Author's notes: And here we have a somewhat run-of-the-mill self-insert fic. I'm sorry, I tried very hard to hold off on writing it, but waaaaaay before I even thought of Fellblood Son, I gave in to the urge to write a this. It'll be much more interesting than my first draft was, though. Fellblood Son will serve as a prequel of sorts to this.
Guess what? These chapters are long! YAY! And they're in first person, which is actually hard to write well. I might do little third-person blurbs every now and then, as a break. (Incidentally, my rough draft chapter of Recollection started off in third, then I accidentally switched to first. WHOOPS.)
Enjoy, if self-insert fics are your thing. :D
Mm... Sunlight. It's warm, and that wind is rather chilly. Good thing this coat is so thick. And I have the hood up, so the light's not disturbing my rest. All is warm– save the occasional chill if the wind pierces my coat– and comfortable. So familiar.
Unlike the air. I don't mean that in a bad way– I've never smelled such wonderfully clear air. So much better than... Wherever I was before, I guess. It's still a chilly air, though, cooling my lungs with every inhale. But that's okay. I need something to keep me cool.
It's so nice. The wind in the grass, the warm red of sunlight filtering through my cowl and closed eyelids, and the soft earth beneath me. Hey, I detect footstops.
Sigh. I wonder who it is? I hope they're nice.
"Hey, brother! Over here! There's someone on the ground!" It's a young girl's voice. I've never heard it before. Or, well, maybe I have. My mind's a bit fuzzy right now.
Well, fuzzy except for one very clear vision, still fresh in my mind. That dream. Ugh, that terrible dream. I still feel like I've been lanced in the gut, frankly. That was horrible.
I hear more footsteps in the grass. There's a light bounce from here to there which I assume is the girl, and a heavier set, accompanied by clinking. Armor? Oh, dear.
"Who is it? Let me see." That voice is familiar– it hits me like a ton of bricks when I realize it's from my dream. Sounds like a deep baritone, and for some reason there's this ill feeling in my gut, and it strikes me that foreboding is a feeling I get a lot. The voice– the name I attach to it is "Chrom"– interrupts my thoughts. "A woman? Gods, I hope nothing bad happened..." I hear another set of footsteps, even heavier than the set I assume is Chrom, a little ways away, but no speech to go with it.
"Well, we have to do something!" The girl says.
I should probably get up about now.
"What do you propose we do?" Chrom asks her, calmly.
"I don't know!" How old is this girl? At the same time that I wonder this, I crack open my sleep-crusted eyelids. I get an eyeful of a man I definitely recognize as Chrom, with that blue hair and shoulder mark, and I also get a look at the girl, whose hair is tied into these crazy blonde pigtails, and she's wearing a hat embellished with buttons. They notice my open eyes and turn to me with what I assume are sighs of relief.
I shall call the girl Buttons, I think.
"I see you're awake now," Chrom says. I nod my head and wow when did I get this tired? Was I just lethargic this whole time?
"Hey there!" the girl chirps cheerfully. Owww, not so loud...
"There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know," Chrom says. But I just woke up here, and it's niiiiiiice... Besides, don't criticize me. "Give me your hand," he says, offering his own.
If you insist, I think, taking it. He pulls me up, surprising me– though I really shouldn't be– with his strength. I feel like my arm might fall off. He's right in my face now and this is really awkward. With said awkwardness registering itself in my movements, I take a step back, and justify it with a good (though unnecessary) stretch. Ahh. That felt good.
To business. I put my arms down. I wonder what I should do or say; I doubt I've been very good at talking to people I've just met. I eye him carefully; I find I'm loathe to trust strangers. But I should still be polite. It occurs to me to thank him, but apart from helping me up– which I totally could've done myself– he's not done much for me.
"Are you all right?" He asks me. Something I can act on!
"Yeah, thanks, Chrom." Oops, there went that unnecessary thanks. Oh, well, you're supposed to say thanks when someone asks how you're doing. Wait, how do I know his name if I don't know this guy? I slip into a facade, pretending to be a bit cheerier than I actually am. I mean, yeah, I'm feeling an overall positive feeling, apart from the anxiety in my gut, but I'm messing with my face and posture so that I look... You know what? Chrom's talking.
"... my name?"
"Uh, would you repeat that? Sorry, I just kinda... drifted off there." I mentally wince and think, apparent IQ -10.
"How do you know my name? I don't think I've met you before." He looks slightly annoyed, probably at my lapse in attention, and I doubt my "answer" is any comfort.
"I don't know. It just sort of popped in my head. I'm, uh, not really sure of much right now. Where am I, anyways? Other than in a warm field, that is."
"That's an odd answer. What's your name?" He seems to be thinking, probably thinking as hard as I am right now. Yeah, I bet he's confused about all this, maybe more so than I. Wait, he just asked me a question, but...
"Ummm... I, uh... My name is... Crap. I can't think of it. Why won't I...?" I really hope my face is selling this; I feel I'm in huge trouble right now. Crap. Crap crap crap crap crap! "I should know this!"
"Calm down. It's no good fussing over it." Okay, sure. Rrrr!
"Hey, I've heard of this!" Pipes the gir– Buttons. "It's called amnesia!"
That! Yes, that! My face lights up like a flame. It's gotta be that.
"It's called a load of pegasus dung," enters a third voice. I remember that there was a third set of footsteps...
So who is this douchebag? I see him– yeah, it's a guy, really deep voice– a ways behind these two and look him over before he speaks up, brown hair and blue armor and–
"We're to believe you remember milord's name, but not your own?" Ugh, he is NOT HELPING this feeling in my gut! I immediately brand him a jerk.
Wait, I think I see a suit under that armor. Classy. If only he weren't such an ass.
"Okay, how's this, would you prefer I pulled out nicknames for you lot?" Names from a hat, go! "Buttons–" I point at the girl– "Mr. Hero–" I point at Chrom– "And I can't think of a polite one for you." I end that pointing at the suspicious asshat.
Really, the only nicknames I can think of for him sound pretty lame, like "knight" or some bullfrog. Maybe "suit", since he's wearing that suit under his armor? Actually, it's pretty silly. Argue now, laugh later. "I hate to admit it, though, you do have a point." Um, whatever happened to arguing? Think on your feet, me! "But if I were in your shoes, I'd be more polite about my suspicions." There! Win! I win!
I hear a snort of amusement. Huh, what's Button's laughing a– Oh. Oxymoron. "Politely suspicious". I smack myself.
"Okay, accidental humor aside, if I were lying to you, I probably would have crafted a more believable lie, like, "Oh, I remember seeing you once." But that's a lie, since I can't remember anything right now! Confused yet?"
"Yes," says Buttons.
"I am, too, believe me. I would ask for your names, but sadly, in order to do that and be polite, I'd have to give my own first, which I can't remember because of this stupid amnesia dealie. Ugh." Life was so much simpler when I was lying on the ground!
I can tell from his face that the asshat still doesn't buy it. I'm about to throw myself onto the ground in frustration when Chrom steps in. "What if it is true, Frederick? We can't very well leave her out here. What sort of shepherds would we be then?"
Hello, handy info! The asshole is named Frederick, and... "shepherds", he said? I open my mouth to raise a question, but Frederick interrupts me before I even speak.
"Just the same, milord, I emphasize caution. 'Twould not do to let a wolf into our flock."
Um, woof? Or is it baa? One of the two.
"Then we'll take her back to town and sort this out there." Simple answer, but it nudges the forboding in me up a notch.
"Do I have a say in this?" I ask meekly. This protest is mainly for show; I guess I partly appreciate being directed. I have no darn clue what to do. All I know is that I don't what to get screwed over because of something I can't help.
"Peace, friend, we'll hear all you have to say once we're in town."
"Really?" I ask. "All I have to say? That might be a bit much. But at least you're friendly about it."
I hear a chuckle. Chrom waves for me to follow, and the four of us walk.
And walk.
I'm getting really hungry. Mm, food would be good right now. Anything at all. Stomach, for the love of all that is good, shut up.
Just when I was starting to dig in my pockets– there are so many in this coat! It's wonderful– a question occurs to me. I'd say we've been walking for about an hour now? Whatever. I still put my voice to use.
"So what are you going to do with me? Am I a prisoner?" I start to worry, especially since the image of being tied up somewhere sends chills down my spine.
Chrom chuckles, as though my fears are meaningless. "You'll be free to go once we establish you're no enemy of Ylisse."
Two questions hit my mind at once. "What if you can't, since I have no memory? And, uh, what the hell is Ylisse and how do you spell that?!" Okay, three questions, but the third was tardy to the party.
He looks a little exasperated, too many questions at once. Frederick speaks up instead, and of course he teases me. "You've never heard of the halidom?" He then laughs. I wanna slug this guy, but that wouldn't do much for my brownie points right now. "Someone pay this actress! She plays quite the fool. The tone of her voice is especially convincing."
Did he just one-up me in terms of wit? Okay, you're dead. I open my mouth to unleash a retort of doubtlessly greater wit, but Chrom cuts across me.
"Frederick, please." Thank you, but may I burn him now? "This land is the halidom of Ylisse. I suppose proper introductions are in order... My name is Chrom, but you already knew that." I nod. "The dlicate one–" I raise an eyebrow; that could refer to myself– "is my younger sister, Lissa." Those two are related? Damn.
Wait, a name for Buttons! Finally! I smile because I like knowing people's names, meanwhile Bu–Lissa jumps up and down in protest. "I am not delicate!" And then she folds her arms with a "Hmph!"
This was somehow adorable and annoying at the same time. She continues talking. "Please ignore my brother." Upon turning to me, her arms unfold and clasp behind her back. Aww. "He can be a bit thick sometimes." And I haven't proven myself so? (I don't say this, because I don't want to invite a snark from Frederick.) Lissa cuts across my next thought. "You're lucky the shepherds found you, though– brigands would have been a rude awakening!"
That reminds me! I had a question I wanted to raise earlier! "Shephards!" I repeat. "You tend sheep. In full armor. Well, what next?"
"Hey, it's a– heh– dangerous job, just ask Frederick the Wary here." Why is Chrom chuckling? Why?
"A title I shall wear with pride," Asshat says, puffing up. "Gods forbid one of us keeps an appropriate level of caution. I have every wish to trust you, stranger, but my station mandates otherwise." I nod– everything suddenly makes sense!
One thing about myself pops into my head, my lack of trust towards strangers. I hate myself for it, but I identify with Frederick's own distrust. "I understand entirely, but it really sucks for the person on the receiving end of the suspicion. I just wish you'd be nicer about it." Oh, yeah, I'll bother you to hell and back over this. Despite my own breach in ettiquette, I curtsy slightly. "My name is Shanzira."
I could have sworn I'd seen a glint of green around the region of my left hand. Then I realize what I just said.
"Holy crap! My name! I remembered my name! Finally." I then whisper it to myself over and over, feeling as though this will help me remember it. I still feel like my apparent IQ took another drop, though.
"Is that foreign? I've never heard it before." He shrugs it off, though, and I'm feeling all the more foolish for having a weird name. "Ah, well, we can discuss it later, once–"
"CHROM!" Lissa blurts. OW, MY EARS! I straighten back up from my cringe and I look to see where Buttons is pointing. Smoke in this distance, rising up from a town.
Oh, gods. Of course. Shit like this always happens.
"What of her?" Frederick asks quickly.
"Unless she's on fire, it can wait!" Chrom shouts this, waves his hand for Frederick and Buttons to follow, and sprints off for the town.
I don't even think; I follow them.