"Owing to his inept lordship of the East and his ineffectual handling of the Wainrider invasion, the most recent offense to Gondor being the loss of Rómendacilbar, Jewel of the East, to the Easterling barbarians, Prince Pelatur is stripped of his Lord Governorship over Rómenondor by official decree of the White Throne. He is to be taken under heavy guard to Minas Anor to answer for his mismanagement.

"The Lord Governorship of Rómenondor is to be passed onto Lord Artaron XXXI of Edhellond, and all the rights, privileges, and responsibilities thereof.

(signed)

High King Mithrim I of the Reunited Kingdom"

---

---

"Why did we come here?" Arientari asked.

"What do you mean?" Tinsereg asked back.

They were lying in bed, the cool mountain air kept at bay by the covers and the soft fire in the hearth at the far wall. They stayed in one of the Royal Apartments of the Palace. On the floor above them slept the High King. Iandil was gently resting in the adjoining room.

They're conversation was whispered so as not to wake their son.

"You knew what was going to happen here," she said. "Why put yourself through all this?"

"This is now the third century of the Fourth Age," Tinsereg answered. "How could I miss it?"

Arientari gave him an incredulous look.

"Besides," he continued. "He's my father."

"Family does put many obligations onto us," she conceded, opening her husband up to elaborate.

"I don't want to be here," he said. "But in a way, I have to be. I have to prove to all of them," he waved his hand, signifying the whole of Palace, "that I'm not afraid of them. That their talk won't keep me away from my family."

"But you have a family," she said. "We're your family. And you have a good home back in the South. This is not a kind place."

"Then what should I do?" It was a rhetorical question. "Let them criticize and chastise me from afar, without ever seeing my face?"

"How is it any better if you are here?"

"At least I can defend myself here."

"But will they ever listen?" Arientari didn't need an answer. She knew it already.

"No," Tinsereg said anyway.

Arientari snuggled closer to her husband, pressing her naked body against his. "You are a great man," she said. "You are truly kingly... and they can never take that away from you. No matter what happens you will always be the King of Oasis and Sand."

That was a new one, Tinsereg thought. I wonder if that's an old title of their own rulers. I wonder... Arientari was trying to goad him to do something, Tinsereg knew. He planned on playing along until he found out exactly what her intentions were. Tinsereg smiled and cupped her breast in his hand. "I am only what you made me."

There was a knock at the door. A servant boy came in and said that the Queen was here and wished to speak with the Prince. "Alone," he added with emphasis.

Tinsereg rolled out of bed and donned a silk-lined robe.

High Queen Esgaler was sitting on a marble bench along the marble wall of the antechamber to Tinsereg's room. Amlóma sat next to her and two Citadel Guardsmen stood at the bench edges with another at the door.

Both the women had changed into formal evening ware.

The Prince and his two guests quickly went through the polite procedure of bows, no formal introductions were necessary. Tinsereg gently refused the request to sit. "What are you doing here," he asked brusquely.

"Now now now," the Queen said with a steely smile. "Is that any way to address the High Queen of the West?"

"This is my chamber."

"Of my Palace."

"What do you want, Your Grace?"

"A little chat," the Queen responded. "No more."

"Is she here?" asked Amlóma.

Tinsereg nodded.

"Agh, don't speak of such things," the Queen looked away in pedicured disgust. "That is not a sight I wish to think of."

"Then perhaps you can say what's on your mind and then leave," Tinsereg suggested. "Your Grace," he added on.

The Queen pursed her lips together, but then continued. "Your marriage has caused quite the uproar in the Court."

"Then that's the Court's problem," Tinsereg responded. "Not mine."

"Oh, but it is," the Queen said, standing up. "The Court is fond of rumor and scandal, much of it merrily taken up as a curiosity. But you, my Prince... son, have stirred up quite a commotion that goes beyond the normal pale of eccentricity."

Tinsereg smiled a crocodile smile. "I'm glad I was able to give them something to talk about."

The Queen's smile was equally cold. "I'm sure you are. However, there is the integrity of the Royal Bloodline to consider here, and the reputation of the House of Telcontar."

"I am positive the Throne is quite secure."

Queen Esgaler chuckled briefly. "It is not that simple. Our Family remains on the throne because our reputation is highly respected. Any action that tarnishes that reputation reflects back onto the King and undermines his authority in the face of the Court."

Tinsereg's stomach knotted up when she mentioned "our family" but he kept his mouth shut and his eyes locked onto the Queen.

"Are you implying something?" The Queen's words suggested that factions in the Court were ready and able to overthrow House Telcontar.

"Your continued irregular behavior only makes it that much more difficult for your father back here," she finished.

"I serve my father to best of my ability," Tinsereg said in a steely monotone. "Harondor has done nothing but prosper and become more stabilized under my rule."

"But at what cost?" Esgaler flared.

"My son is sleeping in the other room."

The Queen didn't seem to care. "Your reckless judgment reflects poorly onto your father. Have you no consideration for him? He rules the whole of the Western World; he can't be overly concerned with you in Harondor."

"Is that all you have to say?" Tinsereg knew that Amlóma's presence had something to do with why the Queen was really here, but he didn't care to hear it.

"Your brother, Prince Pelatur, understands," the Queen continued. "He too has exotic tastes, but he had enough sense to marry into the High Blood of Dol Amroth. I ask you, hasn't enough trouble been done with the dilution of the High Blood of Númenor?"

"Your point?" Tinsereg had heard all this before, and he was in no mood to hear it again.

"He doesn't let his personal preferences reflect negatively onto the King."

Everyone knew that Pelatur kept several Rhovanion and Easterling concubines in his Palace in Rómendacilbar. His marriage to Arfëa had produced only one son, while it is rumored he's had several children with other women. Arfëa had always been somewhat shy, but she never has seemed to be anything but miserable with her marriage to Pelatur.

"My brother is not a kind man. I can't see how he doesn't reflect negatively onto the King," Tinsereg responded.

"How dare you say that of your own blood!"

"Then how dare you say what you do to me and mine," he shouted back.

The Citadel Guards readied themselves, but the Queen steadied them with a short wave. They settled back into parade rest.

"Your belligerence ill serves this Family," the Queen accused. "It is time you take a proper wife." The Queen took a sheet of paper from Amlóma's hands and gave it to Tinsereg. "This decree annuls your marriage to that indigenie and disinherits the child you begot of her. You are to marry Amlóma and produce legitimate heirs though her. Since you are a member of the Blood Royal your signature is required. If you refuse, your marriage will still be annulled. Only you will be also cast out from you position, disinherited from the House of Telcontar, and banished to the island of Tolfalas where you will remain for the rest of your days."

Tinsereg quickly scanned over the document and then looked back up at the Queen, directly challenging her gaze. "And what does my father think of all this?"

"He will know soon enough." She then gestured to Amlóma. "I will now let you two get properly acquainted." The Queen gave a quick and shallow curtsey and then left the antechamber. The three Guardsmen left with her. She then closed the door behind her, but Tinsereg didn't hear any receding footfalls.

"Am I really all that bad," Amlóma asked walking up to him. "I just know we'll grow to love each other in time."

She put her arms around him, but Tinsereg refused to move or answer. Then she began to sway and hum as if in a dream. Tinsereg couldn't help but start swaying with her and the two were soon sharing a melodic, peaceful dance.

The two first met ten years ago when the Prince had brought Arientari to the Court for the King's blessing. Amlóma had only been a girl of thirteen back then, and was the darling of the Court. To Tinsereg, it seemed as if this girl's playful soul was boundless and ever pushing towards the future. She was a beautiful sight. The sweet and innocent young child quickly became attached to Tinsereg. The rest of that visit to this City was a painful memory, and he'd never returned until tonight.

"Ever since you left," she answered. "This City has been all the grayer. My father thought it best I remain here. The courtiers here are of a much higher pedigree. But wherever you stay for even a moment, you bring new life, my Prince. Please don't leave me again."

"I can't stay," it was the hardest thing Tinsereg had ever said. "And I can't take you with me."

"Why not," she asked, tears running down her face.

"You belong here. I belong in the South. I don't belong here."

"Yes you do," she said emphatically. "You are a member of the Blood Royal. There is always a place for you here." She paused here, as if what she had to say worried her greatly. "I could ensure it. I could be your eyes and ears here at the Court. Many a lord and courtier have people looking out for them, learning what they can and passing it onto their benefactor. I could do this for you."

"Of that I wouldn't doubt," Tinsereg said with some reservations. "But I cannot ask you to do that."

He now saw that since their last encounter she'd been veiled by despair. No longer looking towards the future but desperately clinging to a past that was gone. She was all grown now, and never again could have the longed for innocence of a child.

"Is there nothing I cannot do for you?"

Tinsereg halted their merry swaying and grabbed her around the chin with both hands. He leaned in close, their noses almost touching.

"The Court is not the whole of the world," he told her in a harsh whisper. "Never regret the choice that changes your life forever."

"Choice?"

"Yes."

Amlóma stared at him. Her eyes tried to piece together his words with what she saw on his skin and inside his body. There was truth there, she knew it, but it was hidden and out of view.

"You... do think I'm pretty, don't you," she asked with worry in her voice.

"Of course," Tinsereg answered quietly.

"Then why do you refuse to marry me?"

"Because my heart is already taken."

She seemed genuinely hurt by that remark. "What does that indigenie have that I don't? Why would you prefer her? I'm the one with pedigree! You don't believe her more beautiful than I, do you?"

Tinsereg's eyes swelled with sympathy for the young woman. She was indeed beautiful, but she could never replace Arientari in his heart. He'd already made his decision, and he chose Arientari. How do I explain that to her, he wondered.

Amlóma smiled. What a gorgeous smile!

"You tear up," she said, wiping his lower eyelid and catching the water on her finger. "How noble." She put the finger and the tear in her mouth, closed her lips around it, and then slid the digit out.

She then hugged Tinsereg with renewed vigor. "I can't wait till our wedding! I've been dreaming of it since first I saw you."

Tinsereg detected no falsehood in her, yet this was the same woman at Prince Cirimir's little afterwards party who'd laughed at the bloodied Prince on the floor. She then released Tinsereg, said: "Don't wait too long to sign," and then gingerly skipped out of the antechamber.

---

The Queen was waiting for her outside. "How did it go?"

"He truly is an amazing man, Your Grace," she gushed out. The overwhelming joy she felt at saving this wayward prince filled her body with a glorious light.

Queen Esgaler smiled her own crocodile smile. "If you say so."

"Is Your Grace really going to banish him if he doesn't comply?" Amlóma asked, suddenly a little concerned.

"No," the Queen answered. She knew he would never sign the annulment. "Elaldar would never allow it. But Tinsereg is careful, always second guessing himself. I want him to sweat -- to think about possible banishment with every decision he makes from now on. That should rein him in."

For the first time Amlóma felt that her darling Prince was in real danger. The sensation was of ice in her belly as she hurried to keep up with the Queen's long strides.

---

Tinsereg pulled his ear back from the door. He'd recognized Amlóma's and the Queen's voices but couldn't understand what they were saying. He took a deep sigh trying to mask his rage. It didn't work.

Arientari came into the antechamber wearing a white silk sleeping gown. Her eyes were full of nervous questions.

"We're leaving," Tinsereg told her. "At first light."

She nodded, questions gone.

---