Self-insert-transported-to-Awakening-world fic? Check. Terrible sense of humor? Check. Drama and romance inbound? Check.

Yep, everything looks good to go! Start 'er up!

(This'll be an interesting experiment.)

More seriously though, I've been wanting to explore some concepts brought up in player-transported-to-FE:A fanfics. When Perfect Oblivion suggested we do some ourselves, I decided, "Well, why not? It'll be fun!" And although I'm a goofball, this fic won't all be fun and games. War is still war, kiddies.

Written parallel with Perfect Oblivion's fic "Journey to Awakening: Through a Dragon's Eyes." And perhaps other users' fics, in the future. (I'm looking at YOU. You two know who you are. Mwah, dragon kisses!)

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Cold. I was really cold. So cold.

My bedroom fan was louder than normal, and seemed to whistle like the mountain winds.

I should... turn that down. Or off.

I wanted to get up, but for some reason despite how uncomfortable I was, I couldn't find the motivation to. I was shivering uncontrollably, and someone was talking around me. Had that woken me up? Or was it that insufferable cold?

My bed felt wet, too... just what was going on?

But my head was heavy, and as rough hands yanked me into someone's arms I only had the strength to cry out once before the world returned to darkness.

Someone shook me. I whined, and it happened once more but rougher. Coughing, I squinted at the one responsible, realizing I didn't recognize that ugly mug. His teeth are rotten, came the groggy thought, and tailing that was a grimace. So is his breath!

"Oy, she's fin'lly awake."

" 'Bout time."

I couldn't move my hands. Something coarse held them together. Panic kickstarted my brain, and my eyes snapped fully open.

"W-where am I," I breathed, gaze darting around a dimly lit room.

Was I in a log cabin? Where the hell was there a log cabin in my neck of the woods? Was I in the woods? And why was I here instead of in my bed, or asleep at the bar counter at work?

"Calm down, girlie," sneered Ugly Mug. "Yer lucky we brought you to a nice, cozy shack, or ya woulda froze to death in the snow!"

It had snowed? Winter came and went, didn't it? That had to be a freak accident of nature. Unless I was currently in a log cabin in the mountains, but I think the closest ones were about six hours' drive west. Or was it northwest? Megan, you really need to get a handle on geography.

A shaft of light blinded me for a moment as the door quickly opened and closed, letting in a third figure. "They're gettin' antsy out there," he declared. I could hardly see anyone's faces in this candlelight.

Ugly grunted, then turned to me impatiently. "So, one 'f our boys says ya might know wha' this is, considerin' yer pretty clothes."

I glanced down, alarmed to see I was in my underwear. "Eep!" I squirmed, trying to cover myself up without the use of my hands. Wait, what are these... bangles? What are they doing on my arms, and legs, and... I tentatively shifted, watching the long fabric bunch up at my waist like a ribbon-turned-partial-skirt. What the HELL am I WEARING?!

"Oy!" Something was shoved into my face as he barked, "Tell me, d'ya know wha' this is or not?!"

"I—" I fumbled with words before falling silent and squinting in the dark room. He turned the object this way and that, but I couldn't find anything special with it. So I answered shakily, "A-a book...?"

"Tch." It was pulled away from me as I was rather suddenly shoved to the ground. "She's useless like ya said. Dunno what he was thinkin'..."

"He was thinkin' she was pretty," snorted the second man. "But if she can't help us..."

"Did ya hear me?" Three sounded anxious, matching my own feelings in this situation. "Someone's causin' a stir! We need to leave!"

"In a bit. So," Ugly jerked a thumb in my direction, "what d'ya suppose we do wit' Pretty Useless, 'ere?"

"Wha—hey!" At least I was using those names in my head!

"I say we keep her."

"Might make a pretty profit," Ugly mused aloud.

Anxious Man aborted a gesture to groan. "I don' care if we sell her or slit her throat—whatever we do, we need to do it now!"

What sort of nightmare is this?

Before I could force myself to wake up, splintering wood and piercing light was followed by the anguished noises of Anxious at the door. "Shit," was Ugly's response, leaping to his feet with a wicked axe in hand. "How'd they get here so fa—"

I was staring right at him when a blade swung into his neck. He gurgled, and fell. Standing before me was the man behind the sword, cool gaze enough to freeze my heart. He took a step forward, weapon raising as if to strike me down—

"Hraah!"

Two, who'd thought he stood a chance now that the intruder was distracted, charged forward with sword drawn. Close-quarters around furniture proved to be his undoing, however; his steel bit the wooden table instead of flesh, but his opponent's neatly lodged itself in his gut. The two stood for only a moment, locked together as they were, before a firm kick to the forgotten man's kneecaps brought him to the floor. He cursed his attacker with his dying breath until I was staring into sightless eyes in the following quiet.

Unable to defend myself and surrounded by corpses, I did something I hadn't thought possible in a dream.

I fainted, for the first time in my life.

Startling awake, I stared at the ceiling in the dark as I attempted calm. But the shuffling noises that had woken me garnered my full attention, heart jumping into my throat.

I ran careful hands over my body as I examined my surroundings. A simple room of stone, walls lined with cots where men, women and children recovered in silence. Still not my room. This was the third time I'd woken up in an unfamiliar place, and it wasn't getting any easier to deal with. Just because it didn't seem like there was any immediate danger didn't mean the possibility didn't exist. And I have no idea where my pocket knife is. On the plus side, my wrists were no longer bound.

My breathing shortened, and I found my legs swinging over to let my bare feet press against what had to be ice. In fact, as the blanket slid away, I realized I had to be in the coldest room in the world.

Thin arms could only provide so much heat, but it was all I had; my attire was hardly suited for this climate, and I once again pushed aside the question of how I'd acquired it as I searched for more important answers.

Where was I? How did I get here? Who were those men who had tried to whisk me away, and the one who had nearly skewered me as he slaughtered them?

And why was everything so... medieval?

It was fairly obvious that I was in what had to be a castle, or close to it. Everything was cobblestone, wood and steel, and as I stepped quietly down the freezing corridor I figured it was only a matter of time before someone caught me wandering in the middle of the night. I still wasn't so sure that I was in safe hands, considering the look that one man had given me. But a person could give me answers. And really, if they wanted to do awful things to me, they probably would've added restraints, not removed them.

At the top of some equally cold stairs I was loathe to descend, I finally caught a silhouette at the bottom. I cleared my throat and called softly, "Pardon me." They stopped and turned, but the sconces dotting the corridors cast many shadows across their features. At best, I could figure out it was a man.

He grunted, which I guess was the best I was going to get. Ignoring the rude response, I took a few of the steps and asked more quietly, "Can you tell me where I am?"

I seemed to be studied about as closely as I was trying to study him, but equivalent exchange was hardly something to fight for when I was so clearly lost and confused. At this point, I was so exhausted that I would accept anything to keep the fear at bay—even incomplete information. To say I was disappointed when he turned away would be laughable. It was only because he told me to follow that I could swallow the embarrassment of having been prepared to chase after him and beg. I was fairly adaptable, but only when I knew what I was getting into.

It was difficult to keep up with the man when he seemed to quicken his pace the faster I walked. In the end, I was almost jogging when he darted around a corner and I reached it to barely catch the dark fabric of his clothing entering a far more brightly lit room.

The crackle of a welcoming fire awaited, and so I flat-out sprinted over to stand in the doorway... and froze.

There was a large, roaring fireplace inside, but that wasn't what startled me. It wasn't the weapons lining a table, or the tapestries depicting epic battles against beasts and men alike. No, it was two of the individuals standing within that made me blanch, staring at them like I expected a single blink would cause them to vanish. It didn't go unnoticed.

"Good evening," an older gentleman greeted, inclining his head as his staff tapped the stone. "Glad to see you awake."

Oh gods, this can't be happening.

"Never doubted ya!" The booming voice belonged to one of the causes of my distress, who stood at the table as if he'd been preparing for medieval combat. My gaze flickered as he strode over, palm smacking loudly against the other man's shoulder. Tall and broad, with a skull shaved bald and two straps to keep an eyepatch in place, a bare-chested Nick Fury-type man swore jovially, "Jael's one of the best healers west of the arena! 'Course, we give him plenty to practice with!"

"Aye."

"So, lass..." The man obviously in charge turned to face me, grin playful and bold. "Got yer eye on anything in particular?"

My throat was so dry, I barely managed a squeak. This couldn't have been real. I reached up and lightly slapped my cheek, scrunching my eyes shut. This is just a dream. I rubbed at them for good measure, muttering, "Okay, wake up any second now..."

They were all still standing there. Including...

"Bah ha! Watch out, Lon'qu, she's got eyes for you!"

The man I'd followed in only grunted, angled sideways to scrutinize me from a safe distance. I sucked in a breath, searching head-to-toe, and found everything as it should be: Dark hair, narrowed eyes, frown, swordsman attire, complete with sword and sheath. I lingered on the white fur at the ends of his sleeves and boots, but thoughts of crazy muscles were put on hold to snap back to the bald man.

"Am I in Ferox?" It came rushing out, incredulous and sharp. My spine felt like it would snap, I was so tense.

"Aye, lass. Yer on the western coast of Regna Ferox." The pride was obvious, and I couldn't help a hysterical laugh that earned me some odd looks.

"Right." Hand to my forehead, I giggled, "I must've hit my head hard. I've had weird dreams before, but this... actually no, this isn't the craziest one, but it gets an honorable mention."

Jael stepped forward, calm smile belying his worry. "Are you ill?"

"More like insane." I ignored his startled look, covering my face with both hands as the laughter grew louder. "This is what you get for playing too many games, Megan; you start to lose it! Next thing you know, Dad's going to come back from the dead and come crashing in on a dragon. Ha, ha ha, I... have such strange dreams."

"She... must still be exhausted."

"I bet I fell asleep at work again." Glancing down at my attire, I snorted. "And this would explain the Plegian garb. You play too many video games, Megan. It's clearly a condition. Although," I coughed, wrapping thin arms around my waist, "you'd think I would be a dragon in my dreams instead, so I'm not so bloody cold."

That has to be it. This is some weird, extended dream from staying up late with Fire Emblem: Awakening again. I started to rub my arms and gave a distracted hum. Although, it's weird, I don't normally wake up over and over again in my dreams, or have such tactile sensations...

Pinch.

Ow.

I felt that, too.

A coarse palm came to rest on my forehead, and I would have jerked away if I didn't have to contend with that sinking feeling in my gut. Jael grunted, telling the others, "She has a fever. Probably from running around half-naked in the snow."

"I wasn't running—wait." I suddenly gripped his arm, squeezing it.

Muscles, tendons, bones. The snow, the rope, the freezing cobblestone, the sheets I'd been wrapped up in when I woke—I'd felt all of those.

It wasn't a dream.

"Oh. Oh, gods. You're real."

"Aye," he answered, sounding amused.

Stepping away from him, I stumbled and managed to fall flat on my rear.

"Fuck. You're real. You're all real." I patted my knees, my chest, my hair, trying and failing to find proof of this being an elaborate fantasy. "I'm actually here. Like, fucking here, in Ferox. I'm... and you're..."

Jael knelt down, cautiously reaching for me. "It's all right, take your time. It's only natural to be confused, and afraid. You were just kidnapped, after all."

"Oh, shit. Shit." Then those men, with their axes and swords... "They were g-gonna kill me. They were actually... it wasn't a dream, I was going to die." The trembling made me jerk painfully hard, and I pulled my knees up for some sort of stability. Hugging them until my knuckles whitened, it felt like someone else was using my mouth to ask, "How... how did I get here?"

The man began rubbing soothing circles on my back, smelling of herbs and steel. I ducked my head, working to keep my emotions under control. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry—

"Well, I don't know where those men took you from... but after they were dealt with—"

Dealt with. I remembered blood staining wood, and tried not to wretch.

"—we brought you to this fort. You were unconscious for several hours."

"I..." I took a deep breath. Serenity was out of reach, but I could pretend to be composed as long as I didn't think too hard. Basics. Cover the basics. "I would like a coat, please. And shoes."

"Of course. You must be hungry, as well." Jael helped me to my feet, acting as temporary support until my legs decided it would be a good idea to work properly. It helped that he wasn't intrusive in his handling; the moment I straightened, he stepped a respectful distance away and gestured for me to precede him out the door.

I wasn't able to avoid glancing over my shoulder, examining West-Khan Basilio and his champion, Lon'qu. To see these faces not on a screen, but in-person, was taking some time to sink in. Lon'qu is scowling like I would've expected, and Basilio is loud and boisterous. It was alien yet familiar, and the images stuck with me on the way back to my cot in the healer's wing.

Nothing made sense in my world anymore. But, that made sense if I wasn't in my world anymore.

People who didn't finish their college degree should not have to contemplate the fabric of spacetime in relation to alternate universes and their places in them.

Staring into the darkness, I wrapped myself in a coat, a blanket, and a promise. I will not die. No matter what followed after this—any war, tragedy or accident—I would not die. I had to figure out what sort of divine intervention this was, find a way out, and make it out of here in one piece.

"Simple," I whispered, choking on a sob. "Piece of c-cake."

Burying my face, I finally let the medicine do its work, letting sleep take me away from the fears of the living. I would need it too, as nightmares would start to visit me more frequently than ever before.

"Are these yours?"

"Huh?" Glancing up from the thumbs I'd been twiddling in my lap, I happily turned my attention from my purpose in this bed to the book that Jael had in his outstretched hand. "Um, I don't think so... what is it?"

"It's a magic tome," he explained, allowing me to take it. "We found several with the men that kidnapped you. You slept for so long I almost forgot about them."

"Magic..."

My heart fluttered at the thought.

How many people do I know who would KILL for this kind of opportunity?

I traced the symbols on the front, narrowing my eyes. Hold up... I recognize some of these. My supreme nerdom bore fruit as I recognized two of these symbols as "r" and "e," and so deduced that this was a "fire" tome. Being a total fangirl and reading far too deeply into a franchise's lore is finally paying off! Of course, the red cover might've made it obvious, but I wanted this small victory at least. Curious, I opened the book and examined the words within.

"I... I think I can decipher this." A surprised laugh was quickly smothered, and I rapidly flipped through the pages. "...yeah! I recognize these ones, and with a few context clues... this must be "are," and..." I referenced the front cover. "If this is "i," then... hey, do you have any spare paper I can borrow?"

He obliged, but when presenting the quill and ink was met with confusion he inquired, "Do you know how to use these?"

"Erm..."

After a little trial and error, I was finally able to scratch out the various runes and assign their equivalents in the English alphabet. My legs were tucked beneath me as I hunched over the tome, feeling the closest to normalcy since first waking up in this world. If there was anything that could bring me a sense of home, it was pouring over books and scribing a rune-row. I wondered if the Elder Futhark featured in this world. THAT, I could read without trouble. At the very least, I was glad everything wasn't in Japanese. I would've been royally screwed.

As I was practicing this new alphabet, Jael remarked, "I'm surprised you can understand it. Not many do. Where are you from, lass?"

Quill stopping, I worried over how much I should tell. I can't say I'm from another world where I played in THIS one like a video game, or they'll actually dub me insane. But lying to well-meaning people never sat well with me. So I decided to be truthful, to a point.

"I'm from a land very, very far from here. We'd only heard stories of Ferox and its neighbors." I mumbled half to myself, "I didn't even think it was real until now..."

"I can imagine the fantastic stories that traveled so far," he mused, grinning. Then he rubbed at his stubble. "Do you hail from Chon'sin, like Lon'qu? You seemed to recognize his garb."

Er, not for THAT reason. I shook my head. "No, I'm from—well, the short name everyone uses is "America." I doubt you've heard of it," I added, wondering if I'd just made a terrible mistake. But honestly, what harm could the name of one country do?

"Hm..." Some time passed before he sighed in defeat. "You're right, it doesn't ring any bells. Do they have magic there?"

"Not at all." Flipping through the book, I admitted, "This is the first time I've handled a magic tome. We have the runes, sure—a fair amount of runes, and I went looking for all of them—but no magic. I... I've always wanted to try." My fingers were itching to trace the symbols on the page, and I could feel the words bubbling on my tongue like soda. To my dismay, Jael plucked the tome from my hands.

"Perhaps when you're fully recovered," he said to my whine of protest. I couldn't help the pout, and he laughed with a ruffle of my hair. He gestured at the parchment, inquiring, "What other runes do you know? I'm not much for reading, but you've piqued my interest now."

The question brightened my mood considerably, as always happened when someone expressed an interest in one of my secret hobbies. Quickly, as I'd now gotten the hang of the feathery writing utensil, I scribbled down the twenty-four runes generally accepted as the Elder Futhark with vague explanations, avoiding problematic talk of religion or history. Some had variations depending on their location in Europe, and I happily sketched these out as well before translating all of them into English letters, then the runes he was familiar with. It was an academic exercise that took my mind off of the boredom of waiting to be healthy again, and the submerged panic of being lost to another dimension.

"You've got more education than some folks around here," he observed during a lull. "Are you of nobility?"

"Ha!" I covered my mouth, apologizing for laughing in his face. "My family struggled financially for years. I had public education to thank." Schooling must be very different here, I realized, thinking of the small towns and sturdy forts I'd seen in the game.

"The land of America must be thriving." I snorted, but he didn't question the rueful look on my face to pursue a topic he found more interesting. "Your family was poor, however?"

"I wouldn't say poor exactly, but..." It was difficult to phrase this without using terminology that would confuse him even more. I carefully explained, "It's difficult for a single parent to support two children, in my country. My mother was a hard worker, though."

"Ah. You did mention... in your reasonably hysterical state... that your father had passed."

I sighed. "Yeah. He did. But they'd went their separate ways long before that. He didn't do much in helping her out, either." Shaking my head, I told him, "But enough about that! I'm more interested in talking about Ferox. It has a tournament to determine its ruler, right?"

"Yes. In fact, we'll be traveling to the arena in a fortnight."

"Really?" Perhaps I did have an inkling of where I was in the game's timeline. I scooted forward on the cot, asking, "Could I come? I'd love to see it!" He laughed at my enthusiasm.

"Jael!"

A man called for his assistance at the door, mentioning something about a patrol. I recognized this newcomer as the warrior who had nearly impaled me with his sword; I avoided his piercing gaze in favor of Jael's playfully exasperated smile.

"Aye, I'll be there." Clasping my shoulder, he explained, "That's Zhent. Always eager to hunt brigands across the lands. I'll return before our departure, but our comrade Yule will be in charge of healing until then. If you behave," he joked, "perhaps she'll clear you to attempt your very first spell."

I grasped his arm in my excitement. "Do you think—?"

"There's a fair chance." Laughing again, the older man ruffled my hair again in what was quickly becoming a habit. "Avoid injuring yourself further, lass."

"I promise! Stay safe!"

If I can stay within sight of the "plot," I schemed, then I might be able to find someone who knows what's happened. Magic can do amazing things, right? Perhaps Miriel's book from her mother... or one of the Annas, since they litter the Outrealms like beer cans on a summer beach.

I was going to get to the bottom of this.

"Uh... 'scuse me, lady."

Blinking owlishly, I turned my attention to three small faces that had suddenly perched themselves at the foot of my cot. Oh, boy. That's never a good sight. I recognized them as the children I shared the healer's room with—three rambunctious boys—and I smiled widely to cover the faint sense of panic I felt at their eager expressions. I had worked in retail long enough to predict terrible things in my future.

In the end, entertaining children wasn't too difficult when you had fantastic stories to steal from animated movie plots, but I was pretty drained by the time another healer came in to shoo them back to their cots. I thanked her quietly, but she waved it off with a grunt.

"You the lass Jael was talking about?"

"Aye," I answered in mimicry of the man, lips twitching. An adult to talk to! My sanity is safe. When she grinned as if I'd just told a joke, I decided I had to like her if she thought I was funny. "Are you... uh, the friend Jael talked about?"

"Yule," she offered, saving me the trouble of asking. I definitely liked her. She seemed to be about the same age as Jael, although her hair was a pretty purple-gray instead. A rough handshake later, and she was handing me some more parchment as she inquired, "So, show me the runes you taught yourself in a day."

I couldn't deny a request to show my nerdiness. Preparing my quill and ink, I smiled brightly as I joked, "Any requests?"

.

Well! That certainly happened. Let's see where this takes me, shall we? Probably nowhere predictable. It's not like there's an entire script to work off or anything.

Although, even if there was... anything can change.

-Dragon

P.S.: Yes, I'm really that much of a nerd. Before Oblivion even messaged me about this, I was heavily researching FE lore and trying to teach myself the Awakening runes (on Falchion and the Emblem in-game) and the Ancient Language alphabet from earlier titles (used by Beorc mages and Laguz). I do have a life, and I spend it doing stuff like this lolme.