Chapter I: What the Actual Fuck?

"Guys, I'm not playing around. This is legit. It works."

"Yeah, then why are you still here, dipshit?"

"OP is a troll. Please don't feed him."

"I'm not a troll. I swear. My friend vanished right in front of me after doing it. I'm only trying to warn others."

"So, does this teleport you to other places too? Like can it teleport my dick into your ass?"

"Fine. If you all won't listen, fuck off. I'm done."

"Guess OP doesn't like dick in the butt."

I stifle a snort as I read through the comments. Reddit, man. Brutal. But honestly, what did the OP expect, trying to convince the internet of something ridiculous like that? I've definitely seen better attempts to troll. Maybe I should comment, too? Might be fun to see what other crazy stuff OP says. Assuming he hasn't left yet.

Tapping my fingers briefly before typing, I write out my own question. "OK, this sends you into the game, right? Or at least that's your hunch? Can you describe in detail what your friend did? Maybe thinking through it will help you understand as well…" Perfect. Respectful, polite, and inviting. Excellent troll bait. I lean back in my chair and prepare to laugh at the surely absurd instructions OP comes up with.

Rather than reply to my comment, OP messages me directly. My eyes scan his response, brows knitting together. "Look, I know you're probably not serious, but this is. It's not a joke, and it isn't funny. My friend is gone. I've been over it a hundred times. One moment he was there, and the next he wasn't. The only clue was that website he had pulled up. That's all I know, and I'm not about to help someone else disappear too. You think I'm trolling, but I'm not. Even if I knew more, I wouldn't share. This is dangerous."

What a lame troll. I mean, on the one hand, it works; I want to ask more and hear what he has to say. On the other, I know he's baiting me right back. Screw it. I'm in for the long haul now. "Do you have the website URL? Prove you're not a troll. Because I'm not buying this whole concerned citizen act." Down the troll hole. This is too entertaining and nutty to ignore. Besides, it could be fun?

I laugh at the message I receive this time. "Whatever. If you want to dig your own grave, be my guest. It's what you get for not taking me seriously. www..thefeportal..net." I try another reply, but no dice. He's gone. I look at the link and chuckle. Really? Now that's just campy. Not to mention impossible that the web address isn't already taken. Just to satisfy my curiosity, I search the URL.

What?

What the actual fuck?

My computer freezes the moment I hit enter. Then the screen goes black for several seconds before finally a webpage lights up the monitor. "Do you want a different life?" it asks, a yes or no checkbox pulsing below. I feel myself swallow. This is officially weird. Still, I don't turn back. After the site registers I've clicked "yes," the screen fades slowly to black. I stare, waiting, my breath more ragged than it has any right to be. My computer starts humming, as if trying to run a particularly beefy game. On the screen, a blue circle appears, strange runes swirling all around it. No way.

"Reach." I hear the word inside my head, clear as my own thoughts. Numb, I stretch my hand towards the portal, fingers hesitating, curling and uncurling. Closing my eyes, I extend my arm fully. When the screen doesn't stop me, I crack open an eye. I'm up to my elbow in monitor, and not in the I just rage punched my PC way. My stomach flops. I try to retract my arm, but something is tugging me now. Panicked, I scream. Nothing works. I'm being sucked inside. On the other end, everything is dark, the kind of darkness a cave has when the guide turns off the lantern. And then I'm falling through a blue sky. Thump. Fade to black again.

When you fall through a portal into a video game, generally you expect to immediately become the main protagonist and go on merry adventures, right? You expect to become a hero, to become an overpowered badass protected by the Law of Self Inserts and wearing the holy Plot Armor. You do not expect to wake up covered in cow shit. Which is me. Right now. Compounded with the throbbing pain in the side of my head, like a blacksmith is using my temple as an anvil, my day is off to a great start. And that's not including the fifteen minutes of screeching I did after coming to. Peachy.

Collecting myself, I manage to stand, albeit shakily. Rationally, I know what's happened. I could go through the big denial phase, but is there a point to that? I'm inside Fire Emblem Awakening. Still, I want to curl up in this cow shit and wait for death. When someone asks if you want a different life, a lot of people will say yes. Most people even. But nobody wants this, not really, not truly. Home, however terrible, is better than a world you have no idea how to survive in. I sniff, trying not to cry again. Fuck you, Reddit.

I take a step forward. I don't think about it; I'm just walking for the sake of progress. Obviously, I hope I'm near Southtown and that the Shepherds haven't already been through. If I'm not or they have… well, let's just say I'm even more fucked. I breathe. In and out. In and out. You're not gonna die in some shithole game world without even meeting the Shepherds. Fuck that. Luckily, it's daylight, and if the sun is the same as on Earth then it rises in the east and sets in the west. It feels like midafternoon at the moment. Using the sun, I orient myself south. Southtown. South, yeah?

Around me, there's nothing but rolling hills and sparse patches of trees. Which is rather unfortunate because I have no noticeable landmarks in case I get lost or turned around. It's surprisingly hard to keep walking in the same direction without the aid of a compass. At least a nice breeze blows over these hills. Getting overheated and sweating too much would not end well.

As I walk, I try to ignore the sun sinking lower and lower on the horizon. I try to ignore the fact I might be south of Southtown. I try to ignore the fact I might not be anywhere near Southtown. I fail miserably. Every anxious thought sets me more on edge, and I begin to lose control. My hands shake and my knees wobble. Each step is a laborious task. I'm about to break down when I hear it: running water. Surging with energy, I sprint toward the sound, running at top speed even as my lungs burn and grow heavy. I crest a hill and there it is in all its medieval glory. Southtown, complete with the river running through the middle. Or at least a town like Southtown.

Better yet, the buildings appear to be fully intact with no sign of fire or raiding, meaning the bandits haven't arrived. Or the Shepherds. In my eagerness to enter town, I take a tumble down the side of the hill. One undignified scramble later and I find myself in a haphazard heap. Hoisting my sore body up, I waste no more time in jogging into what is hopefully Southtown. The villagers on the streets shoot me looks of ire likely due to my not so pleasant odor and appearance, but I pay them no mind. Approaching the nearest one, I ask in a rapid tide of words, "Is this Southtown? Where am I? Please, tell me."

The villager grunts. "Aye. You're in Southtown." He pauses, giving me a once over. "Are you injured? You look as if you've seen better days."

"I'm fine! Even better now! Oh, thank God!" I nearly shout, embracing the warm relief spreading across my chest.

"Are you sure?" he asks again, quirking a brow. "If you need a new set of clothes, you might try the inn. Old Yuri could have a spare set he's willing to part with."

Basking in the glow of the newfound knowledge that I have indeed miraculously found Southtown, I nod vigorously. "Yes, thank you! You're a lifesaver."

The man mumbles an acknowledgement before shuffling away, wrinkling his nose. I stand in place for several seconds, drinking in the bliss of believing I might live to see tomorrow or, dare I say, even the day after. With a start, I realize I have no idea where the inn is (and real Southtown is much larger than game Southtown). I turn to see the villager a few yards away, heading out of town. "Hey! Where's the inn?" I call.

He doesn't bother to look at me as he points to a building just before the bridge crossing the river. I yell a thank you and trot off in the direction of the inn. The sign on the entrance merely reads "Inn." Well, that's straightforward. I push open the door, the dimly lit sight of patrons huddled together around little round tables greeting me. A smell only slightly more pleasing than my own wafts through the air. At a counter in the far-left corner, a large, older man wipes down some wooden platters. He comes complete with a long, scruffy beard and grubby apron. Yay, generic innkeeper.

He glances up as the door creaks closed behind me. A trained eye rakes over my person, and an uncomfortable prickling runs along my spine. The old innkeeper's gaze never leaves me as I walk to the counter. I open my mouth to speak, but he beats me there. "You look like shit. Literally," he says, followed by a deep rumble of laughter I do not expect from a man with such a shrewd eye.

I frown. "Well, that's why I'm here. I was told you might have spare clothes. Assuming you're Yuri."

"Yeah, that'd be me." His laughter begins to die down. "But spare clothes… I never give anything away for free."

"I don't have any money," I say flatly. "But I'm tired, smelly, and would REALLY like to put on something that isn't smeared with cow shit." Maybe pleading will do the trick. "So please, if you can give me something to wear, that'd be great."

Now it's Yuri's turn to frown. "Most folks without any money beg on the streets, not my inn." He grumbles something unintelligible and continues. "Fine, but only because you're the saddest, most desperate sap I've ever seen. Wait here." Yuri disappears into a back room and returns with a bundle of brown clothes. He places them on the counter and glares expectantly.

"Thank you," I mutter, his surliness turning into my own. I scoop the clothes off the counter and stand there a little awkwardly.

"What?" he demands, arms folding across his barrel chest. "You expect a room now too?"

I become very fascinated with the stitching on my new clothes.

The sound of his palm smacking against the countertop causes me to flinch. "Gods, what is this world coming to?" Yuri pinches the bridge of his nose. "Fine. But you're gone tomorrow." He reaches down and after some rattling pulls out a ring of keys. Moving around the counter, Yuri gestures for me to follow.

I really hadn't expected much. This guy seems like the last person who would help a stranger coated in crap. But I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth; time to take full advantage of this man's generosity. Yuri leads me up a staircase, the boards crackling under his weight. We stop at a room that's door is fitted with a heavy looking brass knob.

"One night," Yuri says before fiddling with the lock and opening the door. The room inside lacks any notion of flair, but I'm not here for comfort. A small table and chair rests against the wall opposite the bed. That's it. Pretty barren accommodations. "Make yourself scarce tonight. Don't want word getting out I give rooms away for free."

Nodding, I step inside the room while Yuri unceremoniously closes the door quickly enough I feel the air hit my back. I sit on the edge of the bed after changing into the fresh clothes—a plain brown shirt and rough hide pants—and leave my soiled T-shirt and jeans in a pile on the floor. I settle into the bed. It's an unsurprisingly lumpy mattress. I can't complain, though. Free is free, and Yuri had no obligation to help me.

Fatigue sets in as I sit, the kind that grasps your bones and makes sure you ache to your very core. My mind whirls, however, and there's no way I'll be able to sleep even as the sun begins to cast long shadows across the room. I'm in Ylisse. Just thinking it sets the stone in my stomach on fire. I'm scared. Truly scared. While I'm thankful for the night I'm allowed to stay here, this is a world in which I have no clue how to survive. My only skill of any use in this world is woodworking, but I'm only as good as the tools I have or know how to use. I haven't the faintest idea how medieval carpentry works. Perhaps similar in principle to the modern day, but without power tools I'm just a chump. Besides, my skill level is amateur at best anyways. So, if I can't convince the Shepherds (whenever it is they come) to take me in, then I'm fucked.

A gurgling from my abdomen interrupts my thoughts. I haven't eaten since this morning, which feels a lifetime ago given the circumstances. Yuri all but told me not to leave, but a man has to eat. No sooner than I start toward the door, a gentle knock sounds from the other side. "Sir?" a distinctly feminine voice asks softly.

"Yeah?" Must be someone who works here.

"May I come in? Mister Yuri told me to bring you up some supper."

My main man Yuri. "Yes, please! I'm starving," I answer eagerly. The door opens and in walks a short girl, plain with braided brown hair. She's carrying a tray that appears to hold a bowl of soup and a hunk of bread and cheese. Modest, but I'd eat almost anything right now.

"Sir," she says, dipping her head and placing the tray on the table. "Please help yourself. I will return later to gather up the dishes."

"Thanks," I respond, already almost halfway into the chair. "You know, for a guy who doesn't give away anything for free, I sure have gotten a lot of free stuff."

The girl smiles slightly and cups her cheek. "Is that what Mister Yuri told you?" she asks, giggling. "Silly old man. He likes to act tough, but he's always helping someone out like this…. He gave me this job even though he didn't need the help."

I look up at her mid-bite into the chunk of bread. "Well, shit. Here I thought I was special." It makes sense though. Yuri clearly has a big heart. The grumpy old man act is probably just because he doesn't want to admit to himself how soft he really is.

She laughs again. "Well, if you need anything, sir, I'll be down the hall to the right in the storage room. Mister Yuri likes to have me do inventory when there's not much else to do." With that, she turns to leave.

"Wait. I didn't catch your name."

"Agatha," she says with a grin. "And yours, sir?"

"Michael. But most people call me Mike." I offer a smile in return, though it feels a little strained. My friends… they all call me Mike. I wonder if they know I'm gone yet.

She places a finger on her chin. "Hmm… Michael is a pretty spiffy name for someone like you, sir."

"Huh?" I say before realizing the new clothes don't change the smell or the shit caked to my hair. My face flushes with embarrassment. "Is… Is there somewhere I can take a bath?"

"Of course. Across the hall. I was going to wait until I'd collected your tray, but I can go ahead and draw up a tub for you," she says, once again giggling. "Didn't think we'd let you stink up the place, did you?"

"You know," I begin, scowling, "you were awfully polite when you first walked in."

"Ah, but that was before we got onto a first name basis, sir," she chimes, spinning with flourish to exit. "Just holler if you need anything… Mike." She pulls the door shut behind her.

Cheeky little… Oh well. At least I'm getting a bath. I tuck into the remainder of my meal, remembering how ravenous I am. I've eaten the whole tray in a matter of minutes. I sit in the chair for a while, letting the food settle before I decide to see if Agatha has the bath ready. Across the hall is another door with another brass knob, though this door is slightly ajar. Peeking inside, Agatha seems to have drawn the bath judging by the amount of steam coming out of the large wooden tub in the center of the room. Looking around to make sure she isn't still present, I disrobe and slip into the mercifully warm and soothing water. A bar of lye and a towel lie beside the tub. I take to furiously scrubbing my skin until the point it becomes raw and red. I do the same for my hair, careful to get every bit of cow shit clean from my scalp. Not wanting to stew in water now inundated with feces, I get out and dry myself with the towel.

I've only just begun to wipe myself down when a cry pierces the silence. "BANDITS! BANDITS IN THE STREETS!" The shout seems to have come from the window, which overlooks the bridge. I dash over, throwing open the shutters entirely. Villagers are fleeing from a group of brutish looking men carrying axes and swords. One poor schmuck catches a hand axe to the back of the head. I promptly vomit out the window. Holy fuck. I just saw someone die. A real person. Flesh and bone. And they're dead. I could go through the part in every story where the main character deals with death and violence and how different it is from his own life, but I won't. Seeing it was revolting, and that's all I'm going to say.

Downstairs it sounds like all hell is breaking loose. Screaming, yelling, crying, glass shattering. The bandits must be inside here as well. Quickly, I gather up my clothes and throw them on. I need somewhere to hide. Scanning the room, there's nothing. I hear footfalls pounding up the stairs. I'm running out of time. If they find me…. Images of the unfortunate villager flood my brain.

"You take the doors on the right. I'll take the ones on the left," a gruff voice says, worryingly nearby. Looks like going into the hallway is no longer an option. In an effort to hide, I crouch behind the tub so that I can't be seen from the door. I hear the floorboards strain as one of the bandits enters the room. I hold my hands over my mouth to keep my haggard breathing in check. He wanders around for a bit, not doing a particularly thorough investigation, before leaving. My hands drop, and I hyperventilate. A scream jolts me back to reality.

"Get off me you bastard!" The voice comes from the end of the hall. Agatha. One of the bandits must have found her. Fuck. I'm faced with a dilemma: on one hand, this is a perfect opportunity to run. On the other, I can't let Agatha be… killed. The decision is clear. Fucking morality. I bolt from my hiding spot, rounding the door and heading toward her scream. The bandits have her cornered, their bulky statures giving her no avenue for escape. One of them is tearing at her dress.

"Come on, lassie! Lemme have some fun with ye first!" Oh, hell no you don't, motherfucker.

"Hey, you big, ugly pieces of shit!" I yell, successfully grabbing their attention. "Can't get any the right way, so you do this instead?"

My tactic works. I piss them off. Both bruisers turn and clamber my way. A plan formulates. A stupid, reckless, and probably doomed plan. I run headlong toward the burly men, letting loose an almost certainly wimpy battle cry. But all I need is one moment of shock. And by the looks in their eyes, I've got it. They hesitate, brandishing their axes. Just as I'm about to collide with one of them, I drop to the floor and slide between his open legs. Fuck yeah. Without missing a beat, I keep going, arms outstretched for Agatha.

"Hang on," I say, tackling her.

I wrap my arms around her and tuck her head into my chest as we blast through the window at the end of the hallway. Feeling her clinging for dear life as we fall, her scream rattles my eardrums. We hit the ground hard, having maybe jumped down twenty feet or so. My ankle rolls and splitting pain shoots up my leg. But I manage to keep Agatha safe from the brunt of the fall. Thank God.

Something is wrong, though. No, it's not the obvious bandits raiding the town. It's that they're doing it at night. In the game, the prologue chapter is clearly daytime. The sun has completely set here. This is all wrong. But I'm definitely in Southtown. Why is this happening at night? Where are the Shepherds? What the fuck is going on?

"Now would be a really great time for you to fucking show up, Chrom!" I say loudly, aggravation and fear tinting the words.

"It's a good thing I'm here then," a female voice responds confidently.

I roll away from Agatha, who's currently getting her bearings back after my crazy rescue. Looking up, I see a young woman, barely younger than myself in all likelihood. Short blue hair stops just above her shoulders, one of which is bare while the other sports a polished pauldron. Her shirt is essentially a tank top, but medieval style with thicker fabric and leather patches for protection. A mailed skirt covers her thighs, ending just above the knees. Falchion glimmers proudly in her hand. Her hand. But there is absolutely no doubt this is Chrom… ette. Not far behind her is a boy with blond hair wearing a yellow shirt and brown leather vest. A heavily armored knight rides on horseback further down the street, her long dark brown hair flowing out behind her as she strikes down a bandit. Finally, a white-haired… man… woman… I…. can't tell… Oh dear God.

What the actual fuck?

Seriously?

Author's Note: Hello, all! I hope you enjoyed that introduction to my story! My goal here is to first and foremost entertain, but I've also thought Fire Emblem fanfiction might need a little gender bender fun! So yes, all the Shepherds and playable characters are gender-bent. Secondarily, I want this story to engage emotionally and offer up a real connection for readers to experience. Also, feel free to speculate as to why the timeline is already being wonky! Because that's a big deal in this story. Butterfly effect~~~ Also, side note: FFn HATES URL links, so that's why the one in the story looks so odd.

Anywho, thank you so much for reading! See you next time (which will be soon)!