She's cold.
She had stopped shivering a while ago, that was bad, right? Shivering keeps you alive, or warmth—rescue is even better but... She lifts her head slowly—away from the sight of her blackened fingers—pain from the effort making her neck spasm under the weight, but she manages, her head falling to the stone she's leaning against with a dull thud.
Snow as far as the eye can see, not a living being in sight, she's alone.
She's going to die out here, isn't she?
She rasps out a chuckle, her throat protesting at the sound.
Her father always did say her 'adventures' would be the death of her one day. Guess he was right, he was always right.
She feels a tear freeze on her cheek as her eyes slip closed.
'At least it's peaceful,' she thinks, as her world goes dark.
***
She's warm.
She's warm?
She opens her eyes to an unfamiliar wooden ceiling, so unlike the cloudy sky she had seen what felt like moments ago, she has to give her brain a second to catch up. Has she been saved? She clenches her fists, wriggles her toes, if they had, they did an amazing job fixing her up, there's no pain at all. Or maybe they had given her something for the pain? Her mind felt completely clear though.
Only one way to find out.
She slowly lifts herself to sit against the headboard of the bed she's in, looking down at her hands. Her fingers aren't bandaged, or black, they are ridiculously pale though, but so are her hands, and arms, and—her hair? Oh.
Oh no.
Her hair's white!? What, had she been in a coma for fifty years or something?! But—her hands, they're pale, but smooth, not a wrinkle in sight.
There has to be another explanation for this. She looks around the room, it's large, the double bed she's in only taking up around one sixth of the space. There's a big antique looking wardrobe, a small round table with two matching chairs, wooden floors and a fireplace? It doesn't look like a hospital room—wait! A mirror!
She hurries over, ignoring the rest of the room for now, this is more important! She stumbles to a stop before it, her body not feeling quite right.
She's—beautiful? Well—It's not like she was ugly before, but now she looks like a doll! With silky white hair, pale blue eyes, delicate features on a smooth pale face—she looks like a princess from some kind of elven fantasy! She quickly pulls back her hair, no points, still human then, just not—her.
She was pretty much the opposite before, a constant tan from being out in Australian heat, warm brown hair and hazel eyes and she was nowhere near this tiny! She was six foot and was quite proud of the muscle she had amassed over the years of travel. This girl? She was a twig! Small and delicate, like she hadn't been fed enough. Or maybe she just had one of those extremely fast metabolisms?
A knock has her jumping—almost into the mirror—startled.
"—come in?" Her voice is delicate too, soft and light.
What's happened to her?
"Your breakfast, Miss," It's a woman.
She has dark brown hair pulled back into a tight bun, a strict face, wearing a—maid outfit? She carries a tray with a steaming bowl and a tea set.
"Leek and potato soup today Miss, I will help you dress once you're done," the maid announces, placing the soup and tea on the table before moving to open the curtains, not waiting for a reply.
She quickly shakes herself out of her stupor, and sits at the table. Why's that woman wearing a maid costume? What's going on?! She needs information, but she doesn't want people to think she's crazy by asking questions she—or at least, this body—should know the answer to.
"Do you—" the maid pauses in making the bed, turning slightly to listen. "Do you know my full name?" she decides on.
"Of course, Miss, how could I not? Amara Vanderbilt, daughter to Baron Vanderbilt," she replies, baffled at the question, but not accusing.
Okay, Amara, Amara Vanderbilt—isn't that that ladies name? From that book she'd just read.
Amara Vanderbilt, Baron Vanderbilts' daughter, was the second prince's wife, barely in the book at all, but she remembers her due to how mad she'd been at how she'd been written.
They'd used her as part of a plot point, first she would only appear in the background every now and then, quiet and only ever by the second princes side, before it was revealed she'd been forced to marry the second prince due to her beauty and unique looks, only to be abused by him through the whole marriage! And the only reason it was brought up was to show the readers how evil the second prince is compared to the 'perfect' crown prince, before she's abruptly put aside, never mentioned again!
Couldn't they have at least given a quick update on how she was doing at the end? Poor Amara.
Amara Vanderbilt.
Had—had she become Amara from that story? The name and looks match, even the status, the Baron's daughter is the same.
"What's—Do you know the crown princes' name?" She asks, heart beat rising in anticipation.
"His majesty Prince Arthur Drake, you are awfully chatty this morning, Miss," she huffs, sounding annoyed.
She ignores her, leaving her to her tidying as she turns back to her soup, starting to eat as her thoughts whirl.
It matches. It all matches.
What is this, a fanfiction?! And why isn't she one of the main characters then? Well—the only main characters are either evil, the main girl, her annoying best friend or one of the love interests and honestly? She wants nothing to do with any of them, the love interests do stuff that outside a romance book would have them arrested, but in fiction is somehow romantic and she doesn't want to be anywhere near any of that. And the 'villains' all have terrible endings.
So, Amara it is then, could've been worse, she just has to change things. She's not going to marry an asshole prince and become a plot point in some creeps love story, she'll find a way out.
She takes a sip of her tea and winces. It's bitter.