Shit.

I'm still here.

Lydia was staring at the fresco looming above her, frantic thoughts whirring in her mind. She had woken up a long time ago, but found herself incapable of any movement, as if her entire body had been cast in iron. Her heart was pounding in her chest yet again, or maybe it never stopped, even in her unconsciousness.

Her eyes were captivated by the elaborate image above her, and for a moment, she was overcome by a feeling of dread as the ceiling seemed to be moving in closer and closer as if by some unnatural force, eager to bury her alive and entomb her forever in this unfamiliar bed. It took her a long time to calm her heartbeat down; how long, she had no idea. Time made no sense to her anymore. Instinctively, she reached her hand to the nightstand to grab her phone and look at the dial on the screen, but of course, much like everything else she had ever known, it wasn't there.

The fresco had pulled her eyes up again, like a magnet too strong to resist, and the painting depicted up there sent her mind reeling in confusion again. This time, the heavy crimson curtains at the window were still drawn, and she had to strain her eyes to see it clearly. Fairies. Or elves. She was almost sure she could make out the pointy ears peeking out from their long flowing hair. Once again it had crossed her mind that she was stuck in some sort of fairy-tale, but that was of course ridiculous. And yet… were her other theories any less ridiculous? Had she traveled back in time to - presumably - the Middle Ages? Or worse still - had she lost her mind and was locked up in some loony bin, staring out of the window, drool running down her chin, and watching this thing inside her head?

Her door creaked open, snapping her back to the present. Lydia turned her head to see the servant - Nolwenn, was it? - peek inside from behind the heavy wooden frame. "You are finally awake, my lady!" she exclaimed with a relieved smile on her face and immediately walked over to the window to pull the curtains apart and let in some much needed fresh air.

"How long have I been asleep?" Lydia asked quietly. This time, the sky outside was overcast and gloomy.

"More than an entire day, my lady," Nolwenn replied and moved over to prop up some pillows behind Lydia's back. "Are you feeling better today?"

Am I feeling better? Lydia had to wonder for a moment; she was no longer about to have a heart attack, and felt no dizziness or pain except the cut on her thumb. Her mental state was another matter, of course, but at least it seemed her brain had found a way to finally try and think rationally again, desperate to find answers to the million questions that had already crossed her mind since the moment she had opened her eyes.

"What is this place?" she blurted out, ignoring Nolwenn's earlier question.

Nolwenn blinked, clearly startled by her words. "Your chambers, my lady."

"No, I mean… this entire place. What castle is this? What city?"

"Oh, uh… well, Dol Amroth, my lady," she replied reluctantly, her concern only deepening at the sight of Lydia's genuine confusion.

"And where is that?" Lydia had never been great at geography, so it didn't come as a surprise to her that the name sounded completely unfamiliar.

"The… Bay of Belfalas?" Nolwenn added slowly. "Should I fetch the healers right away, my lady? They wanted to examine you after you have broken your fast, but it seems you-"

"Bay of what? Is this southern Europe?" Lydia interrupted her, desperate to find out at least some snippet that would help her anchor herself in…well, whatever this was. The time travel hypothesis seemed more and more plausible to her, but where had she travelled to? Medieval France? Italy? The names Nolwenn gave her rang no bells whatsoever.

"Well, we are in the South, yes," Nolwenn nodded and looked around uncomfortably. "Perhaps… you had better talk to your brother, my lady. He is quite anxious to see you."

"Brother?" Lydia looked up at her questioningly. What the hell is she talking about? "I don't have any brothers."

Nolwenn was beginning to look positively terrified at this point, and slowly backed up towards the door, as if she was afraid Lydia might jump at her throat at any moment. "Of course you have, my lady. You have three," she said with a quivering voice, followed by a visible nervous gulp. "Prince Amrothos will be here shortly. I am sure he can… help you, my lady."

She turned and darted out of the door, the echo of her footsteps slowly disappearing in the hallway beyond. Lydia suddenly realized her entire body was drenched in sweat, the covers clinging uncomfortably to her thighs. She kicked them off of herself and jumped up from the bed, too abruptly; she had to lean against the wall to stop her head from spinning. Once she felt secure in her movements again, she staggered to the opened window and leaned out over the sill. This building - this castle - was so high up that the waves crashing against the rocks below seemed like no more than tiny white ripples, their sound dwindling down to a soft hum by the time it reached her ears. All the way to the right of the large rock, a few red-tiled roofs were peering out from beyond a high wall of stone.

"You should be in bed."

The sudden voice coming from behind startled her. Lydia had been so lost in her thoughts she never heard him approach her; she didn't even hear the creaking of the wooden door. It was one of the young men from yesterday, she noted. My supposed 'brother'.

"Come back to bed. You need to rest."

He grabbed her hand and started gently pulling her from the window, but she wriggled free of his grasp and took a step back. "No. I've rested more than enough."

"You don't look so good, Lothíriel," he sighed and regarded her with a worried look in his eyes. "Nolwenn tells me you… have been saying strange things to her."

Lydia was overcome by a panicked urge to laugh at his words. I have been saying strange things? Me? He seemed taken aback by her sudden outburst, but only watched her warily, waiting for her explanation. She took a deep breath to calm down again, at least partly, and decided to continue her inquiry into what the hell was going on. "Who are you?"

"Are you serious?" he shook his head in disbelief. "What kind of-"

"Just answer the question," she interrupted him impatiently. "Humour me. Please."

"Your brother, Amrothos," he said after a reluctant pause.

What's up with these weird names? "And who am I?"

He breathed out a nervous laugh, but the corners of his mouth froze as soon as he understood she was being serious. "Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth," he answered slowly, eyebrows raised.

"No. See, none of that is true," Lydia shook her head, her eyes trailing to the large mirror that was hung on the wall in front of her. She had to do a double take to make sure her eyes were not playing tricks on her, but no - she saw her plain old self looking back at her, she was certain of it. Every single feature except the long hair belonged to Lydia Bennett, there was no doubt about that. She pointed to her reflection and said: "See, you all call me that name, but that is not Lothíriel. It's me, Lydia. And you're not my brother."

Amrothos turned to look at the mirror, as if to make sure the woman next to him and the reflection were really the same person. "That is you, Lothíriel. You are my sister. What are you talking about?"

Lydia's stomach tightened when she saw he was being absolutely serious. She stepped closer to the mirror to inspect herself in more detail. Only now did she notice that the woman in front of her wasn't entirely Lydia Bennett; the three holes that lined each of her ear lobe with the delicate golden studs she never took out, not even to sleep, were gone; the skin on the left side of her jaw that was permanently marked by a small group of scars after a particularly bad flare-up of acne in her teens was smooth and even. Lydia felt her breathing become more shallow, panic creeping in her mind yet again. What if they are all right, and I am wrong? What if I really am this Lothíriel, and I've just gone crazy and don't realize it? She quickly bent down to pull up her nightgown over her knees in a last-ditch attempt to disprove the unthinkable. The tattoo of a small flower she had on her thigh, an impulse decision made with her best friend on the day she had turned eighteen, hurt so badly she remembered crying in the tattoo artist's chair. Surely it must still be there. How could a medieval princess' mind come up with a fake memory so vivid, so… modern? She held her breath and looked.

Nope. No way.

The flower was gone.

The young man, Amrothos, grabbed her by the shoulders and made her look up at him, his eyes dark with concern, but soon, some kind of realization softened his nervous features. "Is this about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?"

"The Rohirrim."

"The what?" What kind of a word is that even?

He rolled his eyes and let go of her to take a few agitated paces across the room. "Please tell me this is just some desperate attempt to get out of the betrothal, and you haven't actually gone mad."

Lydia's heart started pounding in her ears again, and she had to sit down on the edge of her bed to keep her balance, afraid that her head might start spinning any second. Betrothal. What the actual fuck. "What's happening tomorrow?" she rasped quietly, suddenly feeling as though she might throw up.

Amrothos stopped his pacing and stared at her in utter disbelief. "Lothíriel, this is not a game! Father has spent months in negotiations with the Rohirrim, you cannot back out now that they are almost here. You have agreed to it, remember?"

"I don't remember!" she shouted out, clutching the wooden bedframe until her knuckles turned white.

"How can you not…?" Amrothos started to ask, but then his shocked features softened and he sighed, sitting down next to her. "Look, maybe… maybe your mind is just overwhelmed, Lothi. Moving so far away from home is not easy, I know," he lifted his hand to stroke her hair gently, as if she was a small child in need of consolation. Lydia flinched at the intimate touch. The more she was told the less she understood, and it was driving her crazy.

"Please, just tell me what exactly is supposed to happen tomorrow. Pretend I've never heard it before," she urged him, concentrating her mind on the ground instead of his uncomfortable closeness, which may not have been that awkward were he her actual brother, and not a stranger.

"Fine. Like you have never heard it before," he nodded. "You have agreed to marry Prince Theodred of Rohan. His cousin, one of the Marshals, is coming tomorrow to escort you to Edoras. Father wanted it to happen in the spring, when the roads are less treacherous, but there are growing fears of an impending war. He wants to keep you safe, which is why you are being sent away now."

Rohan. Edoras. A flash of memory inside her mind, two words among the rest of the gibberish she somehow recognized, but they slipped between her fingers too quickly. The broken piece of some distant recollection didn't even have a chance to seep through to the conscious part of Lydia's brain before it was overshadowed by a much larger realization. Marry Prince Theodred. Marry. Marry?

No freaking way, Lydia shook her head at the mere thought. She had to come to terms with being stranded in an unknown place, sure; that much she had come to understand, at least. But marriage? To some 'prince' she had never met? Absolutely not.

I have to get out of here, she suddenly realized. I have to find a way home, and I sure as hell won't be able to do that in this room. She stood up abruptly, her mind made up. For a moment, she looked at Amrothos and wondered whether she should say something, but then decided against it. There was no point to it. She took a deep breath and darted out of the door that had been left ajar, before he even had a chance to realize what happened.

"Lothíriel!" His shouts had quickly become only a soft echo somewhere far behind her.

Lydia ran as fast as she could along the unfamiliar hallways, not having the faintest idea how to get out of there. The only thing she knew was that the castle was high up, and the city down below; she needed to find stairs. After a few wrong turns and near collisions with unsuspecting servants, she finally stumbled upon a large stairway, skipping every second stair on her frantic way down. Once she reached the bottom, she found herself in a large courtyard, filled with a sudden hubbub of voices interspersed by the occasional sound of horses' hooves on the cobblestone and a dog barking. She quickly looked around and located what seemed to be the main gate out of the castle. For a second, she halted, but the sudden commotion of running footsteps coming from the other side of the courtyard, and Amrothos' voice shouting something over the noise of the crowd, left her no choice but to make a run for it.

Lydia bolted past the guards so fast she almost knocked over a man who was about to enter the gate from the other side. She weaved her way through the people with her head ducked down, hoping to get lost in the crowd. In her desperation to get away from this place, she ran and ran, not really seeing, nor caring, where exactly. Away. That was her only thought as her body strained its muscles to keep going, through narrow alleyways, steep stairs and small squares of this strange city. A group of children that sprinted out of nowhere and crossed her path almost made her tumble over, which finally snapped her from her frenzy and she stopped for a moment to take a few deep breaths.

Only then did Lydia realize she was only wearing the long nightgown she had woken up in, and felt a cold chill run down her body - it was overcast and lightly drizzling, with an almost freezing wind tugging at the thin material that enveloped her. She looked down at her feet and remembered she wasn't wearing any shoes, either. They were so dirty she shuddered to think what she may have stepped on during her careless escape attempt. In fact, the whole place seemed so filthy once she took a proper look around, with big piles of horse manure scattered everywhere on the ground, and a distinct sewer-like smell in the air. Lydia wrapped her arms around her body to try and keep out the cold, and felt suddenly lost and unsure what to do next - she had hoped for some answers out there, for some sort of clarity or some sign that would lead her back where she belonged, but instead, her feeling of helplessness and disorientation only grew. There wasn't even a sliver of familiarity around her; the people, their clothes, the houses, the carts and the horses; it was all so strange.

Time travel. That must be it. She was convinced of her hypothesis as she stumbled around the city, letting her feet carry her wherever they wanted. After what seemed like hours, Lydia reached a large harbor, with all manner of big and small ships rocking on the rough waves exacerbated by the merciless blasts of the cold wind. She was shaking by now, frozen to the bone; she barely felt her feet as they glided over the cobblestones covered in slippery muck thrown off the nearby ships.

"Oy, girl!"

Two men were walking in her direction, sailors by the look of them. "Aren't you cold?" one of them asked, baring his yellowed teeth in a creepy grin.

Lydia wrapped her arms even more tightly around herself, suddenly aware of her hardened nipples that were protruding from the delicate material of her nightgown. Her female instincts put her on high alert instantly; they were both holding bottles in their hands, and the strong whiff of alcohol that they emanated reached her nostrils despite the strong wind. "I'm fine," she mumbled and quickly turned around to leave, but one of them grabbed her by the shoulder to stop her.

"You must be freezing," he said with fake concern in his voice. "Maybe we can keep you warm."

"Don't touch me," Lydia blurted out, her throat dry, eyes darting from one man to the other. They were both disgusting, with dirty clothes and beards that clearly hadn't been washed in a long time. The mere touch of the man's hand on her shoulder made her skin crawl. This is not how I expected this to go.

"Come on, don't be so coy," the other man spewed, spit flying from his mouth. "We can-"

"You can leave the Princess in peace," a familiar voice interrupted him. At first, Lydia noticed the glimmer of a long sharp blade appear out of nowhere, before she saw Amrothos and a group of other soldiers place themselves between her and the sailors to protect her. This stand-off only lasted a few moments before the men scurried off hastily, mumbling apologies as they went.

"What in the world were you thinking, Lothíriel?!" Amrothos turned to her and hissed angrily, keeping his voice down. "You can't run around the city on your own, let alone dressed like this!"

Lydia stared at him in shock, the whole experience rendering her speechless. I can't get away. There is no way home. The mists of her dream-like confusion had finally cleared, and the realization hit her like a wall of bricks. She was stranded here, in this place she had never heard of, in this body that was not quite her own, not having the faintest idea how to even begin to explain. "I just want to go home," she mumbled dejectedly, on the verge of tears.

"And home we shall go," Amrothos nodded, wrapping a long cape one of the soldiers had handed to him around her frozen shoulders.

Lydia followed him back to the castle obediently, desperately wishing to bury herself in the pillows once more, on the off-chance that she may wake up from this nightmare in her own bed. This place was weird, and scary, and she didn't have the faintest clue what to do apart from submitting to her circumstances, at least for the time being.

"I don't know what is happening with you, Lothi," Amrothos said to her, his initial anger replaced by worry and concern. "But be that as it may, Lord Éomer will arrive tomorrow. We need to get you back to your senses by then."

ooOOoo

A/N: Éomer finally arrives in the next chapter! I felt like Lydia needed a bit more time to come to terms with what's happening before their first meeting, so thank you if you've made it this far!