blue-haired boy next to the mage-healer asked. “C-Can I see?”

Chrom smiled at him. “Of course! Ciel, was it?” He caught the boy’s facepalm as he handed the tome over. “What?”

“Nothing,” the younger bluenette mumbled. He took the tome with reverent hands and began flipping pages, scanning them with wide-eyed fervor.

“Interested in magic?”

Ciel faltered. “Um, well, I didn’t think I had the aptitude for it, so I never tried studying it. One of our friends—well, she’s really more of a cousin—she’s into it. So’s another one of our group.”

“Oh, I see.” Chrom chuckled. “Well, Dad didn’t think I was that talented in magic either, but I wanted to learn so badly… I wanted to be like my dad, you see—“ Ciel flinched. “Hey, he’s not so bad! Though he is pretty protective, I have to admit. He rescued you, didn’t he?”

“… Yeah. Yeah, he did.” The tension left the younger teen’s body, and he gave a weak smile. “I… I just thought he was someone I’m afraid of when we first met… but, um, he’s kinda grown on me.”

On Robin’s right side, Sumia chuckled. “Yes, Raven does have a way of growing on you, doesn’t he? Frederick antagonism notwithstanding.”

“To be fair, it is somewhat justified,” Chrom pointed out.

“Why?” Ciel wondered, curious gaze riveted to the older bluenette.

Chrom hesitated. “Well… Frederick kind of… triggered one of my panic attacks. And then he tried to kill me when he found out about my blood pact Mark.”

“What?!” the boy squeaked in horror.

From Robin’s left side (she’d insisted on riding with them), Tharja leaned forward in interest. “You have a Mark?”

“Yeah. It’s over my heart. Dad and Robin have it, too, though theirs is on their right hands.”

The dark-haired woman pursed her lips in thought. “… So that’s evidence of one of your blood pacts. Hmm… very curious.”

Chrom bit his lip and directed a questioning look at the tactician, who shrugged, his expression clueless. They continued on in silence for a bit longer, Ciel flipping through Umbra and leaning against the mage-healer. Chrom smiled at the boy. He looked so much like him, it was little wonder Dad had latched onto the younger teen. The eyepatch made him curious, but then he figured it was probably to protect the young swordsman from people who might want to hurt the real prince of Ylisse, at least until Dad had taken out the illusion of the Brand.

After a few minutes, Robin huffed and asked, “Tharja, what is it with you and Chrom’s shoulder?” The mage didn’t answer, and Chrom noticed her gaze was locked onto his right shoulder. The albino continued, “I mean, if you’re attracted to shoulders, I get it, I could probably find a guy in the Shepherds with a nice pair—“

“That is an extremely high-level hex you have there,” she interrupted.

Chrom blinked. “… Do you mean my coat, or on my shoulder?”

“The latter, why do you think I’ve been staring at it all this time? I wouldn’t have noticed it unless I was actively searching for it. I found it when I scanned your body earlier.”

… Ohhhhhh-kay, that was mildly concerning that she hadn’t asked first. The bluenette mage frowned. “I must’ve sustained it during the battle earlier without knowing it. Do you—would you be able to take it off?”

Tharja tapped her finger to her lips in thought. “It’s going to take a while, considering the sheer complexity of it… but I think I have enough experience to unwind it.” She shrugged and moved over to the opposite seat, Chrom and Ciel scooting over to make room for her. “And if not, your dad will probably be able to do it.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

The woman nodded and got to work picking at the hex. After several minutes of her unraveling the spell, Chrom fell into a light doze. Just before he fell completely into sleep, he felt Ciel lean his head on his shoulder, the younger boy’s breathing evening out. An unconscious smile crossed his lips as he dipped deeper into slumber.

He found himself in the usual black void where he met with his father’s dragon form. The dragon’s features had always remained obscured in the darkness, but Chrom didn’t mind. Soft feathers wrapped around his body as red eyes gazed down, tired-looking but filled with love. The two rested together in each other’s embrace, enjoying the company of each other’s presence. A couple of times his father purred, stroking the bluenette’s head or back. The sensation lulled the boy deeper into blissful oblivion, and he snuggled closer to the warm scaly body, completely relaxed.

He awoke just before they reached Arena Ferox after Tharja finished untangling the hex on his shoulder. The woman sat back in her seat and sighed.

“I have never in my life encountered a trickier hex than the one I just undid. Why it was completely harmless, I have no idea.”

“It was harmless?” Chrom frowned. “Why would someone cast a harmless hex on me? That’s just bizarre.”

“Dunno.” She shrugged. “Normally I can figure out what type of hex it is, but this one kept evading me. Like I said, it was extremely high-level. It even hid its purpose from me.”

“… Weird.” Well, at least it was harmless? Maybe it was a tracking spell or something… His stomach jolted at the thought. What if he had inadvertently led Gangrel and his men to their position?! But wait, wouldn’t Dad have noticed it? Although he’d been on the edge of burnt out… Still, this was a bit concerning.

Oh well, he’d just have to figure it out later. They’d arrived at the Feroxi capital.

Basilio and Flavia got all the Shepherds set up with rooms when the party returned. Then the Khans insisted on ensuring everyone got food and rest before they planned their next move against Gangrel. From what Inigo had seen at the battle at Plegia Castle, Grima would probably call dibs on killing the Mad King—that is, if Aunt Lissa didn’t get to him first. Seeing his aunt wield Falchion was, frankly, a bit of a shock to the youth. While he knew Owain could wield the divine blade, the older prince’s mother had never shown an aptitude for the sword, although she had been a formidable war cleric in the future. It did make sense, Aunt Emmeryn was a pacifist who wouldn’t use a weapon, and his father had been missing for the past fifteen years; Aunt Lissa was really the only choice left. Still, it was strange seeing her in action, especially since she’d developed a style not unlike his sister’s. He wondered what Lucina would think of her if she ever met her, or if she had already met her. Lon’qu seemed to have not suffered from his injury in the original timeline, so she must’ve succeeded.

His father, on the other hand… Meeting him was like getting splashed in the face with water on a warm day: shocking, but not entirely uncomfortable. While the older bluenette wielded magic (extremely proficiently too, which made Inigo reconsider his own aptitude) and had a shyer and more sensitive and thoughtful demeanor, there seemed to be hardly any difference at the core of his being from the father he remembered. Grima had spoken true: he’d cared for Chrom and ensured he grew up well. The solution at the Midmire that Chrom had come up with was ingenious and compassionate, far from what a person raised to be a monster would consider. Inigo wondered if his father would’ve considered such a thing in the original timeline. Probably not, as he would’ve grown up with Aunt Emmeryn as his sister, and Father had mentioned to them that he was a bit reckless and hard-headed in his youth. Actually, thinking about it now, the teen figured that version of his father would’ve acted more along the lines of Aunt Lissa’s reactions. Very strange, indeed…

Father didn’t seem to mind Inigo’s attentions at all. In fact, he explained that “Raven” had told him they were related. Inigo’s heart stuttered to a stop.

“R-R-Related h-how?!”

The older teen held up his hand. “He didn’t say, just that there’s a bunch of stuff you can’t tell me for good reasons.” He chuckled. “Kind of like Marth, now that I think about it.”

“… Marth…?”

“You don’t know her? Blue hair like ours, wields Falchion?”

Sister! He’s seen her! “Oh, u-um, maybe. Unless, of course, there’s somebody else named ‘Marth’ that you know?”

“Marth?!” Grima’s head shot up, and he ran over to the two standing in the hall, eyes wide. He grasped Inigo’s shoulders with a desperate look. “Marth is here?! How?! Where?!”

The younger bluenette’s mouth opened in stunned confusion. “Uh… um… sh-she—“

“She?” The albino frowned. “Marth is a guy!” Then he reddened and corrected, “Was a guy. Marth was a guy. Still is, only he’s… you know.” His shoulders slumped. “What kind of girl calls herself ‘Marth,’ anyway?”

“Probably somebody from a destroyed future who needed to be a symbol of hope or something?” Inigo’s jaw dropped, and he stared at Father, aghast. How did he know?! “I think she’s related to me, she wields Falchion and is probably my older sister.” Wait, what?

While Inigo’s brain tried and failed to reboot after that bizarre declaration (and really, in any other situation, he probably would’ve found the unwitting swap hilarious), Grandfather’s countenance darkened, and he hissed, “What?!”

“Um, Dad?”

“How dare… not worthy…”

“Dad, you’re freaking me out.”

The albino growled, “The only one I’ve ever come across who is worthy of that name is you!”

Chrom blinked. “… Dad?”

Inigo glanced between the two men, bewildered. Grima’s eyes cleared of some of the rage, but he still clenched his fists. “If you need me, I’ll be in one of the training rooms, demolishing dummies.” He turned and stalked away, his head hung and shoulders tense. The younger bluenette looked at his father, who shrugged, a thoughtful look on his face.

“I think… maybe… hmm…”

The story Grandfather had told him that night in the castle came back to Inigo’s mind. He gasped. “F—Chrom, what… what if he knew Marth? The original one?”

“Oh!” The older bluenette sucked in a breath. “You know, he used to tell me stories of a dark dragon and a blue-haired prince. Maybe… maybe you’re right!” Then his face fell. “Oh gods, that makes it so much worse! If he thought his old friend was here… It’s a good thing our ‘Marth’ isn’t here, he looked outraged at the idea of someone else using that name.”

“Yeah…” Inigo bit his lip. “Do you think I should go talk to him?”

“You might want him to cool off first.”

“Right. Okay.”

Eventually Inigo found his foster grandfather (and when had he started thinking of Grima as that?! Had his rescue really made that much of an impact?) bashing in training dummy after training dummy with just his fists. The teen watched in amazement. He hadn’t known the man was capable of superhuman strength—but of course, he was a dragon, though with a human body. Maybe his powers allowed for such a thing? He waited until the last dummy had been smashed to bits before the albino slumped to his knees on the floor, white hair hiding his face. The boy stepped into the room, picking his way through shards of wood, strewn straw, and other debris. Reaching the older man, he noticed his shoulders trembling beneath the large coat.

For a couple minutes neither of them spoke. Then Grima gave a shuddery sigh.

“… Y-You know… just for a moment… I thought… I thought I could have him back. H-He… He was my world, back then…”

Inigo wrung his hands, recalling the story. “You were put to sleep, right? And then he…”

“Yeah.” The albino sniffed and scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Sometimes I wonder… if I went back in time and changed it so that I hadn’t been put to sleep…” He shook his head. “But that’s so far in the past, I have no idea if I would lose Chrom when I returned. There’s—I can see so much of Marth in him—“

“Is that why you love him then? Because he reminds you of Marth?”

Grima glanced up at him, a fierce light in his eyes. “Chrom is his own person. Now, yes, maybe they’re fairly similar, but I would never mistake one for the other.” He sighed. “If anyone is worthy to use Marth’s name, it is him.”

“Um, should I ask Luci to use a different alias? If we ever meet her?” Inigo bit his lip.

The dragon scoffed. “If we meet, she’ll probably try to kill me—that is, if she knows who I really am.” He fixed the boy with a quizzical look. “How did you know who I was, anyway? I’ve been wondering that, I just realized you wouldn’t have known I had taken over Robin.”

“W-Well… I kinda saw you leaping behind Big Sis right as I left the portal.” Grima winced. “Yeah, you looked pretty scary. I had six months afterwards to put it all together.”

“Oh. Huh. Makes sense.”

Inigo hesitated before reaching out and patting the older man on the shoulder. “I-I think I’m still a little bit freaked out by you—you’re terrifying when you’re angry—but, um… maybe you’re not so bad after all.”

Grima stared at him, eyes wide, before a smile slowly spread on his face. The bluenette cracked a small smile of his own.

“Thanks, mini blueberry. That… That means a lot to me.”

Inigo slipped back into the halls, searching for his room. According to the assignments he’d be sharing with Grima, which… well, he wasn’t sure if he’d rather stay with one of his friends’ parents-to-be; it might make it easier for him. Maybe he shouldn’t be seeking out his father, but the presence of the older bluenette was oddly relaxing. Although, how had he come to the conclusion that Lucina was his sister? It baffled the future prince. Had Father really forgotten who he truly was?

He traversed the hall when he heard familiar voices—Mother and Father! Before he could slip away, Chrom noticed him and called out, “Hey, Ciel! There’s someone I’d like you to meet!”

Inigo gulped and approached his parents, fiddling with his hands. He used this to conceal him slipping his mother’s ring off his finger and stashing it in his sleeve. Chrom greeted him with a bright smile and gestured to his mother. “Ciel, I’d like you to meet Olivia if you haven’t already. She’s from Ferox and, well…” The mage blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s one of m-my dearest friends.”

“H-Hi there.” Olivia gave the boy a small wave, her hands clutched to her chest. “I’ve heard ab-about you a little from Chrom and his father. A-Are you all right? It m-must’ve been scary being, um, y-you know, captured.”

“Yeah, um, i-it was. B-But I had Au—Emm-Emmeryn there, she was very nice.”

Father chuckled. “She is, isn’t she. O-Or, she was… um…”

They stood there a few moments in morose silence. Then Inigo gave them a weak smile. “W-Well, it-it was nice meeting you, Mo-Miss O-Olivia. Um, see you l-later…” He ducked past them, cheeks flushing bright red.

Gods, how could Lucina do it?! I certainly can’t!

Chrom finally made it to his room, the same one he and Robin had shared last time. The older mage had deposited his pack on the floor next to his bed and sat slumped in his chair, arms folded on top of the chair back and head pillowed on them. Tossing his own pack next to his desk, the bluenette regarded his friend. ”What’s eating you?”

Robin sighed. “I just… I don’t know, I wish I could’ve done better. It feels like it’s all my fault.”

“Dad and I feel the same way.” Chrom sighed and slipped off his coat, hanging it on the back of his chair. “Look, maybe it’s everyone’s fault, maybe it’s no one’s fault—we can’t… we can’t dwell on that, or else we’re gonna make more mistakes.”

“That something he says?”

“More like the moral of the story of his life. His words, not mine.”

The albino hummed. “Wonder how long it took him to learn that lesson. He has three thousand years on us.” He grimaced and shook his head. “I hope that doesn’t say something about us.”

“We’ll… we’ll learn it eventually, I’m sure.”

“Yeah? Hurts like a lance to the heart, though.”

Chrom nodded and put his hands on his hips, staring at his pack. He really didn’t feel like taking everything out… they still had to deal with Gangrel, and who knew when they were going to be deployed again? The thought made him shudder and wrap his arms around himself. Lissa was in such a depressed state right now, but she seemed ready to snap the moment anyone mentioned the Mad King or her sister. What if she was deemed unfit for combat? And if that meant he had to wield Falchion… The thought elated and sickened him all at once. How he hadn’t thrown up after the battle at the Border Sands was beyond him. This was why he’d made Umbra, so he wouldn’t have to use such a thing! Was it a result of the other blood pact’s influence? Why his blood sang at the presence of the sword in his hands? He remembered how cleanly the divine blade cut through things, but the actual moment of that battle he could not recall. Had he been suppressing such memories? He shuddered, fearful. Perhaps he should speak to Miriel about this, she would probably be helpful in researching trauma-related memory loss. Why hadn’t he gone to her about that before?! Because you were perfectly happy not knowing who your family was, that’s why. That’s great and all, but you never predicted it would get you into this much trouble now, did you, Chrom?

Behind him, a door opened and someone strode out. In the right of his periphery, Robin lifted his head and opened his mouth to speak—then he froze, gaze locking onto something. Chrom glanced at him, confused. “What’s wrong?”

The platinum-head stared at him, eyes wide, and pointed to the younger man’s shoulder. The bluenette furrowed his brow and looked down.

And beheld the image of the Brand of the Exalt.

“Is everything all right?” Feeling as if his body and mind were moving through molasses, the teen turned and glanced up at Frederick, whose eyes widened at the sight of the Brand. The knight rushed over and slipped the laced-up shoulder of the bluenette’s shirt down. “It—It can’t be—Is it really—“

“The hex,” Robin realized. “The hex that Tharja took off… i-it must’ve been an illusion… covering up that.”

Chrom looked back down at the Brand. It… this… I… An old memory, forgotten until now, flashed through his mind. A Valmese summer—taking his shirt off—Dad’s concern—“Couldn’t you just make it go away?”—magic threading through his flesh until nothing remained but clear skin—

Oh. Oh. Oh!

Chrom gasped and clutched at his chest, his knees giving out. Frederick caught him, but he barely felt it over the roaring of blood pounding through his ears.

The right age… fifteen years gone… the right name… and now, the Brand…!

He…!

He was—!

He was the missing prince of Ylisse!

Frederick dragged the numb bluenette through Arena Ferox, looking for the throne room where Basilio and Flavia were holding council. Chrom stumbled along, the world around him blurry and slipping through his senses. How… how was it possible? That he was the prince? No wonder he’d been fascinated with Emm’s Brand, he had one just like it, and his older sister’s had matched in shape and position. His parents… oh gods, his father was the horrible Exalt before Emm! Had he known back then? Another memory resurfaced—Dad had asked him what his birth father was like, and he’d told him his father had been disappointed with him. Maybe he did know. The idea that he was related to such an awful man…! And yet, Emm and Lissa had turned out relatively fine… He didn’t know what to think. Had Dad known?

“What now, oaf?”

“Excuse me, I’m not the one in charge here!”

“Oh, right, great. Fine time to get the full throne back.”

“Robin tried his best,” Lissa spoke up. “I guess… I guess that’s all I could ask for.”

The knight barged into the room with the bluenette. “Milady, your Graces, I realize now may not be the time you wish to hear this, but… I have news. Good news!” He pushed Chrom in front of him and pulled the boy’s shirt down to expose the Brand. The Khans’ eyes widened, and Lissa gasped. “The missing prince has been found! He was here with us all along!”

The blonde princess took a tentative step forward, green eyes meeting blue. “Chrom… brother?”

“Lissa… sister!” He finally snapped out of his shock-induced haze and rushed forward. She met him halfway, and the two embraced, clutching each other close. Chrom’s eyes welled with tears that dripped down onto his cheeks, and Lissa sniffled and choked out a sob.

“I-I can’t believe—you’re act-actually—“

“M-Me neither…” The bluenette buried his face in her shoulder. “I w-was too y-young… but-b-but I’m back…” He pulled away from her a bit, giving her a weak smile. “‘M s-sorry I’m not th-the brother you w-wanted—“

“Don’t say that!” She pounded her fist on his chest. “You’re just fine the way you are, Chrom, I wouldn’t want anybody else!”

“Lissa… thank you!” He hugged her again.

Sister… he had two sisters! Of course! Mother must have been pregnant with Lissa when he got lost… oh, she must’ve been so stressed! And Dad… what about him?

“I thought I might—oh, Robin, you came, too—I thought I might discuss tactics…”

Dad’s voice trailed off. Chrom disengaged from Lissa’s embrace and turned to find his father standing next to Frederick with Robin. The older albino furrowed his brow in puzzlement. “Am—Am I missing something?”

Chrom rushed over to him. “Did you know?” His voice trembled. Dad glanced at the Brand, and his eyes widened with recognition and understanding. “Dad, did you know?”

“I…” The dragon’s eyes saddened. “I knew you were special. The presence of an ancient blood pact was evidence of that—it was a very strong presence.” He sighed. “When we didn’t find your parents, I figured you would be safer with me.”

“But why?” The bluenette felt a pain shoot through his heart. “Why didn’t you take me back? Maybe you didn’t know it was the Brand of the Exalt then, but staying in Ylisse all that time, surely you would’ve found out!” His bottom lip quivered. “Why didn’t you take me back?”

Dad looked at him, sorrow and love deep in his red eyes. “Because from what you told me, I didn’t think they were worthy of you.”

His birth father. Chrom gave a sob and covered his face with his hands. “You-you were t-trying to pro-protect me?”

“Of course, little blueberry, always.” Strong arms wrapped around him, holding him and comforting him.

“Y-You didn’t even kn-know me th-then,” the teen pointed out.

Dad shrugged. “It didn’t matter to me. Remember how I saved you from the bandits? I didn’t want you to have someone as bad as my own father figure taking care of you.”

“Oh… y-yeah…” He sniffled. “Thank-Thank you… for p-protecting me…”

“Yeah, I think I have to thank you too, Raven. You took care of my brother all this time—kept him alive and safe—so, um, I owe you, big time,” Lissa added. “Thank you.”

Dad chuckled. “My pleasure, princess. He helped me find a better purpose, so… I’m glad.”

While Chrom calmed down and regained his composure, the Khans grinned and patted Lissa on the shoulders. Flavia gave a snort. “You know, if it weren’t for the mess we’re in, I’d throw a party to celebrate—but we’re going to have to wait until the war is over, I think. We’ve still got a Mad King on the loose.”

“Oh, good, you see sense.” Basilio crossed his arms. “This is really bad that we’ve lost the Exalt—“

“Understatement of the century.”

“—but I think the return of the lost prince might be just what we need to boost morale.” The older Khan ignored her comment. “Princess, rally your Shepherds! We need to take Gangrel out once and for all!”

Lissa nodded. “Right! I’ll gather them here, and we’ll figure out our strategy! Robin? Raven?”

“You can count on us,” Robin replied. “I may not have been strong enough to save the Exalt, but I will make sure I honor her sacrifice by putting Gangrel down!”

“Same here,” Dad added, voice fierce and dark. “He put Ciel and Chrom’s sister in danger. I will personally serve justice to him myself!”

Chrom bit his lip and nodded, slipping out of his father’s arms. “I-I want to fight, too. I don’t want him to hurt anymore people! I want Plegia to be free from his influence!”

“Now you’re talking!” Flavia cried. “We’ll take him out, and you’ll have the entire Feroxi army at your back, the oaf and me included!”

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get this show on the road!” Basilio announced. “Robin, Raven, you can start drawing up your plans. Lissa, get your Shepherds here. We move out tomorrow!”

As the blonde swordswoman ran out of the room, the two albinos took out their maps and began discussing various ideas, the Khans pointing out details here and there. Soon, the other Shepherds began to trickle in to the throne room. Frederick offered his hand to the bluenette. “Milord… I… there are no words with which I can apologize for the way I have treated you. I cannot make up for what I have done to you.” He blanched. “Gods, I nearly killed you! What if we had found this out afterwards?!”

“Oh, Frederick.” Chrom gave him a small smile, taking his hand. “You were just trying your best in the circumstances you were given. I think… I can’t help but think I would have acted the same way in your stead.”

“No, you wouldn’t have tried to kill anyone. You would have knocked them out with Umbra instead.”

“Still… I forgive you. For everything.” The bluenette’s smile widened. “Especially for letting me wander off. I got extremely lucky with Dad.”

The knight’s expression softened. “Yes… yes, you did. We owe him for raising you.” Then he muttered, “Although I do wish he’d brought you back earlier.”

Chrom laughed. “I’m afraid this is where we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

“Oh, very well, then, milord.”

Well, the cat was out of the bag now concerning his little blueberry’s identity. Grima kept an eye out for Chrom while working with Robin. The poor boy was likely to have all sorts of duties thrust upon him now that he was technically the next in line for the throne, and it worried the Fell Dragon. What if he couldn’t handle the pressure of ruling? Why had they failed to rescue Emmeryn so he didn’t have to concern himself with such a thing? If she were still alive, he wouldn’t have to endure the situation completely out of his depth. He felt surer now than ever that he’d made the right choice not putting the boy in a ruling position in his future kingdom.

At least the red-eyed albino felt he’d handled Chrom’s questions well. If he’d come right out and said “Yes, I knew you were the prince, but you stole my heart, so I decided to adopt you,” that… probably would not have gone over well with either his son or Frederick, no matter how true it was. Losing the sweet bluenette’s trust, he knew, would hurt more than anything he’d ever experienced. More than losing Marth—maybe.

Forgive me, Chrom, but there are still things I know that I can’t tell you. I won’t hurt you like that.

His father had finally been recognized as the rightful prince! Inigo couldn’t help the surge of joy in his heart. He ached for the loss of his aunt, but… perhaps, with things back on track, maybe they had a chance. He would miss her dearly, though, having met her now. If only… If only they’d fallen together, maybe Grima would’ve caught them both.

He couldn’t afford to dwell on what-ifs right now. He had a mission, and Gangrel needed to go.

He would fight and protect his father through the coming storm.

Chapter Text

“No, I am not going to wield Falchion!”

Chrom sat with his father, Robin, Lissa, Frederick, and the Khans in one of the Feroxi wagons bound for Plegia, arrayed around a table holding one of Robin’s maps. To his left, Robin frowned, confused, while to his right, Dad held his chin in thought. Lissa scowled from across the table, Flavia snorted with amusement, and Frederick and Basilio looked about done with the princess’s pushiness. The blonde girl huffed. “Why not? You can wield it just fine, you’ve got some sword skills, and besides, it’ll really complete the heroic ‘Prince of Ylisse’ image!”

“While normally I would agree with milady, milord has admitted that his swordplay is fairly average compared with the rest of those who specialize in the blade.”

“And it’s too heavy for me!” the bluenette cried. “I can barely swing it as I am right now!”

Dad scoffed. “You know, if you had kept up with your training—“

“Umbra is fine! I don’t need a weapon that can hurt people!”

Lissa raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t seem to have that problem when you used Falchion back in the Border Sands.”

“I-It was in the heat of battle, I w-was trying to get it back to you—“ Chrom gulped down the rising bile. “I don’t even remember what happened, only that it did happen! Oh, gods, I hurt those people!” He covered his face, ears burning in shame.

Robin sighed. “Come on, Lissa, I really don’t think it’s that important for Chrom to wield Falchion. You’re the only one of us who can use it with the greatest amount of effectiveness. Chrom will probably just make a fool out of himself swinging it around.”

“Thanks, Robin, I really needed that.” The bluenette huffed.

Frederick nodded. “Robin does have a point. How would it reflect upon Ylisse for her returned prince to wield Falchion poorly?”

“Look,” the mage-healer uncovered his face, “I said yes to an outfit change, even though I really, really don’t agree with it. Can you give me just this in return? Please?”

Lissa glanced around at the others before sighing. “All right, fine. I’ll compromise. You wear the outfit, and I keep Falchion.”

“Thank you,” Chrom breathed. “I know you want the image of a mighty warrior prince, but I don’t think that’s what anyone needs right now. You’re the warrior princess—I think Ylisse needs a prince who can balance both your ideals and Emm’s. Unwilling to hurt anyone but still fighting for what is right.”

Dad chuckled. “Huh. Never would have thought of it like that. I like it.”

“Are we agreed then?” Basilio asked. “Because we’re going to be coming up on the Border Wastes in another couple of hours or so, and we need to be prepared to put our plan into action.” The others nodded. “Good. Have Maribelle and Virion finished with Chrom’s outfit?”

“Almost, I think Mari said they were putting on the finishing touches when I spoke to them earlier,” the blonde princess reported. “Oh, and she and Libra found you this fantastic staff, Chrom! It’s a Recover staff, but it looks super fancy and everything!”

“O-Oh, um, thank you! I really appreciate that, I’ll have to thank them when I get the chance,” Chrom said.

The West Khan clapped his hands. “Sounds like we’re about ready. Let’s go kick some Plegian butt and end this!”

“Now, I’m afraid this is the best we could put together on such short notice,” Maribelle apologized, “but it will have to do for the purpose we need it.”

Chrom stared at the outfit that lay on the table of the tactical wagon. The soft white tunic had poofy light blue sleeves made of a translucent material with long white button-up cuffs that went three-quarters of the way up the forearm. The bottom of the tunic ended just below mid-thigh in a long off-center slit, and the top extended into a high collar, both edged with gold detailing. The floor-length blue cape was attached to a triangular piece covering the shoulders and chests and embroidered with white teardrops, golden diamond shapes, and the Brand of the Exalt. Two long blue tabard-like pieces extended from the front of the cape and ended in tapered points above the hem of the tunic, also filled with gold and white embroidery. The blue boots opened in the front to a white insert and were edged around the front slit and heels with gold trim. A belt of dark blue leather clasped in the middle with a golden teardrop inset with a diamond, and there were soft white breeches that could be tucked into the boots. A circular gold headpiece with triangular points reminiscent of the sun completed the ensemble.

“It’s… It’s…” The bluenette opened and closed his mouth, finding himself at a loss for words. The whole thing evoked Emmeryn’s own robes but with Chrom’s own personality. It was the most—well, gorgeous, lovely, beautiful, neither of them seemed adequate to describe the incredible outfit. Chrom felt his eyes tearing up at the sight. Emm… if only you could see this… I hope I do your memory proud when I wear these…

“I-I can’t seem t-to… I-I don’t know w-what to s-say…” He sniffled. “I-It’s the most—most wonderful ou-outfit I’ve ever s-seen…” He jumped forward and grabbed both Maribelle and Virion in a hug. “Th-Thanks, you g-guys, you’re am-amazing!”

The other two nobles chuckled and hugged Chrom back, Virion patting him on the back. The bluenette pulled back and wiped the tears from his eyes, turning to Libra as he stepped forward with a gleaming golden staff. Instead of the crescent moon that adorned and held the healing jewel of a normal Recover staff, this one had a wavy frame with a teardrop shape and encrusted with diamonds and sapphires. The bottom of the crook of the staff held the healing jewel, fresh and ready to use. He probably didn’t need to actually use the staff, but it rounded out the look. He took the staff from the priest and held it in both hands. Hmm, nice balance, not too long—he sent a pulse of power through the staff—wow! Really receptive! “Libra, this is a very good staff! I’m impressed!”

“Only the best for you, your Highness,” the blonde man replied, bowing.

Chrom blinked and shook his head, waving his free hand. “No, no, no, you can’t just stop calling me by my name just because I’m the prince now!”

“I’m afraid necessity dictates that you get used to such a thing,” Virion commented. “Why, all of the nobility will have to address you as ‘your Highness’ or ‘milord’ or ‘your Grace’ because of your new station.”

“W-Well, just because I’m the prince doesn’t mean I’m any different!” the boy sputtered, turning red. “I’m still the same mage and healer you met last month, I’m still Chrom!”

Libra gave him a kind smile. “We did not wish to discomfit you, but it is important to be prepared for what your position will require.”

The bluenette gulped, a sick feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. Gods, he had responsibilities now, more than he’d ever had before. Heck, he was responsible for an entire country! How was he supposed to run it without any prior training? I never signed up for any of this! He bit his lip. No, you didn’t, you were just unlucky enough to be born into it. Once again, he couldn’t help but resent his birth father. If only he had been born to his foster father… but there was no use dwelling on it now. No matter his status before his disappearance, the fact remained that he was a commoner thrust into a top-tier governmental role.

“Young Chrom? Is something wrong?”

Chrom sighed. “Nothing, just… I’m not ready for this. Being a prince, I mean. Although Emm was ten when she took the throne…”

Maribelle nodded. “It is not unusual to feel out of your depth. Now come, we must get you dressed before we reach the battlefield. We wouldn’t want our prince to show up in a bedraggled state, now, would we?”

“No, I guess not.” He handed the staff back to Libra and turned away from them, slipping off his clothes. Virion and Libra dressed him in the royal outfit, and Maribelle brushed his hair and pinned the headpiece on. The troubadour opened a bag of makeup, and Chrom gave her a confused look. She ignored him and laid a towel around his front, lining his eyelids with black liner and brushing his eyelashes with mascara. Then she powdered his pale cheeks with a bit of blush before dabbing a soft pink lipstick onto his lips and blending it in. She took the towel back off and put the makeup back into the bag. “Um, Maribelle, I’m not entirely sure what the makeup’s for, it’s just gonna get smeared in the battle anyway.”

“First impressions are always important for someone of high rank, and you’ll be attempting to parley with them from a distance at first,” she pointed out.

The archer nodded in agreement. “But of course! One must wear that which accentuates one’s features in order to be visible to any theatre-goer at every angle.”

“Still…” The bluenette fidgeted and sighed. “I guess I can’t convince you to take it off, can I.”

“You look radiant, Chrom. I find there is nothing wrong with your appearance as it is,” Libra supplied, giving the staff to the boy.

“Fine.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them and stood up straight.

“I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

“Back already, Ylissean dogs? Didn’t we just say goodbye not long ago? Hahaha!” Gangrel jibed at the Ylissean-Feroxi line. Chrom waited at the back of the Shepherds’ formation, waiting to be revealed. He closed his eyes and breathed, in… and out… in… and out… His nerves settled a bit, and he bowed his head.

Emmeryn… watch over me, sister. We desire peace for all who are innocent… Ylissean, Plegian, Feroxi, it doesn’t matter. I only hope to make your dream come true… please, lend me your strength. Let me honor you in what I say and do. I will hold you close to my heart and your sacrifice in my mind. My soul will fight to protect everyone from pain and suffering. I… I miss you… I love you… Emmeryn…

He opened his eyes. Up ahead, Lissa stood at the front of the army. The Mad King sneered and jeered, “Back again for more, princess? Still dreaming about your squished sister? Ha!”

“I have someone I’d like you to meet, Gangrel!” Lissa yelled back. “Emmeryn wanted peace for both of our countries! Her dream didn’t die when she did!” The Shepherds parted down the middle, and Chrom strode down the path, his posture perfect, his head held high, his expression soft. He reached the front and fixed his eyes on Gangrel and Aversa, both of whom widened their eyes at the sight of him.

“King Gangrel.” His voice, though gentle, carried far. “My name is Chrom Lowell, son of Exalt Archibald and Queen Elaine, brother to Exalt Emmeryn and Princess Lissa. I have come before you today to end the animosity between our nations.” Whispers flew through the Plegian army, but he ignored them. “My sister, Emmeryn, believed that every person desires peace. She could not bear to see anyone suffering. And I…

“I believe the same. No matter what country a person is from, I believe they have basic rights to peace, freedom, and happiness. And I believe your people deserve that as well. They don’t deserve the suffering and pain and loss that war brings. They deserve a happy life, free from care and worry.”

Gangrel regained his composure. “Pretty words from another pretty face! How would you know, with all the riches you’re surrounded by?! You’ve had everything catered to you since birth!”

“How can I,” the bluenette rebuffed, “when nearly all my life, I have lived as an ordinary citizen? I know what it means to go without, to get so little income that there isn’t enough food in the house, or clothes to wear, or medicine to cure sickness! I’ve visited one of your towns and experienced the hardship your people have to endure! And I…” his voice choked up a bit, “I can’t let them continue to suffer any longer! Please, I beg you, do what is right for your people and seek peace!”

“What I think is right, little princeling,” the Plegian king hollered back, “is to wipe you and every Ylissean off the map!”

“Then you are no better than my father!” That got a few gasps. Chrom continued, conviction shining in his eyes. “If we must fight, then I promise not to harm any of your people. And after all is said and done, I will attend to their injuries myself. This is the least I can do for them.”

Lissa gave him an odd look, but then shrugged. Gangrel rolled his eyes. “Are you done? Can I vomit now?” He cackled. “What a pathetic, hypocritical, flowery harangue! You idiot boy, I can tell how you long to answer me with blood! Your face speaks peace, but your heart lusts for violence!”

“Why should I wish violence on those whom at any other time I would consider my friends? Throw down your arms or raise them—my offer still stands!”

The king pointed his sword, a jagged Levin, at the Ylissean side. “Charge!”

“Aim to disarm, not kill!” Chrom ordered. The Ylissean and Plegian sides rushed closer and closer together. Then, they met in a clash of swords and axes and lances, spells flying back and forth. The prince rushed into the thick of it, sending Umbra to as many Plegian soldiers as he could at a time. Robin, right above him giving out orders from behind Sumia on her pegasus, cast from the Umbra tome, and Olivia danced and parried. Chrom noted with no small amount of pride that his sweetheart had advanced in her swordplay enough to disarm with ease. Wait, sweetheart?! When did he start thinking of her as that?! Not now, Chrom, you have a king to dethrone!

Nearby, he caught Dad and Ciel fighting back to back. Ciel seemed to be one of their better swordsmen and had knocked out several opponents already. Dad looked bored, but he was casting—he was casting Umbra?! The older bluenette fought his way towards the albino and called out, “I never thought I’d see the day where you’d use that spell!”

“I’m not about to make you a liar, all right?” the older man groused. “Besides, you told me to save all my energy for Gangrel, and Umbra uses less energy than my usual.”

Well, that was fair… and very thoughtful of his father. He’d have to thank him afterwards.

“Chrom!” The boy whipped his head around and dashed over to Sumia, who had landed her pegasus and held a limp Robin in her arms. “Robin got hit by a Flux to the face!”

“All right, just hang on!” He concentrated his magic through his staff and let it flow into his friend’s body. In no time at all, the tactician opened his eyes and gasped. “There you are. Feel okay?”

“Yeah, just fine.” Robin sat up and patted his pockets. Sumia handed Umbra back to him. “Oh! Thank you, darling, Chrom would murder me if I lost this!”

Sumia rolled her eyes. “No, he’d just blast you with Umbra and make you sleep for a week.”

“Are you forgetting I could just write another one?” Chrom raised an eyebrow, before ducking and flicking a spell at an overhead wyvern rider. The Umbra slammed into the flying lizard and sent it tumbling through the air and onto the ground. The bluenette winced. “Ouch, that looked like it hurt. You know, I hope nobody dies today—“

“Except Gangrel,” Robin pointed out.

“—but I’m afraid a casualty here and there will be unavoidable.” The mage-healer’s shoulders slumped.

Olivia patted his arm. “You can’t save everyone, Chrom.”

“No…” Then Chrom looked back up, a fierce light in his eyes. “But I can try to save as many as I can.”

“That’s the spirit!” a nearby Virion called out, once again riding atop a transformed Panne. “Onward, fair prince, and save countrymen and enemies alike!”

The bluenette shook his head. “Thank you, Virion, for your rousing words.”

“Of course! I aim to please!”

The four looked at each other for a moment before bursting out into giggles. “I have never heard Virion make a pun before, but that one really hit the mark,” Robin sniggered.

“All right, okay, we’ve still got a battle to finish,” Chrom said. “Come on!”

Why, oh why, did Chrom have to be so softhearted?! It would be easier to just kill all of these people in one fell swoop! He was not going to admit that Umbra worked just fine. No, nope, never. He would not. He preferred Expiration much more.

Putting people to sleep with the flick of a wrist had never been easier, though.

After leaving Inigo with his parents, Grima made a beeline for Gangrel. The madman stood at the very back of the Plegian line, directing his troops from there. He spotted the albino and grinned. “Look who decided to show up! Are you that cursed tactician who nearly upset my wonderful execution? Or the crazy manakete who also nearly upset my wonderful execution?”

A wicked smirk grew on the white-haired man’s face. “I suppose we haven’t been introduced, Gangrel. I’m Raven, the one who took in Chrom and raised him as my own son.” His smirk turned into a glare. “And you nearly killed his foster brother and his biological sister. I’m afraid I can’t forgive that.”

Gangrel cackled, gesturing towards Grima with his Levin sword. “Aww, are you going to defy your prince’s orders and kill me?”

“Unfortunately for you, you’re the only one I’m allowed to kill.” The smirk was back. “Chrom is simply too kind and empathetic to take another person’s life, so I have to be the one to spill the necessary blood.” He sighed. “It’s so boring, not being able to kill anyone else.”

“Pfffft, hahaha! How did such a beast end up raising such a wimp?”

The albino chuckled. “I simply couldn’t bear to have him change.” His fangs came out. “Now, I haven’t hurt anybody in this entire battle, and I’d like to take your life. And this time, I’m fully charged up.” He summoned two spikes. “So we’ll just go a little ways away from here, I’ll toy with you for a bit, and then I’ll end your life in the bloodiest, most painful manner I can contrive.”

Gangrel held up his sword. “Ha! Such a beast! Your little princeling wouldn’t listen to me, but you know how evil men are!”

“Oh, I do, Gangrel.” His horns came out, two wings sprouted from his back, nails became claws, and his eyes glowed bright red. A dark, violet aura surrounded him.

“I know all too well.”

The red-haired man’s eyes widened at the sight, and Grima began shooting spike after spike at him, always letting them get just close enough to graze the man. Gangrel backed up, trying to deflect as many spikes as he could and shooting the occasional bolt at the albino. Grima ignored the lightning as he went. Soon, the two had drifted nearly a kilometer from the main battle. A simple flick erected a “bubble spell,” a barrier that would prevent others from paying attention to everything that happened inside the perimeter of the spell.

“I want to know something, Gangrel,” the dragon asked, inspecting his claws as he tossed another spike in the king’s direction, “how did you become king, anyway? What’s your story?” He threw another spike and then continued without waiting for an answer. “See, I was an experiment who was constantly mistreated all my life by humanity. There have been a grand total of two humans who didn’t immediately run screaming at the sight of me.” Another spike whizzed by the Plegian’s head, cutting off a few strands of hair. “So believe me when I say I know exactly what you mean.”

Gangrel growled. “What do you think?!” he yelled back. “Ever get saddled with a hopeless situation and try to turn it around only to fail?!”

“Yep. Been there, done that. So you were idealistic and naïve, so what? Everyone is at some point.” He gave a sharp grin. “That doesn’t warrant wanting to wipe out all of my little blueberry’s country. Of course, I’m kind of obliged to care about them because he does.”

“Give me the Fire Emblem and I’ll show you why!”

“You’re still on about that?” Grima rolled his eyes. “You know, that’s not what it’s meant for. The Fire Emblem is meant to seal the world’s worst threats away, not grant wishes.”

Gangrel brought a particularly large bolt down on the dragon. “Shut up! What do you know about it anyway?!”

“I know… because I was one such threat.” Two extra sets of eyes opened on his face, and two more pairs of wings grew out. He gave another wicked smirk at the horror the king exuded, though his grip tightened on his sword in stubborn determination.

“I am the Fell Dragon Grima… and I have come to deliver your judgement.”

Playtime’s over, he thought, as he shot out more spikes, most of them small and all of them hitting the king in various places. The man hollered in pain, but Grima sent out another wave, this time of larger spikes. He cackled at the sight of Gangrel riddled with spikes. He looks like he got blasted by a porcupine! Oh, I haven’t had so much fun killing somebody in a long time! He took out a large spike and slammed it through the king’s right foot. Gangrel howled in pain and dropped his sword, bending over to yank the spike out. “Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you… unless you want to bleed out.” It wouldn’t matter; the spike was stuck too deep in the ground anyway. He took a step closer and threw another spike through his left shin with a satisfying crack of bone. The Plegian king screamed, and his leg gave out. A third spike went through his right hip, blood dribbling down from the puncture. A fourth, underneath his ribs. A fifth and sixth, through each hand. Gangrel’s screams turned into bawls interspersed with pleas for mercy. Grima ignored him and sent a seventh spike through the man’s right shoulder. Blood and spittle flew from the wounded man’s lips with each of his cries. The albino laughed. “Beg for mercy all you want, worm. It won’t get you any from me.” One last spike, which he held in his hand. He strode up to the downed king and seized his chin, tracing the man’s jaw with the tip and letting blood trickle down his neck. “Now… you die!”

“FATHER!”

Grima froze at the sound of Chrom’s horrified scream and hid his horns, extra wings, and extra eyes inside his body. Had the bubble somehow fallen while he was occupied? Or, no, apparently he’d stepped a bit out of its range—or maybe that was Gangrel. He let the bubble fall and turned to face a petrified Chrom, eyes wide, face white, free hand covering his mouth. Behind him, the battle looked to be in the latter stages of winding down.

“Father… please, you can’t do this!”

“He deserves it,” the Fell Dragon grumbled. “He put Ciel in danger and got your sister killed, all because of his selfishness. Let me finish him off!”

“Y-You’re torturing him…” The bluenette trembled. “I thought you would at least give him a swift, painless death!”

Grima scoffed. “Since when have I ever done that?”

“Just minutes ago you were throwing Umbra all over the place! I-I thought… I thought…” Chrom gave a shuddery sob. “I didn’t think you would do anything close to this!”

“He was going to die anyway, why couldn’t have my fun while I was killing him?”

The boy shook his head. “No. Father, I can’t condone this.” He ran over and knelt next to Gangrel, working one of the big spikes free and healing the man’s shoulder up.

“Wha—Chrom, what are you doing?”

The bluenette pulled out another big spike and healed up Gangrel’s hip. “I am giving him what he could not give his people—mercy.”

Seriously?! Grima watched in dumbfounded amazement as his sweet little blueberry tended to each and every one of the Mad King’s wounds. He took a moment to glance at the battle, or lack thereof: all of the Plegian army had surrendered, though Aversa was nowhere in sight. The Plegian soldiers who were awake and able, as well as the Ylisseans and Feroxi, noticed the three and took cautious steps toward them. The albino turned his attention back to Chrom, who had finished healing Gangrel and sent him to sleep with Umbra. Then the young prince stood up and surveyed the armies with a sorrowful expression.

“Please don’t kill him,” the mage-healer murmured as he strode back to the soldiers.

Grima sent a disgusted glance at the sleeping Plegian and sighed, levitating the man’s body as he followed the boy back to the battlefield. There, a crowd of Plegian soldiers awaited the bluenette. One stalked up to him and yelled, “You said you wouldn’t hurt our people! Why did you kill so many of them with dark magic?!”

The dragon growled in warning, but Chrom ignored him. “They are not dead,” he stated to the men and women. “They are merely asleep, put there by a spell of my own design. If you watch, I will wake one of them for you.” He stepped over to a fallen wyvern rider he must’ve blasted earlier and tugged tendrils of darkness out of the man’s head. The soldier blinked his eyes open and groaned, rolling onto his side. Chrom slipped a hand under the man’s arm and gently hoisted him up, steadying him while scanning him for injuries. The rider glanced back and forth in confusion.

“Wha’s—did I miss th’ whole thing?”

The other Plegians gasped and surged forward to hug the man. Chrom stepped aside, a warm smile on his face. One of the other men broke away and indicated Gangrel’s body. “Whatta ‘bout ‘im?”

“He is asleep as well,” the prince answered.

The man’s brow furrowed in thought. “Ain’t… ain’tcha gonna kill ‘im?”

Chrom’s face grew serious. “He is your king. What punishment for his actions do you believe he deserves the most?”

“Wait, you’re gonna let them deal with him?” Grima hissed. “How do you know they’re not just gonna let him walk free?”

“I do not.” The prince favored the Plegians with a soft smile.

“I just have faith, and hope they will choose the path that is best for them and their people.”

Idiotic, soft-hearted little blueberry, Grima thought as he watched the boy interact with the Plegian army, but a fond smile crossed his lips.

He was still annoyed he’d been prevented from killing Gangrel though.

Chrom sagged as he entered the tactical tent that had been erected along with the rest of the Ylissean-Feroxi and Plegian camps. All the healing he’d had to give out to the Plegians, not to mention saving Gangrel’s life and healing him, and now the boy was completely spent. He’d had a chance to speak with some of the desert-dwelling soldiers, and many of those conversations had ended up very pleasant. Some of the men and women had even recognized him from when he stopped in Bubblestone! A few of the soldiers were annoyed that the Ylissean prince was offering kindness to them and and told him, in essence, “we don’t want your charity,” but most everyone else seemed reasonable. To his tremendous surprise, General Mustafa and his contingent had arrived soon after the battle ended, and the older man had, after surveying the situation, taken charge of the Plegian side. The general was due to meet with the Khans, Lissa, Frederick, Robin, Dad, and himself in the tac tent in a few minutes, and the boy looked forward to negotiating with him.

That is, assuming the bluenette had any energy left to spare. As much as they all needed to finish this, Chrom could really use a meal and sleep. Constantly cycling ambient mana did wonders for staving off burnout, but all people had their mental and emotional limits. And after what he saw his father doing to Gangrel… deserved or not, it was terrifying just how vicious Dad could be. Maybe it was a dragon thing, or more likely it was the result of being mistreated for so long, but it almost felt like he shouldn’t be surprised. And yet, he could not agree with the torture the older albino inflicted on the king. If he had to die, better it be a swift death than drawing out the pain.

“… kind of surprised you made it here at all,” Robin commented as he and the others entered the tent. “I would’ve assumed you’d want to stay as far away from Gangrel as possible until he was dead.”

“Can’t a guy check up on the people that saved his life?” Mustafa quipped. “Speaking of Gangrel, how is he even alive, anyway?”

Everyone glanced at Chrom, then pointed at him. The teen gave a weak smile as he slumped into a nearby chair. “I didn’t think it was right for him to go out the way Dad wanted.”

“How so?” the Plegian general asked.

Dad grinned. “I made like a porcupine and stabbed him a bunch.”

“Dad, that’s not funny,” Chrom groaned. “You were prolonging his suffering needlessly.”

Mustafa raised an eyebrow as they all gathered around the table. “So you mean to tell me Plegia is stuck with him?”

“You get to deal with him however you see fit,” the prince elaborated. “The people can vote on what his sentence is if they want, but I felt his own people would be better equipped to mete out punishment for him. Execution, exile, jail…”

Strong hands, Dad’s hands, gripped and massaged his shoulders. “Wow, you’re really tuckered out after all this.”

The boy merely gave a noncommittal hum in return.

The negotiations went well into the evening, and Chrom ended up being grateful for Cordelia and Stahl when they entered around suppertime and left food for everyone. The two Shepherds had cobbled together food native to Ylisse, Ferox, and Plegia, and the bluenette thanked them for their thoughtfulness. The group agreed that they could not let the Grimleal get ahold of Gangrel, since they had apparently been trying to manipulate him during his whole reign, but the difficulty lay in where to put him out of their reach. Eventually they decided to let the Plegian army vote on whether to execute or exile the Mad King—the method of the punishment would be determined after the vote. Chrom vehemently protested against Plegia paying any kind of reparations, arguing that the people had suffered enough. Of course, everyone else thought otherwise (except for Dad, who didn’t care either way), but the bluenette was positive there was a better solution to the issue. Finally, the group tabled the discussions for the next day and broke off to return to their respective camps and tents.

Chrom yawned as he looked around for his tent. In the light of the setting sun, he made out a path between the tents and started walking. Oh, wait. Didn’t they assign tents already? I hope I get to room with Robin again… or maybe Olivia for a—no! Bad! Guys and girls don’t go in the same tents! He sighed. I guess I could go back and ask Robin… or maybe I could try looking for Aaron… man, this path is long…

“Good evening, young Chrom.”

The bluenette’s brain took a moment to catch up. When it did, he squeaked and whirled around to find a chuckling Libra. “My apologies, I did not mean to startle you. Although… you must be exhausted if your delayed reaction is anything to go by.”

“Oh.” The boy sighed. “I was just looking for my tent. You know, I could probably use the help in taking all this off too, if you’re not busy with anything else.”

The blonde priest nodded. “Of course. Come with me.”

As they walked, Chrom asked a question that had been weighing on his mind ever since he’d healed the first wounded Plegian soldier. “How many casualties did we suffer?”

“For either side? A few. There were those unfortunate souls who ended up crushed by a wyvern or falling pegasus or horse.” Libra smiled. “But, all in all, this was perhaps the least costly battle I’ve ever heard about.”

“Oh, um, good, I guess.”

“… I had thought the news would make you happier.”

“I’m so sorry, Libra, I’m too tired to get excited much about anything right now. But I… I do feel a bit better, hearing about that. Though I wish those few hadn’t died…”

Libra put a hand on his shoulder. “It is inevitable in war. We can only try to save as many as we can.”

“Yeah… you’re right. Gods, I’m wiped.” He took a few steps before realizing he had veered off in the opposite direction. “… Apparently I’m too wiped to walk straight.”

The priest laughed and clasped his hand around the bluenette’s elbow. “Here, allow me to guide you.”

“Thanks…”

Chrom didn’t remember finding his tent, or getting dressed for bed, and he was out like a light the moment his head hit the pillow.

“Chrom… good morning, Chrom… Oh, he’s not waking up, what do I do? Shake him?”

“Wow, I knew he was exhausted last night—“

“Eep!”

“—but this is something else. Calm down, Little Miss Cherry Blossom, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“O-Oh, s-sorry, Mr. Raven, I didn’t kn-know it was you! Um, but w-what’s with the nickname?”

“Well, you’re small and cute and have hair that’s pink like a cherry blossom, plus your dancing magic is enticing like flower fragrance.”

“U-Um… um… th-thank you?”

“… Medeus below, Olivia, I’m not trying to flirt with you. You know how I call Chrom and Ciel ‘little blueberry’ and ‘mini blueberry’ respectively? It’s the same thing.”

“Oh! Oh, I-I get it now!”

Strong hands stroked his back up and down. “Wakey wakey, little blueberry, it’s already nine o’clock.”

“Is he usually this hard to wake up?”

“Only when he’s sick or worn out. Usually I’m the heavy sleeper. Which is… frankly annoying, sometimes.”

Chrom cracked his eyes open, his cheek squished into his pillow while he lay flat on his stomach. Bright morning light streamed in, and two figures hovered above him. The one with fluffy hair chuckled and brushed the bluenette’s bangs out of his eyes. “Hey there, little one. You were bushed last night, weren’t you.”

“Y’try fightin’ n’ healin’ n’ n’gotiatin’ so much…”

The pink-haired figure leaned down and booped the boy’s nose. Chrom wrinkled it, and she giggled. “You might want to get up before the mess tent decides to close, or else we’ll have to find breakfast for you another way~!”

“Don’t forget, we have a meeting with the Khans and Mustafa in a few minutes,” Dad pointed out.

“M’kay… wait, what?!” Chrom shot up into a sitting position and reeled as the blood flow in his body reoriented itself. Dad laughed and patted his head.

“See you in the tac tent, little blueberry. Your girlfriend here will make sure you get there on time.” He left the tent as the bluenette gave an indignant squawk and sputtered.

Olivia turned bright red, and the mage-healer covered his face with his hands. “Am I really that obvious?”

“I thought that was me.” He gave her a confused look, and she blushed harder. “I-I-I mean, I—um! Well, that is—ahem—I th-thought—oh, ne-never mind!”

Chrom recalled the realization he’d had in the middle of the battle yesterday and blushed as well. “Ah, well, I know we’re friends and all, but, um, somehow I didn’t realize this until we were fighting and—and—oh, gods, how do I go about this?! I’ve never confessed before!”

“Con-Confessed?”

“I-I, we-well, um… I…” He took a deep breath. “O-Olivia, I like you. Um, n-not just as a friend—ah, more th-than a friend! I-I’d really like to s-spend the res-rest of m-m-my life with y-you.”

“O-Oh…”

He waved his hands in a placating manner. “Y-You don’t have t-to feel the same! I-I won’t hold it a-against you… a-and we can still be f-friends…”

Olivia beamed and threw her arms around him in a hug. Chrom laughed and hugged her back. “Um, so, uh, is that a… um…”

“Y-Yes!” She laughed and leaned back, gazing into his eyes. “That’s a yes. I-I mean, I like you back—too! I mean—yes, I-I want to be your g-girlfriend!”

“Really?!”

“Yeah!”

Chrom’s heart soared, and he stood up, holding Olivia and twirling her around, both of them laughing in delight. When he eventually set her back down on her feet, he wrapped his arms around her waist and gazed into her eyes, a loving smile on his face. She gazed back with an equally enraptured smile—and then booped him in the nose again. “You still have your meeting, dear~!”

“Oh, no! I’m gonna be late!” He rushed around looking for his day clothes and found his regalia from yesterday on the chair next to his cot, freshly clean and pressed. “Ah, um…”

She laughed. “I’ll get Lon’qu to help you out. Don’t be surprised if you find something tasty at your place, too!”

“Aww, Livvie, you’re the best!” He gave her one last hug and then ushered her out.

Well, that was… not how he had expected his morning to go at all. Still, he and Olivia were now a couple!

I might have to ask Basilio if it’s okay, though. And Lon’qu. But still!

Fortunately Chrom wasn’t too late to the meeting, as most everyone else had slept in a bit (except for Frederick—how did he manage that?!) and were taking their breakfast in the tactical tent anyway. He seated himself between Robin and Dad and nodded greetings to everyone else. Dad had a particularly smug smirk on his face as he ate, and Chrom rolled his eyes with a fond smile. Resident shipper in the Shepherds Robin may be, his father was just as much of one, if not nearly so open about it. He might have to thank the older albino later, they could’ve had another Tia situation on their hands. The bluenette ignored the scenario of Olivia going back to Ferox before he’d confessed his feelings to her; he was about to experience another several grueling hours of negotiations, he didn’t need anything else bringing his mood down.

After the meal, the general, Khans, tacticians, retainer, and royal siblings got down to figuring out how reparations were to be distributed among the nations. By noon they had finally hit upon a solution—setting up trade between the three countries for surplus goods—when one of Mustafa’s lieutenants entered with the results of the Plegian army’s vote for Gangrel’s sentence. The majority indicated exile, so after lunch the delegation began discussing where and how to ship off the former king. Dad wanted to toss him in the desert surrounding the Ruins of Time, but Basilio and Flavia shot that down (they didn’t really want Gangrel inside their borders). Mustafa knew about a Plegian penal colony in an archipelago off the southwest end of the continent, but it was run by Grimleal sympathizers. Frederick and Lissa didn’t want the king in Ylisse, so Chrom’s idea of the Farfort was out. Robin brought up Valm, but Dad retorted with the fact that Grimleal inhabited that continent as well, one of whom was a nasty specimen by the name of Excellus. That last one wouldn’t exactly foster friendly relations with Valm anyway.

“We could send him through the Outrealm Gate,” Dad eventually suggested.

Everyone leaned in, interested, so the dragon explained that the Outrealm Gate led to different worlds and required a key in order to return to their world. Sending Gangrel through the Gate without the key meant he’d have to wander the Outrealms for the rest of his life. “Of course, somebody will probably reject that on the grounds that we’re inflicting a dangerous war criminal on those worlds,” he finished with an eye roll. Chrom decided not to comment.

But after some more discussion, nobody could think of a better idea. Lifelong exile to the Outrealms it was, then. Frederick drew up a copy of the treaty and Gangrel’s sentence, and then it was sunset. The leaders left the tent to address the three armies, which had been gathered into a crowd in the middle of the three camps. Stepping onto a temporary platform, the other seven stood behind Chrom as he announced the end of the war and the three-way treaty. Then two guards brought forth an awake, handcuffed Gangrel to the front of the crowd, which garnered boos and jeers from many people in the armies. Chrom held up his hand, and everyone went quiet.

“As of this afternoon, April thirtieth, in the year 1032, the council of the Ylissean, Plegian, and Feroxi armies has judged Gangrel Gulari, King of Plegia and Supreme Commander of the Plegian armies, guilty of war crimes and crimes against humanity. With the recommendation of the Plegian people, we the council have sentenced the accused to exile in the Outrealms for the remaining duration of his life.” The bluenette swallowed. “Have you anything to say for yourself, your Highness?”

The redhead sneered back at him. “You should’ve let him finish the job while he had the chance, little princeling,” he retorted, nodding to Dad. “I’ve nothing else to live for thanks to you.”

Chrom gave him a sad smile. “I hope you find what it is you’re looking for there, Gangrel,” he wished. “May your fortunes take a turn for the better.”

Gangrel scoffed and rolled his eyes as he was led away.

That night, there was an international celebration of the war’s end among the three armies. Food was in abundance, and drinks flowed freely. Chrom made it a point to find Basilio early on before the West Khan got too many drinks into him. He eventually spotted him chatting with Mustafa and Frederick, a firewhiskey shot in hand.

“Excuse me, Basilio? Can I—may I speak with you for a moment?”

The brown-skinned man chuckled. “Of course, kiddo! I’ll be just a minute, you two,” he threw back to the other two men. The bluenette led him over to a quiet corner, wringing his hands. “Something wrong, boy? You look darn serious for a party.”

“O-Oh, um, it’s nothing bad, just—I felt I needed your permission on this. Ah, seeing as you’re her father and all, you know.”

“Yeah?” Basilio grinned. “This has to do with your relationship with Olivia, doesn’t it.”

Chrom nodded and straightened, taking a breath. “Khan Basilio, I wish for your permission to court your daughter, Olivia, in the interests of potentially asking for her hand in marriage and spending the rest of my life by her side as her husband.”

The man laughed and slapped the slim mage-healer on the back. “That speech from earlier has got you in a flowery-language rut, hasn’t it.”

“You have no idea.” The bluenette rubbed at his eyes. “Get into a certain mode of speaking and suddenly I can’t turn it off. I feel like everybody expects the prince to sound like an aristocrat, not a commoner,” he mumbled.

“Just be yourself, kid, and let them deal with it.” The older man’s eyes gleamed. “So, you were asking me if you can be boyfriend-girlfriend with Olivia.”

“Yes, sir.”

He nodded. “Does she know about this?”

Chrom reddened. “Um, we actually kinda confessed our feelings to each other right before the meeting.” That got a cackle out of the Khan. “It was Dad’s fault! But, um, I’m glad he said something, we both figured out we feel the same way towards each other.”

“Father, I wanted to speak to you—oh! Chrom! You’re here too!” The two turned to find Olivia approaching them, a blush dusting her face. “I wanted to have you with me when I talked to Father.”

“Let me guess… this has to do with your relationship with Chrom,” Basilio mused.

The pinkette nodded. “Father, I-I really like him—I think I might even love him—and I’d really like to spend the rest of my life with him! Please, Father!”

“I will care for her and protect her with everything I have!” Chrom added. “Please… I can’t imagine not being with her.”

The Khan laughed and grabbed them both up in a hug. “Ugh, I’m so happy for you two! That’s a yes, by the way.” Setting them both down, he regarded the boy with a serious expression. “You treat her right, you hear me?”

“Always, sir,” Chrom replied, conviction in his voice and eyes.

Basilio turned to Olivia. “You treat him right, too, got it?”

“Of course, Father!”

“All right, then. You have my blessing. Have fun!” Patting them both on the back, he slipped back into the crowd.

Chrom and Olivia glanced at each other and squealed, throwing their arms around each other. It was official: they were sweethearts!

A portal opened over the grassy island, just above the ground. A tall young man stumbled out of the glowing blue eye, leading a brown horse through, before the portal closed up and disappeared. The youth glanced around at his surroundings, confused.

“Well, that’s odd. We seem to have landed ourselves in quite the situation, Camus,” he addressed his steed, flicking his curly blonde hair out of his eyes. A single brown strand of bangs fell over his nose, and he blew it off. “I don’t suppose any of our companions are near?”

The horse snuffled, pawing at the grass.

He sighed. “Mother and Father must be worried sick if we’ve all become separated… I do hope we’ve landed somewhere in the vicinity of Ylisse, not to mention the right time. Right then, we must figure out where we are and continue on from there.” So saying, he mounted the horse and checked the old Recover staff strapped to his back. He dug through his pack and pulled out a white mask that covered the area around the eyes and the left cheek. “I believe I might have to thank Gerome for giving these out, I might not even have been born yet!” He chuckled and fastened the mask to his face, leaving sharp brown eyes peering through the eyeholes.

“Now, then. Onward, Camus! From henceforth I must forsake my name and identity so as to protect this timeline’s integrity to the best of my abilities. I shall be cautious like Father and gracious like Mother, known to all until the time of my revelation is at hand as the healer-knight, Jagen!”

Chapter Text

Princedom could go die in a hole for all Chrom cared.

All the endless duties and responsibilities, all the expectations heaped onto him, all the etiquette he didn’t even know about—he actually seriously considered taking lessons from Maribelle. If Donnel could make a convincing act as a noble, then so could he. Except, of course, he had no time to add those into his schedule.

It was ridiculous from day one of returning to Ylisstol. Lissa and Frederick had had to announce his return to the council, which led to quite the uproar; the only one who didn’t look all that surprised was Avignon. He’d probably guessed but kept it to himself beforehand. Then there were meetings on how to enforce the three-way treaty, which most of the council was not happy about, and then piles and piles of paperwork. Chrom honestly would not have been able to get through it all without Frederick’s and Lissa’s help. After all, his sister had actually been raised with ruling the country in mind, and the meticulous knight knew the workings of the halidom extensively. Still, the bluenette had gone to bed bone-tired and mush-brained.

He woke up at his usual time the next morning and proceeded to dress in his normal tunic-pants-cloak getup. When he exited the room, Frederick took one look at him and marched him back in, pulling out the regalia he’d worn during the final battle, the negotiations, and yesterday. Chrom raised an eyebrow at the knight.

“It is imperative that you send a message showing you care about your duties,” the brunette explained. “Lady Emmeryn consistently wore her own royal robes all the time—it sent a message that she was always present as the ruler of our people.”

“Okay, but wouldn’t the people appreciate a ruler who dresses like them and fits in with them?”

Frederick shook his head. “The nobles won’t. They will take the opportunity to drag your name through the mud and suggest better candidates for the role.”

“Can’t I just fire them?” the bluenette muttered.

“Now, now, milord, that’s not how it works.”

“I know. I wish it did, though.” Chrom sighed. “Frederick, I am just not cut out for this. Maybe I was born a prince, maybe I had a couple years as a prince, but I’m not a prince. I wasn’t raised to be one.” His shoulders slumped. “Lissa might be young and inexperienced, but at least she’d know what she’s doing. I don’t. I have no idea how to run a country, I never learned how to do so.”

The knight chuckled. “That is where milady and I come in. Fret not, milord, we will help you through this trying period.”

The boy shook his head as he undressed and Frederick helped him into the robes. “I just wish… I just wish I’d saved her. Maybe it’s selfish, but she would be so much better at this than I am.” He sighed again. “Sorry, Frederick, I don’t mean—“

“It hurts,” the knight admitted softly. “but we must press on. She would want us to.”

“… Yeah. You’re right.”

Lissa, Robin, Olivia, and Dad all sat at the table for breakfast when he made it to the private royal dining room. As he took his seat next to the pinkette, his eyes bugged out at the sheer amount of food on the table. “W-W-What, is this all for us?!”

“It’s a normal breakfast for the royal family,” the blonde princess commented. “Usually it’s just me, Emm, and Frederick, but you, Robin, and your girlfriend and dad are here too.”

“It’s so much! For only six people?!”

Lissa gave him an odd look as she started on her food. “This really isn’t a lot. What are you so concerned about?”

“Being a bookseller’s and apothecary’s assistants in Middlefield doesn’t pay as much as you’d think,” Dad explained. “We’ve had to scrimp and save nearly our whole time there to make sure we got enough. It was especially bad during Chrom’s earlier teen years, there was never enough food in the house for me and his raging appetite.” He scooped a piece of deviled egg into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “I had to be sneaky to make sure he at least had a mostly-full stomach.”

“Is that why you always gave me bigger portions?” the bluenette wondered.

“… You noticed?”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Lissa waved her hands in a “stop” motion. “You’re saying you guys were poor?! And starving?!”

Dad nodded. “Starving isn’t quite it, but now you know why Chrom’s so small for his age.”

“Oh, geez! When I first met you, I thought you were my age! Then you went and said you were nineteen!” She leaned in, curiosity dancing in her green eyes. “Did you ever get in trouble for ordering alcohol at taverns?”

Chrom scoffed. “Excuse me, fresh-pressed apple juice is superior to getting sloshed.”

“What are you, five?”

“No, abstinent.”

“I think he means ‘obstinate,’” Robin muttered.

“I heard that.” The brown-eyed albino rewarded him with a cheeky grin. Chrom rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at his friend.

Olivia chuckled. “Now, boys, this is the breakfast table, please behave.”

“Yes, Mom,” the bluenette snarked. The dancer laughed and swatted his arm, and he gave her a goofy grin. “Good morning to you too.”

“I figured you’d appreciate some silliness before you get into the thick of your work,” she replied. “So Lissa invited Robin and me to breakfast. Although, I wonder… where are Vaike and Sumia at this time of day?”

“Training,” Robin answered her. “Sumia and Cordelia are trying to figure out how to build the pegasus corps back up, and they’re gonna look at potential candidates today. Vaike got promoted to the rank of hero, so he’s learning how to wield a sword and shield.” He cupped his chin in thought. “Most of the Shepherds got promoted after the battle as a matter of fact, so the barracks are gonna be pretty busy now.”

Dad frowned. “Dumb question, but is that really necessary in peacetime?”

“Of course. It is always important to keeps one’s skills sharp, especially in peacetime when one is inclined to be more lazy,” Frederick asserted. “The Shepherds are a militia, which means we protect the people from criminals and bandits at all times.”

“Isn’t that what you have me for? I can play ‘Clear the Road’ way better and quicker than any of you,” the dragon retorted. “I might end up doing that on my way to Middlefield if I’m unfortunate enough.”

Chrom perked up. “You’re going back?”

Dad chortled. “I have to if we want to move here.” The bluenette gasped and cheered. “Yes, I’m gonna take that job. I’ll be gone about a week or so—do you mind if I leave Ciel here? I think he could use the training with the other Shepherds.” The older albino glanced at Olivia, then Chrom. “You might want to test his magic potential while I’m away.”

“Okay.” The bluenette nodded. “I might be swamped, but do you think you could handle that, Livvie?”

“Oh! Um, sure! I’ll get Miriel and Ricken to help me.”

“Thank you, dear.” He ignored Robin’s snicker and Dad’s smug expression. “Well, then. Wish me luck and pray I don’t die of overload.”

“You’ll be fine, little blueberry, I believe in you.”

Chrom gave him a weak smile. “Thanks, Dad.” Then he stood and excused himself, preparing for another grueling day of running the halidom.

Grima made a point to return Eugene to old Mr. Sackhouse when he reached Middlefield, but when the old man found out the albino was going to be living in the capital and potentially working as a member of the Shepherds, he insisted on selling the horse to him. “You’ve taken such good care of him, you and your son,” the aging horse breeder reasoned, “and besides, I’ve a few strong young newbies that are on the cusp of their prime! He’ll serve you better than me, Raven.”

After that, the dragon made trips to the apothecary and Dusty Pages to let them know he and Chrom were leaving their jobs. Mr. Daniel smiled sadly when he heard the news and patted Grima on the back. “You will both be truly missed, Master Raven. I only hope young Chrom is doing well at the capital.”

“He’s stressed beyond belief, but that’s what suddenly finding out you’re the lost prince will do to you,” the albino commented.

Mr. Daniel’s eyes widened. “Is he really?! All this time, he was living among us! You know, this brings to mind the plot of The Lost Princess of Corona, except of course he wasn’t locked away in a tower, and you are far too good-hearted to fit the role of Mother Gothel well!”

Grima held back a wince at the comparison, but smiled all the same. “Thank you for the compliment, not many people normally say that about me.”

“Why, you’re welcome! Please do say hello to young Chrom for me, a friendly word is sure to lighten his heavy burden.”

Finally, he made his way towards the old cottage in the woods. He sighed in relief and longing once it came into view. I don’t know that I could ever bear to give this place up… it holds so many memories of Chrom and me together… Perhaps I could keep it and use it as a retreat for Chrom when he needs a break. At least he has his sister and that obnoxious knight helping him with his workload while I’m away. I wish I didn’t have to be away from him though…

He unlocked the door, stepping through, and then froze. A familiar scent filled the air—someone had been in here recently, and frequently; judging by the cleanliness of the kitchen and living room, they’d been kind enough to do maintenance while he was out. But who could’ve gotten into here without tripping the wards?! He strode further into the main room, glancing about. Everything seemed to be in order, though he looked through the food stores and found them much lower than he expected. One of his vulneraries was missing as well. Did… Did that name-stealing future brat somehow worm her way in here?! I mean, I know I coded Chrom’s blood into the wards, but is it possible she could’ve snuck in that way?! Behind him in the living area, someone yawned. He whipped his head around and dashed to the couch, rounding it to find the intruder, who had apparently been lying on the couch, sitting up and rubbing their eyes. It turned out to be a woman, surprisingly enough.

A blonde, slim woman with wavy hair and the Brand of the Exalt on her forehead.

Grima stared at her for a minute before his jaw dropped. “Emmeryn?!”

The woman blinked and then gasped. “Raven?!”

The two gazed at each other in stunned shock. “I-I-I thought—I thought—but you died!”

“Somehow that has yet to pass, to my own confusion,” she murmured. “One moment I was falling through the air… the next I was lying in—well, I guess it would be Chrom’s bed. I scrubbed the sheets as best as I could, I accidentally made a bloody mess all over them,” she added. “I must have caught one of the dragon skull fangs on my side.”

A ridiculous grin spread onto the dragon’s face. “You’re alive…! You’re alive! He did it! You’re alive!” He whooped and picked her up, making her squeal as he swung her around. After a moment he set her down. “I don’t believe this! He really did teleport you out of there!”

Emmeryn laughed. “I suppose I have you to thank for teaching him how to do so! Among all the other things I have to thank you for regarding him, of course.”

“I mean, I didn’t actually teach him that one, he just went and performed—sorry, what?”

The Exalt looked him straight in the eye. “The little boy in the photos in your room… and the young mage that Frederick brought along…” She stepped closer to him. “It is him, isn’t it. You’ve been raising my missing brother all this time.”

Grima gave her a gentle smile. “Yeah, I guess I have. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me, you know?”

“I’m glad. He’s grown up wonderfully, Raven. You should be very proud of him.”

He laughed. “I’m proud of him no matter what, your Highness.”

“Oh, please, just Emmeryn will do! You’re as good a father to Chrom, you might as well be on casual terms with me,” she rebuffed. “Would it be too much to ask you to move to the capital so you can be with him on a regular basis?”

“That’s actually why I came here.” He spread his arms out. “I was just gonna grab everything I needed—which includes you, by the way. Your brother’s dealing with royal duties since they found out he was the prince, and I think it would be better if Ylisse had her Exalt back.”

She gasped. “Oh dear, poor Chrom! I’ll get ready right away as best I can, I don’t want to miss another minute without him!”

“Of course! Let’s get some proper clothes for you—is that my shirt?”

The blonde blushed and fidgeted with the hem of the beige shirt. “I’m afraid Chrom’s things were a bit on the small side for me, and I wasn’t about to run around in a strange dwelling after being teleported without my clothes.”

He snickered. “Oh… yeah, we’re going to have to work on that. All right, well, I’ll just pack up, we’ll get you some things in town, and then we’ll be off!”

Chrom was on the verge of tearing his hair out.

This had to have been, by far, the worst week he’d ever experienced in his life, Risen Sarah aftermath notwithstanding. Actually, he’d rather take the bullying over Exalted princely life any day if this was how his role was going to turn out, that’s how bad it was. Thank Naga, Grima, and all the gods for his wonderful sweetheart. She’d helped him as best as she could, and while she hadn’t been a contender for the position of Khan, being the daughter of one meant she picked up a thing or two on how government worked. Avignon was a tremendous help as well, but he could only do so much. Chrom had freely admitted to being clueless on how to run a country, and the man had been giving him pointers in his spare time.

One of the most infuriating meetings he’d attended had been just today, this afternoon. The council had pressed him with the idea of getting married and producing an heir, which he personally thought was too soon for such a thing. When they began suggesting their various daughters and nieces, he’d shut them down almost immediately.

“I have someone I already wish to marry one day,” he told them, “so that won’t be necessary.”

“Well, but are you engaged?” asked one portly baron, stroking his mustache. “It’s all well and fine to want to marry someone, but if you aren’t engaged, how will you know for sure it will happen?”

Chrom held up a hand to forestall any arguments. “Our relationship is at the point where we’re feeling out whether we truly want to marry each other. In other words, we are courting. Her father and her brother gave us both their approval and blessing, so it’s really a matter of time before we decide to get engaged.”

“And just who is this mysterious lady?” asked a nearby count.

Internally, the bluenette chuckled. “Olivia Atticus, daughter to Khan Basilio of Regna Ferox.”

“A Feroxi?!” a duchess cried. “What on earth do you see in such a brutish, ferocious race?! This Olivia could be a vicious warrior for all we know!”

“Oh, not at all, I believe she’d fit right in in Ylisse.” His eyes narrowed. “Of course, the last Ylissean noble who thought so attempted to kidnap her and was reprimanded by the Khan himself.”

The baron snorted. “Hmph. Preposterous!”

“Well, I would introduce you to her, but I’ve refrained for fear of one of you carrying her off for your own sons.”

That sent them into an uproar. Chrom’s mental smirk grew wide as he watched the chaos from his seat, the picture of perfect, innocent grace. Serves them right for forcing me to deal with their inanity on a daily basis, he thought. Thanks to them we barely get anything done as it is. Near the front, he spotted Avignon sitting placidly in his own chair. The blonde duke met his eyes, and the man’s beard and mustache twitched in a manner than meant he was concealing a smirk. Chrom’s own lips twitched. Except for him, he’s awesome.

“Your Grace?” A servant approached him and bowed. “Master Raven has returned. He says he wishes to meet with you immediately about a matter of utmost importance.”

The bluenette nodded. “Thank you, Calvin, I’ll be right there.” Surprised, the older man gave him a smile before bowing again and exiting the room. Chrom stood and banged his gavel, silencing the crowd. “My apologies, but something important has come up. This meeting is adjourned till tomorrow.” He gave them all a nod and left the room, grinning like an idiot once he got out into the corridor.

“Your Grace?”

Chrom sighed. “Please, Calvin, call me Chrom. I’ve asked everyone in the castle to call me by my name.”

The peach-haired man frowned. “Milord, that is neither appropriate nor respectful to you. You are the prince and the Exalt—“

“Not yet,” the mage-healer countered, “I’m not the Exalt yet. And besides, it’s much more respectful to me to call me by name. I might be royalty, but I’m still just human like you—I am neither above nor beneath you. And equals call each other by name, do they not?”

“… You are even worse than milady was, milord.”

The teen laughed. “Well, that’s one way to honor her memory, I guess.” He left the servant’s side and entered the throne room, where Lissa stood and gave him a wave. “Hi there. Were you called too?”

“A ‘matter of utmost importance,’” she recited. “Please don’t tell me it’s another war or something.”

The doors to the hall swung open, and Dad swaggered through, grinning the biggest grin Chrom had ever seen on his face. “Well, it’s official! My son is the best mage in the entire world! The most amazing, incredible, talented mage you could ever wish for, and I taught him! That’s right, I did! Who says a dragon can’t teach a human magic, I want to shove this into their face!”

“… What are you even talking about?” the bluenette asked, blinking.

If possible, the albino’s grin grew even wider. “Why don’t you see for yourself?” he said, stepping aside to reveal a slim figure in a hooded cloak that had followed him in. The person lifted their hood, and revealed themselves to be—

“E-Emm-Emmeryn?!”

Lissa’s jaw dropped. Chrom covered his mouth as his knees gave out, and he sank to the floor, staring at the woman. It had to be a trick; no, his sister couldn’t truly be here—

“Chrom? Brother?”

“Sister!” Lissa raced over and wrapped her up in a hug. The bluenette gasped, shock transforming into tentative hope into overwhelming joy.

She was real! She was here! She was alive!

He had saved her!

Emmeryn hugged Lissa back and slipped over to him, offering her hand. “Chrom, it’s me,” she said, helping him up. “Do you remember me?”

“Yes!” he breathed. “Oh, gods above and below, yes!” He sobbed and embraced her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She clutched him to her breast and stroked his hair as Lissa joined in, the two younger siblings bawling with relief and joy. Oh, sister! Oh, sister! You’re here! You’re here! You’re here you’re here you’re here!

“E-Emm?”

Chrom disengaged from the group hug and turned to find a white-faced Frederick entering the throne room. The knight gazed at the Exalt, shock and fear and hope warring in his eyes. He took a step towards the three, and the bluenette tugged Lissa free from their sister. “Emmeryn?”

Emmeryn sucked in a breath. “Oh, Frederick!” She ran towards him, and he met her in the middle. They embraced, looking into each other’s eyes, and then kissed, her hands cupping his head and his pressing her body to him. Lissa grinned and cheered, and Dad let out a wolf-whistle as Chrom cheered too, laughing. Emmeryn and Frederick pulled back, pink-cheeked as they glanced at the other three.

“Took you darn long enough, Big Sis!” Lissa called, cackling. “I almost thought you were waiting until you were crotchety old people!”

Dad had the smuggest look on his face. “Over eight hundred kilometers, and he lands her perfectly in our house of all places. Ladies and gentlemen, my son teleported his big sister to safety just in the nick of time! My teleportation spell, and the second time he uses it, on another person, no less, he pulls it off without a hitch!”

“I-Is this true?” Frederick pinned his gaze on Chrom, who nodded and wiped the leftover tears off his face.

“I u-used the mana i-in the environment a-and the dragon skel-skeleton… I-I pulled when she w-was falling… I guess I-I succeeded!”

The albino laughed. “Aren’t you glad I decided to pick up a few things at home? Although we might have to work on your teleportation skills, apparently her robes didn’t make the trip.”

Chrom squeaked and flushed, hiding his hands in his face. Emmeryn buried her face in Frederick’s shoulder, her shoulders shaking with embarrassed giggles. The brunette knight turned bright red and coughed, clearing his throat. Lissa facepalmed and snickered. And Dad smirked, enjoying himself. “Well, now that you’re here, you can go back to ruling the country and Chrom can focus on his girlfriend.”

“Dad!” the bluenette squealed in a high-pitched voice.

Frederick smiled at them, then down at Emmeryn. “I realize I have put this off far too long, milady, but since your brother has returned and you have as well…” he clutched her hands and pulled out a diamond ring from somewhere in his armor, “would you do me the honor of making the happiest man alive… and marry me?”

“Yes! Of course!” the blonde cried. The knight slipped the ring onto her finger, and the three others cheered again. “Frederick… I love you!”

“And I love you, Emmeryn.”

Chrom could not say how much of a relief it was to have Emmeryn back. Of course, his favorite moment the next day was when he was running a council meeting and invited her in. There was complete silence from the nobles for a good three minutes. Emmeryn had taken her seat and dismissed Chrom, and he caught looks of horrified outrage on some of their faces as he exited. Ever since then, his duties had been lightened significantly with his sister returning to the throne and Frederick taking on several responsibilities as her betrothed. Finally, he could breathe and live some semblance of a normal life. He spent his free time training with the Shepherds and his father (who now worked part-time as a Shepherd along his new job), training Ciel in magic (the younger bluenette was surprised at his own competence in the skill), and hanging out with Olivia and sightseeing around the capital. His relationship with the dancer grew and blossomed, and the two began to talk about marriage and starting a family.

Frederick and Emmeryn’s engagement seemed to spur an avalanche of engagements among the Shepherds. Kellam and Sully were next, followed by Lissa and Vaike, Stahl and Cordelia, Robin and Sumia, Virion and Panne, and Donnel and Maribelle. Ricken and Nowi decided to date until Ricken was older, and Gaius and Tharja constantly teased a “will they-won’t they” with Tharja flip-flopping between indulging the thief and ignoring him. (Most of the time she spent trying new hexes out on him, although she did attempt to help mitigate his low blood sugar issues with a Plegian treat here or there.) Miriel, surprisingly enough, became interested in Libra and spent her free time debating science, magic, and religion with him. Robin, of course, tried setting Dad up with multiple people, but the dragon was never interested.

The wedding of the Exalt and Ylisse’s new king was the talk of the nation for months afterwards. Chrom thought Emmeryn had never looked more beautiful than in her white dress, and Frederick couldn’t seem to stop smiling the whole day. As big as the event was, the bluenette and Lissa made sure their sister and new brother-in-law had the best day of their lives, and Chrom fell asleep that night exhausted but happy for the newlyweds. The next week he went out on a date with Olivia and proposed to her, and the elated dancer accepted.

Perhaps he was getting too excited—but it was supposed to be the happiest day of his life, of course he was meant to be excited! Still, his stomach tied itself up in knots in the hours before the ceremony. He did not regret asking Olivia to spend the rest of his life with him and have children with him, but first he had to get through this particular rite of passage. At least this wedding was smaller than Emm’s. He took a deep breath, smoothing out the front of his blue-trimmed white suit and adjusting his golden circlet. When Frederick had suggested his royal robes, Chrom had retorted that he didn’t want to potentially outshine his own bride, and the knight had left it at that. Pinning the blue and pink boutonniere to his lapel, he stepped back and took in his reflection in the mirror. How different he seemed from the small-town teen he had been several months ago! He couldn’t believe how far he’d come; it almost felt like he was in a wonderful dream, and he didn’t ever want to wake up. He nodded, turned, and took in a deep breath.

“Let’s do this.”

Standing to the right of the aisle was even more nerve-wracking, but his father, who was sitting in the front row with Frederick and a four-months-pregnant Emmeryn, gave him a grin and a thumbs-up, and Chrom relaxed a bit. Robin stood nearby as his best man, and Lon’qu, Kellam, and Vaike waited as his groomsmen, all of them clad in navy suits. The maid of honor, Cordelia, and the bridesmaids, Lissa, Sumia, and Maribelle, looked amazing in their light pink dresses. The rest of the Shepherds sat in the audience, except for Libra, who would be officiating the ceremony; Gaius sat next to Tharja, whom he’d managed to cajole into wearing a flattering navy sundress, and the strawberry-blonde looked fetching in his own bronze-colored tux. Sully had insisted on wearing a dark red suit, Ricken and Nowi wore outfits of soft green, Stahl and Donnel looked sharp in their black tuxes, Miriel wore red robes matching her vibrant hair, and Virion wore a soft teal suit while Panne sported an elegant purple dress. Dad looked especially spiffy in his dark violet suit, Frederick wore a black tux (of course), and Emmeryn glowed in her pale yellow maternity gown. Even the Feroxi who were attending the occasion had dressed up as well, though most of them, including Flavia, wore smart suits.

The doors to the cathedral opened, and Basilio, in a black tux, strode through with Olivia on his arm. Chrom’s breath caught in his throat. The pinkette wore a shimmering white gown with a puffy skirt and a sweetheart neckline. Instead of sleeves, thin white bands wrapped around her upper biceps and wrists with sheer white flowing gauze connecting wristbands to armbands. Her soft pink hair was drawn up into an ornately braided bun, with strands left free in front of her ears. A long lacy veil flowed from underneath her bun, and cherry blossoms adorned the silver circlet that rested on her head. She smiled at him, cheeks a soft pink, and he smiled back, captivated by her beauty. Truly, no one could ever measure up to his sweetheart!

When the two got to the altar, the West Khan handed Olivia off to Chrom with a nod and a grin, and the dancer passed her white bouquet to Cordelia. The bride and groom stood before Libra as he gave the wedding sermon.

“Do you, Chrom Lowell, take this woman to be your wife; to live together with her in the sacred covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto her so long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Chrom replied.

Libra turned to Olivia. “Do you, Olivia Atticus, take this man to be your husband; to live together with him in the sacred covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto him so long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” the pinkette replied.

“The bride and groom will now give their vows,” the priest announced.

Chrom gazed into Olivia’s eyes with love. “Olivia, when I first met you, I felt an instant connection to you. Whether it was our similar circumstances or personalities, something just slotted into place for me. You understood what I’ve been through and offered me your own troubles in sacred trust. You’ve been at my side through thick and thin, through battle and hardship and loss, and you’ve never wavered. You’re my rock, my foundation, and my soulmate. I give you everything that I am: my mind, my body, my strength, and most importantly, my heart. I love you, and I will always cherish and protect you, no matter what.”

Olivia smiled, eyes shining with joy. “Chrom, I knew when we first met that you were special. You wanted to know me as a person, and you were considerate of my needs and feelings. You’re honest and loyal and so very, very kind. You helped me through some of my most difficult issues and aided me in building my confidence and self esteem up. I’m a better person because of you, and I look forward to weathering whatever life throws at us together. I give you my heart with all of my being and vow to protect and cherish yours in return. I love you, and I am yours till the end of time.”

They exchanged rings, Chrom giving her a sparkling gold band with a diamond set into the Brand of the Exalt and Olivia giving him a lovely gold band engraved with teardrops on either side of the circular diamond. Then Libra continued, “Having borne witness to these sacred vows of love to one another, it is my joy to present to you Prince Chrom and Princess Olivia Lowell, husband and wife.” He turned to the bluenette. “You may kiss the bride.”

Chrom and Olivia looked at each other, holding each other’s hands, and leaned forward towards one another. The bluenette closed his eyes and kissed for the first time in his life, feeling the soft plush of his new wife’s lips against his own. A surge of love and joy shot through him, and he opened his eyes, pulling away to find hers mirroring the emotions in his own. A great cheer went up from the crowd as a shower of cherry blossoms and white rose petals fluttered down around the newlyweds. Olivia giggled and held out her hand to catch one of the falling blooms, and Chrom smiled in delight. The pinkette leaned over and tucked the flower into the bluenette’s hair, making him laugh. Then he held his arm out to her and she took it, and together they strode out of the cathedral.

In a private room they signed their marriage license, and then the couple was off to the reception. They arrived at the castle in a gleaming white and gold-trimmed carriage, and Chrom helped Olivia out, leading her down the bedecked main hallway to the ballroom where the wedding guests awaited them. Cheering greeted the new husband and wife, and they waved to all of their family and friends as they were ushered to their seats at the wedding party’s table. Libra gave them another speech wishing them well, and then the meal began. Chrom loved all of the foods that were served and found to his delight that the chefs had put out bubbly sweet rosewater in lieu of champagne. He leaned over and kissed Olivia on the cheek, making her giggle.

“You have a smudge near your lips, sweetie,” the dancer pointed out, taking her napkin and wiping off a spot of sauce on the boy’s face.

Chrom blushed and chuckled. “Oh, thank you, darling.”

“This is amazing,” she sighed, “like a fairy tale, you know?”

“Or a dream, except we don’t need to ever wake up from this one.”

“Mm, you’re right.” She rested her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, leaning his head on hers as Robin got up to give his best man’s speech.

The younger albino stood on the little platform between the wedding party and the musicians. Everyone’s attention fixed on him as he cleared his throat. “Well, as all or most of you know, I woke up several moths ago with no memory of my life, and that very same day I met Chrom. Now given that I have amnesia, I probably didn’t have much to compare with at the time, but I knew right away he was an amazing person. He had originally come to Southtown with the goal of helping the people there boost their anti-bandit defenses, and he stayed to help us fight off the brigands. I found out later that he and his dad were widely known around the area as the Blue Magician and the Platinum Demon for their efforts to protect the surrounding villages.

“He immediately proved he is a talented mage and healer, and he’s had my back in too many battles to count since then. He developed his own spell at age fourteen—“ that got a lot of gasps from the guests who didn’t know, “yeah, I was shocked, too. Again, he’s insanely talented. This guy could probably figure out how to walk on water for all I know.” The audience laughed, and Chrom shook his head, grinning. “I mean, he teleported his own sister to safety without practicing the spell first!” Cheers went up. The bluenette blushed bright red and caught Emmeryn laughing in his periphery.

“But not only is he talented, he is incredibly kind and empathetic and funny.” Robin chuckled. “Those first few weeks, even though he was worried about his dad, he still went out of his way to make me feel accepted and at home. He introduced me to his friends in the Shepherds and bantered with me like it was the most natural thing in the world. He even lent me his precious spellbook to read that first night in the barracks. When I was under suspicion because of my lack of memory, he put into perspective for everyone else what it was like not to remember where or who you come from.” Frederick nodded, expression apologetic. “He didn’t care what race or religion I was from, he just cared about me as a person.

“Chrom has had a pretty good life, but he’s also been through some stuff. He was separated from his birth family at age four, and it was only thanks to his foster father, Raven, that he’s here with us today. He grew up having almost not enough and knows what it’s like to go hungry. At age fourteen, something happened to him which I am not at liberty to divulge, and he suffered from bullying as a result.” Oh good, he wasn’t going to go into the Risen Sarah incident. “He was separated from his father the day we met, and during our journeys he endured a severe panic attack. He even witnessed the apparent death of his older sister and only found out afterwards her relation to him.

“But these hardships have only strengthened him. He’s still kind, and sincere, and empathetic, and he’s the type of person I would willingly follow into hell. He’s my very best friend and the best confidant one could ask for. He’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met, and I wish him and Olivia all the happiness in their marriage.” He lifted his glass. “To Chrom and Olivia!”

“To Chrom and Olivia!” the guests cheered and toasted.

There were several more speeches: Basilio, Lon’qu, and Flavia all spoke about Olivia in glowing terms; Kellam shared a funny story about Chrom that had everyone laughing and the bluenette blushing; Cordelia talked about both the bride and groom, having been a friend to both; and Dad shared some of his favorite memories of Chrom and the impact he’d had on the dragon’s life. The last one left everyone wiping tears from their eyes, and the bluenette gave his father a heartfelt smile, which the older man returned. Then it was time for the first dance.

Chrom stood up and led Olivia to the center of the floor as the music began. They started out slow and simple, but then the bluenette led his wife in a twirl and a dip, and she obliged, laughing. The two whirled around the ballroom in a swirl of white and pink and blue, loving gazes locked onto each other the whole time. By the time the master of ceremonies announced that the dance floor was open to all the guests, the couple was slightly out of breath and held each other, foreheads touching.

“I love you,” the boy murmured to his wife.

“I love you,” the girl whispered to her husband.

“Sir, news from Archanea.”

“Finally! I’ve been waiting for months since my last chat with Validar! How is he?”

“I-I’m afraid he’s dead, sir. He was killed in the attempted assassination of Exalt Emmeryn.”

“Attempted? Killed? Pfah! How pathetic! Well, that’s extremely unfortunate. Did Gangrel win, or did he lose? Is he dead?”

“King Gangrel lost the war, sir, but he was exiled to the Outrealms.”

“… Why is he still alive?”

“Well, um, it appears Prince Chrom spared his life, and the Plegian army voted for his exile.”

“They found the prince?! Really, truly found him?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, well now! This is quite the interesting development. Hmm… I wonder if he really was that same brat that followed our lord around fifteen years ago… What else? Ah! Did you bring that manakete I asked for over?”

“I-I’m afraid not, sir, Chalard lost her to the Shepherds.”

“Oh. Did you bring her dragonstone?”

“N-No, sir.”

“… Did you at least bring the information I wanted gathered on her dragonstone?”

“Yes, sir, I have it with me, sir.”

“Excellent! Let’s see… Oh, this will work perfectly for what I have in mind! Wonderful! You may go now. Why, this is so very exciting! Pity Validar isn’t here to help me, I’ll have to do all the work myself… Oh well, best get started! I have loads to do to ensure our lord’s plan goes exactly as desired!”

“He’s so… tiny!”

Chrom laughed. “Yes, Dad, newborns usually are.”

“He certainly didn’t feel like it,” Emmeryn quipped, leaning back on several pillows as she cradled the new lifeform in her arms. “He has his father’s strength if his kicks were anything to go by.”

Grima gazed down at the latest addition to the Exalted family—his family—enraptured by the baby’s diminutive body. If he’d thought a four-year-old Chrom was the cutest that humans could get, this little boy was something else. “I had no idea humans could be this small.”

The bluenette laughed. “You really haven’t been around babies before, have you, Dad?”

“Before, you were the tiniest one I’d ever met. Now I find out newborns exist?!”

Chrom shook his head. “Dad’s one weakness: small children.”

“You mean small children who are you or related to you,” Olivia corrected, chuckling and rubbing her own pregnant belly. The pink-haired dancer was about five months along, and the Fell Dragon couldn’t wait to meet his grandchild in person. Even though he knew Inigo was roughly two years younger than the Name-Thief Spawn, he hoped it was the sweet mini blueberry first. If it wasn’t… well, he just hoped they picked a name other than hers.

“What are you going to name him?” the blue-haired prince asked, running a finger through the baby boy’s soft blonde hair-fluff and stroking the lone strand of brown.

Frederick shifted closer to his wife and child, touching a contemplative fingertip to the Brand of the Exalt that showed plainly on the infant’s cheek. “Well, Emm liked the name Peter while I preferred Christopher, so we decided to use them both. His full name is Peter Christopher Lowell.”

“I like it,” Grima decided. “It’s a good, strong name. Makes me think of both his mother and his father.” He shuffled forward. “Can I, um… can I hold him? Please?”

Emmeryn laughed. “Of course. Here, just be very careful,” and she showed him how to hold the little one. “Lissa’s going to be furious when she returns and finds she missed the birth of her nephew during her vacation.”

“She was trying to keep training with Falchion! I wasn’t about to let her injure herself and her baby!” Chrom protested. “Wouldn’t want to be Vaike, though, she’s terrifying even without pregnancy hormones.”

“And I’m not?” Olivia teased.

The albino rolled his eyes. “You are about as terrifying as a cherry blossom, Olivia. Chrom is very lucky compared to Vaike.” The babe stirred in his arms, and he gently reached in and booped the tiny nose. Little Peter squinched up his face and opened soft eyes, brown like his father’s. “Aww, who’s the cutest little baby in the whole world?” he cooed.

He’s so adorable… I wonder what you’re going to be like, little one? I’m gonna need to figure out a nickname for you… Hmm…

“Robin, I’m not going on a date with Tharja, now please drop it!”

After a tremendous amount of reservation, Grima had eventually resurrected Validar due to the fact that Plegia still didn’t have an official ruler after all these months. Mustafa had effectively put the country back together before coming down with a debilitating illness that left him unable to lead, and no one else had stepped up to the job—except, of course, Aversa. Thanks to her ineffectiveness, however, the Fell Dragon decided she needed a bit of guidance. Validar was not his best choice, but the albino had placed magical restrictions on the former Hierophant that prevented the Plegian man from harming the Exalted family before raising him back to life. As much as he didn’t want to be responsible for the desert country, Grima preferred a puppet he could (relatively) control over the kingdom descending back into its old chaotic state. Hopefully there would be no need for the new king to ever meet with his little blueberry and his family.

Except he was forgetting about the war with Valm. Fine, then, hopefully there would be only minimal contact between Validar and his little blueberry.

He’d returned from Khidara near the Border Sands, where he’d performed the ritual, to find Robin trying to set him up with another potential date, this time with Tharja—again. Whenever the dark mage wasn’t seducing Gaius, she fixated on Robin or, more often, Grima himself. Why that was, he had no idea, but it was getting obnoxious, compounded with the brown-eyed tactician’s attempts to find a suitable partner for the dragon.

“Aww, come on!”

“No. How many times—she likes Gaius, not me! She just obsesses over me for no apparent reason.” Although maybe she’d figured out his true identity? That seemed like something the sharp Grimleal would do. He’d have to confront her and swear her to secrecy if that was the case.

The human sighed. “She’s bored, and she nearly blew up Miriel’s lab working on a new hex. Now she’s looking for me. Can you please take her off my hands?”

“Ask Gaius.”

“She’s back to ignoring him again.”

“Of course she is.” Grima sighed. “I’m not interested in dating her, or romance period for that matter.”

Robin pouted and opened his mouth, but a servant rushed into the room just then. “Master Raven, Master Robin,” she huffed out, panting, “Princess Olivia has gone into labor! Prince Chrom asked me to alert the two of you as soon as I could.”

The two albinos glanced at each other, then turned to the woman.

“Where are they?”

“Oh, darling, she’s perfect,” Chrom breathed.

In his arms he held the fruit of his and Olivia’s love, the creation of their bond, the union of their flesh and blood. The tiny baby girl slept in his arms, little tufts of blue hair sticking up from her head. Over in the bed, his wife gave him a tired smile. “Do you mind taking care of her for a bit?” She yawned. “That really took a lot out of me.”

“Of course, Livvie, rest for now. In the meanwhile, little Luci and I are going to go meet her Uncle Robin and Grandpa Raven~!”

The pinkette chuckled before snuggling down into the pillows and falling asleep.

Chrom slipped out of the room and quietly shut the door, then stood in the hallway admiring his newborn daughter. Thank goodness he’d had practice helping Emm take care of little Peter beforehand, he thought. Two figures rushed towards him from the other end of the hall, both albino. “Can I see? Can I see?” Robin called out.

“Shhhhh, she’s asleep.” The two older men stopped in front of him and gazed down at the baby princess, delight filling their eyes.

Dad grinned. “What’s her name?”

“Well, Olivia chose a name that she really liked, and I picked one from my family, so, um… say hello to Lucina Raven Lowell.”

The dragon’s eyes bugged, and then he began giggling uncontrollably. Robin gave him a concerned glance as the man laughed harder and harder. “Uh, is he okay?”

Chrom shrugged. “This does happen on occasion. It’s usually just an inside joke or something else only he finds funny.” He furrowed his brow. “I tried asking him to explain to me what he was laughing about once, but he said to wait until he gave his say-so.”

“… Ohhhhhhhh-kay, then. Wonder what he finds so funny this time.”

Dad chuckled, wiping tears out of his eyes. “I’m okay now, I’m okay.” He giggled again. “Oh, gods. Haven’t laughed that much in a while. Oh, has Ciel seen her yet?”

“Not yet.” The bluenette smiled. “I was gonna show you two fir—oh, hello there! I see you’re awake now, Luci Goosey~!”

Lucina blinked two sleepy blue eyes at him. Chrom gasped. “Oh… look! She has the Brand in her eye!” Clearly delineated in the baby’s left eye shone the Brand of the Exalt. “Oh, that’s kind of a relief. The council won’t bother me over her legitimacy now. Here, look.” He teased her right hand out of the blanket and held it for the other two to see. “She’s got your Mark, Dad.”

The older albino grinned like an idiot. “That’s it, she’s officially my grandchild.” He gave another giggle and covered his mouth with his hand, looking stupidly smug. Robin just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Chrom kissed Lucina on the forehead and basked in her presence. I can’t wait to see who you become, my little princess!

The blonde troubadour kept a sharp look out, his brown eyes scanning the town before him. So, this was Southtown, where his uncle had met his aunt and father and began the journey towards the discovery of his true identity. As a child, the young man had begged to hear the story over and over again; it was his favorite tale, of the young prince who had grown up a pauper and joined his younger sister’s militia to protect Ylisse from the threat of the Mad King Gangrel. Father never much liked telling it himself, but Uncle Chrom loved to oblige. All of the Neo-Shepherds would gather around and listen to the blue-haired man’s tale—Owain especially loved it and thought it perfect material for his reenactments.

“Huh? Eyyy, Petey, it’s you!”

“What the—?!” The blonde whipped around and pointed his staff at the intruder, then relaxed at the sight of the boy in front of him. “Morgan, must you constantly sneak up on me?!”

“Hey, keeps you sharp,” the younger boy pointed out, leading his black pegasus into the hilltop clearing. “You know, for a guy who has a dad with ‘wary’ in his title, you’re really not all that cautious.”

The troubadour sighed. “That is Mother’s fault, please stop pointing that out. Besides, I am acting perfectly cautious, as you can see by my mask.” He frowned at Morgan’s black hair. “Your dye is washing out again, your ends are fading.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” The boy fingered his white tips and then shook his head out.

“You know, I won’t say I told you so.”

“Anna’s is expensive!” Morgan whined. “Come on, Peter, there have got to be better alternatives than buying from her! Ooh, I wonder if I could get Granddad to hex it—“

Peter rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Anna’s dye is not expensive and you know it. You’re just frustrated that Avery wouldn’t supply you with endless Thoron tomes, which is a waste of resources, by the way.”

“… Touché.”

The two stood looking out over the town before the younger boy spoke again. “Sooooo, didja figure out when we are?”

Peter nodded. “We have arrived in the two-year peacetime period between the second Ylissean-Plegian war and the war with Valm. Since I am not entirely certain whether we have been born yet, I have taken to calling myself ‘Jagen’ so as not to influence my parents by mistake. I suggest you take up an alias yourself and either procure a mask or dye your hair again.” He gave a critical glance at the dark flier’s coat. “And you may want to put an illusion on your cloak as well, the villagers might shy from you otherwise.”

“Okie. Hey, you know what, I should call myself ‘Linde!’”

“… Morgan, Linde is a girl’s name. If you want to use a famous mage’s name, Merric or Arvis—“

“Arvis was the bad guy.”

“—or Saias or Soren are perfectly acceptable names of male mages.”

“I like Linde. I’m using it.”

Peter sighed. “Why do I even bother?”

“‘Cause you care, Cap. What’s our strategy?”

“That’s your job.”

Morgan giggled. “Oh, right, just checking to make sure you gave your input first. Okay, let’s trek around and see if we can find any of our friends, maybe stop a few bandits or Risen if we run across them.”

“After you prepare yourself.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Peter’s lips twitched. “You know, I am glad you’re here. It was getting rather lonely with just myself and Camus.”

“Aww, love you too, Petey Bear!”

“… Please stop calling me that.”

“Never! Onward!”

Chapter Text

“Wind!”

Three sharp green blades spiraled out of the bluenette’s hand and slammed into the training dummy. Inigo gasped. “I-I did it! I really did it! I-I can cast magic!”

“Of course!” Chrom grinned at him. “Miriel and Ricken said you have a surprising amount of potential, so that’s why we’re here to hone it!”

Inigo looked down at the Wind tome. “I… I can cast… You know, I never dreamed of it because my own father never showed an aptitude for it, and Mother wa—um… well, she was a weird case, people could never decide whether she had magic or not. So I just… never thought it was an option. I picked up the sword from both of them.”

“I see.” The older bluenette nodded. “That can happen, apparently, some people miss out on things they could be really talented in because they don’t think they have what it takes.” He smiled. “I’m glad we’re able to teach you this stuff now, late in the game as it is.”

“Me too,” said someone from the other side of the training arena. The two turned and found a certain red-eyed albino holding a five-month-old blue-haired infant girl. “I had an inkling Ciel was gonna be good, that’s why I asked you to teach him. Although, what took you so long?”

Father chuckled. “He insisted on reading and studying all the theory beforehand, and then I had to teach him different casting techniques.”

“Bababa!”

Grima laughed and tweaked little Lucina’s nose. “That’s right, bababa!”

“Baba!”

“Hmm, I see!”

“Babababa baba!”

“Oh, that’s very interesting, why didn’t I think of that before?”

Inigo burst out laughing at the scene. Luci would have a fit if she ever found out about this—the Fell Dragon, having a conversation in baby babble with her infant self. Well, that made him a lot less scary in the boy’s opinion. We should’ve just tried to introduce him to the concept of children back in the future. Although, that probably wouldn’t have gone over nearly as well, he needed to take care of a child first and grow to love them before opening his heart to all children. Maybe… maybe it was a good thing he raised my father. We might have just accomplished our mission without doing hardly anything.

Though he hasn’t said anything about what he plans to do with the world… should I get him one-on-one and have a chat?

Before Grima had rescued the younger teen over a year ago, the boy would’ve quailed at speaking alone with the albino. How far he had come that he now felt relatively comfortable with the man’s presence! So yes, he did need to have a talk with his grandfather. Grima wouldn’t hurt him, he was Chrom’s child and therefore Grima’s family.

Except he seems to keep holding a grudge against my Lucina. I mean, I don’t think I would appreciate someone stealing one of my friends’ identities, so it makes sense. Still… Do dragons hold grudges for long periods of time since they live longer? Hmm, something to think about.

“Ciel?”

“Huh? Oh!” The swordsman snapped out of his reverie and shook his head. “Sorry, just lost in thought, I guess.” He lifted the tome up. “Do you want me to go again?”

Father smiled. “Sure, why not? Try casting it a few times, but let me know if you start to feel weird or lousy, okay?”

“Okay!”

He cast Wind a couple more times before a screech cut him off. The younger bluenette whipped around to the source of the sound but found only Grima playing with Lucina. The little girl screeched again and grabbed for the albino’s fingers, which the man yanked away just in time. “Now, now, Luci Rave, what do we say when we want something?”

“Bababa!” She screeched, finally clamping onto his fingers. Grima laughed.

“Taking what you want without asking first? My, my, what a naughty little princess you are.” And he proceeded to tickle her with his free hand, generating delighted squeals from the baby girl.

Father beamed. “Aren’t they just adorable together?”

Inigo chuckled, a wistful smile on his face.

“Yes, they sure are.”

Grima could not say just how delighted he was that his grandson had invited him on an outing for some time together! Inigo looked to be finally accepting him as his grandfather! Although, the boy still didn’t call him that, only “Raven.” As hard as it was to wait, the albino dragon knew doing so would make Inigo more comfortable around him. One day…! But until then, he had to content himself with this.

He had to say, the boy certainly knew his teashops. According to the teen, this particular one served high-quality products at affordable prices, and the atmosphere was friendly and cozy. The waitstaff were pleasant, the tea itself was delicious, and the pastries accompanying were baked to perfection. It was a shame the only problem was that the shop was tucked away in a little alley and had a relatively small, if loyal, consumer base. Ah, well, all the better for private conversations like the one his mini blueberry had implied they would have.

“So, um, Raven?”

“Yes, mini one?” Grima took a sip of his tea. Ahhh, jasmine, imported from Chon’sin. Chrom would’ve loved this one.

Inigo fiddled with his raspberry scone. “I hope you aren’t offended by my asking, but… what, um, what are your plans for the world?”

“My plans?” Oh. He hadn’t actually divulged what he was going to do. Had he ever told the boy he wasn’t going to destroy the world? He couldn’t remember. Eh, it didn’t hurt to tell him again if he had before. “Well, clearly I can’t destroy the world because you and your father are in it. And your family. And friends. Besides, how would I take care of you if there’s nothing to take care of you with? So that plan is out.”

“But…?”

The albino pursed his lips in thought. “But this world is still a mess and needs cleaning up. So I decided, if I can’t destroy it, then I should rule it instead!”

Inigo sweat-dropped and gave him a weak smile. “Uh, w-well… it-it’s better than before, I guess.”

“Hey, come on! I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to make the world a better place if not for you and your dad!” Grima grinned, the image of Chrom as his High Priest surfacing in his mind. “I’ll be humanity’s just and fair ruler as your god, and Chrom will be my loyal High Priest—oh, and Olivia will be his High Priestess, can’t forget about her—and the Shepherds and Grimleal will be my governors all over the world! Emmeryn will be Ylisse’s governor, don’t worry.”

The boy gulped. “W-What about us kids?”

“Oh, well, let’s see… You don’t have to do anything unless you want to be a priest as well.” He took another sip. “I’ll be extending your parents’ lives so they can live as long as I do—”

“You can do that?!” Inigo’s eyes bugged. “Really?!”

The dragon scoffed. “Of course I can, what do you think I am? Actually, don’t answer that question.”

“Um, okay. What about Nag—“

“No.” Grima hissed, eyes flashing red.

“… Okay, then. No Naga. Good to know.”

He eyed the boy. “Don’t tell me you’re annoyed that I’m going to get rid of her?”

“No, that’s not it. I mean, I understand she was the whole reason you became you-know-what and all, but is she really that bad?”

“Study history. Like I did.” The man scoffed. “Naga is a traitor to her own kind and has been for millennia upon millennia. She constantly picks humanity over the wellbeing of her own race, and where has that led us? Near extinction for the rest of us while she sits pretty worshipped as a god to all those ignorant, blind fools.” He took his spoon and pointed it at the boy. “Do you know something? She told me after I found out why I was put to sleep that she was prepared to do anything to keep humanity safe—including killing her own daughter!”

The bluenette gasped. “W-What?! You can’t be serious!”

“That was my reaction, too.”

“But why would she kill her own child?”

The dragon sighed. “Tiki was born extremely powerful, you see, and Naga was afraid she’d degenerate and destroy humanity. That’s why she has her sleep so much.” He shook his head. “When I heard that, I was disgusted. Here I am, a very young dragon who had escaped a parent figure that tried to kill me when I became too powerful, and now I find one of my friends is in the same situation?” His fist clenched. “I was so innocent, I thought she was somebody to idolize… and then I find out she’s no better than Forneus.”

“Your parent figure?”

“The alchemist who created me,” Grima corrected. “Having raised Chrom, I can safely say that he didn’t get anywhere near qualifying for parenthood. He was a cruel, deranged man who should not have been allowed custody of a baby dragon.”

“Oh.” Inigo’s face fell, and the two sipped their tea and munched on their pastries in relative silence. Then,

“Do you ever wish you weren’t born?”

The dragon blinked, stricken, and set down his teacup, running a finger along the rim in contemplation. “Well… when I was stuck in the labyrinth after he died… too many times to count, frankly. I didn’t know what I was living for… or whom… and I could only hope that things would get better. I never thought of killing myself, though. I was too innocent to have ever heard of such a thing.”

Tilting his head, the boy regarded him before placing his hand on the older man’s. “Um… if it’s any consolation… for what it’s worth, despite everything you’ve done… I’m glad you’re here. You… you’re happier, and you love my dad, and that… that’s really heartening.”

Hope and joy filled his heart, and Grima beamed.

“Thank you, mini blueberry. I love you so much, kiddo.”

When they left the teashop, Grima wrapped his arm around the boy, and his heart leapt when the teen leaned into his embrace.

“Hello there~! My, aren’t you getting big, little bun-bun!”

The light-brown-skinned baby babbled and grabbed at his tiny feet, furry little ears flopping all over the floor. Chrom giggled and booped the little boy’s nose, getting a squeal from him. Shame I’m not a taguel, their babies are just too adorable! Lucina would look so cute with her own set of bunny ears! He imagined Olivia with pink fur and bunny ears and giggled again, tickling at the baby’s sides. Nearby, Lucina sat playing with her rag doll, chewing on the doll’s arm and gazing at her dad.

Virion and Panne had asked him earlier to babysit their son when both realized they couldn’t for the afternoon; the archer had to deal with issues pertaining to Rosanne (Chrom suspected he was a noble from that country), and the rabbit laguz was too wiped and needed a break from taking care of the four-month-old. Since the bluenette had a relatively free schedule today, he’d agreed and now sat in the playroom in the castle that Emmeryn had set aside for “baby Shepherds.” On those days where the Shepherds couldn’t take care of their little ones for whatever reason, they would leave the children in this nursery to be watched over by vetted nursemaids (or more often, Dad, when he was bored). Every now and again Chrom would bring Lucina here when he had nothing else to do and play with her and whatever children had been left for the day. It got even more enjoyable when his father happened to be in the room as well, the albino loved each and every one of the infants as if they were his own. Today it was just him, Lucina, and Yarne, which was just fine. The smaller the group, the less he had to divide his attention between them. He always felt bad about the bigger groups and worried whether he was giving them each enough time.

“Haaaaaa!” Yarne squealed again. Chrom leaned down, almost nose-to-nose with the baby, and the infant boy stared up at him in awe. Reaching up, the baby grabbed onto the young man’s azure locks and yanked.

“Ouch! Yarne, buddy, please don’t—ouchie!” The baby giggled and yanked again. “Okay, no more pulling on Uncle Chrom’s hair today, all right?” He wormed his thumbs into the baby’s hands and disentangled them from his hair. The boy latched onto one of his thumbs and put it in his mouth, sucking on it.

“Awww!”

Chrom glanced up and found his father leaning on the doorframe, delight playing all over his face. “Is it just these two today?”

“Yeah.” The youth chuckled. “Wanna come and hang out?”

“Ooh, yes, please.” The albino strode into the room and sat down in front of Lucina, pulling his cloak off and arranging it around her on the floor. “Well, how are you doing today, little Luci Rave?” The little girl squealed. “Somebody’s happy to see her grandpa, huh! Okay then, what shall we do today?”

“Bababaga babaaa.” The girl stuffed her doll’s arm back into her mouth and chewed on it.

“Oh my, is it really that tasty? Well, far be it from me to question her royal highness!”

Chrom laughed, which prompted Yarne to let out a screechy laugh as well. The taguel baby put the bluenette’s thumb back in his mouth and bit down, hard. Chrom yelped and slipped his thumb out of the baby’s mouth, wincing at the tiny bleeding punctures in his nail. “Ow-how-how…”

“He teething?”

“Note to self: taguel teeth are sharp, no matter what their age!” The youth sent a bit of energy into the wounded phalange, and it healed up as if nothing ever happened.

Dad frowned. “Aren’t taguel herbivores or something?”

“Yeah, but they have strong teeth and powerful jaws. Panne said baby taguel teeth are on the sharper side at first, to ward off predators just in case.”

“… I can’t exactly see how that would work, but okay. Why predators? I mean, I can tell a taguel from a rabbit by scent, but I’m a dragon. Do normal predators just not distinguish the difference?”

“I guess.”

The albino grimaced. “Yeah, no, nope, not thinking about that.”

“Me neither. Ugh, that turns my stomach.”

“Haaaah?” Yarne grabbed for him again, and Chrom tickled his tummy. Lucina dropped her doll and fell over onto her side, the soft cloth of the tactician’s coat cushioning her fall.

“Luciiiiiiii, what are you doing on the floor, silly princess?”

“Bagaba ba.”

“Oh, that’s very fair, I think it’s cosy too.”

“Baba.”

“Yes, your daddy has one too! Just like mine, only blue!”

The bluenette laughed again. “You know, anyone who thinks you’re scary should see you talking to babies, you’re like a completely different person.”

Dad blinked, his face blank with confusion. “Was I not like that with you?”

“Dad, I was four, not an infant. And as I recall, you had no idea what to do with small children.”

“Okay, fair enough.”

Chrom laid down next to Yarne and stroked his downy ear. The baby yawned and stuffed his fist in his mouth, sucking on it.

So cute… I could stay here all day…

Before he knew it, he was fast asleep.

As two of the Shepherds who didn’t have children to take care of (no matter how much Grima might argue to the contrary), Inigo and the dragon often got sent out to deal with bandits and other issues in the halidom in lieu of the other Shepherds. The excursions helped the bluenette sharpen his magic skills in real-life situations, and he was now trying out Elwind, at least in the training arena. His father’s tips were helpful in figuring out how to sense his magic and use it accordingly in addition to cycling ambient mana into his body. Maybe he’d even be able to cast without a tome one day, but that probably wouldn’t come until later in the future. Grandfather had suggested making a blood pact with him, and he wouldn’t admit he was kind of considering the idea.

The sun glinted off the green leaves of the trees in the forest. It had rained recently, and water droplets sparkled everywhere, making Inigo smile at the beauty around him. “Hey, you know, we aren’t that far from Virion and Panne’s cabin retreat. You want to go say hi for a few minutes?”

“Yes please,” the albino breathed. Inigo laughed and rolled his eyes.

“You just want to see Yarne, don’t you.”

Grima threw his arms out. “Baby bun-bun!” he cried, as if that was all the explanation necessary—which it was, of course.

“I think I’m going to see if I can get Miriel to diagnose you with addiction to babies or something, you go nuts when they’re around,” the teen quipped.

“Small children!”

“Fair enough.”

They arrived at the cabin and knocked on the door. Virion opened it and smiled when he saw who it was. “Ah, come in, come in! It is delightful to see you, Ciel, Raven! Panne and Yarne are out playing in a nearby clearing.” He ushered them into the cozy little building and offered them tea, which the two accepted gratefully. “Our little son has just learned that wonderful taguel ability of transformation, and my darling wife suggested they play together in their rabbit forms.”

“Aww, that’s so cute! I wonder what he looks like,” Inigo squealed.

“Me too,” the dragon murmured. “Is he like a miniature version of his mother, or more like a bunny—“

The door flew open, and Panne burst in, breathing hard and covered in scratches. She leaned over and put her hands on her knees to catch her breath. Virion approached her and rubbed her arms, concern deep in his eyes. “Darling? Where is our son?”

“Too—huff—too many—“

“Dearest, please do try to catch your breath first.”

“Man-spawn,” the brunette growled. “They—huff—hunters—“

The steel-haired man went white, expression hardening. “Hunters stole him? And there were too many for you to fend off all at once?”

She nodded. Grima stood, eyes blazing, and Inigo got up after him. “Virion. Let us track him down.”

“Are you certain?”

“Positive.” The dragon strode towards the laguz woman. “Which way did they go?”

“West.” Panne took another gulp of air and straightened. “Let me go with you.”

The albino arched an eyebrow at her. “If you think you have enough energy to help out—“

“That is my son,” she snarled. “I won’t let him get hurt, not on my watch.”

He nodded. “Right, then. Ciel, you and I will fly overhead while Panne follows on the ground.” He stalked out of the cabin, the bluenette and brunette following him out. “If he’s injured, I’ll teleport him to the castle where Chrom can heal him.”

“Got it. Vir, start packing up. This place is no longer safe for us.”

The archer nodded. “Right away. Meet you at the castle?”

“Yes. Don’t wait up.” She leaned in, grabbed his cravat, and kissed him. “See you when we find him.”

Inigo wrapped his arms around his grandfather’s neck and felt the older man clutching him close as two black, feathery wings spread from the dragon’s back. Then, with a mighty flap, the two took to the sky in search of the missing baby taguel.

Grima caught the scent of wyverns, humans, and—wait, there it was! That was Yarne’s scent! He dove forward, Inigo clinging to his neck, and settled the both of them in a tree just on the edge of the hunters’ camp. Panne came up behind them and transformed back into her human form, climbing up into the tree. “Is he there?”

The Fell Dragon focused and found one especially bulky hunter holding the little bunny by the scruff of his neck. Yarne mewled and cried, his panic and fear sharp and sour in the albino’s nose. “Yeah, he’s there, all right,” he growled.

“I will tear them all to shreds,” the woman hissed, seething.

Grima held out a hand. “We can’t go into this claws a’slicing, we might get him killed. We need a strategy first.” The hunter holding the baby bunny grabbed him by the left leg and held him up by the appendage. Yarne screamed louder and louder.

One of the other hunters shifted in unease. “Hey, man, ya sure a bunny makes that kinda sound? It’s cryin’ like a babe, that’s weirdin’ me out.”

“Oh, shush yer mouth, maybe it’s jus’ a different breed.” The bulky hunter took out a knife.

“Man, are ya sure? It don’t seem right ta me…”

“Aww, are ya chicken? Bawk bawk!” the others mocked him. The leader, the bulky hunter, grinned.

“I dunno ‘bout y’all pansying over there, but I’mma ‘bout to have me some rabbit stew. Ye want some, jus’ ask!”

Grima’s stomach flopped, and bile rose in his throat as red entered his vision. “Ciel.”

“Right!”

The youth dashed out of the tree and whipped out his sword, holding the tip at the leader’s throat. “Give me that child, or suffer the wrath of his mother and an overprotective dragon!”

The leader guffawed. “Go hunt yer own rabbit, chump, we got ‘im first!” A white light shown from the little taguel boy, and the buff man squawked, dropping him. Inigo caught Yarne with one arm just before he hit the ground, the infant back to his human form. “Wha’ the bleedin’—“

“DIE!” Panne transformed and rushed out, and Grima followed her, draconic traits out on display. The bluenette streaked towards him, cradling a bawling Yarne, and the dragon pushed the two behind him, throwing spikes at the shrieking hunters. In less than a minute, all of them were dead, having been mauled or impaled. The albino roared at the wyverns, and they cowered before fleeing into the woods.

“Raven!” Inigo’s voice made him whip around. The boy held the baby, the little one’s left leg hanging limp instead of scrunched up. “His leg is injured! You need to get him to Chrom, now!”

Grima took the baby and cradled him close. “Panne, take Ciel and get back to the castle.” The two nodded. He focused and pulled, landing himself and the screaming child in the doorway to the nursery, where a startled Chrom squeaked and whirled around. “Yarne’s leg was injured, you need to help him!” He handed the baby off to his son, who nodded, his expression understanding.

“Right, okay. Let me just set him down,” and the bluenette went over to the changing table, gently laying the little boy down. He examined the baby’s leg, and Grima smelled his power at work in determining the extent of the injury. “His leg was dislocated from his hip. I’ll need to gently work it back in and pop it into place.” He took hold of the baby’s thigh and rolled it around in easy, slow circles. The dragon winced as the baby screamed and a pop sounded. “Now we just need to heal up the damaged tissue.” The boy sent healing power into the infant’s hip, and the baby’s cries subsided into teary sniffles. When he was done, Chrom picked up the child and held him close, soothing him with soft, murmured words. “Shhhh… it’s okay, sweetie, you’re all right now… no more hurting, okay? Shhhh…”

Yarne’s fluffy little tail twitched, and the baby snuggled into the youth’s breast. The boy frowned. “What happened to him? Was he playing too rough with his mom, or…”

“Remember when we were talking about hunters? Or, no, predators?”

“… I already don’t like where this is going.”

Grima grit his teeth, clenching his fists. “Yarne learned how to transform—“

“Isn’t he a bit too young for that?”

“Ask Panne. Anyway, a group of hunters ran across them.”

“Oh, gods!” Chrom clapped a hand to his mouth, green tingeing his cheeks. “Oh, gods… oh, gods… oh, you poor little sweetheart.” He clutched the baby closer. “Thank goodness you and Ciel got to them in time! Um, but where is Ciel?”

The dragon sighed, tension flowing out of his body. “He’s with Panne, we came upon their cabin and she went with us to save Yarne. They’re cutting their retreat short and heading back.”

“Oh, dear,” the bluenette murmured. “I’m so sorry it was so horribly ruined… but thank the gods everyone’s safe.”

“Yeah.” Grima leaned in and booped Yarne’s nose. “But this is not happening again. I don’t think Yarne should be allowed out of the castle until he can control his transformations and learn how to defend himself.”

Chrom nodded. “That’s ultimately Panne and Virion’s decision, but I absolutely agree with you. Don’t want our favorite bun-bun running afoul of more nasty people!”

Yarne squealed as if in agreement.

If he were attracted to her, he’d say Tharja looked fabulous in normal Ylissean clothing. Which, she did, and she was attractive, but Grima did not want to get into a relationship with her, and anyway, this wasn’t a date, no matter how much Robin might think so if he saw them together. (He’d been lucky enough to sneak the two of them out unhindered while the tactician was occupied.) The two of them sat at a table in Grima’s favorite teashop, sipping iced tea on this rather warm summer day. The dark mage had her hair back in a ponytail, slim yellow sundress accentuating her curves and breasts in a subtly sexy manner. She nibbled on a bite of fruit tart, dark eyes riveted to the albino.

“So I want to make it clear that I’m not romantically interested in you—“

“I’d be a bit concerned if you were,” she cut him off.

“… That’s surprising, given your obsession with me and Robin. Why is that, anyway?”

Tharja sighed. “The other Shepherds would panic if they found out what I really think of you two. I dress it up in flirtation to make it less alarming.”

“Less alarming than what?”

“Potentially trying to kill you.”

The dragon blinked. “First of all, we need to talk about what qualifies as alarming, and secondly, why would you want to kill us?”

She leaned forward. “I think I know what—who—you are.”

“Tell me.”

“You’re,” she lowered her voice to an almost inaudible murmur, “you’re the Fell Dragon. You’re Grima, aren’t you.”

Well, bravo for her, he knew she’d catch on at some point. “I thought you might figure it out.”

She sucked in a breath. “Please don’t kill me.”

“What? No—Tharja—“ He facepalmed. “I’m not mad at you, I knew you were smart enough to put two and two together. I’m not gonna kill you, you’re my friend—“ He cut himself off. “Wait. You are my friend. I do feel that about you. Huh. Okay, then. Didn’t know I could feel that way towards anyone who isn’t Marth or Tiki or Emmeryn.”

“You’ve been with the Shepherds over a year and a half and you didn’t realize you were friends with them?” She quirked an eyebrow at him.

He huffed in mild annoyance. “Hey, give me a break! My last true friend lived over two thousand years ago!” He frowned. “Am I friends with all of them? Well, I don’t know if they’d consider me their friend—“

“You’ve basically been unofficially installed as the Shepherds’ grandfather and they trust you to take care of their children on a regular basis,” the ravenette pointed out. “Of course they call you friend.”

That… wow. Oh, that really warmed his heart, quite a tremendous amount. “I-I guess they’re all my friends then, too. I never really thought about having so many friends before.”

Tharja chuckled. “I have to admit, knowing who you are and seeing you around little children goes a long way towards softening your image.”

“… I feel like normally I should be offended by that, but I don’t think I care.”

She shook her head and took another bite of tart, smiling.

“So, um, about the whole killing me thing?”

“Ah, that.” She nailed him with a deep, soul-searching gaze. “What are your plans for our world? You were out to destroy it a millennium ago, should we be prepared for you to try to do so again? I mean, as much as I might worship you, I do so in the hope of justice, not annihilation.” She fiddled with her fork. “I was kind of excommunicated from the Grimleal because of that.”

Grima winced. “Heresy? Is that why were you fighting in the courtyard, as punishment?”

The woman shrugged. “A little bit of that, though I didn’t realize it at the time. I wanted to do something worthwhile, but getting tossed as wyvern fodder into battle was not what I had in mind.”

“I see. Well, you can rest easy knowing that the world is safe from my brand of destruction.” He leaned back in his chair, holding his chin in contemplation. “I’ve decided I want to rule the world instead, clean it up a bit. All the Shepherds are getting top-tier positions, by the way, so if you want to be a priestess under Chrom—“

“Under Chrom?” Her eyebrows went up. “What is he going to be, your Hierophant?”

“Higher. My High Priest.”

She gave a dry scoff. “So basically just a new and improved Hierophant, then.”

“Nah, he doesn’t have many responsibilities, I decided not to give him many seeing as he handled being Exalt pretty poorly. He’s really kind of just a figurehead who’s safe at the top.” He shrugged. “He could probably work as a healer and go around tending to people if he really wanted to. I’m kind of going to let him have free reign with the position, except nobody’s allowed to ask much of him unless their requests are genuine.”

Tharja laughed. “Here I think you can’t get anymore protective of him, and then you go and prove me wrong.”

“Try having a kid. You’ll understand.”

“Maybe I will.” She gave a small smile. “I finally figured out how I feel about Gaius, and… I think I want to stay with him.”

“Really?!” Grima grinned. “Wow, congratulations! Can I expect to hear the pitter-patter of little dark mage feet soon?”

The woman smirked. “If Gaius is teaching them, you won’t hear anything at all.” She chuckled. “He loves the kiddos, and I think we’d both like to raise our own.”

He laughed. “You have my best wishes—and my free time, if you ever need a babysitter.”

That got a delighted howl of laughter out of her. “The Fell Dragon, conqueror of daycare. I love it.” She wiped a tear out of her eye. “Thank you. For everything. I really appreciate it—and I’ll keep your secret.”

“You’re welcome. And thank you.”

All in all, the peacetime lasted over a good two years. And then, a messenger came from Regna Ferox with dire news.

“Raimi visited?” Dad asked as he entered the room where Chrom stood poring over the maps with Robin. “I saw her leaving just as I came in.”

The bluenette nodded. “Flavia wants us at a summit at the capital a few days from now. Apparently Valm made a move and launched warships on us. They’re heading for Ferox as we speak.” He sighed. “We’ve got to go as soon as we can, but… what about the children? I mean, we do have enough nursemaids to efficiently take care of all of them—Noire’s the only one breastfeeding—but, I don’t know, I don’t exactly want to leave them separated from their parents.” He bit his lip. “Umm… I know you said you had a business trip to Plegia soon, but…”

Smiling, the older man patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Chrom. I’ll stay as long as I can and teleport when I need to go.” His expression turned serious. “You be safe out there, okay? Tonight, I want to strengthen the pact-bond between the two of us so I can be by your side the moment you need me.”

“Well, we’re expecting to leave within two hours, so if you can squeeze it in during that timeframe, you should be good to go,” Robin spoke up.

“Two hours?!”

Chrom raised an eyebrow. “I did say as soon as we can.”

“… Okay, that’s fair.” He sighed. “I’ll see if I can have what I need ready before then. Chrom, you pack up and finish what you need to and meet me in my room, got it?”

The bluenette nodded. “Right. See you there.”

After thirty minutes, the young man had packed up and coordinated the nursery schedule with the nursemaids. He held little Lucina and kissed her on the forehead. “Daddy’ll be back, okay, sweetheart? I love you so, so much.” He clutched her to his chest and stood there for a few minutes, basking in his daughter’s presence. When Dad appeared at the doorway of the nursery, he handed the little girl off to one of the nursemaids and followed the albino into the hallway. They headed to the royal family’s quarters and entered the dragon’s room, where all of the curtains had been drawn, leaving the room dark. Dad picked up a cup off of the coffee table and led Chrom over to sit in the middle of the cleared floor.

“Drink this.” He handed the cup to the boy. “You’re going to feel some discomfort during the process, but nothing that could harm you.”

Chrom nodded. “Okay.” He took the cup and drank the concoction within in a single gulp. It tasted herbal and metallic, and he winced, putting his hand to his throat as it burned on the way down. The burning reached his heart and intensified, and he clutched at his chest. “Ohhh…”

“You all right?” Dad asked, concern evident in his eyes.

The bluenette hunched over, gasping at the sensation growing in his breast and spreading to his head. “Ugh… urk… nnnhh…” His vision swam as his heart pounded, the burning swelling in his head. The air around him felt cool, and he choked, shaking, mind blanking. A worried shout echoed through his senses before he slipped into darkness.

He floated in the black void on his side for what seemed like an eternity before he came to himself, pushing himself up on his hands. “Chrom?! Chrom, are you all right?! Can you hear me?”

“H-Huh?”

In front of him, six eyes glowed, the rest of the features of his father’s dragon form shrouded in shadow. “Chrom? Can you hear me? Can you answer me?”

“Dad?” Chrom whispered.

“Oh, thank goodness, I was worried there for a bit. Oh, is your memory intact? You took in quite a lot of power into yourself just now.”

“And amnesia is a side affect?” The boy frowned. “I wonder if something like this happened with Robin… Oh, but to answer your question, yes, it is.”

“Oh, good.” The dragon sighed in relief. “This should make it easier for me to find you—I’m not sure if it works the other way, but we could try experimenting with it. Our minds are connected now, so unless we have mental barriers in place we’ll be able to hear each other’s thoughts and sense each other’s feelings.”

“I-I see. Could, um, could you show me how to make a barrier?”

“Sure thing.” Between the six eyes, a shimmering black veil appeared and lingered for a minute, then vanished. “Think of our bond as a hallway, and visualize a door shutting on your end—“

Chrom concentrated, and a gleaming light blue veil materialized around him. Suddenly, it was just him in the void. He reached over and touched the veil, and it parted and drew back, showing his father’s form again. The dragon stared at him, shock and surprise and no small amount of pride flowing off of him.

“… How are you a complete natural at this?!”

The boy smiled. “I had the best teacher. And plenty of practice with our dreaming visits.”

“Yeah, that should do it,” Dad laughed.

“So how do I wake up? Wait, maybe I can figure this one out.” Chrom lay back on the nonexistent floor and fell backwards into what felt like water. He swam up, towards the light—

Chrom gasped and opened his eyes. He lay on his side on the floor, Dad hovering over him with his hand on the bluenette’s forehead. The albino breathed a sigh of relief and sat up, stroking his hair.

“How do you feel?”

The young man closed his eyes and opened them again. “It’s weird to have you in my head when I’m awake.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that, hang on a sec.” He shuddered as the older man pulled his barriers back up. “Better?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Okay, but I’m still gonna keep an eye on you when I can.” Dad gave him his hand and helped him up. The boy swayed a bit, feeling the rush of blood flowing from his head. “Good?”

“Yeah.”

The dragon wrapped his arms around him in a hug. “Stay safe, you hear me? I’ll get Robin to monitor your condition.”

“Okay.” He glanced at the door. “I should probably get going, I don’t want the others to leave without me.” The bluenette snuggled deeper into his father’s embrace. “I love you.”

“I love you too, little blueberry.”

Chapter Text

“Robin, please stop hovering.”

“Aww, come on, your dad told me to keep an eye on you!”

“Yes, I get that, but do you have to be so suffocating about it?”

“… Oops. Sorry.”

Chrom chuckled at his best friend’s antics. “I know you mean well, there’s just other ways to do well.”

“Oh, well, when you put it like that…”

The two companions walked side by side in the column, enjoying the warmth of their cloaks against the frosty Feroxi weather. Raimi was currently escorting the Shepherds to Arena Ferox, where they would meet with Khan Flavia about the threat. In front of them, Sumia and Olivia chatted on about this or that; behind them, Kellam was engaged in a conversation with Lon’qu. Up ahead, Frederick and Raimi kept a sharp eye out for threats.

“Ahhh, is good to be back in land of countrymen after much time!” Gregor came up behind the two mages and grabbed them in a bear hug. “Frosty air is—how do you say—bracing! Is making Gregor feel alive!”

Robin eyed the merc with a raised eyebrow. “You’re from Ferox, aren’t you, Gregor.”

“Is land of Gregor’s birth! Robin is not knowing this?” The redhead placed his hand on his heart. “Gregor is hurt, friend! After being in very many battles, Robin is not knowing Gregor like back of hand?”

Chrom covered his mouth to stifle a snort. Depends on which hand you’re talking about, he very deliberately did not say. What he did say was, “To be fair, Gregor, the rest of us have been pretty busy either training, running the halidom, or raising a family. Although, we do apologize for not interacting with you more.” He shook his head. “You’re our friend, and friends check up on each other more often.”

“Gregor is heartened by kind words! But, Gregor is thinking Little Chrom not worry so much. Gregor has been keeping with driving of brigands from villages! Gregor not need raising of family for keeping occupied.”

The bluenette blinked, nonplussed. “Okay, then, if you say so. Still, I can’t help but feel bit like I neglected you, at least on my end.”

“Gregor not think Little Chrom needing forgiveness, but, Gregor giving it so Little Chrom will be feeling better.”

“Ahaha, okay, thank you, Gregor.”

Needless to say, the young mage felt great relief when the Shepherds reached Arena Ferox. The group was ushered in, and Chrom, Robin, Lissa, and Frederick broke off to meet with the Khan. Flavia greeted them when they entered the throne room and Basilio, who was there as well, ushered a familiar steel-haired man in with a rose-haired woman following him.

“Virion! Flavia says you know about what’s going on?” The bluenette tapped his lips. “Is it because you have some standing there?”

The archer chuckled. “But of course, my dear prince! Long have I walked among you as the ‘archest of archers,’ but in truth, I am more than that! Prepare for my great unmasking—“

“Oh! You’re the duke of Rosanne, aren’t you?” Robin cut in.

Virion sputtered a bit, caught off-guard. “Robin! You stole my moment! No sense of dramatics! Erm, but how did you figure it out? Was I too obvious?” he wondered.

“Nah, you can thank Raven for tipping me off. Apparently he got intelligence about you while the former duke was ruling during his stay in Valm all those years ago.”

“… I see. Uncanny dragon,” the duke muttered under his breath.

Meanwhile the woman gave a kind smile to the younger mage. “I see you are already acquainted with milord Duke Albrecht Virion. I am his faithful retainer, Cherche L’Aile.” She curtsied. “It is an honor to finally meet you, your Highnesses. We’ve heard much about you back home.”

“The pleasure’s ours!” Lissa piped up. “It’s good to see Virion has somebody else to watch his back!” She faltered. “Erh, do you mind speaking on his behalf? I think that might speed things along.”

“I agree. Very well, then.” Cherche outlined the situation with Virion making helpful comments. Apparently someone by the name of Walhart the Conqueror had expanded the tiny nation of Valm into an empire stretching all over the continent of Valm, and Virion had come to get help on behalf of his people. Cherche had stayed behind to keep an eye on the situation until it was no longer safe for her to remain as well. According to the rosette, Walhart had set his sights on Archanea next, and his fleet would arrive in a matter of days.

“We’ve got to get all of Ferox’s ports bolstered in the meantime,” Robin mused. “Raven gave me a bunch of info since he won’t be coming with us, and he pointed out that the Valmese cavalry is one of the finest in the world.”

“So then we get fighters who are used to fighting mounted troops,” Basilio mused.

Flavia frowned. “Is Robin gonna be our only tactician this time around? What’s your old man doing, Chrom?”

“Babysitting. And doing business in Plegia,” the bluenette explained. “If we do need his help, my pact-bond with him is much stronger, so I can contact him and he’ll be at our side in a heartbeat. Hopefully.”

The blonde didn’t look too convinced, but she let it go. The group discussed traveling to Port Ferox to bunker down and beef up the harbor’s defenses, and then they retired for the night, ready to get a head start the next morning on their mission. As Chrom lay in bed with Olivia, he couldn’t help but wonder just where this new confrontation would take them.

Port Ferox was a bustling harbor town on the west coast of Ferox, known for its fur and lumber exports as well as its thriving business environment. It was also, as the Shepherds found when they arrived, under attack, the large warship flying Valmese colors a dead giveaway. Chrom frowned at the sight of the blustering paladin claiming the continent for Walhart and demanding both the citizens’ fealty and the Fire Emblem. Yeah, right, like I’d surrender that to you after my sister entrusted it to me. Though he’d left the powerful shield back at the castle upon his father’s request, he still felt some measure of responsibility over the artifact. One of the townspeople had come aboard the ship and, though the bluenette was too far away to hear what was going on, seemed to challenge the paladin, or at least beg for mercy. Then the Valmese man swung his lance and stabbed the Feroxi through the heart! Chrom gasped. “No!”

Robin’s face looked grim as he prepared Umbra, and Lissa called out, “These guys aren’t gonna listen to reason! Everyone, prepare to engage in combat!”

“Lissa, are you certain?” Frederick asked. “Another war—“

“Will leave us devastated if we don’t cut the Valmese off first,” the tactician interrupted. “Frederick, it’s our duty to protect our people and our allies. Do you really want to see Emmeryn and Peter suffer under the weight of an oppressive reign?”

“… Your words are blunt, but true,” the king-consort admitted. “Very well, then, let us deal with these invaders with all haste!”

“Let me come as well!”

A flap of wings overhead revealed Cherche on top of a black wyvern, and Chrom caught the platinum-head grinning out of the corner of his eye. “This might not be my land, but it is my cause, and I wish to fight for it! Besides,” she patted the scaly mount, “my dear Minerva is dying for a bite of the action as well!”

Robin smirked. “All right, then, sure thing! Everyone, into your usual pairs! Lon’qu, you’re with Cherche this time around!” The myrmidon paled, but acquiesced and got on behind the Rosannean. “Stay sharp, keep each other’s back covered, and above all, be careful! These guys are tough, and I’m not gonna have anyone die on me today!”

The Shepherds took off and stormed down the streets. Chrom swung up behind Olivia on her pegasus, Avalon, and the husband-and-wife team took to the skies, blasting spells left and right. The pinkette princess clutched her Thunder tome and sent a chain of lightning through an alley crowded with cavaliers; the bluenette followed up with a concentrated Umbra, knocking the Valmese soldiers flat. Over in the next alley, the mage-healer spotted a very vibrant flash of red. Huh? As he peered closer, the red resolved itself into red hair, tied up in a ponytail, dashing down the cobblestone. “Olivia, over here!”

“Right!”

The princess steered Avalon towards the alley, and Chrom made out one enemy cavalier, two swordsmen, and a mage chasing down an intimately familiar redhead. “Anna?! What are you doing here?!”

“Chrom, is that you?!” The woman ducked a fireball from the mage and kept running. “I could use a little help right about now!”

“Got it! Olivia?”

“Ready!” Together the two unleashed a volley on the four Valmese, leaving the alley smoking and the soldiers down. Anna whirled around and batted another cavalier’s axe away, grabbing onto the reigns and taking a stab at her opponent. The man bashed his axe into her side, and she went flying, smacking into a nearby building and falling to the ground in a heap. Olivia nailed the cavalier with another Thunder bolt as Chrom leapt off and ran for the downed redhead. Gathering healing energy into his hands, he placed them on her shoulders and directed it to spread all throughout her body. In a minute or two, she was conscious and uninjured. The woman stared at him, first his hands, then his face, shock melting into awe and recognition.

“Dang, did you get like a power-up or something while I was trekking around doing business?” she murmured. “Because no mage I’ve ever come across can do that.”

The bluenette laughed. “Long story short, two blood pacts and super-wide mana channels.”

“That sounds like quite the story. Do you mind sharing the rest when we’re done here?”

“Ooh, I don’t know, do you want to join the Shepherds first?”

She smirked. “Hmm, depends. How well do they pay?”

“Oh, I was thinking more along the lines of you becoming our one-and-only supplier,” the prince wheedled. “I give you a steady job and my story, you fight on our behalf alongside the rest of us. How does that sound?”

“Oh-hoh-hoh! You drive a hard bargain, mister.” She put out her hand, and he shook it. “Deal. Is there anybody else here I should recognize?”

He grinned. “Do the names Kell and Tia mean anything still?”

“Chrom, I’m hurt!” Anna put her hand to her chest, a look of fake shock plastered on her face. “How should I forget the companions I supplied back in the day?!”

Chrom laughed. “I take that to mean ‘yes, they still do.’” He got up and pulled her up by the hand. “Our tactician, Robin, will know where to implement you best, though he’ll probably have you pair up with Frederick, who is on his own at the moment.” The bluenette pointed out the brown-haired knight smashing through a contingent over in the town square.

The merchant whistled. “Wow, what a hunk! Is he available?” she asked, eyes glittering.

“Nope, sorry, he’s happily married to my sister.”

“… Sister?!”

“Like I said, long story.”

She narrowed his eyes at him. “This better be a darn good story or you’re fired,” she remarked, pointing at him before rushing off to join the knight.

Olivia laughed as she lowered Avalon enough for the bluenette to clamber back on. “She sure seems like a character. You positive that was the one you grew up with?”

“She wouldn’t have addressed me by name otherwise,” he pointed out, twisting around to fire at a nearby lancer, “and besides, she recognized the nicknames Kellam and Cordelia used back when we were all growing up together.”

“So… what, is she a Shepherd now?” the pinkette asked, dodging them around a sniper. Chrom took him out with a carefully timed shot.

“Yeah, I hired her to be our supplier.”

“Oh, thank gods!” she breathed. “Finally we have quality equipment at our disposal!”

He rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t that bad before.”

“May I remind you that Frederick keeps going through lances like toothpicks and Miriel keeps hoarding way too many tomes?”

“… Touché.”

Up ahead, the boy spotted Robin and Sumia charging at the paladin on the warship. The paladin ducked, but the grandmaster tossed a ball of Thoron underhand and electrocuted the man’s mount, sending it toppling over onto the deck. When the paladin made to get up, Sumia skewered him through the throat with a well-aimed throw of her javelin. The Valmese man fell, gurgling his last breath.

Chrom looked out over the town, heart plummeting at the sight of bodies strewn all over the streets, cracks in the walls of many buildings, and little fires burning here and there.

How much worse will it be when the real invasion force arrives?

When Robin suggested going to Plegia for help, Lissa had immediately refused, then relented when the others showed there was no other way out. By now, everyone had set up camp and were cleaning up around the port town. Chrom could only hope that the messenger to the desert country’s new king would return swiftly. Hmm, speaking of the new king… I wonder who took Mustafa’s place? Last I heard from Father, he’d fallen ill and couldn’t continue to rule. Does that mean Aversa is in charge? We never saw her during the battle back at the Border Wastes, so does that mean she escaped?

He closed his eyes, peeling back his mental veil and tapping on his father’s. Soon, he felt the dragon respond. “Chrom? Something wrong?”

Oh, um, not exactly wrong, per se, just… well, the Valmese were pretty difficult to repel, and we’re going to try catching the invasion force at sea. But we need ships and Plegia has them, and we have to negotiate with the new king.

“Yeah, he suspected as much. We’ve got a whole armada ready to go, in fact.”

Oh. Wow, that was fast.

“I’ve been preparing for Valm to make their move for a while now. Helps to have a tactical advantage.”

I see. Um… Dad, who is the new king of Plegia?

Dad gave a big wince. “You’re… you’re not going to like who it is, if you were there to stop Emmeryn’s assassination. But I kind of had no better choice! Mustafa’s out, and Aversa was frankly pathetic and directionless.”

Then who...?

The older man sighed, as if preparing himself for the inevitable. “Don’t be mad… it’s Validar.”

…

… What?!

Chrom blinked in shock and no small amount of horror. You got him on the throne—Dad, he tried to kill Emm!

“I know! I know! And trust me, I’d rather not have him in the position, but he’s our best bet! Nobody else was stepping up!”

Dad, it’s still a bad idea!

“Look, I put restrictions on him, okay? I swear to you, he will not hurt you. Besides, I’ll be at the meet-up so he can’t do anything foolish.

… Oh. Okay…? In what capacity?

“I took over the Grimleal. I’m their new Hierophant.”

… I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned.

“Oh, come on, I’ve been cleaning it up from the inside! Do you have any idea how much heresy they put forth that I don’t agree with? That Grima himself wouldn’t agree with? It’s insane!”

The bluenette crossed his arms and pinched the bridge of his nose. Dad, I really, really hope for all our sakes that you know what you’re doing.

“Trust me. I do. I’ve got a plan, okay? Nobody’s going to die.” He paused, then added, “Except for Walhart.”

That’s fair. Okay. I trust you. Just be careful, okay?

The dragon snorted. “I should be saying that to you, little blueberry.”

Heh. Thanks, Dad.

“Oh, and if you absolutely have to go to Valm, please steer clear of a guy by the name of Excellus. He’s Grimleal but disgusting, and part of the reason I wanted you to keep your Brand concealed when we were there was so he wouldn’t get wind of you. Stay away from him, got it?”

Can’t make any promises, but I’ll do my best.

“That’s good enough for me.” The dragon withdrew with a gentle mental pat to the head, and Chrom closed the veil around his mind, alone in his head once more.

“CHRO—“

“Ow! Robin! What in Naga’s name—“

“You weren’t responding,” the tactician explained. “You just kinda sat there zoning out.”

“Oh. Oops. I was contacting my dad.” Chrom rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. The platinum-haired mage’s eyed widened.

“You can do that with your pact-bond?! That’s so cool!” He rubbed his hands together. “Think of all the ways you two could be even deadlier on the battlefield!”

Basilio and Flavia shared a look before directing their gazes towards the bluenette. “You can communicate with him using your blood pact?” the brown-skinned man asked. “What exactly did he say?”

“Basically that Plegia is willing to lend us their armada. And that… Validar is the new king.”

“What?!” Robin squawked. “But we killed him! He should be dead!”

Chrom furrowed his brow. “Maybe he teleported—“

“No, Chrom. No one could’ve escaped that blast, you saw what happened! He. Should. Be. Dead. And why him?! He tried to kill your sister!”

“I know, I know! He didn’t have any other option!” The bluenette sighed. “I guess it’s because he’ll be easier to control? I mean, he won’t be able to do anything stupid thanks to Dad, so… I guess we have that to be grateful for.”

Flavia shook her head. “I’ve got no idea what your dad’s been up to, kiddo, but he’s saved our lives before, so I trust him. Just hope he knows what he’s doing,” she muttered.

“You wouldn’t be the first,” Chrom murmured.

The castle on Carrion Isle carried a gloomy vibe with the darkened halls lit by only a few sconces, the blood-red carpet laid out on the floor, and the chill desert air seeping in with the occasional draft. Chrom shivered and flipped up the collar on his enchanted coat, relaxing with the warmth the bespelled cloth put out. Next to him, Robin shifted his feet, and in front of them, Frederick stood, his wary eyes darting about. Down the hall sauntered a figure towards them, torchlight glinting off their silvery hair. The woman stopped before them and bowed, and the bluenette recognized her as Aversa.

“Greetings, King Frederick.” Her eyes roved over the little group and widened when they landed on the mage-healer. “And Prince Chrom. What a… pleasant surprise.” She recovered her composure with a small, fake smile. “Plegia welcomes you here.”

“Lady Aversa.” Frederick gave her a polite nod. “Are we to presume you serve the new king, Validar?”

“I do indeed.”

“I see. And you are, as I understand it, both Grimleal?” There was a note of curiosity in the king-consort’s tone. “There are a couple of our Shepherds who practice such a faith—or at least, have practiced,” he amended. “As such, I would wish to enter these talks with understanding and fairness.”

The advisor grinned. “My, my. How considerate of you. Perhaps my liege will be more susceptible to giving what you need, in that case. Oh, here he is now.”

As the Plegian king strode towards them, Chrom made out the man’s familiar sharp features and bit his lip. Though the failed assassination had occurred over two years ago, he hadn’t forgotten the face of his older sister’s would-be murderer. Validar reached them and gave a nod to them. “It is an honor to finally meet with you, sires. I am Validar, the current king-regnant of Plegia.”

Frederick’s eyes narrowed, but he kept his face smooth. “The pleasure is ours, your Highness. Pray tell, have we met before? I seem to recall your face.”

… Wait, had he not alerted Frederick? Oh dear, that was a huge oversight on his part. The bluenette caught his brother-in-law’s eye and blinked once. Later. The knight gave no indication that he’d seen the prince’s signal, but he did relax a bit. Good, he’s gotten the message. Validar apparently didn’t remember the assassination, but either his memory was wiped a bit, which seemed more likely, or he was pretending to have forgotten, which, while plausible, was probably less likely. Chrom didn’t put it past his father to have meddled with the man’s mind; perhaps that was what was keeping him on the dragon’s leash.

“… And you must be Prince Robin,” the Plegian king addressed the tactician. “The world is in awe of Ylisse’s tactician grandmaster!” He leaned forward. “Truly, the wisdom in your eyes is astonishing for one so young!”

Robin waved it off. “You flatter me, sire, I’m just here to make sure these two don’t get killed via recklessness or stupidity.”

Validar laughed. “Curious, indeed. And am I to assume this is Prince Chrom?” His aquiline gaze locked on to the bluenette, which the youth returned with full force. “Goodness, when we had heard that Ylisse had regained her lost prince, it was a joyous occasion indeed! I apologize for not congratulating you directly, young sire. Although, rumors say you were trained by a Plegian mage and are familiar with our dark arts. Is that so?”

The mage-healer gave him a shy smile. “It is. My foster father raised me to wield dark magic since I was very little.”

“Well, now! But that must be incredibly difficult doing so in a land where dark magic is looked down upon.”

“Oh, no, not at all!” Chrom gave a sheepish laugh. “Everyone treats me about the same. Your concern is heartening, though, thank you.”

The king nodded, a smirk on his lips. “You are welcome, young sire. Now, shall we begin?”

“Plegia is unable to offer any troops at this time,” Aversa spoke up, “but we do have eight hundred warships and two hundred transports to provide to you. We would also be honored if you would allow us to fully fund the campaign against Valm.”

Robin blinked. “Wow. That… are you sure? It’s not going to cause too much strain on the economy if you do?”

Validar shook his head, chuckling. “No, of course not, though your concern is appreciated. I’m afraid our army is still in tatters after the last war, otherwise I would provide troops as well.”

“It’s all right,” the bluenette assuaged. “I’m not too keen on asking your people to fight another war so soon anyway.” He glanced at the others. “Is there anything else to add?”

“That is all. I trust our provision will suffice as a sign of our commitment to the war efforts?”

Frederick nodded. “It is indeed, more than enough. We thank you for your generosity, King Validar. Will there be anything else, or should we get on our way? Our forces are waiting for us at Port Ferox.”

“Leaving so soon?” Aversa asked. “But there is one more introduction I wanted to make.”

“And who might that be, milady?”

“Our new hierophant, the highest rank in the Grimleal and the leader of our order.” The dark flier smirked as a third figure came down the hall and joined them. Chrom stared at the sight of the old familiar coat, free of the illusion it had worn for fifteen years, then up into his favorite pair of red eyes, hidden by the shadow cast by the hood. He broke out into a grin.

“Hi, Dad!”

“Dad?!” the Plegians squawked. The older albino pouted and pulled his hood off, revealing his usual messy head of white hair.

“Aww, come on, I had this grand dramatic entrance all figured out! I was gonna come up and be all ‘you thought it was someone else, but it was me, Raven!’ and you had to go and spoil it.”

The bluenette mage laughed. “You did tell me you made hierophant.”

“… Fair enough, little blueberry.”

Robin chuckled, fighting back howls of laughter at the expressions on the king’s and advisor’s faces. Validar looked as if he was about to have a stroke, and Aversa appeared as if her mind was attempting and failing to reboot. Dad glanced at them and then turned his face away, but Chrom caught him biting his lip and trying to suppress a huge, smarmy grin. Frederick wore his most innocent “why, whatever do you mean, of course I’m not involved” expression.

“Do… Do you mean to say… that our hierophant… was the one to teach you?” Validar asked in a weak voice.

“Indeed, we are grateful to Raven for protecting and raising our prince during the time of his disappearance,” the knight answered. “It was he who mentored Chrom in the ways of magic and taught him everything he knows. He is an ally, and a good friend.”

“… I see you are already acquainted with each other,” Aversa murmured faintly. “But, um… we were under the impression that his name was Robin, not Raven.”

The brown-eyed grandmaster laughed. “Oh, yeah, classic mistake. People get us switched up all the time. Don’t worry, you’re not the first!”

Validar’s left eye twitched, and he gaped like a fish.

“If there is nothing else we need to attend to, we will be on our way. Again, a pleasure meeting you, sire.” Frederick bowed, and the two mages followed suit. Dad, the only one in a working state of mind, bowed back.

“Be careful on your way back, the highroads can get a bit nasty this time of year!” the dragon called out to them as they left.

“Sure thing, Dad! See you later!”

Once they got out of the castle, Robin doubled over, cackling like crazy. “Did—hahaha—did you see—haha—th-their faces! Hahahahaha! S-So—hahaha—darned—ha—priceless! Hahaha!”

Chrom let his own giggles spill out. “What were they trying to do anyway, a power play or something? Unsettle us?”

Frederick’s lips twitched. “I believe they were attempting to unbalance us by introducing Raven, who as we know is the near-perfect image of Robin, but I do not think they took into account the fact that Raven is already one of us.” A small smirk manifested on the king-consort’s face. “It appears we turned the tables on them and they came away the ones unbalanced.”

“Still—hahaha—‘Hi, Dad?’” The older mage cackled again. “Way to go, Chrom, way to go.”

The bluenette grinned. “You’re welcome. I had to.”

“I applaud you.” The tactician stood up straight. “Ah, gods, I haven’t laughed that hard in a while. Okay, let’s get back to camp. The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

“Agreed.”

“Right behind you.”

“Can’t sleep. Ugh! Why, brain? Why now?”

“Robin…”

“Huh? Who’s there?”

“Heed me, Robin…”

“Maybe you, I don’t know, show yourself first? … Aaaaaand nothing. Am I hearing voices? Or… wait, hold on a second… I wonder…”

“Heed my call, Robin!”

“Yeah, that’s definitely in my—Hrggh! Ack! Ow! My head!” Pain in his skull. A dark figure in front of him.

“Why do you close your heart to him, Robin?”

“Ne—nngh—Validar?! What are you—?!”

“Have you truly forgotten?”

“You’re the o-one—agh! Get out!”

“Heheheh… Such arrogance! You dare take such a tone… with your own father?!”

“Like hell you are! Get! Out! Augh… Raven! Raven, help! Get him out!”

“How dare you—?!” The dark figure disappearing. The pain gone.

“Little blueberry?!”

Chrom gasped awake, lying on his bedroll in a cold sweat. The connection between his father and himself shuttered close, but another one—was that…? Robin? The bluenette ripped off his blanket with trembling fingers and got up, swaying and stumbling out of the tent he shared with Olivia. He dashed into the forest, following the thread of the latent connection, and found his white-haired friend bent over, clutching his head.

“Ro… Robin?”

“Chrom?!” The albino stood up, shaky and pale. “W-What-What are you doing here?! W-Was I shouting?”

“N-No, no, not that.” Sucking the cool night air into his lungs, the younger mage gulped. “I-I had a… a nightmare… something about Validar trying to contact you? And he said he was your father or something?”

Robin gazed wide-eyed at him. “You witnessed that?! In your dream?!” His eyebrows went up. “Chrom, the blood pact! That must be how—I figured out that Raven could get him out of my head if I had the blood pact with him. But, wait. Does that mean Validar somehow has one too?”

“It must be like the Exalted family’s pact with Naga,” Chrom breathed. “If… If he is as he says, and he’s your father, perhaps…”

“You think I inherited it through his line,” the tactician mused. “But how can we know for certain that he was telling the truth? Although—wait, I remember! He was giving me ‘I recognize you’ eyes of the creepy variety the night he went to assassinate Emmeryn! Of course! But—ugh!”

“Disown him, then.”

Robin gave him a flat look. “Oh, yeah, like that’s so easy to do. At least you didn’t have your birth father invading your mind!”

Chrom shrugged. “I can teach you how to put up a barrier so he can’t use the blood pact to reach you.”

“Wait, really?”

The boy nodded, giving his friend a sympathetic smile. “Of course. I’d be happy to help.” He clasped the older boy’s hands in his own. “Listen, Robin, I know exactly what this feels like. Do you know how shocked and horrified I was when I learned my biological father was the Exalt?” He squeezed his hands. “No matter what, just remember: you are yourself, before anyone or anything else.”

“… Right. You’re right.” Robin gave him a weak smile. “Thank you, Chrom, I needed that.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I am now.”

“Chrom!”

The two turned to find Olivia racing towards them. “Risen ambush! They’re all around the camp!”

The mages looked at each other and nodded. “Let’s go! You lead the way, Livvie!”

As the three made their way back, Chrom’s heart pounded in his chest and throat. I thought we posted sentries, how did this happen?! Are they becoming more intelligent?! Did Validar send them after us?! He swallowed down the rising bile. The past two years had ensured he hadn’t seen any more Risen in action, but even so, he couldn’t be more grateful that he’d had his father teach most of the spells in his spellbook. All they had to do was find the summoner, and the bluenette could cut the undead troops from that mage’s grasp. His resolve strengthened. Okay. I can do this. I will do this!

The three reached the camp, and Robin barked out orders to the rest of the Shepherds. As if reading the younger mage’s mind (which, considering what had just transpired, he probably was), he directed them to fend off the Risen while Chrom searched for the summoner. Overhead, a murder of crows flew about before descending on the group. A few people squawked and flailed, trying to get the birds out of their space, and Ricken cast a gentle wind at the flock.

“Caw caw! Hey, you guys lost? Or just a lost caws? Hahah!”

“HENRY, YOU STUPID TWAT, GET YOUR SKINNY LITTLE BUTT OVER HERE!” Tharja roared. “And call off your birds! They’re making a mess!”

The crows parted to reveal a white-haired boy in Plegian dark mage attire, smiling a close-eyed grin. “What’s the matter? Cawstrophobic? Nyahahah!”

“Oh great, we’ve got a punster on our hands,” Robin groaned. “You gonna help us out or get outta the way?”

The boy grinned. “Oh, I’m just here to deliver a message! The ravens say ‘Caw caw… c-caw.’ Now what are the human words for that again? Traipse? Tripe?” He tapped his cheek, then pointed his finger in the air. “Oh, right! Trapped! They say you’re trapped.”

“You don’t say,” Chrom snarked. “Do you know who they came from, or…”

“Well, when a mommy zombie and a daddy zombie—“

“That’s not what I asked,” the bluenette cut in. “Do you know who summoned them, or are you actually the one who did so?”

The dark mage put his hand on his heart. “Aww, I’m shocked! I just wanna help out your caws! Is that so hard to believe?”

Chrom glanced at Robin, who shrugged, nonplussed. “If you want to help us deal with these guys, pair up with Anna,” he nodded to the redhead. “Chrom, everyone, continue with our original plan!” The others nodded and dashed off, the dark mage boy running beside the merchant. Tharja rolled her eyes as she and Gaius raced toward the edge of the camp.

As Chrom and Olivia took to the skies, the bluenette surveyed the battlefield and shuddered. Unlike the Risen they’d dealt with before, these ones seemed much more organized and even a bit coherent. Their summoner was nowhere to be found, so he and the pink-haired dark flier began attacking in quick strikes. Their actions carried them towards the Risen chief, and the two soared over the undead fighter on Avalon, bombarding the zombie with spells. After what felt like hours, the battlefield was finally clear. The two landed on the bridge the chief had been standing, and Chrom dismounted, glancing about.

“I… I think that’s the last of them,” he said. “Can’t be too sure—“

“Look out!”

The boy whipped around as a Risen assassin manifested just behind him and streaked over, right on top of him—!

“Father, no!”

Slice! Thud!

Chrom trembled, bringing his hands down just a bit—he’d thrown them up to cover himself or cast Umbra—and found a familiar blue-haired swordswoman standing over the dissipating body of the corpse. She turned to him and breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank the gods you’re safe!”

He blinked and pointed at her. “You—I—‘father?!’” Suddenly it all made sense, too much sense. Of course! He’d ruled out her being his older sister when he’d found out he was the missing prince, but he was still positive she was from the future, and therefore…!

Her eyes widened, and she balked. “Did I? I…” Then her expression filled with resignation. “… Perhaps we might speak privately?”

He nodded. “Lead the way.”

As the sun rose, the two found themselves in the forest near the camp. The woman shook her head. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

He shrugged. “Take your time, I guess… unless there are still things you can’t reveal?”

“Thank you, but… I think I would prefer you know the truth. Here… Look closely, and all will be made clear.”

She stepped forward, striding past him, then turned her head to face him, longing clear in her eyes. Her blue eyes. Her clear blue right eye… and her Branded blue left eye. His breath caught in his throat, and his heart leapt. It… it is her! I know it! Only one other person alive has the Brand in the same place!

“Lucina!”

His gaze traveled down to the Falchion sheathed at her hip, and a wave of sorrow overcame him. What on earth could have happened that would force his own daughter to wield the divine blade? What had happened to Owain, who it had been decided would inherit the sword? He met her eyes again. “Luci, whatever happened… you deserved better. I… I’m so sorry.”

Tears welled up in the princess’s eyes. She gave a sob and sniffle, the tears spilling out onto her cheeks. Chrom felt a pang in his heart, and he reached up, wiping the shimmering trails away. She looked at him and rushed into his arms. “Oh, Father!” He held her as she wept, his own tears dripping down into her hair, cradling her head to his breast. “Father…”

“Shhh, I’m here, Luci, I’m here.”

After a minute or two, she disengaged, wiping her streaked face. “…”

“You okay now?”

She nodded. “Yes. Father… I’m sorry. It just all rushed back at once.”

“There’s no need to be sorry. It’s all right to let it out every now and then.” He smiled at her.

Lucina fidgeted with her cuff. “Should I call you something else?”

“Huh?! What—no, no, it’s fine! You can call me that all you like! You probably need it… and I do like the sound of it, to be honest.”

She grinned. “… Father! Heh heh…”

“Chrom? Marth? Is everything all right?” The two turned to find Olivia walking into the clearing, a concerned look on her face. “What’s going on?” She must’ve seen the tear tracks on both their faces, because she frowned. “Why are you two crying? Has something happened?!”

Chrom waved his hands in a placating manner. “It’s fine! We’re all right. Luci, should we tell her?”

“Of course,” the princess replied.

The pinkette scanned the both of them, eyebrow raised. “Luci?” She blinked, then gasped, gaze landing on the bluenette mage. “Is she… you figured out who she is?!”

Lucina nodded. “It’s true, Olivia. Please, look closely. Prove it with your own eyes by looking into mine.”

Olivia smiled, shaking her head. “I don’t have to. You’re clearly our daughter—although, you didn’t inherit your height from your father!” she teased.

“Hey!” Chrom pouted, and his wife chuckled.

Lucina glanced between them, uncertainty in her eyes. “Your baby is right where you left her, and perfectly safe.” Her expression grew firm. “I am her from another time. From a time that is yet to be.”

“See?” The mage grinned. “Told you she was from the future.”

“Yes, more than ten years hence,” the girl clarified. “After history takes a dark and most destructive turn…” Her eyes went glassy for a bit, likely lost in memory. When the husband and wife continued looking at her, she frowned and elaborated, “The Fell Dragon, Grima, is resurrected.” She sighed. “His roar is a death knell for man, a scream that silences all hope… Death everywhere…” She shuddered.

Chrom gulped. “That’s what happens? We all… we all die?”

“… Yes.”

Olivia’s expression saddened, and the bluenette prince’s shoulders drooped. “I… I had hoped that was not the case… You know, I do believe you.” He gestured to her sword. “There’s only one Falchion in the world, but surely both the present and future versions of it can exist in the same point in the timestream.”

Lucina nodded. “Your blade and mine are one, Father. It was… It was all I had left of you.”

Baffled, the mage-healer frowned. “Falchion isn’t my blade, though I can wield it. Was the future really so terrible that I needed to take it up?”

The younger (or was it older?) princess opened her mouth in confusion, when a familiar voice called out, “See, Chrom, I told you you needed to practice it!” Lissa entered the clearing with the present Falchion strapped to her hip, grinning. She grabbed her niece in a side hug. “Your daughter knows better than you, apparently.”

“Thank you, Aunt Lissa.” Lucina looked perplexed, but carried on with her explanation. “Naga, the Divine Dragon, feared mankind would face Grima again. In preparation for that day, she devised a ritual. It allows one to return to the past and alter events already written.” She glanced at the ground. “I made the journey together with others, but… we became separated.”

Chrom smiled at her. “Don’t worry, Luci. We’ll find them, okay?”

Olivia grabbed her in a hug as well. “Isn’t she just darling, Chrom? Our daughter! Our daughter!”

“Yes, Olivia. Your daughter.” Lucina snuggled into her mother’s arms a bit. “Thank you… milady.”

“What?!” The pinkette pulled back. “No, no, none of this stranger nonsense! Call me Mother! Please?”

“I… thought you might mind.”

“Oh, sweetheart, never. You can always call me that, all right?”

The future princess sniffed. “Oh, Mother… Mother… Oh, I’ve missed you more than you’ll ever know…”

Chrom wrapped his arms around the both of them. “It’s all right, Lucina. We’re both here, now, with you. And we love you, so very, very much.”

Arriving back at Port Ferox was like a breath of fresh, cool, wintry air, and Chrom was happy to be out of the desert country once again. He’d introduced Lucina to the Shepherds the day after the Risen ambush, and while most were skeptical of her claim, Robin just laughed and immediately accepted it as truth—of course, he’d been privy to the younger mage’s musings on her identity. Frederick had suggested that the future princess try to wield Lissa’s Falchion, which ended up convincing everyone else of her story. Henry also came along, and Chrom was surprised to find him and Anna getting on like a house on fire, which was both heartening and concerning all at once. Nonetheless, he was happy to spend time with his daughter and learn more about her. Admittedly, he hadn’t learned much yet, only a couple pieces of trivia (she was a noisy sleeper, hated mornings, and loved sparring), but he felt that with time, he would grow closer to her.

“So, Father?” Her voice broke through his thoughts. “I’ve been wondering this ever since I met you in this timeline, but… why don’t you wield Falchion? You said that you can, so why don’t you?”

He shrugged as they walked through the streets. “I never learned to be that proficient with a sword, and at the time, Lissa was really the only choice for it.” He shuddered, remembering that one day during the war. “The first time I wielded it, I kind of had a delayed freakout. It still bothers me, to be honest. Besides, she does just fine with it, I don’t see why I have to pick it up.”

“… I don’t understand. Why was she the only choice?” The princess frowned. “I know Aunt Emmeryn never wished to wield it, but I didn’t think Aunt Lissa was capable of doing so either.”

Chrom laughed. “Oh, no, she is, very much so. Didn’t she teach you?”

“No, Father. You did.”

The boy blinked, shocked. “But… I-I couldn’t have! W-What happened to Lissa and Owain that I had to teach you?!”

“Nothing happened.” Now she looked confused. “Aunt Lissa never used Falchion in my time.”

… Okay, that… that was frankly unthinkable, to be honest. Why would Lissa never wield it?! Who else could have possibly done so?! “D-Did I at least teach you magic? Please tell me I did, or else I’m a complete and utter failure of a father.”

“Father, you never even learned magic.”

He stopped and stared at her, trying to comprehend what she’d just said. “Never… learned… b-but that’s…! That can’t be right, magic is my life! How could I have never learned magic in your future?!”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t even know how it is possible for you to do so now. What… how is this possible? I know I’m in the right timeline, but… why are you not quite the same?”

“Chrom?”

The prince glanced at Frederick, who was ushering them towards Basilio and Flavia’s camp. “Is everything all right? The Khans wish to meet with us immediately.”

“Um, okay. We’ll be right there. Come on, Luce.” He followed his brother-in-law, head spinning from the information he’d learned. The Shepherds broke off, Lissa leading them to their own camp, with Robin joining the three. They headed towards the Khans’ tent, where the two leading Feroxi stood speaking to a young blonde man in white and light blue troubadour clothing atop a brown horse and a black-haired youth sitting atop a black pegasus. For some reason, the blonde wore a white mask covering his eyes and left cheek. The ravenette wore a familiar black tactician’s coat adorned with purple and gold.

“Are you positive, Jagen?” the West Khan was saying. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, we love what you’ve been doing here, but are you sure you want to help us take on Valm?”

The troubadour nodded. “I am absolutely certain I must, sire. My companion and I feel it necessary to aid you in your efforts, and I believe it is possible to locate the people we are searching for on that continent.”

“Besides, if we don’t find them there, at least we can say we tried!” the pegasus boy chirped.

Flavia shrugged. “They have a point, oaf.”

“Yeah, I’m aware. Oh hey, you guys are back!” Basilio said to the approaching four. “Okay, so here’s what I’m gonna do. You two can stick with these guys—they’re part of the Shepherds—and Robin here can figure out how to keep you alive and use your skills. Robin, Frederick, Chrom, this is Jagen and his pal Linde.” Jagen’s lips tightened. “Marth, long time no see! You coming with us?”

“I am,” she affirmed, “though I must admit, my name is not Marth. We should explain here, while there is time.”

Chrom nodded, snapping out of his daze. “She’s right. Frederick?” The knight didn’t respond. The bluenette boy glanced at his brother-in-law and found him staring at Jagen, then glanced at Jagen and—to his surprise—noticed a single strand of brown hair amidst the wavy blonde. And the mask was covering his left cheek… He looked back at the brunette, whose mind was clearly coming to the same conclusion he had.

“… Peter?”

“Jagen’s” eyes widened, and “Linde” snickered. “Wow, dang, he figured it out right away. Figures, your dad was one of the sharpest in the bunch. And hey, Luci’s here! So I guess it’s okay to reveal ourselves!”

The blonde took off his mask, and Frederick’s eyes zeroed in to the Brand of the Exalt showing on his cheek. “It… It is you,” the older man breathed. “Just as Lucina has come from the future…!”

“Father!” The young man, Peter, dismounted and ran towards his father. The knight met him halfway in a tight, fierce hug, and Chrom and Robin grinned at the sight. “Oh, Father… I was so worried, I was afraid we’d gotten lost, but we made it here, a-and you’re here, and,” he sniffled, “I missed you so much!”

“Peter, it’s all right. I’m here, you’re safe.”

“I-Is Mother back at the capital?”

Frederick chuckled. “Of course she is. You know she has so many duties to take care of.”

“… Is that my old tactician’s coat?”

Everyone turned to Robin, who stood pointing at “Linde’s” coat with a perplexed expression. The boy grinned, and Peter sighed. “Did your illusion come off again?”

“It was on purpose this time,” the ravenette shot back. “And to answer your question, yes, it is! Just from my timeline. I didn’t steal it.”

The platinum-haired mage broke into a wide grin. “Morgan! It is you, buddy! I almost didn’t recognize you through the hair dye!”

“Hi, Dad!” Morgan leapt off his mount and ran over to his father, who swept him up in a hug as well. “Man, I’ve been hoping and waiting for this day for so long! D’you have any idea how long two years is? Too long, in my opinion!”

“You’ve been here for two years, like Lucina?” Robin disengaged from the hug and frowned. “Where’s your sister?”

The boy shrugged, frowning. “Not a clue. We’ve searched all over, and we haven’t found her. She’s probably in Valm, like most of our friends.” He cocked his head in thought. “I hope she’s been here as long as I have, that would be weird not to be twins anymore. Hi, Uncle Chrom!” He waved to the mage-healer, who chuckled and waved back.

Peter left his father’s embrace and gave Chrom a hug too. “It is good to see you, Uncle Chrom.”

“You too, kiddo! Wow, you look so much like your dad… but also so much like your mom! A perfect blend of the two, I think!”

“Ahem.”

The men and princess looked at Basilio, who eyed all of them and pointed to his tent. “I think we’d all like some answers, if you mind.”

They glanced at each other and nodded. Frederick went first with Peter, then Robin, an arm around his son’s shoulder. Chrom nudged his daughter, who was staring at the whole scene with a mildly horrified kind of bewilderment, and she followed him into the tent.

After several minutes of explanation, the Khans seemed to have the gist of it. “So you all came back to stop Grima from destroying the world?” Flavia summarized. “But you’re looking for the rest of your little party. All right, then, can you tell us who else came along?”

Peter clasped his hands in his lap. “I’m afraid that, as I have no idea who has married and had children among the Shepherds yet, I cannot divulge that information.“

“Oh. Well, that’s easy enough then,” Robin muttered. “How many are in your group, exactly?”

“Sixteen!” Morgan piped up.

Lucina looked even more bewildered. “That is not possible. There are only thirteen of us.”

The two boys gave her odd looks. “Did some of us not make the journey?” Peter wondered. “But… that makes no sense. All of us were at the ritual.” He narrowed his eyes at his cousin. “And whatever happened to Owain that you have taken to carrying around Falchion?”

“What? Nothing happened!” The princess sputtered. “I-I don’t understand! You must not be from the right timeline—“

“Luci, that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever,” Morgan cut her off. “Naga sent us directly to our timeline’s past, nowhere else.”

“W-Well, she did the same with us! But clearly, you’re not from the right timeline!”

Chrom frowned and spoke up. “Lucina, how is that so? If anything, you seem to be from the wrong timeline—no offense.”

“Father!” The girl huffed. “Look, it’s quite obvious. Morgan is the wrong gender, as you can see—“

“He is?” Robin regarded her with confusion, glancing from his son to the princess. “Nope, I see nothing wrong here. Just my cute little son who’s such a handsome young man~!” He squished a laughing Morgan’s cheeks.

“Wait, what?! No, no, Morgan is a girl, Robin!”

The tactician gave her a flat look. “Either you need to get your eyes checked, or something happened down the line that you, little mister, might need to tell me about. Morgan was born a guy.”

“She was—I mean, he was—! But—! That makes no sense! Morgan was born a girl! And you!” She pointed to Peter. “You don’t even exist in the future!”

Peter looked down at himself, then back at her. “I can confidently assure you, I rather do.”

Chrom tapped his finger to his lips. What was missing here that Peter somehow didn’t exist in the future that Lucina came from? Wait, hang on a second. She came to stop Emm’s assassination. Oh! Oh! That must be it, because in her timeline Emm died! “I think I know why he doesn’t exist in your timeline, Lucina—because his mother is dead in that one.”

A light of understanding entered his nephew’s eyes. “Ah, I see. Yes, I remember that, there was a mysterious swordswoman who warned you that night. I presume you are her?”

“But that also doesn’t make sense!” Lucina rebuffed. “If his father is Frederick, as he says, then his mother should be alive—or am I missing something?”

Peter quirked a wry eyebrow at her. “My mother is Exalt Emmeryn, the ruler of Ylisse and your aunt.”

“… That makes even less sense.” The princess bowed her head. “Aunt Emmeryn… Aunt Emmeryn is dead. In my timeline, she died the night of her assassination, and in this one, she—“ She cut herself off, lip quivering. “She fell at her execution and sacrificed herself so that Father would not give Gangrel the Fire Emblem.”

The group glanced among each other, giving each other looks. Frederick spoke up. “It is true that we believed her dead, but she was revealed to have survived the ordeal, at least two years ago. How have you not known this?”

“Sh-She survived?!” Lucina gasped, shock playing all over her face. “But—no one could have survived that! At least not without severe brain damage!”

“Oh, no, that’s not what happened at all.” The king-consort chuckled. “Your father managed to teleport her to safety just in time. We’ve been married for two years now, and Peter is as of now a year old. The present-time Peter, I mean.”

“Teleported—! Married—! How—What—That—You—“ The blue-haired swordswoman spluttered, apparently incapable of further coherent speech.

Chrom and Robin glanced at each other in concern. Then the tactician spoke, “I think we’ve got a problem here.”

“The only thing I can think of that would alter the timeline so drastically and yet allow those from both sides of it to enter the past would be if something happened long before then in one timeline but not the other,” Peter mused from the doorway to Chrom’s room. The Khans had set an inn in the port town aside for the Shepherds to use, and the blonde crown prince would be staying in the same room as his father. Olivia had led a catatonic Lucina up to her room in the hopes that the girl would eventually regain her senses. Robin had already taken up a room for both him and Sumia, so Chrom had offered to share with Morgan. The dark flier lounged on his bed, his coat hanging up on the bedpost, listening to the conversation.

“What do you mean by that, Peter?”

The troubadour cupped his chin in thought. “Perhaps it is possible that we all have not arrived at the same time. As it stands, I arrived after Lucina, and Morgan after me. Is it feasible, then, that one of us could have entered the timeline too far into the past, thereby changing events but allowing all of the future travelers to exist?”

“I mean, that makes sense to me,” the ravenette said. “Too bad Laurent isn’t here, he could probably figure this out.”

“Laurent?” The bluenette latched on to that bit of information. “You mean Libra and Miriel’s kid?”

Peter nodded. “Precisely. And he is every bit as intelligent as his mother.”

“Huh. Go figure.” Chrom sighed, sitting on his own bed. “So now we have to figure out who our rogue traveler is, and what happened to make the timeline diverge. It sounds like you and Lucina will have to compare notes—that is, once she gets better.”

“I hope she does! I hate seeing her all freaked out,” Morgan piped up. “And that makes me wonder something: why did we get Luci from the original timeline and not ours?”

“Another question we need to consider,” the mage-healer pondered. “Maybe something happened with the ritual to send you away from Grima’s devastation—“

Peter held up a hand. “Actually… Morgan and I did not come to stop Grima’s resurrection.”

“W-What?! Why?!”

“‘Cause it never happened in our timeline,” the younger boy explained. “We’re here to stop a completely different threat—although we do think the two are kinda linked.”

Chrom frowned. “What kind of threat?”

“The complete and utter annihilation of our world.”

The blue-haired boy blinked. “… Is that not what Grima’s supposed to bring about?”

The blonde shook his head, gaze sorrowful. “From what I understand, Grima merely meant to wipe out all of humanity. What we have lived through… the very foundation of our planet crumbled. After the war with Valm, we think that someone, though we don’t know exactly who, began researching a means of destroying our world as a failsafe against Grima. Twenty years passed, and Grima was never resurrected. Then, one day, our parents got a lead to the person’s research and discovered a hidden temple. Their foray into the structure triggered a calamitous earthquake that shook the world to its very core.”

Eyes wide, the bluenette gasped. “Oh, no, did—did they make it out okay?”

“… No. They did not.”

Morgan clutched at his cloak, bottom lip trembling. Peter cast his eyes down, face filled with pain and sadness. “We only knew because Grandfather, who was with us at the time, sensed it all through his bond with you. He tried to teleport you out, but the temple collapsed before he could.” He gave a little sob. “It was him who took us all to safety and created a portal to send us back in time. We… we don’t know that he made it. He was consumed with the agony of your death. We think…” He took a shuddery breath. “We think he stayed behind, to join you in death.”

Chrom covered his mouth in horror. “No… Father! But—but wait, he’s still alive in this timeline!”

The two children’s eyes widened in hope. “He is?!”

“Yeah! I just came back from negotiating with Validar, and he was there!”

The boys both breathed sighs of relief. “Oh, thank goodness! I don’t know what we would’ve done—no, it makes sense that he is alive—oh, thank the gods.” Peter gave a weak chuckle. “For a moment I nearly forgot myself.”

Chrom laughed. “It’s all right, Peter. He’s safe and alive.” Then a thought occurred to him. “Wait, hang on a second. You said you’d heard about a mysterious swordswoman who helped stop Emm’s assassination, and you think it was Lucina. Did she, I don’t know, reveal herself like Luci did?”

“We don’t know what became of her after the assassination, although Grandfather never liked speaking of her.” A wry smirk touched the blonde’s lips. “He always called her a ‘name-thief’ because she used the name of his dear old friend Marth and he felt she was unworthy to do so.”

“I see.” The bluenette nodded. “Well, this is frankly a lot to take in.” He yawned. “It’s getting late, you two. Let’s get to bed, we need to be up early tomorrow so that we can board the ships when they’re ready.”

“Of course, Uncle Chrom.” Peter bowed and left. “Please don’t bother him too much, Morgan,” he called from the hall.

“No promises!” the younger boy called back.

Shaking his head, the bluenette chuckled. “You two remind me a lot of the relationship your dads have.”

Morgan laughed. “Oh, yeah, I can’t tell you how many times people have said that.” He stood up and gave the prince a hug. “I’m gonna say goodnight to Mom and Dad, and then I’ll come back. ‘Kay?”

“Go ahead, Morgan.” Chrom smiled as he left.

I wonder what the other people from the future are going to be like…?

The albino sat in his chair with his legs crossed and hands folded, staring the black-haired man down. After a moment, he spoke. “What. Were. You. Thinking?!”

“My lord!” Validar prostrated himself. “I had to see if Robin was indeed the one—“

“You hurt him,” the red-eyed man hissed. “What did I tell you about hurting the Exalted family?!”

The Grimleal king twitched. “My son is not a member of that wretched bloodline!”

“He is as good as Chrom’s brother.” Grima smirked. “A rather fitting choice, really. But that begs the question again.” He leaned forward. “What were you thinking?!”

“Why do you insist on protecting them?! That boy, who claimed you as his father, is meant to be your destruction!”

The dragon scoffed. “Of course he claimed me as his father. I raised him. What do you think I have been busy with in the fifteen years before he was found to be the prince? Raising a child, as you must know, takes time and great care.”

“S-So… so you really did raise him. And taught him dark magic.”

“Indeed I did. But you have diverted the conversation.” Grima’s eyes flared with bright red light. “I gave you an order. You are on incredibly thin ice, Validar. It was only by my intervention that the boy was not seriously hurt. Do you know how easy it is to return you to death?” He held up his hand. “A simple snap, and you would be no more, merely a corpse. And I,” here he bared his fangs, “I would devour your pathetic, sniveling little soul. I have not fed on a soul in a long time, but I would not hesitate to eat yours if it meant my son and his friends would be safe.”

“I-I see, m-my lord.”

“Do you?”

“Y-Yes. I promise I-I will leave th-them alone.” Validar shivered, and his mouth twisted with loathing, but he made the promise all the same.

The Fell Dragon nodded, pleased. “Excellent. They will soon be journeying to Valm, and I will keep watch on their progress. Mark my words,” he grinned a wicked grin, “they will be victorious.”

Chapter Text

Peter eyed his uncle as the bluenette clutched the railing of the ship. “You… don’t take well to sailing, do you.”

“N-Nope—urp—“ He leaned over and vomited into the sea again. “Ughhh… this is worse th-than—last time—hrk!”

The blonde quirked an eyebrow as Chrom heaved once again. “When was the last time?”

“When I was… four…” He hung over the railing, spent. “Th-That time I had medicine to h-help.”

“I see.” The troubadour nodded. “Perhaps I should ask Sir Stahl if he has any of his stomach tonic to spare? Perhaps it might help.”

“Maybe.” The bluenette wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Y-Y’know… Something you said—wait, no, that was Morgan—you said Dad helped you guys get to this timeline, but when we were speaking about it with the Khans and Lucina, he said Naga did it.”

“Ah. Yes, your confusion is understandable.” Peter gave a small smirk. “He told all of us that, if we ever arrived at a time where we might meet the mysterious swordswoman, we must not reveal it was him who sent us here. Loath as I might be to use it, Naga is a convenient excuse.”

Chrom stood up, brow furrowed in thought. “Does he really have that big of a grudge against her? The swordswoman, I mean.”

The blonde shrugged as he ushered his uncle back to the mage-healer’s cabin. “His reasoning about it is sound, if petty, and I would not be surprised to find that dragons can hold grudges longer than humans can.”

“Yeah…”

The two made it to the bluenette’s cabin, where they found Kellam standing around. The black-haired man grinned and pulled them both into a hug. “Hi, you two!” He let Peter go and slapped him on the back before turning to Chrom. “How’s my favorite shortie and his nephew?”

“Oh, hi, Kellam,” Chrom drawled. “Almost didn’t see you there, your face is too high up.” He craned his neck, pretending to look for the taller man’s face. Peter chuckled, and Kellam rolled his eyes.

“Very funny. I came here because the gang decided to have a mini reunion party seeing as we’re all back together again. You up for it?”

“Ooh, gee, I don’t know,” the mage groaned, holding his stomach. “As long as there isn’t really food there, I should be good.”

“Uh-huh.” The paladin slipped a small bottle out of his pocket and plopped it into the younger man’s hands. “Courtesy of Stahl. I mentioned to him that you’ve gotten seasick before, so he and Tia whipped up a whole crateful of this stuff.”

Chrom gasped. “Really?! Oh, thank the gods, he’s a life saver!” He uncorked the bottle and downed its contents in one gulp. “Blegh. Tastes like Dad’s cough medicine.”

Kellam laughed. “Ew, yeah, I remember that stuff. Worked like a charm, though.” He patted the bluenette on the back. “You should feel better in about fifteen minutes, if not more. Peter, good to see you, kiddo.”

“Likewise, Sir Kellam.” Peter gave him a courteous nod.

“Aw, come on, call me Kellam! You’re this goofball’s nephew, I don’t see why we can’t be casual with each other.”

“Gee, thanks, Kellam,” the mage muttered.

Peter laughed. “Very well, then. I will keep that in mind. Have fun, Uncle Chrom.” Then he was off down the corridor.

As the two old friends walked, Chrom felt his stomach began to settle, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Dad and Stahl should really hang out more often, I don’t see why they wouldn’t both nerd out about medicine together. They reached another cabin, and Kellam knocked on the door. It swung open to reveal a ponytailed redhead who asked, “What’s the password?”

The ravenette looked her dead in the eye. “P-A-S-S-W-O-R-D.”

“Nope!”

“Clink-clink, mother-gouger.”

“Noooo!”

“Anna.”

“Not even close!”

“Anna, come on, let them in.” Chrom peered inside the room and found Cordelia sitting on the floor, working with something, probably food. Her lips were pursed and shoulders shaking. Clearly she found Anna’s antics funny even if she disapproved of them. “We want to get the party started already.”

Anna got up in Kellam’s face. “Pay up, bucko.” The man gave her a rude gesture. “Fair enough. You’re in.” She let him through, and Chrom stepped up. “You can go in, you’ve got a perpetual free ticket. And the coolest dragon dad in existence.”

“… Thank you?” He went in and sat down next to Kellam, and she followed him in, closing the door. “What happened to get me a free ticket?”

“You hired me, ding-dong.” She seated herself next to him and grabbed a handful of dried nuts. “So. That story you promised me earlier. Spill.”

Over the next hour or so, the four swapped stories of what they had been doing in the years since they had split up, mostly for Anna’s benefit as she hadn’t been with them the past couple of years. The ponytailed redhead had followed in the rest of her extended family’s footsteps and worked as a merchant all over the continent. She’d happened to be staying in Port Ferox the day the Valmese attacked, which Chrom couldn’t help but be grateful for. The other three told her about the war with Plegia and their families, and apparently the bluenette’s story did not disappoint; she was shocked when he relayed to her how he found out he was the prince, how he’d saved his older sister, and how he’d managed to broker an alliance with the desert country. “I wonder if it still holds up under Validar’s rule, or if he’s even aware of it,” he wondered at one point. “Dad probably alerted him to it.”

When he was done, Anna announced, “You and I are booking a photo session with your little kiddo and I am so definitely selling them for super-high prices.”

“Noooooo, the ones my dad had me do with your mom were bad enough!” he groaned.

Cordelia frowned. “Speaking of Lucina, how is she doing? The future version, I mean. She had to be led on to the ship, last I saw her.”

The bluenette sighed, shaking his head. “I keep trying to see her, but she barricades the door to her cabin every time. I’m not entirely sure why, to be honest.”

“Maybe you should get Miriel on her case,” Kellam suggested.

“Or you could have her go see one of my sisters! She works as a therapist,” Anna put forth. “It’s a field that’s actually fairly old, but it’s been neglected for centuries. I’m sure she’ll offer a good amount of sessions at a fair price!”

“Oh. Thank you, but are you sure she can handle the things my daughter has been through? The world she came from must’ve been hellish, and finding out your timeline is already different may have hurt her pretty badly,” Chrom mused. “This is an extremely unusual situation, and I want to proceed with sensitivity and care. One wrong move, and I feel like we might damage her permanently.”

“Ooh, good point. Well, I’ll see what she can do for your little girl. Might be tough with us in Valm, however.”

“Yes, that’s fair.” The boy smiled. “Thank you all. I really appreciate you trying to help her.”

After the little get-together, Chrom headed to the cabin his wife and Sumia shared with his future daughter. As he expected, the door was closed. He knocked, hoping for an answer. “Luci? Luci, it’s your dad. Are you okay? I just want to make sure you’re feeling well.”

“Go away!” she snapped. “You’re not my real father, and I won’t pretend like you are!”

The bluenette stepped back in shock. “What?! Lu-Lucina, I—you told me I was your father, what changed?”

“I don’t want to talk to you!”

“Please, Lucina, I’m trying to help you out here! Locking yourself up in your room is not going to make you feel better in the long run! Trust me, I’ve done that before, and it didn’t help matters. If anything, it made me feel worse.”

“I don’t care.” Her voice was hard, icy. “Send me back to my real past. I don’t want to have anything to do with you.”

Her words broke his heart, lodging a pain in his breast. How could his own daughter not want to even be with him?! To connect with him?! Was she truly in so much pain? He stepped back towards the door, resting his hand on it. “Lucina…” His voice cracked. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but even if it turns out I’m not the father from your timeline, can’t you let me help you in his place? Don’t you think he would want you to be happy and healthy instead of suffering alone like this?”

Silence descended for about a minute. Then the door unlocked and swung open halfway. Lucina glared at him, her expression hard and eyes faintly red-rimmed. “How is that going to work? I have no idea if you’re anything like him.”

“Why don’t you find out?” He spread his arms open towards her. “You’ll never know unless you give me a chance.”

She huffed. “That’ll just make it worse. I’ll keep wanting to see him in you and failing when you end up being different.”

“Oh, Luci.” He sighed. “You were so happy to see me… to reveal yourself to me. Aren’t you just glad to see me at all? To be with me? Please, do you really want to waste your free time shutting me out when you could be spending it with me?”

The girl looked at him for a long moment before biting her lip. “You… you have a point.” Her shoulders slumped. “I-I’m sorry, it’s just… there’s so much to take in right now.”

“Then let me help you, sweetheart.”

She nodded and stepped into his arms, giving him a hesitant hug. He wrapped her up in a fierce embrace and felt her tense, then relax.

“It’s gonna be okay, Luci. I’ll help it be so.”

“Okay, so the Valmese have as many ships as we do,” Robin laid out, smoothing out his map, “but they have twice as many troops at their disposal. We need to exploit their relative unfamiliarity with seafaring as well as their higher numbers and their preference for cavalry.”

As he began setting out markers for the two sides, Chrom, Frederick, Lissa, and the Khans watched with scrutiny. When the grandmaster finished, he addressed Flavia. “How many of your men have experience fighting mounted soldiers?”

“Not nearly enough,” she replied. “We take them in a straight fight, we’ll be slaughtered.”

“Okay, good to know. That’s not what we’re going for.”

“Which one?” Lissa asked. “The straight fight or the slaughter?”

“Both. Flavia, Basilio, what supplies do we have?”

The bald man hummed in thought. “Well, Plegia gave us a ton of oil. I’m sure you could find a use for that.”

“Ooh, good, good. Anything else? Preferably explosive?”

Chrom’s eyes lit up, an idea already in his head. “Oh! I actually know a few spells that might do the trick! Ask Tharja and Miriel too, they did some experiments a couple months ago with cocktail bombs and such.”

“Wait, hang on a second.” Basilio frowned. “How do you propose we get those over to the enemy fleet without setting ourselves on fire? We don’t have any catapults.”

Robin scratched his head as he studied the map. Then a mischievous glint entered his eyes. “That depends on what you define as a catapult.”

The bluenette furrowed his brow, thinking about what his friend had said. Let’s see, half-staffed ships, plenty of explosive material… what am I missing? I mean, we could put everyone onto half of the ships to make them full, but what about the empty other… half… Oh. Oh! He gasped. “Robin, you’re a genius!”

His friend laughed. “Figure out what I was thinking?”

“Yeah, but…” The prince balked. “If we go through with this, they’re going to get slaughtered.”

Robin sighed. “Chrom, now is not the time to have an ethics crisis. It’s either them or us, and personally I’d like us all to stay alive so that your dad doesn’t have to resurrect me and kill me for getting you killed.”

The bluenette bowed his head. Much as he didn’t want to agree, his friend was telling the truth. It wasn’t like the war with Plegia where the people were stuck under an oppressive leader’s rule, although that could be the case here. Still, if he didn’t fight with everything in his arsenal, the chance that all of them would make it home would be slim to none, and that… losing anyone was out of the question. His shoulders slumped as he realized he was going to have to kill on purpose for the first time in his life. I never wanted this… but there’s simply no other way.

“You… You’re right. I don’t like it at all, but you’re right.” His eyes closed in reluctant acceptance.

Frederick laid a hand on his shoulder. “I understand you wish for as many people as possible to make it out alive—and in that, you have my respect, just like Emmeryn does. Now, you must make sure all of us live to reunite with our children and families.”

Chrom nodded. “I understand. I’ll do my best.” He opened his eyes and looked up at the others, a ferocity in his gleaming blue orbs. “We’re going to survive this. All of us. Together.”

“That’s what I wanna hear!” Lissa cheered.

The tactician grinned. “Excellent. Flavia, Basilio, when we’re done I need you to move everybody to our strongest ships. Chrom, Lissa, Frederick, for this plan we need to disrupt the Valmese’s chain of command. Taking out their general with our best fighters should cause enough chaos for them to be unable to defend against our bombing ships. I’d ask all of you to lead the charge, but,” he glanced over at them, “Frederick is the king and Chrom and Lissa are the prince and princess.”

“Of course we are. And as such, we shall lead the charge,” the brunette justified, the ghost of a smirk twinkling in his eyes. Robin laughed.

“Very well, then. We’ll need our strongest fighters for the strike team. I’m thinking Sumia and myself, Chrom and Olivia, Lissa and Vaike, Sully and Kellam, and Frederick for starters.” The platinum-head cupped his chin in contemplation. “As much as I might be against Lucina joining us, she’s also one of our very best. Plus, getting out and releasing pent up emotions might do her good. I think I’ll put her with Frederick, in that case. Lissa, Frederick, can you alert the Shepherds?”

“Of course.”

“Sure thing!”

“And tell Morgan and Peter that they’re paired up for now!” he called as they left. The princess acknowledged him with a wave of her hand. Robin turned back to Chrom. “I sure wish Raven were here to help us out. Hey, do you think he’d mind showing up in the middle of battle to cause more chaos?”

The bluenette tapped his finger to his lips. “Whatever he’s doing in Plegia must be important, but if things get dire out here, I’ll let him know we need his help.”

“Okay, fair enough. Wish we had Ciel here too, he’s one of our better swordsmen,” the older mage muttered.

Basilio perked up. “What’s that kid doing, anyway? I’m surprised he isn’t with you guys.”

“He’s helping Raven babysit all of the Shepherds’ kids while we’re away. Raven has to go to Plegia sometimes for business—he wormed his way back into the Grimleal, you see, he’s the Hierophant—so Ciel’s in charge of the kids during those visits.”

“Wow.” Flavia raised her eyebrows. “That bad, huh?”

Chrom gave her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

The Feroxi woman shrugged. “Oh, he just doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy to have enough patience for almost a dozen babies. I mean, he did raise you, but you were older than that.”

“No, no, not at all.” The bluenette laughed. “Dad absolutely adores taking care of them. He’d never seen a newborn up close before Peter, so this is like paradise for him.”

Basilio laughed as well, clapping the boy on the back. “Your old man’s a funny guy, ain’t he, kiddo. But hey, we’re glad he’s here! Or, not here here, but you know what I mean.”

“I do, sir, thank you.”

As the two left the captain’s cabin, Robin added, “It’s probably better he’s not here anyway, he’d probably go nuts at the sight of Lucina, and that’s the last thing we’d want, what with her the way she is now.”

“Couldn’t we just tell him she’s his granddaughter? He loves present-time Luci as it is.”

The older mage snorted. “You know, I don’t think he’ll care, and he’ll probably argue that she isn’t his Luci.”

“Nooooo, not two of them!”

“You see my point, then?”

“… Touché.” Chrom sighed. “Gods, I wish this battle was over and done with already.”

“Don’t we all, Chrom. Don’t we all.”

Everyone had been moved, the bomb ships had been primed, and the strike team briefed and prepped. As the strike ship sailed towards the Valmese flagship, Chrom tightened his hold around Olivia’s waist, nerves twanging with the adrenaline and mana pouring through his veins. He breathed deep and slow, mind sharp and clear, steadying himself for what he would have to do. Then the two ships met, and the battle was on.

Umbra could leave a person knocked out for days unless he woke them up himself, which was fine for fighting at range, but the battle began to hem the Shepherds in at close quarters. Chrom slashed and stabbed at the enemy with his silver sword. He’d practiced during the peacetime with Ciel and Lon’qu until he was just barely under the younger bluenette’s level, and he was grateful for his improved skill as he parried a swordsman’s blade away before slamming shadows into the Valmese’s face. Shame there wasn’t an extra Falchion around, it would be very helpful for divesting these soldiers of their weapons, freakish calling to his blood aside. Some of their armor too, it was often a bit too thick for his sword to cut through.

As he leapt off of Avalon and whirled around, nailing a lancer in the head, the bluenette spotted a black-haired woman in a suit of heavy armor standing off to the side. The general apparently noticed her too, for he bellowed, “Girl! Fight or be fed to the fishes! Your lance belongs to the Conqueror and to him alone!”

The woman gritted her teeth. “You know, I don’t agree with any of this!” she yelled back. Lucina’s head whipped in her direction, and Chrom saw her eyes widen.
“Kjelle! Kjelle, is that you?!”

“Luci?!”

The bluenette boy gasped. “That’s Sully’s daughter?! We’ve gotta get her out of there! Robin! Future Kjelle is here!”

“I see her!” the tactician yelled back. “Sully, Kellam, armored lancer to your three o’clock! That’s your daughter, get her out of there!”

“On it!” The two paladins barreled through the crush and stationed themselves on either side of the woman, fighting off any Valmese who tried to get near. “Get rid of that armor and get up on my horse!” Sully barked to her.

“What?!”

“Just the heaviest parts! You can get more when we get back! Luci, help her out!” The blue-haired swordswoman nodded as Frederick ferried her over, slipping off his mount and frantically working with her friend at the armor’s clasps. The king-consort formed a protective triangle around the two girls with Sully and Kellam. In a few minutes, the heavy shell had been torn off, leaving the lancer in her more basic underplating. The ravenette swung up into the saddle behind her mother with her lance, and Lucina mounted back up behind her uncle. Chrom breathed a sigh of relief as he fought his way towards the now livid general, who was hollering at Kjelle about desertion and walking the plank.

“Let’s take this guy down all his notches, Livvie.”

“With pleasure, Rommie darling.”

Robin and Sumia joined them as they rushed the general, bombarding him with spells. The irate Valmese man swung his lance at the bluenette, who dodged and pulled, teleporting to Olivia’s pegasus. “Pathetic dogs! You will all fall before the Conqueror’s blade! Sooner, later, it matters not—only that you submit to him in the end!”

“How about you shut up, you pompous dastard!” the tactician snarked back. “Nobody cares what you think!”

“Hey, Robin!”

“Yeah?”

“Remember how we dealt with Validar?”

Firing a bolt at the general (which the man blocked with his shield), the older mage yelled back, “You want to try blowing up the ship we’re on now?! I mean, we were in a corridor last time! We have no idea how it’s going to work in the open air!”

“Tell everybody to get to the bow of the ship and we should be good!”

“Right!” The grandmaster gave out the orders to the rest of the strike force, who pulled back as commanded. “Ready?”

“You know it!” Chrom conjured a massive ball of Umbra over his head and threw it at the general. As it was in the process of swallowing up the man, Robin threw a bolt of Thoron at the ball, and the bluenette shrieked, “EVERYBODY GET CLEAR!”

The deck where the general had been standing exploded, and the dark fliers streaked out of the blast zone with their passengers. On the bow, the other Shepherds raced onto the strike ship, which sailed away when everyone had boarded. An enormous ball of sparking darkness grew out of the combined spells and engulfed the entire flagship. Chrom glanced back just as the whole thing vaporized in a black flash and a vwoom of sound, a shockwave sweeping out from the epicenter of the blast and plowing through the fleeing Ylisseans. The bluenette prince held on for dear life as Avalon tumbled through the air, his wife fighting to right the pegasus. After several heart-stopping moments, the mount steadied with a whinny, and the two breathed a sigh of relief. Nearby, Bellemere hovered with Robin and Sumia looking on at the devastation in shock. When the smoke and shadows cleared, absolutely nothing was left of the flagship.

“… Whoa,” the tactician breathed. “What’d you do this time to make it so powerful?”

“W-Well, last time you threw a Thunder at it, not a full-on Thoron.”

“Oh. That makes sense. That’s good to know for future reference.”

The strike group rejoined the Archanean fleet and watched as the bomb ships drew closer to the Valmese fleet, some of them threading in between and in the middle of the warships. Robin nodded to Chrom, and the bluenette teleported to the belly of the centermost ship. He activated the explosive spells placed on the ship and teleported out just in time to see the vessel blow up, sending a chain reaction through the rest of the rigged ships. In almost no time at all, a humongous inferno blazed where the Conqueror’s fleet had been. The Shepherds whooped and cheered, and the celebrating quickly spread to the rest of the Archanean ships.

“We set the sea on fire! Woo!” Lissa cried, high-fiving Vaike and Robin. “Robin, that was genius! Chrom, you were amazing getting it all set up! Never seen anything cooler in my life!”

Basilio howled with laughter. “Only you two could come up with such a crazy scheme and make it work,” he said.

“Crazy yet simple.” Flavia chuckled. “The Valmese never knew what hit ‘em.”

Chrom gave a weak smile at their praise. “The war hasn’t been won yet,” he pointed out. “But if we continue on like we did today…”

“We’ll definitely stand a chance,” Robin finished.

“We won’t let Walhart win!”

“Kjelle! Oh, thank goodness you’re safe!” Lucina hugged her friend tightly, and the other woman returned the gesture just as fiercely. “I’ve been so worried about all of you, but I’m glad to see you’re okay!”

“You too, Luce!” The lancer disengaged with a boisterous grin. “I’m glad you guys found me when you did. Getting drafted into Walhart’s army was no joke. Ignatius, that guy who was the general? Total slave driver. I mean, I’m all for getting stronger, but that man was insane. And he thought I was worse than the others because I’m a girl.” Kjelle’s expression turned sour. “You guys sure showed him.”

Chrom frowned. “Why on earth would he think such a thing? Boy, girl, it doesn’t matter—what does is your skill and experience.”

The ravenette glanced at him. “Who’s this wussy mage, and why is he here?”

“Kjelle!” the blue-haired swordswoman squawked. “That’s—! He’s—! Ahem.” She cleared her throat. “Kjelle, this is my father. This timeline’s version of him, anyway.”

“And he helped kill the general, so you shush about him being wussy,” Robin sassed. “He’s the best mage we have here, dragons notwithstanding, and he’s actually decent with a sword now. You should’ve seen him before we went to war with Plegia, he was pathetic with a blade.”

Chrom gave him a flat look. “Thank you very much for that backhanded compliment, Robin.”

“Of course!” The older mage grinned. “What are friends for?”

The bluenette rolled his eyes and cuffed his brotherly friend upside the head, making the platinum-head giggle. “Anyway, yes. I am Prince Chrom of Ylisse. I understand you and Lucina are fellow time-travelers, and we’re going to help you find all of your friends.”

“Hey, wait, we don’t know if she’s from Luci’s future,” the tactician pointed out. He turned to the black-haired lancer. “Does the name Peter mean anything to you?”

“… No?” she answered, giving him an odd look.

“Okay, then. Welp, that’s one kid that won’t recognize him.”

At that point, Sully and Kellam, who had finished up taking care of their horses, joined the group in the flagship’s galley. The redhead made her way over to her daughter from the future and put her hands on the girl’s shoulders, looking her in the eyes. After a few minutes of scrutiny, the paladin announced, “Yeah, she’s our kid, all right.” A big grin spread onto the woman’s face. “You got my fire and your dad’s moxie, kiddo.”

Kjelle smiled. “Thank you, Mom. Um, where is Dad, exactly?”

“Right here.” Sully gestured to Kellam, who waved at her in delight. “I know he kind of tends to disappear with other people, but—“

“Kellam isn’t my father,” the lancer interrupted.

Silence.

The black-haired man gave a weak chuckle. “Uh, what?”

Lucina nodded. “It’s true. Kjelle is the daughter of Sully and Vaike.”

The two paladins frowned and glanced at each other. “But… Vaike is married to Lissa,” Sully argued. “There’s no way he’s her dad.”

A look of horrified confusion came over the faces of the two girls from the future. “Wait a second, Aunt Lissa is married to Vaike?! But what about Uncle Lon’qu?! And Tharja?!”

“Tharja’s married to Gaius,” Robin explained, “and Lon’qu is—last I heard, anyway—being pursued by Cherche.”

“That’s all wrong!” Lucina burst out. “Gaius should be married to Anna, and Cherche should be married to Virion! And Frederick should be married to Miriel, not Aunt Emm!”

Kjelle’s eyes widened. “Wait, what?! Emmeryn is alive?!”

“Apparently! According to Frederick, my father teleported her away just before she died at her execution! And she’s married to Frederick!”

A sinking feeling gnawed at the opening pit in Chrom’s stomach. “Lucina, who all is married to whom in your timeline?”

The girl bit her lip. “You and Olivia, Robin and Sumia, Aunt Lissa and Lon’qu, Frederick and Miriel, Vaike and Sully, Henry and Cordelia, Ricken and Maribelle, Stahl and Panne, Donnel and Nowi, Kellam and Tharja, Virion and Cherche, and Gaius and Anna.”

Robin blinked. “Okay, so except for the first two, none of those are the same here.”

“What?!” Lucina and Kjelle cried. The former stammered, “B-B-But—that’s completely impossible!”

“It’s true. Here, it’s Lissa and Vaike, Frederick and Emmeryn, Kellam and Sully, Stahl and Cordelia, Donnel and Maribelle, Ricken and Nowi, Gaius and Tharja, Virion and Panne, and Libra and Miriel. Henry and Anna seem to be a thing, and Lon’qu and Cherche are still in the making.” The tactician hummed in thought.

“Are… are you telling me… that except for you and Father… nobody married the right person in this timeline?!” the swordswoman screeched. Kjelle flinched in pain, but the future princess didn’t seem to take notice. “That’s—! That shouldn’t be—! Even if this were the wrong timeline, everyone should’ve married the same!”

“Maybe not,” the platinum-haired man mused. “Different timelines can account for all sorts of anomalies. Although, I’m curious. Does the roster of your friends include Cynthia, Morgan, Owain, Severa, Brady, Noire, Yarne, and Laurent? Because those are the children of the current Shepherds.”

“We have already established that Morgan is accounted for,” Frederick finally spoke up, having watched the scene from his seat, “though in Lucina’s timeline he is apparently a girl.”

Kjelle whipped around to face the princess. “Morgan is a guy here?!” she hissed.

“I’m as lost as you are!” Lucina retorted. “But yes, all those names belong to our friends. Cynthia and Morgan are twins to Robin and Sumia, Owain is my cousin, Severa is Henry and Cordelia’s daughter, Brady is Ricken and Maribelle’s son, Noire is Kellam and Tharja’s, Yarne is Stahl and Panne’s, and Laurent is Frederick and Miriel’s.”

The tactician nodded. “I see.”

“What are you thinking, Robin?” Chrom asked his friend.

“Isn’t it obvious? There’s a pattern here. It sounds like all of the kids from Luci and Kjelle’s future share something in common with the kids from our present.”

Frederick’s eyes widened. “Their parents. The mothers are all the same, but the fathers are different. Furthermore, because Emmeryn is alive, Peter exists.”

“So—So wait, you’re telling me our mothers married the wrong fathers?!” Kjelle yelled. “How screwed up is this timeline?!”

“I don’t even think we’re in the right timeline, Kjelle!” Lucina lamented. “My own father wields magic instead of Falchion! My aunt wields Falchion! Clearly we are in a parallel dimension or a nightmare of Grima’s making, but we are certainly not in our own past!”

The adults glanced at each other, bewildered. “But you said Naga sent you to your own past,” the bluenette mage-healer pointed out. “Peter thinks one of you traveled too far into the past—“

“Peter doesn’t count, and I don’t care what he thinks!” his daughter shrieked. “But it’s obvious to me that Grima did something to make us fall into this wrong timeline, and once I find all my friends, I’m going to fix it and go to the right timeline! You all can just forget about me helping out since you clearly have the end of the world in hand!” And with that declaration, she stormed out, slamming the door closed behind her.

The group stared after her in stunned silence for several minutes. Eventually Kjelle cleared her throat, biting her lip. “I don’t know if this will help prove anything, but…” she held up a ring, “this is my mother’s wedding ring. Only my true mother would have it.”

Sully grinned, removing her glove and showing an identical ring on her finger. “Looks like it’s a match to me, kiddo.”

Kjelle stared at the two, then nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. The redhead stepped forward, and she threw her arms around her mother, sniffling. Sully hugged her back, rocking her and murmuring consolation in her ear. Kellam slipped over to their side, laying a hand on either woman’s shoulder. The black-haired girl looked up at him, eyes red and watery.

“Look… Kjelle,” the tall man began. “I understand that, in your future, you were born to a different guy. But… I hope that, if you want to, you would do me the honor of letting me be your father here too. I’m not ever gonna replace him, that’s clear. But, I don’t know, it’s not like you’re limited to just one dad. Look at Olivia, she’s a prime example of a kid who grew up with a man who she chose to be her dad! She knows her birth father still existed and raised her to a point, but she also has her foster father! And she’s not the only one in the Shepherds who was adopted or had multiple parents!” The others agreed, verbally and with nods.

Kjelle glanced at all of them before focusing back on Kellam. “Well… I didn’t know Noire all that well, but she always spoke fondly of her father—when she remembered him, that is.” That got a few chuckles and a smirk from Chrom. “So, I… I think I would be the one who’s honored to have you as a father.” Her expression steeled. “But we’re going to duel first before I can accept it! Show me your strength!”

“You betcha! Atta girl, Kjelle!”

The two ravenettes grinned. “Main deck, two hours. Be there or forfeit.”

“Oh, you’re on, kiddo.” He followed her out of the galley. Sully chuckled and went after them.

Robin and Chrom glanced at each other. “Well, correct me if I’m wrong, but Kjelle seemed to take that much better than Luci did,” the white-haired mage commented.

“You’re telling me. Is it just because of their personalities?”

Frederick frowned. “It is a most curious thing. One would think that both would either be somewhat accepting of the situation or denying it entirely, but perhaps their varying temperaments allow them to process and comprehend it differently, not to mention their different experiences.”

The bluenette sighed. “I just hope we can help Lucina deal with this quickly. I don’t like seeing her so distraught.”

“Yeah, because we’re gonna be coming up on Valm soon and we’ll need her skill.”

“Yes…”

Luci… I just hope we can sort this all out so that you can heal…

Why were things so horribly, horribly wrong?!

She’d been living for the past two years with the knowledge that her father did not, for some god-forsaken reason, wield the weapon that was by all accounts his birthright. Yes, she’d intervened during the tournament and Aunt Emm’s assassination, but seeing history apparently continue to stick to the course it had followed before, even with her father altered, had been discouraging, and she’d distanced herself from the Shepherds. She’d actually been searching for her friends in Ylisse, and then Ferox, for the two years that followed the war with Plegia. Unfortunately she’d come up empty and resigned herself to joining the expedition to Valm. At that point her counterpart in this timeline would’ve been born anyway, so she’d traveled to Carrion Isle in the hopes of catching the Shepherds.

She’d rescued her father from that Risen assassin and entered into the dialogue she’d prepared to explain her presence. She’d told him his blade and hers were one… and he had denied that Falchion was his! Worse, he didn’t want to wield it! And when she’d asked him about it later, he’d said Aunt Lissa was the only choice! Why was she the only choice?! What had happened to him to leave her aunt the sole capable wielder of the divine blade?! Why in the world had he taken up magic, dark magic of all things, in this timeline?! It just made no sense! And he should never have been able to wield it in the first place, he had absolutely no talent for it!

And finding out that Morgan had somehow switched genders and Peter existed in the first place (because her aunt had somehow survived thanks to her father, according to the others)? So many similarities and yet so many differences! It couldn’t possibly be the right timeline after all. Each of the timelines that existed should follow the same course of events as each other, which would make it easier for her to save the world. So this anomaly of a past could not be anything other than a trap laid by Grima. How the Fell Dragon knew of Naga’s plan, she had no idea, but it was not unreasonable to assume he had his ways. After all, Father had been betrayed and killed by someone dear to him, perhaps the foul beast had used someone in the Shepherds to carry out his dirty work.

Which meant she had to find her friends and her brother and return to the correct past as soon as possible. Of course, doing so would likely be extremely hard; Naga might not even exist, and the Outrealm Gate she’d heard about probably wouldn’t lead to her world. She’d likely have to kill the Fell Dragon in order to return to the right timeline. Well, that would also probably be hard—especially if Validar was somehow alive and was planning to resurrect Grima. As much as she wanted to trust her father and the Shepherds, they were probably agents of Grima himself, and the only ones she could truly trust would be her friends and brother. Oh, how she hoped they were all safe! But if something had happened to Morgan… no, he was likely a construct of Grima as well, made to fool her. Well, she wasn’t fooled one bit. She would have to continue to keep her secrets, as difficult as it might be with her fath—no! She had to stop referring to him as her father! He was Chrom, not Father!

Oh, this was going to be torture. Grima had really outdone himself. She’d just have to hope her friends were all right.

And Inigo, too. Poor, sweet Inigo, he wouldn’t stand a chance unless he found out the truth of this timeline trap. For all her brother’s flirtations, he was still so incredibly, painfully shy. Miriel had called it social anxiety, though the mage wasn’t certain that was the correct diagnosis for her brother’s social difficulties. At least he’d been trying to make an effort to improve his confidence… but then Grima had risen and they were fighting for their lives. Out of all of the Shepherds’ children, he had taken their parents’ death especially hard. Whenever he’d tried to talk about his fears and sorrows, his stutter would act up, which would embarrass him even though they didn’t mind, which would embarrass him even more, and on and on in a positive-feedback loop. Again, he’d been getting better, at least before the end times.

If Grima found him before she did, well… all the more reason to slaughter the monster with extreme prejudice.

She was going to have to be careful to outwit the Fell Dragon at his own game.

Naga give her strength, she was scared.

“Sir! News from Archanea.”

“Ooh, right on time, I see. Well, well, what do we have here? Let’s see… Validar’s back?! How so? Wait, this new Hierophant raised him from the dead…? Who is this ‘Raven,’ anyway? Oh! Right! That white-haired man who came to Valm! So he is our lord! I knew it! I knew it all along! Ha! Take that, Validar!”

“Pardon me, sir, but he wished me to tell you that he is under severe restrictions.”

“Well, couldn’t he have just put that in his letter?”

“He fears he might be caught by the Hierophant. Apparently he is unable to inflict harm on the Exalted family and was punished for trying to contact the tactician, Robin.”

“… Why?”

“Because his contact was hurting the boy. The Hierophant stated that Robin falls under the category of the ‘Exalted family.’”

“Well, now that’s just absurd. Our lord must be going soft somehow. Let me finish reading this… so the Ylissean League makes its move! And I get to help Walhart fail! Excellent! I can’t wait to get to pulling strings, heheheh!”

“King Validar also wished me to tell you that the Hierophant has confirmed Prince Chrom to be the Hierophant’s son by adoption.”

“So that was him back then… pity I couldn’t get my hands on him. I wonder just how he raised the boy… but if it was revealed he was the prince… hmm. Perhaps he has… special… plans for the Exalts. Oh, it would be wonderful if he used the little princeling to destroy them from the inside out! And then perhaps he would kill the boy afterwards because he’d have no need of him… yes, yes! Ah—oh. You’re dismissed, by the way.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Right. Now then! Such interesting news… but I must continue to develop our failsafe. We can’t have the owner of ‘Raven’s’ vessel suppressing our lord’s plans and his destiny, heheheh!”

Chapter Text

Babysitting his sister and friends while they were infants was definitely a weird experience for Inigo, but not entirely unpleasant. He wondered if they would grow up to be the same people he knew in his future—of course, they all had different fathers now, except for him, Lucina, and the Le Fay twins. That had been tough to witness, going to all their weddings while not being able to say anything about the future they were potentially ruining (although seeing Father and Mother’s wedding was a dream come true). But when the Shepherds began having their children, he was relieved to find that, for the most part, they were the same. He even got a new cousin out of it when Peter was born! Although he, Gerome, and Nah had yet to be born, he felt relatively secure that all of the children from the future would come into existence.

Why had Morgan switched genders, though? That was just bizarre, and Cynthia was not going to be happy once she found out. Her younger twin was her closest friend and the mastermind behind the Justice Cabal’s crazy schemes. Owain and Cynthia might be the ones to come up with the ideas, but Morgan always implemented them with near-perfect success. What would the dark flier be like now that she was a he? Something to definitely think about.

As much as he wished to join his father and mother in bringing down Walhart the Conqueror, he still needed to work on his magical education. Grandfather had taken to teaching him in their free time, usually when all the children were taking their naps, and he enjoyed the dragon’s lessons. Maybe he didn’t agree with the “rule the world” idea, but the man hadn’t roasted him for it, so that was nice. Really, the guy doted on him, which was hilarious considering this was the Fell Dragon, but… he didn’t mind. It was nice that the man prophesied to destroy the world cared so much about him and his father.

Today the bluenette was in charge of the Le Fay toddlers. They were a bit of a handful on their own, having inherited their father’s keen mind and their mother’s clumsiness, so the schedule would assign one caregiver to the ash-haired girl and platinum-blonde boy instead of grouping them with more children. Grima had responsibility for Yarne, Luci, and Brady today, so the dragon was sure to be in an especially good mood. Neither of them had ever gotten to watch over Noire since she was still so very young, but occasionally they would pop in to the little girl’s room and say hi to the two-month-old preemie. By all accounts, she was doing quite well, though the healers kept a close eye on her. The boy chuckled as he made his way to the nursery and entered, the maids on duty happily greeting him. He found his charges for the day dressed and fed, playing with soft squishy blocks in the middle of the play area. Cynthia kept throwing the bocks and squealing, then crawling over to retrieve them; Morgan sat watching her, hugging onto the dragon plushie Raven had given him for his first birthday. The little boy looked up as Inigo approached and waved “hi” with his little hand.

“Hello, Morgan~! Hello, Cynthia~!” The bluenette sat down on the ground next to the younger twin, who picked up a block and offered it to him. “Why, thank you, Morgan! That’s very nice of you!” The toddler giggled and hid his face behind the plushie.

“Weego! Weego pway!” the ashette squealed, crawling over to the youth. She used the boy’s clothes to pull herself up into a standing position. “Weego pway! Pway!”

Inigo laughed. “Of course, milady.” He tweaked her nose, and she giggled, bapping him in the face with a block. “Now, now, Cynthia, it’s not nice to hit someone in the face.”

“Pwayyyyyyy!”

“Of course, of course.” Morgan crawled into his lap and sat holding his plushie. “Well, hello to you too, mister.”

The boy giggled again.

Inigo sighed with contentment. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to have Grandfather rule the world, and maybe it was worrying that his friends were out there… but his parents were okay, they were probably looking for his friends, and Grima had the best of intentions in mind. And he was surrounded by cute children! The bluenette would take what blessings he could get and cherish them with all his might.

“Um, is it just me, or does it look like there’s something not quite right about the harbor?”

Chrom glanced at the tactician, who was frowning at Valm Harbor from his place at the railing. The bluenette stood up from the crate he’d been sitting on and scanned the approaching shore. He spotted what Robin was talking about right away. “There’s a wall?! When did they build a wall?!”

“I’m guessing not when you were here,” the platinum-head muttered.

Bewildered, the prince turned to Libra, who shrugged, nonplussed. “I left Valm soon after you did, young Chrom,” he offered by way of explanation.

“Well, that wall isn’t exactly a recent thing,” Flavia remarked, coming up beside them. “For it to be that high and that long with the watchtowers? That’s not a new undertaking.” She growled. “Cherche sure didn’t say anything about a wall in Valm Harbor.”

“Maybe they had a way to speed-build the wall?” Chrom suggested. “Or… maybe…”

Robin raised an eyebrow. “Whatcha thinking?”

“Maybe it was built in secret—“

“Chrom.”

“Let me finish! If they had enough mages and such, and Walhart made sure everyone was keeping quiet about the project, they could, hypothetically, spell whatever work had been done to be imperceptible to everyone around them until the work was finished. Father mentioned there’s a Grimleal named Excellus who resides here, so it’s possible he could’ve helped out.”

“Still.” Robin pointed a hand at the structure in exasperation. “Magic wall. You know, if this were a book, I’d slap the author upside the head for being so lazy.”

Chrom hummed in thought. “You do that. We’ll think of a way to get around it. Flavia, what do you—wait, where’d she go?”

“Perhaps to find Lady Cherche,” Libra suggested. “If I am not mistaken, here she comes now.”

The sound of running footsteps hitting the deck traveled to the three, and the rose-haired wyvern rider swerved around the railing post to join the men on the poop deck. She gaped at the sight of the harbor. “There’s a wall?! How is that possible?! There wasn’t one when I left!”

The tactician raised his finger. “Actually, what if it’s an illusion?”

Flavia, who’d followed Cherche up onto the deck, gave him a flat look. “Sure. A massive wall that stretches for miles and miles is all some big illusion.”

“It is possible,” Chrom pointed out. “Maybe to discourage any potential invaders like us?”

“You wanna test whether it’s real or not, be my guest,” the East Khan suggested, a dry tone in her voice. Everyone glanced at Robin, who rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Fiiiiiine. I’ll get Mia and go.” He pointed to the bluenette as he walked past him. “If we get into trouble there, you are ‘porting us all out.”

The blue-haired mage nodded. “I’ll do my best, though you should really learn that spell for yourself sometime.”

A few minutes later, the three Archaneans watched as grandmaster and dark flier took to the skies and made for the harbor. Chrom kept his gaze locked onto his brother-in-all-but-human-blood, waiting for any sign of danger. Bellemere shrank into a white speck that zoomed towards the wall, where figures milled about on top. The figures must’ve seen the pegasus and its passengers approach, because they all convened on a spot in front of the white speck and threw things at it. The speck danced and dodged around the projectiles, and the boy caught a flash of something hitting the wall before he sensed an urgent yank on his mind. Gathering his power, he pulled, and the pegasus popped into existence above their heads. Robin peeked his head over his wife’s shoulder. “Welp, bad news is, that’s a real wall,” he shouted, panting with exertion. “And it stretches pretty darn far! I don’t know if it goes all the way down the coast, but if we wanna land here like we planned, we’re gonna have a hell of a time getting through!”

“There’s no way that’s happening, we don’t have the equipment!” Flavia yelled back as Sumia guided the flying horse back to the deck. “We were prepared for the harbor to be crawling with Walhart’s men, not walled off!”

“Okay, well, look.” Robin dismounted and helped Sumia off. “We can sail around the coast a bit until we find a section without the wall—“

“We’ve blown our element of surprise, they’ll be waiting for us,” the blonde woman retorted. “Especially if it’s wide enough to let horses move around—they’ll spread the news about us like wildfire.”

The albino frowned, taking out his map of Valm. “Hmm, let’s see here… there’s an island south of the eastern peninsula that we could check out. If the coast is fortified that much, we could use it as a launch point into Valm. Provided that, of course, it doesn’t have any additional nasty surprises like the harbor.”

The others glanced at each other. Then Flavia sighed. “I don’t like changing the plan, but we don’t have any choice. I’ll let the oaf know we’re switching course.” She turned and tromped down the stairs, presumably to go find Basilio.

Robin rolled up his map and put it away in the folds of his voluminous coat. “Mia, can you get together a patrol group and work out shifts? I’d like you guys to keep an eye on the coastline as we go.”

“Okay, Rob, but are you sure that’s wise? Flavia just said they might learn about us, and if they see us along the wall…”

“Not if you hide in the clouds,” he rebuffed. “There’s a lot of them hanging low, and people don’t usually look that far up anyways. You should be able to get a good idea of how long the wall is without alerting the Valmese.”

“All right, dear.” She kissed his cheek. “I trust you, okay? I know you can get us through this.” Then the ashette led Bellemere down to the lower decks.

The tactician sighed and leaned against the railing next to where Chrom sat. “Gods, I hope we can get onto the mainland in one piece. The wall can’t go all the way down the east coast, right?”

As it turned out, the wall did go all the way down the coast, to the eastern peninsula in fact. So the Archanean fleet sailed south to Yutakana, a former Chon’sin island province that was known for its lush and verdant plant life. The ships weighed anchor a ways away from the shore, and a scouting group consisting of Robin, Sumia, the Ylissean royals, and a recalcitrant Lucina took a boat through the gentle morning surf. They landed and made their way through the dense foliage, occasionally hacking away at the undergrowth. After about fifteen minutes, the group came upon a town.

“This looks like a good place to stop,” Robin commented. “But remember to be on the alert. We don’t know if these people are loyal to Walhart or anything.”

The others gave their affirmation, and the six entered the town. Almost immediately, Chrom spotted a little café along the street. “Hey, we could go there and try to eavesdrop for information,” he said, pointing the quaint little building out. “And how does breakfast sound?”

“Ooh, yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” the older mage agreed. “Come on, let’s ask them what the daily special is!” He threw an arm around the bluenette’s shoulders and steered him towards the café, where a man stood watering potted plants. “Excuse me, sir, are you open for business?”

“Of course we—ack!” The man, upon seeing the two youths approaching him, gave a cry and backed up. “Y-You… Y-You… N-Not again!” He hurried into the café and slammed the door shut, the click of the lock sounding afterwards.

Baffled, the mages glanced at each other. “Well, that was weird,” the platinum-head muttered.

“You’re telling me. Does he just not like strangers or anything?”

The group went throughout the whole town, but ended up with the same result: villagers panicking and shutting doors in their faces. Oddly enough, this usually happened only if Chrom or Lucina interacted with them; Frederick met back with the others with some information for them.

“Apparently there have been bandits harassing the townspeople as of late,” the king-consort reported as the six met in the square. “According to my information, the leader of the troupe has been impersonating you, Chrom.”

“Oh.” The prince sighed. “Well, that makes things harder on our end. Do you have any idea which way their camp is?”

The brunette nodded. “Most of the attacks seemed to come from the south, so I believe we should start there.”

Annoyed, but determined to deal with the troublemakers, the group headed out of town and made for the southern end of the island. It took them almost an hour to reach a clearing in the forest where the brigands had set up camp. Robin motioned for them to get down, and the six approached the cliff overlooking the clearing, keeping behind the bushes and shrubbery. Chrom spotted a girl in silver armor speaking to a wiry-looking olive-haired trickster in the center of the camp and frowned. Was it just him, or did she seem familiar? When she stepped forward and tripped, Lucina stifled a gasp. “That—that’s Cynthia!” she whispered to the others. “What is she doing with them?!”

“You tell me,” Robin whispered back. “Come on, let’s get her out of there! Lissa, you, me, Chrom, and Luci will go parley with them. Frederick, you take Mia and skirt around the camp. We’ll try to pincer ambush them. Actually, hang on a second. Mia, you go fly for help, there’re quite a bit of men down further south, and they look like they’re part of this guy’s gang.”

“Right! Stay safe, Robbie darling!” The couple clasped hands before Sumia turned and ran to where she’d left Bellemere while Frederick headed to the east.

The remaining four made their way down the slope with the natural and abundant handholds the cliff provided. Once they got to the ground, they crouched low and slipped through the undergrowth. Cynthia appeared to still be talking to the man, so Robin held up his fingers, putting them down one-by-one as a countdown. When he put down the last finger, the four burst out of the bushes into the clearing, brandishing their weapons. “Drop your weapons! Who here claims to be Chrom, we want to speak to them!”

Cynthia whipped around and brandished her lance at them. “He is!” she shouted, pointing to the trickster. “And we’ll serve justice to anyone who thinks to masquerade as him, for he is my lord Chrom!”

“Thank you, girl, but I’ll take it from here,” the man said, swaggering forward

The bluenette mage took one look at the man and then leveled an exasperated glance at the young pegasus knight. “Seriously?! I mean, I’m aware I’m different from your expectations of me, but couldn’t you have at least tried to pick somebody who looked somewhat like me?!”

“I should be offended!” the trickster retorted. “You have a lot of nerve to claim my name, looking like that!”

Chrom clenched his fists, baring his teeth. “I dealt with this identity ridiculousness over two years ago! And I nearly paid for it! I am Prince Chrom Lowell of Ylisse, descendant of the First Exalt and the Hero-King Marth, and I will not have you smearing my name with your maliciousness!”

“Oh, yeah?! Well, prove it!” the ash-haired girl retorted.

Lucina sighed. “Cynthia, please—“

“Nuh-uh-uh! Either you’re pretending to be Lucina, or…!” The pegasus knight gasped. “You’ve been deceived! By these fakers!”

The princess gave her a flat look. “I wish that were the case.”

Robin rolled his eyes and facepalmed. “I can’t believe my own daughter grew up to be this dense.”

A smarmy grin spread on the trickster’s face as he advanced on them. “My men have you surrounded, imposter,” he simpered, “and I doubt you can prove your legitimacy as the girl suggested.”

“Oh?” Chrom held out his hand to his right. A smirking Lissa drew Falchion and plopped the hilt in his hand. He lifted the sword and held it pointed in front of him. “One on one, you and me. Loser has to admit they are not Prince Chrom and takes their people off the island.”

“You’re on, you little twerp!” the false “Chrom” said, drawing his own sword.

The two men rushed at each other, swords clashing and clanging as both took swipes at their opponent. Chrom had expected to struggle with Falchion, given its usual cumbersome weight, and indeed the great-sword made his strikes go wider than normal. Thank goodness he had his speed and precision, which Dad believed he’d inherited from Marth due to being the Altean prince’s descendant, so he dodged out of the way of the trickster’s strikes. The Divine Dragon pact sang in his veins, warring with the pact of his father, hindering his concentration. This isn’t helping! Stop fighting against each other and fight with me! Become one with me and each other! Divided we will fail, but united we will triumph! Please, I beg you! Become one with me!

He closed his eyes for one single, eternal moment. The powers inside of him, light and dark, hesitated—then joined together in a blinding mingling of shadow and sunbeams, navy and sky. Suddenly, Falchion felt light in his hand, perfectly balanced and weighted to suit his needs. He opened his eyes, blazing with light and darkness, and whispered,

“Sol.”

The holy blade cleaved through his opponent’s nondominant arm, and the bluenette felt healing energy travel from the sword to the little nicks and cuts he’d sustained in the fight. He twirled around and brought Falchion down to bear on the other man’s uplifted weapon.

“Luna.”

Divine steel sliced through the inferior sword and stopped a millimeter from the ruffian’s throat. Chrom stood glaring at the frozen trickster, who stared back at him with wide eyes.

“Yield.”

The man took a step back and gulped. “I-I y-yield,” he stammered. “I-I am… not the… P-Prince Chrom. Y-You are.” He paused. “And you’re surrounded!” He turned tail and ran, but Frederick and Sumia burst out of the opposite side of the clearing with the majority of the Shepherds in tow. The other bandits flew into battle with them immediately, but the troupe was no match for the Archaneans. Chrom caught sight of his imposter trying to flee and nailed him with a precision Umbra strike. All in all, the battle was over in about fifteen minutes.

Cynthia, who’d been dragged aside by Lucina at the beginning, ran towards Robin and Sumia, who had paired up nearby and finished off the last of the brigands. “And you must b—That ring! It matches mine! Mother!”

“Well, hello, dear!” The ashette hugged the younger girl close, and the pegasus knight hugged her back. “It’s good to see you, finally! Oh, Morgan will be so happy that we found you!”

The girl gasped. “Morgan is here?! Where is she?”

“Ah—Well, um…”

Robin patted her back. “It’s a little bit hard to explain. You’ll just have to see it for yourself, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, man… And here I thought you guys were the fake Shepherds! Oh gods, I should’ve listened to Laurent when he stopped by!”

“Laurent?!” Chrom ran over to the uniting family. “Wait, Laurent is here too? Where? When did you see him?”

Cynthia shrugged. “Oh, he came by a few days ago and saw what was going on. He said I was being an idiot and that clearly that guy wasn’t Chrom… Sorry, Uncle Chrom,” she mumbled. “I just thought… well, y’know, he’s such a Mister Smarty-Pants and everything, and I was so sure I’d gotten one over him…”

The bluenette mage chuckled, patting her head. “It’s okay, kiddo, it happens.”

“But you look way different than what we thought you looked like at our age! Where’s all the big, hunky muscle and—“

A furious cry from Miriel had Chrom whipping his head around, and he found the mage diving into one of the tents on the edge of the clearing. He furrowed his brow, baffled. “Never in my life heard Miriel make that kind of sound before.” He glanced at Lucina, who shrugged, and the five made their way over to the tent.

The reason became clear when the red-haired mage reappeared, carrying a bespectacled boy out of the tent along with a replica of her hat. The boy trembled, his wrists and ankles bound and a gag wrapped around his mouth. She set him down on the grass, and Libra rushed forward to help, staff at the ready. Taking a knife out of her belt, she sawed at the mysterious boy’s bonds.

Cynthia blanched, and Lucina gasped in horror. “Laurent?! Oh, no, they found you! It’s because he didn’t like what you were saying, isn’t it!” the former cried. “Oh, I should’ve listened to you in the first place! Oh, gods, I’m so sorry!”

The blonde priest undid the gag, and Laurent coughed, clutching at his throat with his still-bound hands. Libra offered him his waterskin, which the young mage took with a nod of thanks and drank from with small sips. All around the scene, Chrom could hear the rest of the Shepherds cleaning up the mess and rounding up the surviving mercenaries. Frederick stood by keeping watch with Peter next to him. Meanwhile, Miriel finished cutting through the ropes on her son’s ankles and attacked the ones on his wrists, an angry glint in her eyes. Libra, too, pursed his lips, green orbs steely and hard. Then the last of the ropes broke, and the mage from the future was free. The priest helped the boy up, and Cynthia glomped on him, sobbing out an apology while Lucina hugged the two from the side.

Laurent coughed again and cleared his throat. “Do not worry, Cynthia. I should have taken into account in my calculations that the mercenary would proceed with steps to silence my accusations—or myself altogether,” he amended. He glanced at Miriel, who handed him the hat she’d found with him, and a slight smile graced his lips as he took it, settling it on his head. “Thank you, Mother. Ah, you are my mother, I presume?”

The redheaded woman chuckled. “I do not doubt for one moment that you are my son, but I would like to see proof in order to validate my theory. If you would?”

“Of course. I understand, Mother.” From a pouch he pulled out a ring, which matched the one on Miriel’s finger perfectly. “I was gifted your hat and your ring after you… passed.” He bowed his head. “They were all that I retained of you.”

“I see.” She nodded. “Perhaps it is not perfectly conclusive evidence… but it does not contradict my theory. I believe you.”

Laurent sucked in a breath. “Oh, thank gods! Erm, is Father around? Oh, no, here he is.” Before anyone could stop him, he strode over to Frederick, who gave him a bemused look. “Father, it is my sincerest pleasure to see you again!”

The brown-haired knight nodded, a sympathetic smile on his face. “I am aware. And yet, I am afraid you will not like what I have to say. In this timeline…” He sighed. “Laurent, I am sorry, but I am not your father. Your mother married Libra and had you with him.”

The young mage faltered. “This… That cannot be…” He glanced at Lucina, but the princess nodded. “But… I don’t understand! We were sent to our own timeline, were we not?”

A thought occurred to Chrom, and the mage-healer spoke up. “Laurent, how long have you been here?”

“Six-point-four-three days,” the boy confessed. “Cynthia has been here for fourteen-point-five-two days.”

The prince nodded. “Lucina here has been in this timeline for two years, and so have Peter and Morgan. Kjelle has been here for a few weeks. I think you guys are all entering the timestream at different points.”

“That… That may be so…” Laurent frowned. “But then how is it that my father is not married to my mother?” The distress in his tone grew. “Is it possible we have entered the wrong timeline?!”

Peter shook his head. “I do not believe that to be the case,” he said. “I proposed to Uncle Chrom that someone may have been placed far too early in the timestream, causing a ripple effect that has affected events to a degree but not to the point where the past has become unrecognizable.”

Lucina scoffed. “Don’t listen to him, Laurent. It’s obvious we’ve been stranded in a trap that Grima created for us.”

The others gave her odd looks at that declaration. Laurent frowned at her, then turned to the blonde crown prince. “And who might you be? You display the Brand of the Exalt clearly on your cheek, but I recall no such personage existing in my future.”

The older boy gave him a sad smile. “That is because in your timeline, my mother is dead. My name is Peter, and I am—due to the timelines—your half-brother through King Frederick.”

“King…? What…” Then the redhead’s eyes widened. “Lady Emmeryn survived?! And she married Father, thus allowing your existence and prohibiting him from marrying Mother, who had no choice but to choose someone else to wed in order for me to be born in this timeline—or have I not been born? No, Mother recognized me, she could not have other wise.”

Robin chuckled. “I like this kid. He’s much quicker on the uptake! Unlike someone I know.”

“Aww, Dad, come on, that was one time!” Cynthia cried. “… You are my dad, right?”

The grandmaster laughed, pulling his daughter into a side hug. “Of course you are, my little pega-pony princess!”

“Eeeeee! You even called me by the nickname you use!” she squealed, throwing her arms around him. “You are definitely my dad!”

“Huh? Cynthia?!” A certain ravenette boy streaked over to the group. “Big Sister!”

“Morgan!” the ashette girl cried with delight. But her expression quickly morphed into horror. “Morgan?!”

“Sis!” The dark flier glomped onto his elder twin. Cynthia’s eyes went wide, and she pushed him off, holding him by the shoulders.

“Morgan, what in Naga’s name happened to you?! Your hair’s short! You’re missing your assets!” She reached down and groped, but the boy squeaked and swatted her hand away. “You’ve gained assets! You… You’re… You’re a guy! You’ve been turned into a guy! Somebody turned my little sister into a guy!”

The boy gave her a sheepish smile. “I, um, hate to break it, Cynth, but, uh, I was born this way. I’ve always been a guy my whole life.”

“What?!”

She glanced at the other Future Children, but Kjelle shrugged, Lucina scowled, Laurent looked panicked, and Peter nodded. The blonde spoke up. “In this timeline, your younger twin was naturally born male. There is no hex or curse on him… that is just who he’s always been.”

“I-Is it possible that the but-butterfly effect somehow caused this to happen to her—him?” Laurent stammered. “And… are there any others who have been affected?”

Kjelle scratched the back of her head, leaning on her lance. “Far as we know, Morgan’s the only one to make a gender switch. Luci’s and the twins’ parents are the only couples who stayed the same; everyone else has a different father.”

“W-What?” The young mage went white as a sheet.. “E-Even your parents, Kjelle?”

“Yep.” She glanced back at Kellam, who gave her a wave. “‘Course, both my dads are pretty cool, so… I dunno, at least they’re all still alive?”

Needless to say, the walk back to the village was not pleasant for the newfound Future Children.

“I-I cannot believe this. How has it come about that all of us have different fathers?!”

“You think that’s bad?! Morgan is a guy!”

“Cynthia—“

“No! I was so excited to hear that my sis was here! We won’t be able to talk about girl stuff anymore! Or guys! I can’t have the same relationship that I had with my sister!”

“At least you have your sibling!” Lucina snarled. “I have no idea if my brother is even alive! He could’ve been captured and killed already—“

Chrom’s brain came to a screeching halt. “I’m sorry, did you say ‘brother?’”

The future princess blinked, then gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh, noohhhhhhhhh,” she moaned. “F-Forget I said anything!”

Brother… she has a brother?! Lucina is going to have a brother? I’m going to have a son?! Oh! I think I know exactly who it is! “Luci, do you know of anyone by the name of Ciel?”

“Huh?” The swordswoman gave him a confused look. At that, he slumped in disappointment.

Guess not. Maybe he’s one of the people who just looks like me… though—wait. Father said he was related to me, but he couldn’t tell me how… is that… Was that because he hasn’t been born yet? But Lucina didn’t recognize his name… Although he could just be using an alias! Like Luci when she—nooooo, don’t go there. Actually, I might want to bring that up. Though she probably won’t want to hear it. Maybe table it for later when she’s feeling better?

The group reached the fleet and got aboard the boats to sail back to the warships. Once onboard, everyone split up, Robin and Sumia taking their children to their cabin, Kjelle heading to the upper deck for some training with both Vaike and Kellam, and Frederick, Laurent, and Libra following Chrom to the captain’s cabin. Basilio welcomed them inside and raised an eyebrow at the newest arrival, who slumped into a chair. “Okay, you are definitely Miriel’s kid,” he muttered. “Anything else we should know about?”

“Well, we stopped a bandit group with a leader that was impersonating me,” Chrom commented. “The townspeople of Morimachi were pretty happy about that. Oh, and we also found Laurent here and Cynthia. She’s about as worked up as Lucina got… Laurent, are you okay?”

“I-I… I’m…” The boy clutched his Fire tome, recovered from the troupe’s tents, to his chest. “I am… at suboptimal functioning.”

Basilio put his hands on his hips and studied him. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Sixteen, Khan Basilio,” the redhead murmured. “I am one of the youngest of the Shepherds’ children.”

“Huh. So you are Ricken’s age.”

Frederick frowned, cupping his chin in thought. “Peter is about twenty-two years old, which makes you six years younger than him.” His eyebrows went up. “Did I really take so long to court your mother?”

“You had a crush on Emm before you got married,” Chrom pointed out. “And you were devastated when we thought she’d died. With the close relationship you had, I wouldn’t be surprised if it took you a while to heal from that and move on.”

Laurent nodded. “My mother always said she promised to wait for you and help you however she could. Father Libra never married in our timeline.”

“Truly?” The blonde looked bewildered. “But I cannot imagine going without the joy of raising my own son! When you were born, Laurent, I felt as though the gods had come down and blessed me through you.” He gave the teen mage a fond smile. “You look so much like your mother, and I am immensely glad I have been given this chance with you.”

The redhead gave Frederick an uncertain look. The king-consort chuckled, resting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “As Kjelle implied earlier, it is perfectly all right to have more than one father. I would be honored to share that role with Libra if you so wish.”

“A-Are you certain?”

“Of course. In fact, Chrom himself can tell you what it is like.” Then his expression went apologetic. “Of course, he much prefers his foster father to his birth father, who is dead—“

Laurent held up a hand, eyes wide. “Wait.” He glanced at the bluenette. “Prince Chrom has a foster father?”

“Yeah.” Chrom nodded, confused. “A dragon named Raven raised me ever since I was four years old. He’s actually staying in the castle right now watching all of the present versions of you kids—that is, when he isn’t doing business infiltrating the Grimleal. He taught me everything I know about magic!”

The boy gasped. “That is…! Perhaps Peter was right, though I don’t ever recall a dragon by the name of Raven in the future.”

“What… what are you saying, Laurent?” the bluenette breathed, suddenly dizzy with shock.

“In our timeline, you were never raised by a dragon. You grew up as the prince of Ylisse and learned to wield Falchion instead of magic.”

What… What… The prince’s knees gave out, and he crumped to the floor. Frederick caught him before he hit the deck and guided him over to a chair, but he barely registered it. Laurent kept speaking, but he couldn’t hear it over the roar of blood rushing through his ears. He sucked in a breath, but his chest felt too tight.

I wasn’t… I wasn’t raised… by my father?!

He gasped for breath, clutching his burning chest as the room swam before his eyes. Oh, gods… Oh, gods… I wasn’t raised by him… h-he wasn’t there… except in Peter and Morgan’s future… He wasn’t… he wasn’t—

“Chrom. Chrom! Breathe. Breathe in deeply and out. In… and out. In… and out.”

Strong hands on his chest and back. Someone’s voice cutting through the descending haze?

“That’s it, little brother. Breathe in… and out. In… and out.”

“Chrom?! What’s wrong? I felt your panic! Are you okay?! Do you need my help?!”

… Father’s voice? In his head. Through their bond. Red hair in his vision.

P-Panic… attack… learned something… disturbing…

“In… and out. In… and out. Good job, Chrom. A few more repetitions, and! In… and out. In… and out.”

“What disturbing thing? Is someone hurting you?!”

What?! No! His father’s words snapped the bluenette out of his spell, and he found himself to be breathing easier. “Oh… Thank you, Frederick.” His brother-in-law nodded and patted his back. I’m fine, Dad, Frederick just helped me out of a panic attack. I learned that you didn’t raise me in the original timeline. “Dad sensed my feelings, so just let me really quickly calm him down.”

“All right.”

“… That’s what… that I didn’t raise you?”

Y-You know about it?

“Well, I, um, didn’t expect you to learn it now, but where did you think I come from?”

Chrom gasped. “Laurent! I-I think you might have just figured out what caused our timelines to be different! Raven came from your timeline to this one!”

Laurent’s eyes widened. “He could do that?”

“Well, he is an extremely powerful dragon who has experience with portals,” the bluenette explained. “I’ve read his notes on them before and the spells for them in his spellbook.”

“I see! Then he is the reason all of us from different futures exist! We are in the right past, but he came here first! I must alert the others—“

Basilio pushed him back into his chair. “Hang on, boy. I understand this is big, serious stuff you’re figuring out, but don’t you have to figure out about them, too?” He pointed to the king-consort and the war monk. “You have two dads to choose from, though I’d say pick both of ‘em if you can.”

“Oh. Yes. Right.” The teen mage sighed. “Th-This is all so much to think about and take in… I must process it accordingly before I can come to a decision.”

Frederick nodded. “That is perfectly acceptable.”

“And no matter what, I will always be willing to lend you my aid,” Libra added. “Even if you cannot see me as your father, perhaps you can try to see me as a friend. A confidant, if you will.”

“I am certain that Peter would be happy to accept you as a brother, seeing as he has only cousins and no siblings,” the brunette continued. “He told me once that he often wished for a brother or sister of his own, and he would be delighted to dote on you.”

Laurent gazed at both of them, then nodded, tearing up. “I-I s-see…” He sniffled. “Then… I n-need time, but… w-will you both h-help me?”

The knight and priest smiled at him. “Of course,” they agreed.

Dabbing at his eyes, the teen stood up and reached out to both men. They engulfed him in a hug as he wept for several minutes until he fell asleep. Together, they lifted him up and carried him from the room.

“Well, now.” Chrom glanced up at the West Khan, whose eyes looked suspiciously wet. “As a father, I gotta say, that really warms the heart.”

The prince wholeheartedly agreed.