Author's Note: Once again, trying for some formatting...those "How To" tips can be really useful! :P Disclaimer: I own none of these characters (except Heaghir, Wyn, and Gealith, and if Tolkien wants 'em, he can have 'em ;) they all belong to JRR Tolkien.
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That night I dressed to the nines for dinner. A flaming crimson gown that somehow didn't clash with my hair, low-cut enough to be daring, was topped off with my ultimate decadence: I let my hair fall loose and curling down my back. My father had given me a pair of dangling diamond earrings with matching necklace for my last birthday, and I wore them that evening. Still riding on a wave of indignation, I shoved my chin in the air and stepped confidently into the Hall.

At first no one noticed my presence. I chanced to overhear a passing young Rider's lewd jest to a Maid, though, and my rather loud laughter caught people's attention. It was the first time I had laughed out loud in days, and I did it again just for the joy of it. After that, the room grew silent.

My father came up behind me. Dryly, he said "It's about time you stopped with that idiotic act of yours and started being yourself again. Now go, enjoy yourself. I don't care who it's with, just be happy. Please." He gave me a slight push and I walked out into the center of the room.

There were many handsome young men in attendance that night, and I had planned to flirt with them all just to spite the King. I looked around to find him, and finally saw Eomer and Eowyn sitting across from Faramir at a small table. The men were talking quietly and hadn't noticed me yet, but Eowyn was grinning at me from across the room. I approached them confidently.

"Faramir, I don't want to tear you away from your wife, but aren't you going to ask me to dance?" I gestured to the revelers at the far end of the Hall, dancing to lively Rohirric music.

Faramir looked up at me and beamed. "Well! There's the cousin I remember! You seemed so demure this morning I was beginning to think my memory was failing me. Of course I'll dance—that is, if you don't mind, Eowyn?"

His wife had the look of a cat who had figured out how to get into the creamery. "Not at all, not at all. You two have fun, I'll sit here with my brother and watch you."

For the first time I dared to look at Eomer. His mouth was hanging open, and his lovely hazel eyes were incredulous. I laughed again at his expression.

"If your disbelief is directed at my dress, Lord Eomer, I must confess that I have run out of high-necked ones, so I had to wear this tonight."

He shook his head absently, staring at me. Staring at my chest, that is. This annoyed me.

"Perhaps the red makes me seem less...cold." I deliberately used the word he had so often described me with.

Eomer's eyes jerked up to meet my own. I felt a jolt of something...it disturbed me, a little. Suddenly I was too warm, my heart was pounding...I felt slightly feverish, yet excited.

Then Faramir claimed his dance, and I left Eomer sitting in stunned silence next to his sister. The dance was a fast one, soon over, but I found myself claimed by someone else. Eomer, of course. And I wasn't lucky enough to get two fast songs in a row—oh, no. My dance with the King of Rohan was going to be slow and agonizingly long.

But what the heck. My game was up, the curtain had fallen on my act. Throwing caution to the winds, I said boldly,

"I overheard your conversation with your sister this afternoon, Lord Eomer. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but I was in an empty stall when you walked by the stables."

He had the grace to look chagrined. "I apologize if you took offense at my remarks, Princess, but I..."

I interrupted him. "There's nothing to apologize for. You said exactly what I would have wanted you to say...that was the whole point of my little farce, after all. To make you not be interested in me, I mean. It was your sister's remarks that offended me. I dressed and acted like this tonight because I don't want anyone—least of all you—to think I'm afraid of anything."

"If you're not afraid of being saddled with a man you don't care for, why the charade?"

Damn him for asking difficult questions! I opened my mouth to answer, but found myself at a loss for words. Finally, I replied,

"It's...it's just easier, that's all. If the man doesn't ever grow fond of me, I don't ever have to say 'thank you, but no, I don't want to marry you for any reason, political or otherwise.'"

He laughed. "I see. So instead of being yourself and honest, you lie to innocent men who might never have offered for you in the first place. Have you been the object of so many men's affections, then?"

He thought me a tease and a flirt! I felt the cursed blush rising to my face. "It's not like that at all! I've been constantly thrust at eligible men since I was sixteen years old. Like a piece of livestock, I've been offered up to some of the most overbearing, pretentious, horrible men you can imagine. For all I knew, you might be just another one of them. But they say you don't want to marry, so I feel confident that you won't complicate my life by letting my father think you're interested in me. Will you?"

Eomer studied my face for a moment. "You're not the only one being pressured to marry." He said at last. "My advisers are after me to settle down, too. It seems to me we can help each other out a bit. For as long as I appear to be courting you, Wyn and Heaghir will get off my back about finding a wife."

"What's in it for me?"

He grinned. No man should be allowed a smile that nice, I thought. "You father won't cart you off to some other overbearing, pretentious, horrible man! And I promise I won't offer to your father for your hand."

I thought the idea over. If it worked, I would have at least a few weeks—maybe even months of freedom. If it didn't, well, would I be any worse off than I was before?

"Very well." I replied. "We have a deal."

And so the games began.