a smol owain is just going to tug on chrom’s pantleg and ask if lucina can come out to play
“ah?” chrom looks down at his little nephew and his initial surprise melts into a warm smile. “hello, owain, you’re getting to be big, aren’t you?” he greets, fondly ruffling the little prince’s hair, wondering to himself when the time flew by. before he knows it, he reckons they’ll grow up right before their eyes - well, aside from the whole time paradox, of course, but life is often stranger than fiction.
already, his little girl is five now, but the lucina from the future is … well. the thought is troubling. the future is safe now thanks to their efforts and great sacrifice, but where will the future children go? chrom has no qualms with allowing them to stay here, but questions will arise and he’s not sure if he has the answers. he thinks of the grown owain as well along with the other children.
with a sigh, chrom shakes his head, gaze softening as he returns his attention to owain. “let’s go see what lucina’s up to, huh?”
