Shepherd's Pie

Rain pitter-pattered on the windows as the woman rested her head on the table. The metal was cold against her cheek, and she rejoiced in it's temperature. The woman sighed; her fever was slowly rising, almost to the point of death. The 'Curse of Grima,' they called it. Despite being extremely dangerous, most people did not know of it. The genetic disorder caused a high fever, memory loss, and later, death. No one could survive the sickness without medical attention. She could not afford medicine, nor could she afford a place to rent and die in peace. Instead, she sat in the most secluded booth in the neighboring town's 24-hour bakery, waiting for death to take her away from this sauna she was living in with its cold, cold fingers. She could feel it in the back of her mind; the soft tendrils of peace creeping closer, and she sighed for the last time, easing into his soft grasp. She took one last glance at the Mark of Grima on her right hand before closing her eyes.

Did you know that people serve cake at birthday parties?

Instead of dying, the woman could feel her legs moving. She could hear her feet pounding against asphalt. She could taste blood in her mouth. Her vision began to clear. Running next to her was a young man with cobalt-blue hair. His mouth moved but no sound came out. The woman strained to hear. "This is it, our final battle! I don't care what they say, you're-" his voice drowned out as the woman's senses erupted. "-don't forget it!" The woman gasped as a foreign white powder was thrown at the man's face. She tackled him to the ground and the powder it her instead. The man laughed. "-That's just flour, &% !" The woman could not hear her name. Her vision started to blur. "Come on, you work at a-" The man breathed in sharply and looked down. A butcher's knife was embedded in his stomach. He stumbled and fell back, reaching up towards the woman. "This, is not, your fault..." he said slowly. "Promise me, you'll escape...please." The man fell down to the ground, lifeless. Dark laughter sounded through the air and the woman spun rapidly, trying to find the source, her hands shaking. She felt a hand on her head, then nothing more.

Welcome to the world of competitive baking

"Hey, are you okay?" A strong voice reached the young woman's ears as someone gently shook her shoulder, stirring the woman and slightly raising her from her slumber. Her nose twitched.

"Chrom we have to do SOMETHING!" Another voice spoke, rousing the woman even more. The voice sounded younger than the first voice, and defiantly more feminine.

"What do you suppose we do?" The first voice asked.

"Um, I dunno!" The women finally opened her eyes. She blinked a few times and gasped. A young man wearing a blue, flour-covered apron stood before her. Next to him was a teenager with her blond hair up in pigtails, wearing a yellow apron.

'It's the man from my dream! Chris? Caleb? Chrom? But who's the kid next to him?' The woman rubbed her eyes, confused. She tried to remember the dream, but could only think back to slight pictures and thoughts.

'A man with a funny beard...lightning...blood...' A sharp pain racked the woman's skull. 'What?'

The teenager smiled "Hey there." The woman looked at her and groggily smiled back, pushing the pain back. The pig-tailed girl looked to the man with the blue hair. The woman looked at him too.

"Hi," he started. "I see you're awake now." The smile on the woman's face was replaced with a confused expression.

'Wait- where am I? Sleeping?' She thought. She rubbed her forehead with her palm. 'Ow... my head hurts!'

She was broke from her infernal monologue by the man, who spoke again. "There are better to sleep than on the ground you know... here, give me your hand." The man held out his hand for her. After staring at it for a moment, the woman grasped it, seeing a purple mark on her own hand. The man pulled her up, and the woman noticed his eye color for the first time. They were a dark blue-gray, and the woman notice a tint of mischief and happiness in his eyes. The woman wondered what her eyes looked like.

She coughed and looked down at their conjoined hands. Her own hand was marred by some kind of mark, while his hand was calloused, clean, untainted. She let go of his hand and looked at her surroundings. She was in a quaint building with cream colored walls and wooden floor. A few tables and chairs were set in the room and there was a self holding an assortment of pastries. The whole room was decorated with flowers. "Are you alright?" The man asked, worried. It's not everyday you find a young woman, probably no older than twenty, sleeping on the floor of your family-own business.

The woman looked up and smiled at the pair. "Yes, thank-you, Chrom," she said, speaking for the first time. Her voice was soft and slightly melancholy.

"So you know who I am?" The man now dubbed Chrom smiled.

The woman faltered. "Uh, I don't think so.. your name... it just kind of came to me..."

Chrom shared a glance with the blond-haired teenager beside him. "Huh, that's kind of weird. What's your name?"

"My name is...hm?" The woman cringed and held her head as a migraine started to form.

Chrom held her shoulder. "Hey, are you alright?" he asked her, concerned.

"Do you want to sit down?" The blond behind him asked.

The woman shook her head. "I'm sorry, I can't remember... can't think right now. My head is killing me..."

The girl peeped up. "Hey I read about this in my heath textbook! It's called amnesia! Or she might have a concussion, OR she might-" Chrom held up his hand to her, interrupting the blond's rambling.

"Or she might need a little silence to think, or perhaps an ice-pack, right Lissa?"

Lissa gasped. "Oh yeah, right!" She scurried off to get an ice-pack.

"Or sir, may I add, it MIGHT be called a load of horse dung!" A third voice announced. The woman looked around, trying to find the source of the new sound. Her eyes rested on a tall man with messy brown hair wearing a light blue apron.

'Are aprons in style or something?' the woman wondered.

He walked closer to the pair, holding a walkie-talkie. "You expect us to believe that you can't remember your own name, but you can remember Mr. Exalt's?" The man glared at her. "That sounds like a bad plot mechanism from a video game franchise!"

"Peace Frederick," sighed Chrom. Frederick scowled. "I believe her story, as strange as it sounds. Besides, we can't just leave her here. The store is about to open!"

"I emphasis caution just the same, sir. We would not want a member of a gang to wander into the shop." Frederick nodded.

"Store?" the woman asked. She shrugged. "Well, I guess that explains the aprons."

"Yep! You are standing in the one-and-only bakery in Ylisstol!" Chrom gestured jazz hands. "The great Shepherd's Pie!"

The woman blanched. "Ah. So you all work here?"

"Kind of." Chrom looked at the ceiling. "Well, I guess we should introduce ourselves. I'm Chrom, but you already knew that. Frederick over there is the shop security guard and old friend. He also makes a mean meat pie."

Frederick beamed. "Thank-you sir!"

Chrom rolled his eyes. "You're welcome Frederick. Anyway, the blondie is my delicate little sister, Lissa."

Lissa entered the room with the ice-pack and threw it a Chrom. "Hmph! I am not delicate!" Chrom laughed and caught the ice-pack, handing it to the woman. Lissa glared at him. 'Don't mind my brother," she told the woman. "He can be a little thick sometimes." Lissa coughed. "Most of the time..." she murmured.

Frederick coughed a pressed a button on his walkie-talkie. "If we're done with introductions, may I please call the authorities now?"

Chrom sighed. "Cautious as ever, Frederick the Wary?"

Frederick nodded. "A title I wear with pride. Please, sir, look at her." Frederick glanced at the woman. "No offense."

The woman scoffed. "None taken." She looked down at her clothing. Frederick was right, she did look a little suspicious. Her purple and yellow hoodie was two sizes too large, and also quite torn. Further down she worn a small, brown belt and stained black, skinny jeans. Brown boots covered her feet and calves. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. The woman couldn't really tell, but it kind of looked like the natural hair color was white. She felt farther up her hair line and grasped two long pigtails put up with bobby pins and hair ties. She wiped her hand on her pants, cringing. "I understand. I look like, and probably am, a homeless person."

The blued-haired man laughed. "Yes, I suppose you could use a good bath and a clean pair of clothes. You can get them after you talk to a few people. Don't worry, they'll just want to ask a few questions.

The woman smiled. "Alright, I suppose that's fi-" She stopped and looked at everyones' faces. "Hey, my name is Robin!" Robin silently cheered. "Weird, though I guess that's one mystery solved!"

Chrom tilted his head to the side. "Robin, like the bird?" he asked.

"Chrom, like the internet provider?" Robin rebutted.

Lissa snickered and Chrom laughed. "Touche. Whatever, we can talk about it later."

Robin opened her mouth to speak when a loud alarm sounded through the building. Lissa shrieked. "Chrom, I'm sorry, I forgot!"

"What, Lissa, what?" her brother asked.

Lissa pulled at her apron and pointed towards the kitchen. "I may or may not of been baking a cake that I may or may not of forgot about and it may or may not caught on fire!" She yelled quickly.

It took Chrom and Frederick a moment to figure out what Lissa said. Chrom's eyes widened and he dashed into the kitchen. "Wait sir, it's dangerous! And what about Robin?" Frederick caught up to Chrom and spun him around.

"Unless, she's on fire too, it can wait!
Frederick nodded and led a protesting Lissa and Robin out of the shop. He parked them outside of the building, a safe distance away if the fire were to spread. He gave them a look. "Stay. Put. Here." He pointed at the two girls, backing up into the building. He gave them one last glare, then spun around, running back into the building yelling, "I'm coming, sir!"

I baked you a pie!

Lissa sighed and leaned on a near-by tree. Robin sat next to her and patted her shoulder. "Don't feel bad. I'm sure Chrom and Frederick have everything under control." The amnesiac said to her blond-haired companion.

Lissa smiled thinly. "Yeah, I guess they do." She huffed. "I wish I was more useful. Chrom and Frederick are always fixing my mistakes. And they never let me cook! I just run the counter, which is BORING!"

Robin stopped her before Lissa fell into a rant. "Running the front of the store is very important! You makes sure everyone is happy and everything's running smoothly, right?"

Lissa sulked. "It's still not as cool as making pies like Sumia or making up complex recipes like Miriel..."

'Sumia? Miriel? They must be other employees...' thought Robin. 'I'll ask her later.'

"But you're still important Lissa, okay?"

Lissa looked up at the white-haired mystery. "Okay, and thanks."

Robin smiled at her, then looked at the blue sky smiling. For someone who couldn't remember anything, she was surprisingly happy. She felt at home surrounded by energetic Lissa, cautious Frederick, and brave Chrom.

"No problem."


Hi. Author here. This is my first story. Hope you like it!

Pairings are undecided, so you can pick them

Review!