Oh God, what have I done?

This story exists because I've read one too many coffee shop AU fanfic. And I know that's, like, the ultimate slice of life setting but I want to say that I've never read a good coffee shop AU. Ever. It's not that they're bad, but... They're not good. They just kind of... Exist. And I think that's not the best representation of slice of life because slice of life CAN be actually amazing by a good writer who puts their soul into it.

Basically, anyone who's not me. You know who you are.

This is simply a parody, so please don't think I'm attacking the concept of the coffee shop AU. It's all in good fun, man. Don't think too hard about why this alternate dimension exists. Especially with this prologue: I half expect this to be attempted to be broken down logically, and let me just tell you right now I'm not trying to make it logical. So please don't waste your intelligence.

There will be pairings in this story, I should warn you: Female!MorganXInigo, GeromeXLucina, Male!RobinXCherche and ChromXOlivia to name the mains. But there will be mentions of parent combinations, and other second gen characters are paired. We'll get into them in later chapters.

DISCLAIMER TIME – "Can't own something if you fail at life."

( A Fire Emblem fanfiction typed entirely by The Chosen Storyteller... )

One Cup Of Alternate Dimension

Prologue

Morgan was a mystery. She apparently time-traveled with lovable Gerome to save the world, and all those good intentions. So why had she woken up in a risen-overrun temple? Why have an incredibly similar case of amnesia like Robin that couldn't have been more on the nose if Inigo gave her a hand-holding of fellowship to start their bonding?

If one had some time to kill, they'd probably think way too much about that. It did raise the question of if she had any connection to Grima due to Robin's... Complicated, unfortunate situation with this entity. Morgan heard people describe her as a force of chaos already, but she took that as a compliment; a blazing fire is also chaotic, but as long as no one or something of sentimental value isn't burning then it can be beautiful.

She was a force of chaos. Though she couldn't remember what she was thinking before time-traveling, but she imagined she just wanted to help people. And you can help people unconventionally, for the record. She knew because she watched Robin interact with Gerome. Those two were father and son, yet didn't have the unbreakable bond that Morgan assumed they had in her timeline. But Gerome could often be heard yelling at him, letting out emotions that festered as she tried to drown in darkness and edgy loneliness. Yeah, he HATED this world. He HATED it so much that he was trying to save it.

Well, that logic is solid. There's no tool or weapon in this world that can break it down, so-

Robin was an inspiration to her in many ways. But then again, she could only remember seeing him as a role model so it was best to go with it. Could she have gone the path of Cherche and tame wyverns? Probably. But that's Gerome's thing, and he's actually happy during that time.

The whole family was technically allying to save the world. But Morgan still felt like she wasn't doing enough when Robin, Chrom and Lucina ran off to gods know where with that foreign swordswoman and her half-dragon BFF. Honestly, Morgan tuned out after that one battle in a giant tree. But the point stands: they were doing something, even if they lost the plot entirely.

Morgan wished she could be like Lucina, if she was being honest. She would have liked to be standing right next to her father, chest puffed all super serious and stuff. She would have liked to protect him in battle with actually tough foes, and help him make his important tactic decisions. But Lucina was so dedicated that Morgan couldn't feel as antagonistic as one might normally.

All of these thoughts weighed on Morgan's mind as she sat up one night, scribbling in one of her journals. There was one for tactics, another for battling... This one was used to record even the most minor memories that returned or day-to-day thoughts.

I know the freakin' apocalypse is happening, but I just wonder what it would be like if I had more time with my parents. What would life have been like before I was born? Or what would it be like if people weren't being cult sacrifices? I'm not tired of this world, I'm just starting to lose sight of the goal at the end.

She stopped there, hurriedly dropping the pen and blowing out the candle. People have been dying, and they still are. She didn't need thoughts like these in her head. She ended up throwing herself on her cot, still fully dressed and forcing herself to go ahead and sleep.

Morgan had no idea how long she slept, but just as her eyes cracked open the sunlight was beaming in her face. She was normally peppy in the morning, ready to get crap accomplished. Instead, her limbs felt heavier and she had a bad headache. Weird, but... Only travel by foot made her legs feel like that, and headaches erupted when she tried too hard to restore her memories. Like that time she banged her head against a wall – She wasn't proud of herself.

The cot was just so comfortable. Warm, thick blankets and perfect pillow. She wouldn't have left except for one problem everyone has in the morning. The other one. Full bladder. That gave a little extra force in her elbows lifting her inexplicably tired, risen-like body onto her feet.

Because suspense is difficult to build up successfully, Morgan was ready to be real: her vision adjusted to not a tent- No- A room. Pale purple walls, light brown wooden floor with an even darker purple rug and strange furnishings in an assortment of colors.

So it was hell, basically. We all have our own interpretation of what we'll be tortured with in the afterlife, admit it.

Morgan slowly eased herself off the bed, jolted away. She looked at her arms and legs worriedly – no bindings of any sort. So she hadn't been kidnapped by some of those Grima cultists? She almost forgot that she need to relieve herself; she was so busy slowly creeping along the floor. Her boots made the faintest noise against the wood. But she didn't worry about captors. She put her hands on every piece of furniture, contaminating all the evidence.

She looked to the door and contemplated trying to open it. Just a simple, wooden door she could probably burn down with a fireball or lightning bolt if she tried. But first she changed course to it, swallowing her fear best she could as she moved one eye to the keyhole.

She had to slam her palm to her mouth to prevent herself from screaming, but she heard the gross noises that still slipped out.

There was another person outside her door. She could just see black clothing and a hand dangling on their side. There was a fifty fifty chance of this person being the friendly sort, but still...

"Morgan?" Oh no, they knew her name. He by the sound of the familiar voice. "Morgan, are you okay?"

She staggered away as the knocking stopped. This guy told her he was coming in, and just as she leaped to what she belatedly realized was a bed to hide underneath the door flew open. If he was the captor, he sucked at keeping people prisoner. Just saying. If you've ever read a mystery-themed book, you know to lock crap up tight.

So there Morgan stood, no sword or tome on hand to defend herself. She was frozen mid crouch, and only tensed up as the guy who came in just stopped and returned this awkward stare. Morgan was only staring because the guy was tall enough to cast an intimidating shadow, dressed all in black but in clothing she had never seen before. He had a hood over his head that was consuming so much negative energy that it managed to conceal the upper half of his face... But she saw his jaw... The platinum blond hair poking out from the miserable depths of the hood. It was still spiked, just not flying off his head the way she'd seen it.

Who else could it have been? Chrom- No. That was Gerome – Weirdly-dressed, try-hard loner attitude enveloping his entire being... Gerome. Morgan just let out a laugh, mostly because her fear was all for nothing. The other part being that she felt like she was going insane.

Gerome grit his teeth at the sight of her, the perplexed instead of the angry. Yes, Morgan was perceptive. How impressive was she?

"Do I want to know why you're dressed like that?" Gerome asked before she had the chance.

"This is how I always-"

"Listen, if you've relapsed to your cosplay phase... I really don't want to know about it."

With that, Gerome stepped back out of the room and politely shut the door. He could be heard muttering to himself about his crazy sister until his footsteps disappeared.

Morgan looked down at herself self-consciously, after that. It was a bit of a shady look to wear in Ylisse, but... Robin did it. How come no one ever accused him of being being a Plegian spy trying to get close to and take advantage of the nobility? Off topic, but it had to be said.

TBC

I really, really don't blame you if you drop the story at this point. - Chosen Effing Something Or Other