A Unique Shepard
"She could be gentle, kind, and loving, but let no one be fooled— she was a Warrior Queen who had the strength and courage to conquer all that life tossed her way."
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the demented little ideas swimming about in my brain. I certainly don't own Mass Effect. This particular Shepard, however, is my own.
Elena Jane Shepard, age six, is absolutely sure she is one of a kind. Unique.
This revelation does not arrive instantly, but in increments, as she grows. For example, when she is a roly-poly toddler, crawling everywhere and gumming on everything within reach, she has no clue she is different than her friends in the small nursery aboard the Systems Alliance Station.
Still, at age six, Elena knows— much like most children know things at age six— that she is unique.
It isn't her appearance, per se. Although her bright green eyes and pale skin are very distinctive. Mottled skin, she often thinks when she sees herself in the mirror, screwing up her face in disgust, Eeew!
"Freckles are very adorable, my little warrior," her mother always says, with a bemused smile. "Ellie, you should never, ever be ashamed of who you are, or worry about how you look. You're my brilliant and beautiful warrior queen."
"I'm Elena Shepard and I'm gonna be a marine!" Elena always replies, stomping her feet insistently to emphasize her words. And then, sulkily, she adds, "Marines aren't adorable or beautiful; they're rugged and great at fighting, like daddy." She doesn't want to have freckles; she wants skin and eyes the color of dark chocolate, like her mother. She wants to grow up quickly, join the Alliance Navy, and be a protector, just like her parents.
Elena Shepard is a precocious little girl.
Elena is a bit... stockier than other girls, and most of the boys, to be honest.
She grows like a weed, shooting up much faster than the rest of them, too. By age sixteen, she towers above just about everyone. Honestly, she's towering over all of her classmates from age six onwards.
Little Elena never puts up with teasing about her physical differences, however. And, well, after the first time she 'accidentally' knocked out some stupid boy's front teeth, nobody tried to bully her.
Later that afternoon, sitting in her mother's office, trying hard not to wilt under her glare, she explains her actions, arms crossed defensively in front of her chest. "He said I looked funny and called me a mutant freak, Mama." Nodding decisively, she proclaims, "Uncle Andy said that a Shepard takes no crap from civvies."
"Oh, Ellie..." Her mother sighs, resigned to many more future afternoons spent explaining to her daughter why assault is an inappropriate response to words, no matter how cruel or offensive they may be. "You shouldn't have hit him, even if he was mean."
No.
Nobody tried to bully Elena Jane Shepard after first grade.
And that was before they discovered she was a biotic.
Elena Shepard, age thirteen, isn't one for socialization. Sure, she has friends—she'd managed to find other children with similar interests. They were all boys; her overprotective father did not approve.
The girls in her class are largely obsessed with boys, jewelry, and makeup.
She isn't interested in boys weaker than her— or girls weaker than her, for that matter— and by now she's proven that all of her classmates are weaker than her a dozen times over. It is very difficult to find jewelry that both complements her complexion and is durable to survive roughhousing with her friends. In the end, she has a small collection of sturdy ribbons, and necklaces made of less 'traditional' metals, such as steel. She wears them rarely. And as for makeup? Well, why mess with perfection.
She's never invited to school dances; but why would that concern her?
She spends her evenings with her father, or Uncle Andy, practicing her aim at the shooting range, testing out the various guns available.
Elena is so very, very happy once her mother relents and finally allows her to attend a military academy back on Earth. Sure, it means she rarely sees her parents, especially her mother— Hannah Shepard is a rising star in the Alliance Navy, after all. And adjusting to a life that isn't nomadic is difficult; she's always been the very definition of military brat, shifting from ship to space station, depending on her mother's current posting.
But in the academy, they teach her how to fight. She learns to use her biotics, to refine her inborn abilities. She falls in love: first with military history, both human and xeno, and then with board games as she is taught tactics and strategy.
Slowly, she grows into the warrior queen her mother has always seen in her.
Quite a few decades later, after Shepard has proven herself a superlative marine a dozen times over, joined N7, attained the rank of Commander, and been nominated, and accepted, as a Spectre... she is still rather unique.
The first time the Citadel Council sees her in person is as entertaining as her first day of boot camp. And oh, the absolute fit that Udina, the human ambassador on the Citadel, has... Though that is after she has been accepted as a Spectre, and in private. All that yelling, despite the fact he met Shepard and her team before they were sent to speak with the council.
You'd think none of them had ever met a girl that prefers sturdy armor over a formal uniform before.
It is a strong indication of the prejudice she will continue face, because of her uniqueness.
Red faced in fury and embarrassment, Udina chokes out—"Why in God's name did no one tell me she was adopted?"
Alenko and Williams watch the scene with bemused expressions. Captain Anderson just laughs in response to Udina's not-so-little breakdown— a great big, belly laugh that shakes his whole frame.
Good man, Uncle Andy, she thinks with a toothy smile. All this fuss... I suppose I can understand it a little, Shepard muses. It's not every day that a Krogan becomes "The First Human Spectre"...
I just couldn't resist!
I laughed like a maniac when I first had this idea back in April... and then I set it aside and forgot it. I laughed just as hard when I found my outline for this in October, and again a few nights ago, while I was procrastinating on my NaNoWriMo writing.
So— figured I should give it a solid attempt. I may write more drabbles in this 'verse if the muses attack, but probably not.
I hope I made you laugh, dear reader. At least a little.
