Let The Morning Come
A Mass Effect / Game of Thrones crossover, and I do mean GoT since I haven't read the books. Don't own rights to either.
Chapter 1: The End
The cold was what woke her. Harsh and biting, inciting memories of Noveria, Alchera, of the crushing emptiness of outer space.
The wind was what got her moving, recalling the sandstorm of Mars, the lightning storm of Hagalaz, the high rises of Illium.
The cave was what saved her, as she tried not to think about where she was, where her team was, where Garrus-
The dark was what took her, as the beaten, injured body of Lieutenant Commander Jane Shepard lay still.
Beaten she may be, but never broken; 'Let the morning come.'
An almond shaped green eye snapped open, wide, unseeing, before true consciousness reasserted itself in a swift manner common among the paranoid and the well-practiced.
Said eye narrowed at the sound of voices. They echoed off the cave confusingly, but N7 meant better than the best. There were three of them, all men, speaking English but oddly, almost archaic; 'a low-tech colony then.'
The cave was not deep, but she had enough time to scoot into the shadows quietly; she may have trained as a vanguard, but an N7 operative could fulfil any battlefield role with nigh specialist level skill.
Observations as the three men entered the cave; 'two inebriated, one slightly tipsy. Short, dirty, low quality non-synthetic clothing, rotting teeth, black fingernails, leather wrapped feet; very low-tech colony.'
A sack was dumped on the floor, 'food, metal, valuables, assortment of items rattling inside, likely stolen. Thieves, then. Swords at the hip, low quality metal, easily breakable.' She hadn't seen a real sword in a long time.
Where the fuck was she?
"'ere Jer.' Wot yoo reck'n dis 'ere mark be?" One said, pointing at her scuffs and imprints on the plant matter covering the cave floor. She had laid her head on that stuff. 'Yuck. First luxury priority; wash hair.'
"Lookee li' we go' a stow away! Look abou'!" The soberer one shouted. She would be discovered quickly, best to maintain any advantage, surprise was still on her side.
Shepard sprang forward quickly, faster than most humans could possibly match, thanks to her gene mods, synthetic implants and biotics. A potent mix.
The first speaker was closest. He tried to react, draw his sword, eyes indicating rapid sobering, but it's not enough, within a second she has him disarmed and in a hold, mono-molecular silicone blade snapping into existence from her omni-tool to his neck.
A single drop of blood drawn, and the cave froze.
The silence was broken by the soberer one's voice. "Wha' da fuck is goin' on?!" Their eyes were wide, fixed on her blade surprisingly, almost as if they've never seen an omni-tool before.
"I ask the questions. Drop your weapons. Now." Shepard commanded, feeling the roughness in her throat indicative of dehydration and damage. Her voice was scratchy and tired.
The looks changed at the sound of her voice; they must not have realised she was a woman.
"Lookee lads, a lady 'as come! Gu' 'im then, we's gonna 'ave yoos eeva way," said the apparent leader.
'So they're those kind of men, are they? Then I won't feel too bad about this,' Shepard thought to herself. "Okay then." Looks of surprise.
A short sharp motion was all it took to end her hostage's life. Arterial spray hit the other two in the eyes, as planned. Instinct said to charge at the other drunk one and turn him into a smear on the cave wall, but she was too low on energy.
Three quick steps forward. He waved his sword around blindly, trying to get the blood out of his eyes. It was contemptibly easy to side step the weapon that likely wouldn't even puncture her armour and stab him in the heart.
The sober one could see again. "S-s-stay back! I's wornin' ya!" He shouted, holding the sword out. He had a slightly better stance than the other two, but was obviously not practiced at much more than intimidation.
A wild swing came in at her head, she sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, disarmed him, and had him in a hold in one fluid motion. A strong ammonia smell emanated from the man. "Are you going to answer my questions now?"
Shepard stepped out of the cave slightly dazed, impossible information swimming in her head and yet making a terrifying amount of sense. The sheer amount of dark energy that had been released when she destroyed the Reapers could quite conceivably have flung her anywhere; that she had survived was almost beyond luck.
Westeros. Essos. Humans on an unknown planet, with a pre-spaceflight, hell, with a pre-electricity civilisation. It seemed impossible. It should have been impossible. The likelihood of a human civilisation forgoing even electricity was so low as to be unthinkable.
That this planet would be unknown more unlikely still. The only explanation would have been time travel, if the thief's jumbled explanations of the world matched anything resembling an ancient Earth civilisation.
It was a chilling thought that perhaps this was still time travel, only in the other direction.
Still, she was N7. She shook off the feeling of hopelessness, of resign, and hefted the sack of stolen food and goods; the thieves would never bother anyone again.
She was in a region called the Westerlands, about half a mile from a tiny village of barely a hundred people called Yarhall (assuming her definition and the thief's definition of a mile matched).
Having slept and somewhat recovered, and now in the morning light, Shepard took stock of herself. Her armour was barely holding together, and would require fixing; considering where she was, that might be harder to achieve than she first thought.
Luckily her weapons and omni-tool were all in fine working condition, though without any thermal clips only her M-7 Lancer would be serviceable for any length of time. Again considering where she apparently was (she still wasn't quite sure she could accept it) that still put her at a massive advantage.
Take into account her biotics and omni-tool, and she was far from helpless. That was all Shepard needed to keep going.
Maybe she was stuck on this planet, with a pre-electricity civilisation. Maybe she was dreaming from hitting her head really hard. Maybe she was actually dead (though she hadn't experienced anything similar last time she had died).
No matter the situation, she was Jane Shepard, N7, Spectre, leader of the fight against the Reapers, and she would always keep going.
Always.
She set off for Yarhall, unshakeable determination in every step.