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Minas Tirith, early spring of 1318

If Lily had thought the last year had been awful, the next two weeks were hell. Somehow, the whole incident had managed to stay hushed up, but anyone who lived in the High Court knew, and word got out that way. The maids could be world-class gossipers. If Lea knew, she was polite enough to keep it to herself when Lily visited. Sometimes she wondered if the whole thing was her fault. Boromir seemed embarrassed when he was around her and seldom spoke to her. Denethor had exchanged choice words with his son the day after he'd staggered home drunk. The only thing good she had going for her was that Denethor had stopped heckling her about having a baby. She was only eighteen, but felt that she had been married for many more years. All she could do was throw herself into her work and try to get through each day without breaking down in front of the staff. Only at night could she let out all the emotion that had built during the day from all the whispers and stares. The only place she knew that she could be alone was the same hallway that all this mess had started. One side had windows that let moonlight in. She would just go there to be alone and away from Boromir. She had decided to let him bring up the subject when he was ready, not let her bring it up so she could yell at him like she dearly wanted too.

And now she debated whether she should be the sulking and angry wife or the forgiving wife. Boromir was leading a regiment of troops to Ithilien to protect the borders, and almost everyone in the city would be there to watch them parade out, Boromir in the lead. I should go out to support him. What would it say to him if I stayed at home and sulked? She surprised herself at these thoughts. Caring what he thought? She was supposed to be mad at him, since being unfaithful to her wasn't exactly something that was easy to forgive. Or forget. Lily thought back to when this whole mess had started, when he'd said he had finally fallen in love with her and practically begged her to love him back. Was that still true? Did he still love her? Well, there was only one way to find out. Ask him.

Boromir swung onto his horse and set his jaw firmly. All of the other soldiers seemed happy that they were going to get fawned over by the entire city, but Boromir couldn't enjoy it. He knew he had messed up. Big time. And he had a lot of explaining to do when he finally got around to talking to Lily. The trouble was, he wasn't sure he could explain it to himself. Why? It was just one simple word. And he didn't know why. It would have been easier just to let her go. Boromir wasn't even sure why Lily had stayed around after he's said they should get a divorce.

His thoughts were turbulent as they slowly rode through the city, cheered by the citizens. He was the captain of the troops, after all. Captains don't need to act like the soldiers did. They were soon in the fifth citadel, where he was expecting to see Lily if she had come. He tried to casually search the crowd for her, almost embarrassed when his heart jumped when he finally spotted her. She met his gaze, but he looked ahead almost immediately. He didn't look back.

Lea poked Lily, and nodded towards Boromir.

"He's looking at you, Lily!" she sounded like the young girl Lily remembered from years past. Boromir was indeed looking at her, and, oddly enough, she felt her heart flutter at the sight of him. But once she met his gaze, he looked away, almost as if he were ashamed to have her see him. Lea looked on in silence the whole time. "You still haven't sorted things out?" she asked. Lily could only shake her head.

"Haven't you heard the rumors?" she asked. Lea nodded slowly, as if she didn't want Lily to know that. "They messed up anything that might have been there." There was a moment of silence between the two friends before Lea pointed towards the soldiers.

"Look! There's Beregond!" she cried. Lily instantly felt jealousy creeping over her and wished that she could have married for love. Lea pointed out Beregond to little Hartanna, who she carried. "There's daddy, love." She told the little girl, who was more interested in covering her ears to keep the noise of the crowd out than her father. Her brother lay fast asleep in Lily's arms. Lily looked at Boromir again. He did look lordly up on the horse like that.

Faramir watched his brother and Lily. Boromir had been so quiet of late, and Faramir knew it much to do with being embarrassed about getting shamelessly drunk two weeks ago. He had watched the two of them together ever since, feeling sorrier for Lily. She seemed to have gotten the worse end of the deal, but she was going to suffer in silence until Boromir made things right between them. But considering that they barely spoke any more than was necessary, it didn't seem likely that that would be anytime soon.

Again Lily found herself in bed with the moonlight spilling into the room. Boromir would be in momentarily, but this was the first time in two weeks she had been there when he had gone to bed. Usually, she waited until he was asleep. But she had decided to do something about their relationship. She sat on the end of the bed, back to the doorway, when he came in.

"How could you do this to me, Boromir?" the words were out, and floated unwanted in the room. "Do you know what my life has been like for the past two weeks? Do you know what its like to work with gossipy maids who whisper about you, all while knowing that half the city will find out from their rumors?" She waited for him to speak, but he didn't. Briefly, Lily wondered if she had made a mistake bringing it up like that. She'd planned to tell him that they needed to talk, but those angry words had spilled out before she could stop herself.

"I don't. I wish I did, but I don't." Boromir finally said. Those words burned into Lily. Anger welled up inside of her. Is he even sorry for what he's done to me? Fighting angry words and tears, Lily was out of the room in record time, brushing past Boromir. Somehow, her feet led her outside, to the gardens. She ignored the chilly air, and the cold stone of a bench beneath her. She couldn't even cry.

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