A/N: And now it's time for something I have yet to see. A Strike Witches x FoZ crossover. Here we have some AU FoZ, where Louise isn't the void mage, Henrietta's father isn't dead, and the other countries are over all more dickish than usual. Enjoy.

Liberion, somewhere off the Eastern Seaboard

This is what she lived for. The hum of engines, the rush and whistle of the wind, and the adrenaline high. If she could Flight Lieutenant Charlotte E. Yeager, Shirley to her friends, would never retire. She would forever be the Queen of Speed, continuing to push her Striker Units to their limits and not so gently beyond. Yet, such a day that she must hang up her goggles and turn in her Striker would be inevitable. She wasn't stupid, having turned nineteen months ago she noticed the signs. The life of a Strike Witch is taxing, her magic was finally giving out as she got closer to her 'expiration date'. She had already put in the paperwork for retirement and asked to take her beloved 'Merlin' Striker Unit out for one final sortie.

"We had a good run buddy," she glanced at her Striker with a smile.

Adjusting her goggles and tightening her scarf, Shirley shifted her flight path to face south. Her route would hug the eastern seaboard of Liberion into sub-tropical waters. Increasing the flow of magic to her Striker, she began her acceleration. The hum got louder, the wind more violent, her smile that much wider. Her rabbit ears had since been pushed straight back, the hair that now reached the small of her back threatened to break free from bands that restricted it into a pony tail.

'More...more...faster...,' her internal mantra had almost become manic.

She forced her innate ability 'Speed Boost' activate. The surge of power coursed through the Striker Unit, every parameter raised, each component that much more efficient. Shirley felt the drain on her energy, faint but there. Something that she never truly felt, but only acknowledged in the academic sense when she was younger.

Once more she pushes another boost. Her peripheral vision starting to narrow.

'Again!' Another push.

'AGAIN!' The Striker engines whined as they kept pace.

'AGAIN! AGAIN! AGAIN!' A rapid series of boosts caused the Striker to sputter a moment, briefly slowing, before taking a sudden burst of speed that almost took the young woman by surprise.

She continued to accelerate on the energy of her boosts, with each passing second mounting more and more anticipation onto her. A wicked smile stretch across her face as she neared her goal once more...

BOOM~

...the sound barrier was once again broken by Shirley. Using only her modified P-51D Mustang model Striker, a prop style unit, and her own power to make up the difference.

Her voice was lost to the wind, though it was evident to any that could see that she was consumed by a fit of laughter. Tears threatened to stream from her eyes behind her goggles, out of joy rather than the wind or pressure.

'This...this is what I've lived for. I'll miss it,' she thought, fanning her arms out as though they were wings.

She allowed herself to decelerate ever so slowly.

'I suppose I should head back now,' her manic smile slowly changed to a wistful smile of recollection and acceptance.

BOOM~

Much louder, this boom caused her ears to ache, and a lens from her goggles cracked.

'What was THAT!?'

Confused, Shirley frantically looked around as her periphery slowly returned to normal. She found herself surrounded by deep gray clouds.

'Did I find a new Neuroi nest? No, couldn't be, I'm too close to the Liberion HQ. Someone would have noticed well before I would,' worried, Shirley checked her radio earpiece.

Static.

'That's not good, now I really have to high-tail it back, I'l need to report this!'

Just as she started a banking turn, another boom rocked against her. This time it was followed by a sound that caused her stomach to drop and heart to skip a beat. The crack and slow sputtering of her left Unit. Taking a brief second to glance back, she noticed black smoke billowing from the sparking mess.

Another boom , this time closer to a quick series of pops, disoriented her. Shaking her head and slapping her own face to force herself to recover allowed herself only a fraction of a second to raise a shield as she barreled uncontrollably towards a large green disc.

'Oh SHI-!'

And then everything was dark...for a couple seconds.

Tristania, Henrietta's private garden

"Your Highness, are you sure you want to go through with this? Your mother and father won't like this, not to mention the Cardinal certainly won't approve," Agnes followed her charge, just a few steps behind and to the right.

"Yes, I know this is selfish of me, but...," Henrietta stopped near the center of her garden, just outside her private quarters.

She struggled internally with this for days, if not weeks. Time and again, her requests to perform the summoning ritual were rebuffed. Normally a royal wouldn't bother, as in Tristain it was tradition, perhaps even an unwritten rule for one in such a position to go without a familiar. Though there was no actual reason preventing it. It was not for her position she desired a familiar, but rather her loneliness. For reasons beyond her grasp, she has been hidden away as if she were a shameful secret. She believed it was due to her magic that they refused to talk about, which as of yet refused to be classed by an element, even the most basic spells backfiring violently. Thus, she was denied nearly all interactions beyond that of the commoner help and her personal guard, Agnes, and the 'pet' group of musketeers. A token acknowledgment at best, as much as she wouldn't mind a friendship with Agnes, the woman took her position much to seriously. Always deferring, never questioning, keeping Henrietta as a respectful arms length. It was suffocating.

This was why, Henrietta was willing to break the rules and defy the wishes of her parents and even the church. She no longer wished to cry herself to sleep at night, desperately wishing to return to the brief days she spent with her childhood friend from the Valliere estate. She desired friendship, affection, even love, so long as it was unconditional and independent of her station. Henrietta greatly hoped a familiar could provide that, even if she summoned a lowly mouse. She'd possibly settle for an insect if it could love.

"...this is something I have to do, Agnes, I just have to," Henrietta sniffled, drawing a worried look from her steward.

"I understand," Agnes bowed her head, pulled a piece of chalk from a pouch at her side and handing it to the Princess.

"Thank you, Agnes," the Princess nodded in appreciation, taking the chalk.

Henrietta began the painstaking process of drawing the summoning circle, whispering prayers to herself as she worked. Agnes settled herself down on a nearby bench to watch the teen royal. For as much she disliked mages, and by extension nobility, Agnes just couldn't find it in herself to be anything less than cordial to the girl. In actuality, her heart bled for the Princess, though whether for fear of being punished by those above them or an over developed sense of propriety, she would never give the poor thing the hug she believed she deserved.

"There, just as a memorized," Henrietta stood straight, dusting off her sun dress.

Pulling out her wand from somewhere in the dress, where exactly Agnes could never figure out, she stepped back off of the summoning circle. Taking a deep breath to calm herself and closing her eyes, Henrietta held her arms stretched forwards with her left hand held palm facing the sky and her right hand holding the wand as an orchestral conductor would. She began her chant, though it seemed more like a prayer, in a low whisper.

"My familiar, my companion and friend. My consort and confidante. I ask you to reveal yourself, that you may be blessed and myself blessed in turn. From the reaches of this world and beyond, I beg thee, come," the area surrounding the circle darkened and the circle itself seemed to come to life with a blue glow, swirling around as Henrietta completed the summoning rite.

At first nothing happened but the eerie glow, but a sudden explosion sent Henrietta sprawled on her back as dirt, dust, and debris were launched into the air. A quick succession of pops and bangs followed, accompanied by a high pitches whine. As well as screaming. Henrietta made to stand before being tackled by Agnes.

"Princess get down!" Agnes yelled as something flew over their heads, parting the dust but trailing black smoke. The screaming ended when the 'something impacted the ground and tumbled across and over the barriers of the terraced earth that made up the garden, before finally coming to a stop down below on the grounds the musketeers trained.

"W-what was that?" Henrietta stuttered.

"I...don't know...," Agnes pulled out her flintlock pistol as she helped the Princess to her feet.

The duo made their was to the now broken barrier, observing the massive scar in the earth left in the wake of...whatever that was. Looking past the barrier they seen that the entirety of the musketeers have already surrounded the crater, muskets and pistols drawn and aimed. What was contained in the crater was obscured from view. They decided to save time by climbing down the torn up terrace rather than going through the castle itself.

Shirley woke up coughing. She willed her magic to go dormant, in hopes that any further damage to her Striker could be prevented. Struggling to remove the broken goggles so that she may see once more, she found that not only had her Strike Unit somehow embedded itself into the ground she felt several hard objects poking at her chest and head, forcing her to remain on her back. Slowly moving the goggles to her forehead she came face to face with what looked like an antique muzzle loading musket. Scanning left and right she seen that those objects from earlier were in fact more muskets...some of which have bayonets fixed.

'Seriously? Muskets?' Shirley held back a giggle, 'easy girl, they could still put rather nasty holes in you, not to mention those bayonets look very...sharp.'

"State your name and affiliation! Trespassing on castle grounds is cause for arrest itself, but property damage and endangering royalty...," the foremost 'musketeer' growled.

'Belgican? Did I somehow land in Belgica? Thank you Air Corps instructors for insisting I learn multiple languages,' Shirley tensed under the hostile glare of the musketeers and the glimmer of polished gunmetal.

"WAIT! Stand down please! Let me through!" Someone from behind the crowd yelled.

"Princess, hold on, whatever it is might be hostile!" Another voice countered.

"I don't care, I summoned it, so it should be fine," the voice was revealed to be a young woman with purple hair, a pale blue sun dress, with a tiara perched on her head.

Shirley was unsure how to respond to being called an it or the look the young woman gave her.

'Wait...summoned?' Shirley blinked in confusion as the muskets were pulled back.

None of the musketeers let down their guard, the newly arrived musketeer behind the 'Princess' even more so. After a moment of silent confusion and staring between the 'Princess' and Shirley, the young royal shook her head, smiled, and held out a hand towards the downed Witch.

"I'm Henrietta de Tristain, this is Agnes, captain of the musketeer corps, we mean you no harm...right?" Henrietta turned her head to Agnes, annoyance thinly veiled behind her smile.

Agnes snorted, placing her pistol into its holster, signaling the musketeers to stand down as well. She noted this, woman, that was stuck in the ground at least didn't seem hostile much to her relief. Though the fact she looked foreign didn't really sit well with her.

"Ah, Charlotte E. Yeager, a pleasure," Shirley let out a nervous laugh as she grabbed the Henrietta's hand.

After being aided out of the ground, Shirley straightened out her uniform, taking stock of her possessions. On her belt she held her trusty Bowie knife to her left, and an engraved M1911 pistol to her right, a gift from Lucchini upon hearing of Shirley's impending retirement. Her uniform, while dirty, was still serviceable, though her goggles have seen better days. Snapping her fingers as though remembering something important, she lifted up the bottom of her uniform. Letting out a sigh of relief she nodded.

'Yup, still there, white and clean,' Shirley thought.

'WOMAN! HAVE YOU NO DECENCY!?" Agnes yelled.

Lifting her face, Shirley noticed Agnes had covered her blushing face with a hand while the other musketeers turned away nervously. Henrietta stood in stunned silence.

"What? Did I do something wrong?" Shirley tilted her head.

Taking a moment to look around further, she noticed something she hadn't expected. Everyone was wearing pants, skirts, or in Henrietta's case, a long sun dress.

"Oh..."

'Well, this is new. Since when did people get flustered over typical Witch attire?'

Slowly the gears began to turn. Muskets, a Princess, Tristain,...pants...

"WHERE THE HELL AM I?" Shirley held her head in both hands, ruffling her hair in frustration.

Within Henrietta's private quarters, an ornate and spacious room connected to the now ruined garden, sat three women drinking tea. Well, two were drinking tea, the third was toying with odd foreign weapons.

"So, in summary, I've been summoned via magic to what is quite possibly another world. Specifically to Tristain, a small country surrounded on all sides by other nations that may or may not desire to annex if not outright conquer it should the opportunity arise. Summoned so that I may be a 'familiar' to you, Henrietta de Tristain, a Princess of said country that you share your namesake with. And nothing like what I've described as Witches exists here...Am I right on all of this?" Shirley said in a monotone, sipping at her tea.

"Y-yes, quite. Um, you seem to be taking this a bit too well, are you alright Miss Yeager?" Henrietta furrowed her brow, giving Shirley a nervous smile.

"Please, call me Shirley. And Agnes, would you kindly hit me on the back of my head?" Shirley asked.

Agnes absentmindedly obliged, causing Shirley to slam face first into the table.

"Ah, damn, did I really do that?" Agnes looked up from the Liberion-made pistol with a look of worry and guilt.

"Oh, it's alright, I'm fine...shit so I'm not dreaming then," Shirley lifted her head, sporting a rather modest nose bleed.

Henrietta jumped to her feet and pulled out a handkerchief , using it to staunch Shirley's bloodied nose.

"AH! Agnes, really? ...I really wish I could just heal this with magi...," Henrietta whined.

Agnes looked down to the Liberion's gun sheepishly.

"H-honestly, I doubt I could get used to your odd magic if you could use it. It would be just too different from what is common back home," the Liberion Witch idly rubbed her nose.

"Well, how you describe your Witches would be absolutely blasphemous to us, if we didn't believe you anyway," Henrietta said as she sat once more in her seat.

"But, do you really believe me?"

"The fact you showed up by crash landing those...machines...and these weapons being far more advanced than anything in Halkegenia right now, well, we'd be fools to dismiss your story outright. You're certainly no elf, even if your magic seems close to Ancient Magic. And it isn't as if anyone really understands how the Summoning Ritual works anyway," Agnes said, yelping when she pinched a finger in the ejection port when she accidentally let the sliding mechanism go.

"Ah, so are you sure there isn't a way to send me back?" Shirley asked, turning back to Henrietta.

Henrietta simply shook her head, a face ridden with guilt presented to Shirley. The Witch simply sighed.

"So much for my planned retirement," she turned to face Agnes who was currently sucking on her finger, cursing silently at the pistol, "I suppose I'll take your offer to be one of your musketeers, even if it is just for looks."

Agnes nodded.

"I'll get you fitted for a uniform then," Agnes said, an amused smile creeping on her face.

"Aww, do I have to wear the pants too?"

Agnes frowned, she didn't want a musketeer running around in her panties.

"How about I just wear a lengthened top, it'll kinda be like a skirt," Shirley pleaded.

"Ugh, fine, I'll allow it," Agnes threw her arms to the air.

Standing from her seat, Agnes gave a salute to Henrietta before exiting the room quietly.

"Phew, bullet dodged there, those pants look way too uncomfortable," Shirley laughed, scratching at the back of her head.

Henrietta sipped at her tea, which was growing cooler.

"Why DO you dress like that anyway?" The Princess asked.

"Oh, it's for efficiency's sake. The Striker Units, er, the machines I had to dig out of the yard back there, require as much skin contact as possible to run properly. Oh hey, this stuff is good!" Shirley answered as she begun to stuff her face with a pastry she didn't recognize.

"I...see...," Henrietta said weakly as she took in the sight of the woman scarfing down the pastries greedily.

"So, anything in particular we need to do for this 'familiar' thing?" Shirley waved an arm for emphasis.

"Ah haha, well..."

'Oh my...,' Henrietta remembered the most common way of sealing a familiar contract.