I have been hinting about wanting to write this story in my other current LOTR fic for a few months now. I know that Mareke and Adnan are characters in both, but I don't think you'll get the plot confused at all. These are very different stories. This one will be shorter, but it was just dying to get on the page and I didn't want to waste that urge. I also wanted to share it as soon as possible. I hope you love it. I can't wait to hear your thoughts.

Nevermore

Chapter One (Fourth Age 8)

The White City loomed over her. Mareke had never thought to see it again, but there she stood. She had only come at the insistence of her son, who was standing next to her peering up at the levels of the city from their vantage point at the very bottom where they had just stabled their horses.

Mareke had been to Minas Tirith once and only once. It had not been kind to her in a myriad of ways and she had wanted to send her son alone to celebrate the first decade of King Elessar's rule.

ooooOoooo

Mareke was sitting at her desk in her chambers, the ones she had lived in her entire life in the palace in Harad. She had several personal correspondences that she kept up with and she also dedicated a good portion of her life to serving her Kingdom.

There was a light knock on her door and she bid the person enter.

"I thought you had a council meeting this afternoon," she said to her son who stood in the doorway.

Mareke could not help but smile everytime she saw him. He was tall and broad through the shoulders, lean everywhere else. His beautiful bronze skin and his tattoos were visible in the light linen outfit he wore to battle the heat of their home. His hair that had once been shorn close to his head had grown long to represent his feats as a warrior and a member of the ruling family.

"We finished early and there were more important conversations I needed to have," Adnan said.

"And those involve me?" Mareke returned, sliding her parchment away so that she could focus on him.

"They do. I must ask a very large favor of you." Adnan stepped forward and settled himself in the chair across from his mother.

"I feel as though I have heard this before," Mareke said with a light laugh.

Adnan did not join her and she grew worried.

"What is it, my son? Is everything alright?"

Adnan pinched the bridge of his nose. "I do not even want to ask this of you, but I have no other option," he said. He looked up at his mother. To him she looked the same as she always had, but it might be said that there was more gray in her hair and more lines around her eyes and mouth. He had always found her striking. Courtiers whispered that she was handsome, not beautiful and soft as her own mother had been, but self-possessed and distinctive.

"Well proceed then," she said, brow furrowing.

"There is to be a celebration in Minas Tirith to honor the first decade of King Elessar's rule. I have been invited."

"That is wonderful. It will be a great opportunity for you." Mareke looked at him puzzled. "I do not understand what you fear to ask me. I have ruled in your stead before, while you have campaigned and toured the Realm."

Adnan was silent for a moment. "Because that is not what I am asking you. I am asking you to go with me to the White City."

"Adnan-" Mareke began, but her son cut her off.

"Mother, you know I would never, but this is my first foreign delegation as King. I cannot go without you."

"You have plenty of sound advisors around you. Your grandfather made sure of that. Would I not better serve you here?"

"I do not want advisors, Mother. I want you to come with me. You have seen it before."

"Under no good circumstances," she reminded him.

"No, and I understand that returning would be painful, but I have no one else to ask. I have no Queen as of yet. And truth be told, Mother, you are the one constant in my life. You have seen me through everything and I could use some of your fortitude for this."

Mareke sighed. "How am I supposed to say no to that?" She reached across the table and took his large hands in hers. "Perhaps this might be an opportunity to find you a wife so that I might be able to have some peace at last," she jested.

Adnan offered her a gracious smile. "Perhaps."

ooooOoooo

Mareke placed her foot on the first step that would lead them up to the seventh level of the city where the King's palace was as well as all of the grand halls and chambers for the entertainments.

Her heart rate increased with each step and her palms began to sweat. The noise of the city grew fuzzy around her.

"Mother? Are you alright?" Adnan asked, sensing her unease.

He sounded as though he were a great distance away, but Mareke nodded and continued.

Adnan watched his mother out of the corner of his eye. He knew she had been a captive when the War was over, that she had led a healing party to help those Haradrim that remained and to see to the returning of bodies for those for whom it had been too late.

Ten at the time, he was old enough to remember her absence and the fear that came with thinking he had lost her forever and that he would then be utterly alone with only his grandfather. He remembered not sleeping at all while she had been away and barely eating.

If she didn't focus on where she was or the presence of her grown son next to her, Mareke could feel the rope around her wrists and the blood running down her chin from her split lip. It had been over a decade since she had last stepped foot in Minas Tirith and still she could remember it as if it were a fortnight ago and still she carried the scar on her face.

As they drew nearer to the top level of the city, Adnan offered his mother his arm. She rested her hand on it after taking a break from the climb to readjust her clothes and hair.

"You look beautiful," Adnan said quietly.

Mareke offered him a small smile and a gentle squeeze before they ascended the last level.

Mounting the last few steps, they came face to face with King Elessar, Queen Arwen, the Steward of Gondor, Faramir, and his wife Eowyn, the Lady of Ithilien.

Mareke swept a deep curtsy, while Adnan offered a bow next to her. His did not have to be so deep as he was a King in his own right.

"Welcome!" King Elessar exclaimed. "We were so pleased to hear that the delegation from Harad would be in attendance. We have much to discuss after recent events and a decade into our treaty and alliance."

"I am very much looking forward to it, Your Majesty," Adnan said with a nervous smile.

"I was terribly sorry to hear of the loss of your grandfather, King Adnan," Faramir said. "He was a good man. But I am sure he trained you to lead well."

Mareke was grateful for the words. Even after ten years, not everyone saw just how deep the deception had gone between Sauron and the Realms that had joined him. Her father had been lied to and tricked and came out much the worse for wear after the War, but he had tried so hard afterwards to mend things and set his grandson up for success.

"You are not the little prince I remember at all," Eowyn said with a bright smile. "But your mother has not aged a day."

"You flatter me, my lady," Mareke said, returning her smile.

"My wife never flatters for the sake of it," Faramir said.

Queen Arwen stepped forward. "Let us have someone show you to your rooms," she said. Her voice was like nothing Mareke had ever heard. She had not been in her presence when she had been in Minas Tirith the first time. "I am sure you could use a few hours to yourself before the welcoming ceremony this evening."

"That would be most welcome, Queen Arwen. My mother and I thank you."

"You might also find some pleasure in walking through the gardens this afternoon. They are beautiful this time of year," she said, gesturing to one of her ladies-in-waiting to come forward to show the Haradrim to their rooms.

They followed behind and Adnan took in the palace, so very unlike the home he had known all of his life.

Mareke kept her eyes ahead. Even in the warm springtime, the palace was cold and she found it to be a place she very much did not wish to be.

Queen Arwen's lady-in-waiting pushed open a door and allowed Mareke and Adnan to pass before her. As they did so, Mareke caught her staring at her son. The young woman blushed, but Mareke gave her a gentle smile.

Adnan would be unlike anything the women of Gondor and the other northern Realms would have seen. His hair and skin were dark, he was covered in a myriad of tattoos, some of which could be seen even in the more formal outfits he would wear while celebrating and practicing his diplomacy skills in Minas Tirith. All of that beside, he was a King and commanded a great deal of wealth and power.

Mareke hoped he would be discerning when dealing with the women during their stay and even after when they returned home.

A part of Mareke knew that he had grown and that he would be immensely appealing to young women, but oftentimes she found herself unable to see the man before her and could only see her little boy. It was a very disconcerting effect when he sat on his throne or led his men out of the city.

The young woman showed them around the rooms. They were spacious and well-appointed, but there was no warmth in the design. It was all very functional and unobtrusive.

With one last glance at Adnan, the woman left the Haradrim mother and son alone.

"I think I shall lie down for a while," Mareke said, running her hand over the back of a sofa in the sitting room they were to share.

Adnan nodded. "Perhaps in an hour or two we might tour the gardens as Queen Arwen suggested?"

"If you wish," Mareke replied.

She knew it was not the same room she had stayed in before, but it was eerily similar and she wanted to be somewhere where she could close her eyes and pretend to be anywhere else for a while.

"Thank you for coming with me," Adnan said quietly.

"I would do anything for you. You know that," Mareke replied before entering the bedchamber that had been appointed as hers.

With the door soundly closed behind her, Mareke let out a deep breath. She slipped from her dusty travelling outfit and slid under the covers. Eventually, her women were shown to her chambers and they began unpacking her things and getting settled, but she never opened her eyes and so they assumed she was asleep.

Desperately, Mareke tried to imagine that she was in her rooms in Harad, but the chill and the memories would not allow her to do so.

She had wanted to escape the scenery around her, but when she did that worse things took over in her mind and so she sat up and looked to her women, who were rather surprised.

"I would have a bath, please," she said. "With my oils from home."

Submerging herself in the hot water made her feel a bit better. The scent of cactus blossoms and cedar floated around her and she allowed her body to relax. It did not help matters that during her time in Minas Tirith previously, it had also been a celebration. She was there during King Elessar's coronation and she had left just before his wedding to Queen Arwen.

The environment would be the same this time.

As the water grew tepid, she stood from the tub and dried herself off with her own linen towel that she had brought. She had known that she would want as many of her Haradrim comforts as she could manage to pack. It was unlike her. When she travelled around her own Realm, she travelled light and was not usually so picky, but there were few things she could do to comfort herself on her current trip.

Once dry, she rubbed every inch of her skin with a nourishing sandalwood oil and then perused the dresses she had brought. After some consideration, she selected a dusky blue dress made from a gauzy material that would flow over her body.

She would stand out. She knew that. Like her son, she looked different than everyone else, not to mention their different clothes. She studied herself in the burnished mirror above the vanity. The woman who stared back was not the same one who had been in the White City over a decade before. She was the same in many ways, but both internally and externally there were changes. Her wild, black as night curls, were threaded through with some grey. There were more smile and frown lines on her face, and she was a little fleshier than she had been then.

Mareke put on golden hoop earrings and placed a gold circlet on her head, before walking into the shared sitting room.

Adnan was sitting on one of the sofas, ankle crossed over his knee with a parchment in his hand.

"Working already, Your Majesty?" Mareke asked. His regal moniker had become practically a term of endearment to her over the years.

"I could not rest."

"You never were very good at such things. You excel at almost everything else and you always have. An early crawler, walker, talker, but I could rarely get you to nap more than half an hour." She rested her hands on his broad shoulders and kissed the crown of his head. "Too much to do, I suppose."

"Would you like to escort me into the gardens?"

Adnan stood and offered his mother his arm. "It would be my honor."

ooooOoooo

He swore he could smell her before he saw her. He had nearly forgotten the scent of the sandalwood oil and he shook his head as he wandered through the gardens, thinking he must be imagining things. It must be being back in the palace in Minas Tirith. He had been there a handful of times since the end of the War and Aragorn's coronation and each time, he imagined she was there. But never before had he smelled her. That scent was not of that time in Minas Tirith.

Eomer-King paused before a bend on the garden path and listened hard. People were approaching. A man and a woman. As they got nearer, he knew it was her. He would know her voice anywhere.

Mareke froze as they rounded the corner and were confronted with the Rohirric King's presence.

"Mother?" Adnan turned to her, not seeing the other King.

"I did not mean to frighten you, Princess Mareke, but I must admit it is good to see you," Eomer said, reaching for her hand and bringing it to his lips. He looked deep into her dark eyes the entire time.

Mareke was too dumbstruck to speak. All she could hear was her breath rattling in her chest.

"You look as striking as ever," Eomer said, releasing her hand so it fell at her side.

It took every ounce of his effort to turn his attention to the young man beside her, who was still staring at his mother, wondering why she did not speak.

"I had hoped that there would be a delegation from Harad. I forget how much time has passed though and thought that there might have been a boy king at it's head." He gave Adnan a warm smile. "I see I was very wrong. You are a man grown now."

"It is good to see you, Eomer-King," Adnan replied, glancing at his mother, who was still standing next to him, mute. "The horses you sent for my coronation were exquisite. I cannot properly express my gratitude."

Eomer waved his remark away. "It was the least I could do. I remembered how obsessed you were with our horses, despite having mumakil at your own disposal."

Adnan laughed. "Well the heart always wants what it cannot have."

He was the only to one laugh. The smile immediately disappeared from Eomer's face and his mother went stonier next to him, if that was possible.

"Indeed it does," Eomer replied.

Adnan looked between the pair, perplexed. He would have to speak to his mother at some point.

"Shall we finish our walks together?" Eomer suggested when he had gathered himself.

"That would be most welcome," Adnan said, once more tucking his mother's hand through the crook of his arm. He walked in the middle of Mareke and Eomer.

Eomer had always been attentive and he asked the young man many questions about coming to rule his Realm and how that was going. He listened carefully, but it was a constant battle not to stare at the woman on the other side of King Adnan.

"And have you kept your mother busy?" he asked.

Finally, Mareke seemed to shake herself back to life. "He always has," she said as lightly as she could manage.

"That I remember very well," Eomer replied with a smile.

"She sits on my council and has been known to rule when I am away from the capital," Adnan said. "My mother has been instrumental in my rule thus far, as she was to my grandfather."

"Indeed," Eomer replied. "You were both lucky to have her. Not all Kings have such women in their life."

"I am hoping to be left in peace for a month or so after this delegation," Mareke said quickly. "It has been a busy few years.

"I would not count on it, Mother," Adnan said with a laugh.

"You are rotten to the core and I have no one to blame but myself," she replied just as playfully.

Eomer could not help the smile that came to his face. The bond the two had always shared was unlike anything he had ever seen and he was glad to see it was still there.

Mareke lapsed into silence and tried to keep a smile on her face and to seem interested in the conversation between her son and Eomer, but it was difficult.

There was a commotion behind them and all three turned to see a toddler running toward them, trailed by several guards in Eomer's livery, as well as a nurse.

"Papa! Papa!"

Mareke found herself gripping Adnan's arm tightly when she saw the little boy, an exact replica of his golden father. "Oh," she said quietly.

Eomer gave a roar of a laugh as he swept the child up over his head and then into his huge arms.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," the nurse said with a hasty curtsy. "I was trying to keep him occupied."

Eomer shook his head. "I will manage him until this evening."

Eomer turned back to the Haradrim pair. "King Adnan, Princess Mareke, allow me to introduce my son, Elfwine."

"It is an honor, Prince Elfwine," Adnan said with a warm smile.

Both of the men laughed as Elfwine stuck his little hand out and Adnan grasped his forearm gently in the way of greeting.

"Well met," the little boy said.

Mareke could not stop looking at the little Prince, even though every second she stared brought a dull ache to her chest. When she did drag her eyes away from Elfwine, she met Eomer's and her breath caught once more.

She gave him the saddest of smiles.

"You have much to be proud of, Eomer-King."

As you can probably now understand if you're reading my other Mareke and Adnan fic, this one will be very different so I am hoping you can keep them straight and continue to enjoy both of them. If you haven't read The White Tree and Burning Sun take a peek!

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this. It was just bursting to be written for some reason so I'm going to allow it to happen and share it with you as I go along. Please let me know what think! I love nothing more than reviews! They don't have to be nice. I love constructive criticism. And also ideas for this or any other story. Head canons are fascinating to me!

Happy reading,

Avonmora