Author's note: I am surprised and flattered at how many people have read and favourited/followed this story so far. Thank you all so much!

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire or Game of Thrones. They belong to their rightful owners. Any characters you see here that are not from those stories are my own.


Chapter Two: Deny, Deny, Deny

The first alarm bell of confusion was over the lack of modern day equipment at the port. No motor boats, or metal cargo crates, or anything remotely 21st century. The second was how people on the docks were dressed. A lot of thin, ragged clothing and leather. And not even in the fun, kinky way. But all browns and tans with some smatterings of colour. And then she walked further inland, and felt like she had fallen out a rift in the time-space continuum. There were people dressed up in chainmail and wearing swords, or silk dresses, or peasant costumes. And everybody was speaking with an English accent. Chickens were strutting around like they owned the place. Merchant stalls were set up all around with wares of carvings, jewelry, smiths, puppet shows, vegetables, and roasted meats.

Hello 'Medieval Times'!

There were two trains of thought that managed to run and overlap each other as she made her way through the street.

Thought One: I've traveled through space and time into medieval Europe.

Thought Two: I've found my way into a Renaissance fair.

Thought One likelihood: Impossible.

Thought Two likelihood: Highly improbable, but the only reasonable explanation.

A strange way to look at things. But it was a strange place to begin with. So she needed to understand what was going on if she was to get back home quickly. It was time to break things down into manageable parts.

Observation #1: Not a single person was wearing modern clothes. (Which made Jasmine self-conscious over wearing cargo shorts, a light but decorative tank top, and a pair of sneakers. It also didn't help that everyone was staring disdainfully or outright gawking at her outfit).

Now this could be attributed to elaborate, hard-core cosplaying. But there was also no sign of staff or security. Which, in her experience being a security worker at conventions, was something that's most definitely not safe and/or suspicious. So the results were… inconclusive. Yes, let's go with inconclusive. No need to jump straight to insanity in your first hour on land, right? Better off just asking for help.

.

.

Observation #2: not a single person could point her in the direction of a police station or offer a cell phone for her to use. They also didn't seem familiar with either term.

Okay. That was terrifying. Either people were being completely pretentious in their LARPing (possibility: unlikely for Thought Two), or they seriously didn't know what those words were (possibility: completely reasonable for Thought One).

And suddenly the 'likelihood' placements of each thought started to slip.

Okay. Don't panic. There must be a reasonable explanation for this place being the way it is.

Right?

After about an hour searching the place, she decided to find a place to eat, rest her feet, and think of a plan of action to tackle… whatever this was. Jasmine spotted a stall and made her way over. The food was… weird. That is, there was normal food, but it was too... authentic, for lack of a better term. The fruit was somewhat misshapen and the roasted chickens still had their heads attached. Ya, kinda gross. Much as she liked meat, Jasmine was more into the 'process out the fat, bones, and cartilage' type of cuisine.

"Can I have three peaches, please?" She asked the woman in the stall. They looked the best of the bunch.

"Ay. That'll be a copper for that." The woman replied.

"A what?" Great, now she has to translate medieval talk. "Um… how much is that in dollars?"

The woman gave her a raised brow. "Don't know what that is, girl."

Welcome to Observation #3.

Otherwise known as: where the panic starts to seep in.

"I really don't have time for this." Jasmine complained under a shaky breath. "Look, I got American and Canadian cash, that's it. Not really in the mood to find a concession stand for carnival currency. So how about you cut me a break, eh?"

The women wasn't impressed with that snap. "Well, 'fraid we don't take cash or dollas here, girl. So either pay the copper or be off with you!"

This was bad. Jasmine could feel herself bordering on the edge of a full blown panic attack. She was about to step away and find a corner to hide in for a while, but then another voice interrupted.

"Is everything alright here?"

She turned to the voice next to her. It was an amiable looking man in his mid-twenties. He had shoulder length dirty blond hair, hazel eyes, stubble around his jaw, and was dressed in a fancy grey outfit with orange accents. Next to him was a younger man of similar features, only clean shaven with light brown hair and a slighter build.

It had occurred to her in that moment that she was probably making a scene with the woman at the food stand, hence this person feeling like he needed to step in. So she swallowed as much of her nerves as she could and tried to smooth over the situation.

"Yes, sorry. It's just that I don't have the right type of currency, I guess. I only arrived to this land today." Yes, that might work. Establishing the fact that she was new to this place might help dissolve the situation or get some assistance.

"I see." The man seemed to consider her for a moment, likely noting the strange clothes and her accent, and turned to the merchant. "Make that three peaches and two chickens. This should suffice." He pulled out a few coins and flashed the merchant a smile

The merchant didn't seem swayed by the charm, but was content with making a sale. The blonde man flung one peach at the younger man, who shook his head and gave him an exasperated look for the 'food rescue', and passed the third peach to Jasmine.

"Um, thank you." she mumbled. "But you didn't have to do that."

"Seemed necessary from our perspective." He grinned.

She smiled back. Feeling the clutch of panic subside and parts of it fade away. That was one victory, at least. "Right. Well I appreciate it, regardless."

"It was my pleasure. I am Ser Anders of House Marbrand. And this is my brother, Daven."

The brother nodded to her with a "Good day to you." at his lips.

She nodded in return. "Jasmine Switzer. Nice to meet you."

By then the woman in the stall had two roast chickens ready and wrapped for them. "Would you care to join us, my dear?" Anders asked her.

Well, he did just pay for the meal. That, and it meant having two people that could help her figure out where/when she was.

"I'd be glad to." She responded, and followed them through to a plaza to find a place to sit.

.

.

"Forgive me for my saying so, but are you ill?"

Jasmine wasn't sure what to make of Daven Marbrand. There was a part of him that seemed like a genuinely nice person, but then there was the more obviously miserable part that seemed to have little trouble in being blunt in exposing other people's unhappiness. In this particular case, it was in how much Jasmine was feeling weighed down and bordering on a freak out as she observed the [obviously medieval] people around her. And was promptly reviewing everything from her life in the last seven days from the cruise to the Soaring Wing to this medieval carnival of dread to figure out where and how things had gone so wrong so quickly.

"I'm just trying to understand how it is I ended up here." She answered simply as she observed two half-naked boys playfully chasing after a dog.

"You mean you arrived here on accident?" Anders asked.

Jasmine nodded. "The ship I was in got caught up in a hurricane. I fell overboard but was found and taken in by another one." Thinking on that, it would explain why she wasn't familiar with anything said by Maro or the rest of the crew about where they were from. She had assumed they were either from a small island or it was just unfamiliar due to lack of geography knowledge. But it seems that it was because that weren't from the Caribbean at all. They must have been a trade ship from some long forgotten African nation.

"It's incredible that you survived." Anders proclaimed.

"I suppose. But now the trouble is figuring out a way to go home." Jasmine sighed and put her head between her hands.

Go home. From across space and time. THAT should be easy enough.

"And where is home for you?" Daven asked.

"Toronto."

Oh, wait. She shouldn't have said that, should she? Europeans wouldn't stumble upon the Americans for another few hundred years. But what else was she suppose to say? Persia? She was half Persian, but could only speak a small handful of Farsi. She could pass off as Italian; but, once again, lack of language barriers made it harder to come up with a good lie. Frankly, she was surprised enough that she even could understand the dialect and accent of the men beside her. That should have been impossible, all things considered. But she couldn't go with an English location either, she didn't know much at all about England's geography and would get caught in the lie almost instantly. Jasmine sighed again. Attempting to come up with good enough lies just felt like too big of a hassle at this point.

"Toronto? I can't say I've heard of that kingdom."

"Considering the amount of books you read, brother, I'm surprised." Anders, joked.

Daven gave a glare in response, but didn't give a retort back.

Jasmine honestly couldn't care either way. She waved one hand in a vague direction and mumbled out an answered. "Well if you ever decide to sail off west I'll be happy to show you around sometime."

The two brothers glanced at each other, then to her, then back again. Gauging if they each heard the same words, then looked to her with a bewildered expressions. "You live West of the Sunset Sea?" Daven asked.

"Uh, yes?" She answered. Peeking an eye over her right hand. Since when did people call the Atlantic the Sunset Sea? Sure, it fits and all. But is that what it was really called back then?

"That's incredible!" Daven gasped. His callousness lost as he leaned in close. "What's it like?"

She gave a small smile. The kid was actually very adorable once he opened up. "Depends on where you're referring to, really."

Daven and Anders started firing off questions at her. Which she somehow managed to both oblige and tiptoe around major details. Talking about the New World could prove disastrous if she wasn't careful. Plus there was the fear that a superstitious bunch would brand her a witch and burn her at the stake or some other form of medieval torture. So things were downsized and altered to resemble a less modern era.

Fortunately their round of questioning died down quickly enough as interest moved to on to the bustle of people crowding out of the square.

"What's going on?" Jasmine asked.

"The midday tilts are ready to continue the tourney." Anders replied

"Tourney?" Well, can't have a medieval show without jousting, she supposed.

"Yes, I imagine it will be quite the showing. This morning Ser Cerwyn Payne had Ser Rupert dragged by his horse after five runs. And the Prince has been swatting champions down like flies."

"Well that's to be expected." Daven added. "This tourney is in honor of his newly born brother, after all."

"Yes, yes," Anders waved him off. "Though I can't imagine how well our Lord of Lannister is taking to seeing his knights and kin knocked over like practice dolls."

Their Lord of WHAT!

Everything seemed to stop at once as her mind fixed on that last sentence.

It… it couldn't b- There's no way!

"Hold on a sec." Jasmine cut in.

"Hold on to what?"

"That's not- never mind." She sighed. "Who were you just talking about right now?"

"Lord Tywin Lannister." Anders replied.

"He's our liege lord." Daven added.

Jasmine sucked in a breathe. The name Tywin Lannister rang a cathedral's worth of alarm bells in her mind. 'Do not freak out. Do not freak out. This… this is a joke. Right?'

"And he is the lord of… where, exactly?"

"Of this land. The Westerlands. And Warden of the West among the Seven Kingdoms." The bookish brother responded. Jasmine sighed a shaky breathe and put her head in her hands. "Beg your pardon, Jasmine, but are you alright?"

"Westeros." She rasped, hands still shaking. "You're telling me, that we're in Westeros!"

"Yes. I thought you were aware of that?" Daven answered. "You did acknowledge that you hail West of the Sunset Sea."

"Where else did you expect this to be?"

Gee, I dunno. Maybe a place that actually exists! Her mind was spinning, trying to wade through some semblance of logic or reason. It was one thing to have this place be a remnant in time. But this?

"I... please... Just-" She took a breathe. Trying desperately to calm herself. "Okay, look. I have had a really messed up week." Her voice stressed lowly. "I have woken up on a ship after getting thrown overboard by a hurricane, and managed to somehow not get killed in the process. And now I'm in a place I'm not familiar with. With no phone, no cash, and no way to contact my family and let them know that I'm alive. So, I'm asking you, to please not give me some bullshit answer, and tell me where the fuck this actually is. So that I can get back home." She released a strained breath she didn't realize she had been holding. But it was taking every ounce of willpower to not break down completely and run for it.

The boys made no move to answer. They looked incredibly uncomfortable, glancing between her and each other, trying to figure out their next step.

"I… I do apologize, my lady." Anders began. "We had no desire to upset you. That being said," He glanced again at his brother, but it seemed he wasn't willing to finish the thought aloud. "we made no japes on the matter. This is Westeros, truly."

Jasmine's shaking was far more obvious now. Her hands balled into fists, but her mind was too frozen to have a target to plant them in. There was only one thing to do and this point.

Deny, deny, deny.

Keeping her eyes downward, she stood up and hoisted her pack onto her shoulders and began to walk away.

"Wait!" Anders shouted after her. "Where are you going?"

"To find some sanity in this god forsaken place and get myself home!" She cried out, not even bothering to look back at them as she trenched forth.