Eomer was going down the halls in the lightest of spirits, but when he sat down the table with his new wife by his side his brows contracted a bit. It was a pleasant scene actually — such a joyful company on such a blissful morning. Emerald talked vivaciously with Eowyn in Rohirric, sometimes bending over the table to retell to Faramir most interesting parts in the common speech. Eomer searched her incredulously. The contrast of her behavior was stunning — so easy with everyone, so timid with himself. She was really a princess, gracious to servants, amiable to her equals. She had no difficulty to talk to the most farouche ones, but she hadn't even dared to glance at her husband. At first Eomer was surprised to find her Rohirric so good, but now she spoke away freely in Sindarin with elves that came for the wedding. Alright then, at least he won't blush for her wits, he half expected his southern wife to be dumb. But her looks… he couldn't stand the contrast of his golden halls and that dark-haired girl. She looked too… foreign. In his heart he found her strikingly beautiful, but supposed that to be his own lust and whim. Of course everyone supposed he married an utter crow, thought he. And she must be greedy and wicked, as all those darklings. Yes, he can't be distracted by a few kisses and some passionate moments. Aragorn thought her to be noble and good — but he must be deceived too. Eomer watched as the sun rays reflected on her black curls. How such a queen must repel his people. He found the bread in his mouth suddenly too dry and nearly choked.

Emerald saw the face of her husband grow darker every moment. He looked at her steadily and it worried her immensely. The night they spent together was very nice and even ardent, then why does her husband look so gloomy? She felt the laughter die on her lips and soon went out to catch some fresh air.

She stood on the porch and looked at vast fields beneath. Green, everlasting. Soft breeze rippled her locks. The air was full of fragrances, not the heavy ones, like musk and ambergris, which were familiar to her, but floral and green and fresh. She breathed happily and smiled, watching horses leave their stables for pasture. Eomer, who quietly walked after her, saw that smile and softened. When Emerald turned around she saw him and her face grew paler. But she spoke in a cheerful voice.

"These plains are beautiful. And Meduseld is homely. It is almost a shame that dwarfs and elves came here to build new towns of stone."

She paused, then cast her eyes away.

"You're not pleased with me, Eo…" her voice broke. She felt that the intimacy, barely gained, was somehow gone.

"…my lord."

Eomer noticed that title and noticed the shadow, crossing the face of his wife. He couldn't tell her that this marriage was a huge mistake from the start, for it couldn't be undone. What was the point of speaking about blunders already committed. He sighed.

"You haven't asked me for your wedding present yet".

She jerked her head.

"A present? For me?"

"Yes, naturally. It is a custom. Do you want jewels or laces? Gold or rubies?"

She stood still.

"Have you ever been in the Houses of healing?" At last she said.

"I have." Eomer looked puzzled. Of course he had, some of the darkest and happiest memories were bound to that place in Minas Tirith.

"I don't need gold, I already have enough. Build me a house to heal in it, I do it well".

Eomer was astonished.

"You'll have it."

His tone changed.

"But you still haven't asked for something for you especially. So no jewels for a princess?"

"Jewels?" She played with her ring absently. "Well, if you insist. I'd like to see some. The glittering caves of Aglarond".

She looked him in the eyes.

"With you".

"So be it", said Eomer, confused. So, she wanted to play the part of his wife and a queen to his people.

They returned to the halls. The meal was over, and the guests were starting to amuse themselves with dances and music. Emerald was glad when King Elessar asked her for a dance, but she saw her own king going out of the hall and her heart sank. Just some hours ago, lying in his arms, she felt that there was something between them… not a feeling, no, but at least they were kin, they were almost close. Now she thought that his warm eyes and soft words were a mere play of her imagination.