Her opponent was sweating. She could see the little beads forming at his brow. It was a typical summer day in Harad, and unless dressed appropriately, the heat was unbearable. But it was not the heat that made him sweat. It was a game of strategy, played for her hand. And he was losing.

A periodical gust of wind made her dress flutter. The silk of it so thin it was almost translucent. The perfect picture of a princess she was, all kind smiles and innocent eyes. She was beautiful. And he wanted her. All he had to do was win.

And she already knew he had lost.

She moved the largest piece on her side of the board to the left, and realization hit his eyes.

"It seems you have lost my lord"

And angry frown appeared on his brow, and he stood up without a word, hitting the table in his callous manners and spilling the pieces of their game everywhere. He stomped off and she smiled. She would remain free for another day, the cage of marriage yet again avoided.

But life consisted of a series of cages, some made by our own choices, and other made for us. And as the dark Lord standing in the shadow watched her, a self-satisfied grin on her face after having just beaten on of the best generals of the South in a game of strategy, he was devising a new cage for her. A cage he knew she would gladly lock herself in.

-

That bastard. That absolute bastard. Fire clouded her vision, and she had to bite her cheek until she could taste the blood to keep herself from screaming. Rationally, she knew it made sense. It would secure his position as king; it would keep her from becoming a martyr. It would make sure she would never be a viable replacement for him.

She knew it made sense in every way.

She also knew that was not why he suggested it.

Ever since they were young there had been strife between the siblings, close in age as they were. She had been jealous of his freedom, and he had been jealous of the attention their father showed her. They have been at each other's throats since she learned how to speak. They had had a lifetime of discovering the others fears. And now it was his turn to exploit hers.

And it seemed she was not the only one angry at his suggestion. Those who had had angry eyes before were now red in the face, some of them yelling at their king. There were none yet who showed pity it seemed. They would not accept. Or so she thought.

The man who with the kind eyes from before had stood up from his place and made for the king. His stride told of a confidence most kings wished for. His shoulder-length dark hair was greying, his clothes were rich and new. And all those he passed fell silent and watched him. This was a man to be respected.

As the man whispered in the ear of King Elessar the murmuring finally died down. In fact, the silence became almost deafening, for none of the words spoken could be heard from where she was bound.

The lords of Gondor had been angry at her brother's proposal, and she hoped that anger would influence the king's decision. She begged it would. Politically it made sense, wedding a foreign princess to one of his lords. But she was not just a princess. She was a criminal of war. She was the Easterlings Bride.

She was too dangerous to ever be allowed back to her homeland.

She was too dangerous to simply kill.

The two men speaking kept looking at her, and back to each other. Her brother remained excluded from the conversation. She knew his expressions well, and even now that he tried so to hide it, she could read the confusion and anger. They spoke a language he did not, she concluded. He was just as much in the dark as she was. And this pleased her.

The two Gondorians seemed to have found some sort of agreement, for the older man stood up and walked back to his place. His expression had not changed from before. He knew how to play the games of the court. She would have respected him had he been one of hers. She would not have underestimated him then, and she would not underestimate him now.

The King stood again, and offered a hand to her brother.

"It seems we will become kin indeed, King Jazakr, for Prince Imrahil has graciously offered to wed your sister to his second son."

A second son. Not even the heir. It was an insult to one as proud as Jazakr, and had he still been the boy she knew from before the war his pride would have made him refuse. But as the war had changed her, she knew it must have changed him as well. He was king now, he needed to be smart. And even a second son was too good for her.

The anger flashed in her brothers' eyes, and for a second she thought it might win. But luck had never been on her side. Everything she had ever had had been paid for in full. The King of the united tribes of al-Amrûn took the hand extended to him.

"I thank you, King Elessar, and I hope we can look forward to a long and lasting alliance."

And that would be the end of it. The decision had been made. She would not face her death, but a life in the cage she had been trying to avoid for so many years. The Valar must truly hate her, for this was the one punishment she truly dreaded. To lay beneath some Lord and birth his children, allowed to be nothing but a brood mare. No will of her own, no say in what happened to her.

Her chains were loosened, and arms lifted her to her feet, pushing her forward. Though long corridors painted with beautiful fresco's, passing a sweet-smelling garden from which a sweet voice sang. But it was a blur to her. All she knew what that this was most definitely not the way to the dungeons.

She was guided into a room obviously meant for someone of means. The bed looked fluffy and soft, the tapestries covering the walls were rich in color and made with skill. And yet the room held no warmth to her. Rough hands stripped her of her clothing, softer hands pushed her to an adjacent room. She let it all happen.

Cold water was used to clean her, scrubbing the caked blood from her skin. The maid gasped while she cleaned her body, the guards kept watching. She felt like an animal, like one of the apes in her father's menagerie, watched for the amusement of others, not a moment of privacy.

When the blood had been cleaned and her skin was raw from the rubbing a shift was pulled over her head, and she was taken back to the first room.

"You will stay here." Commanded the oldest of her two guards.

She only nodded.

And then they left, the door closing with a bang. She only heard one set of footsteps leaving and deduced the two guards must be stationed in front of her door. So they were afraid she would run. Maybe in another life, but her body was weak, and her mind was spinning.

Even so, habit commanded she scanned her room for escape options. No sharp things were present in the room, everything she could have used to hurt herself were removed. There were no tables present, although a lack of cleaning alerted her to where they had been. She made her way to the window, too small for most to climb out of. Maybe is she squeezed? But when looking out of it she knew that way would only lead to her death, for it was a long and sheer drop, and not a ledge in sight to set her feet.

She was caged in this room. The only way she would leave it was a Gondorian's wife.