Family is messy business, Éowyn meets familiar faces, and tries to figure out what exactly she got herself into.


Funky (Coincidences at) Christmas

It hadn't been her fault, really, that she hadn't heard them coming - she had been distracted, very much so, by Faramir's lips on hers and his hands all over her body. She had literally been swept up once again, irrationally attracted to this man, and now she was gaping like a fish, her heart hammering in her chest. Not exactly her proudest moment.

Éowyn prided herself on (usually) being able to think on the spot and react quickly, but right now, her brain still felt slightly mushy and floaty. Her eyes darted through the room until they found Faramir's, who just - wait, he smirked?! Yep, he did, and then he rolled his own eyes good-naturedly before turning around to face the intruders that had until now been blocked by his body. It was two women, judging by the voices. Voices that sounded sort-of familiar, though Éowyn had to grapple a bit as she was trying to place them in the right context.

She curiously stepped a bit to the side to have a look at them, after all, she wouldn't hide behind a man - especially not when they had just interrupted her Hollywood-worthy kiss. As soon as she spotted the two, Éowyn could have kicked herself. Big time. Because apparently, Faramir had truly made her stupid. And sloppy. And distracted. And forgetful.

Because she knew these two women, obviously, and their connections, she should have remembered that before she set foot into the house. Hell, at the latest she should have noticed that something was off once Lady Lilibeth had addressed her by her first name, now that she thought about it. But no, she had been so swept up in the craziness of all of this that she had overseen the signs, and that was something that wasn't allowed to happen. Not to her. Not ever.

Both women were around the same age, therefore round-about in the middle of their twenties and dark-haired, far darker than Faramir. They were also extraordinarily pretty. One had darker skin and big, soulful brown eyes, while the other's eyes were very very blue. Both pairs of eyes were widened in surprise as they took in the couple next to the kitchen bench - for an outsider it might have seemed as if they were simply shocked that Faramir had brought a date, but Éowyn knew better. They were shocked specifically about her.

A shock that probably reflected very well on her own face. Her partner certainly could see that something was off, and she prayed that he read the signs wrong, that he assumed that she was merely startled by the others' sudden arrival. To be honest, she didn't believe it, she was already dreading the awkward conversation later.

For now, he cleared his throat.

"My darling cousins, this is -"

"Éowyn Eorl."

One of the women sauntered towards her, deceivingly casually, a champagne glass in her hand. A shit-eating grin was flittering over her lips as she looked Éowyn up and down, from the make-up to the jewellery that was certainly chosen to impress. The blonde woman wondered what she was thinking - after all she looked like a black cat who was judging the little yellow canary just to consider when to eat it - and unfortunately, there was no option for Éowyn to fly away. She was the metaphorical sitting duck, just waiting for shit to hit the fan. Truth be told, some playful animosity from Val in particular wasn't hot news, after all, their relationship had always been on the loving side of a bitch fight, to say the least. She was the person who would drop the mic and walk away just for fun, but in this company at this party, that was the last thing she needed.

The two women slowly appraised each other.

"So, now after all is said and done, you're suddenly dating our cousin, hmm? Way to go, girl," Val commented dryly.

Out of the corner of her eye Éowyn could see that the third woman was visibly stiffening. Good, it served her well. Lothíriel had done enough damage.

Then Val turned towards Faramir and looked at him, very seriously.

"I have to say, she's a looker, so I get it, but dude! Did you really have to French kiss my archenemy in the kitchen WHERE THE FOOD IS on Christmas day, of all days? I didn't need that image in my mind."

Éowyn huffed.

"Archenemy is a little bit much, don't you think?"

Val turned up her chin.

"Well, I distinctly remember us being on opposite sides."

"Oh, Valérie, you aren't still salty about that match, are you now?" Éowyn asked sweetly before Faramir could add anything, "and I also definitely remember you hitting on me, while cussing me out at the same time."

Val scoffed.

"You are stupid, but also undeniably very pretty and I was very drunk. So consider it a slip in judgement! Which seems to be a common theme around here!"

She gave both Lothíriel and Faramir a very knowing look. Then she raised an eyebrow.

"Still, cousin dear, don't worry, you can have her, I learned my lesson."

"Thank you very much Val, though I give a fuck about your opinion," Faramir told her with a grin, pulling Éowyn closer into his side.

They were sort-of saved from more questions by Lothíriel, who pushed past the group and towards the bowls of crisps and gummi bears at the far side of the kitchen with an exasperated huff. She glared at the blond-haired woman as she passed her, brooding silently while she loaded a plate. Éowyn frowned back - what the hell was her problem? Nothing of the mess had been her fault, after all!

"I thought you'd spend Christmas at Suffolk," Lothíriel suddenly snapped.

Éowyn's eyebrow at her in surprise. She didn't think the other woman would care. After all, why should she?

"True, we usually would," she replied as evenly as possible, "but this year there was so much to do in London that we didn't really get the time to all drive out, so Christmas dinner is at my uncle's place in Town this year. But we will go to Gold Hall sometime during the next couple of days. The drive isn't too bad, after all."

Lothíriel nodded silently, it seemed as if she was biting her tongue not to say more.

Well, if the girl had played her cards differently, she could have been invited, Éowyn thought. She almost grinded her teeth as she stared holes into the woman's back in front of her. Apparently, her voodoo doll hadn't worked at all, judging by the fresh-faced, clean girl aesthetic she flaunted, the immaculate skin, perfect posture and carefully chosen outfit. Not one hair seemed to be out of place, she looked as if she had jumped straight out of Vogue. It really seemed the Pretty-People-Genes seemed to run in the family.

Still, it was a bit confusing why she was here in London, at a fancy brunch in a very fancy house with rather snobbish family members, instead of her home somewhere at the coast in Cornwall. To Éowyn, that sounded like the much more preferable option.

"Well, now you're here," Val concluded in this moment, "and of course we appreciate the sacrifice of your sanity on the altar of Denethor Steward." She grinned a bit sardonically. "Anyway, the more the merrier. Let's go to the music room and join the others, what do you folks say?"

"You girls go, we'll join you in a second," Faramir told them loftily, which gained him an exaggerated groan from his younger cousin.

Still, Éowyn caught the look in his eyes.

We need to talk.

As soon as the other two had left the kitchen, he pulled her into a corner, as far away from the door as possible. He wrapped one arm around her back, pulling her into his chest. Her traitorous breath hitched as she snaked her arms around his neck, even as her thoughts went into a much more serious direction.

"What's happening here? Can you please elaborate?" he wanted to know.

He spoke lowly, almost against her lips - If anyone came in, they would look cosy, not as if they had to just re-organize their masterplan.

"I know Val from polo," she explained courtly, "I used to play for Imperial and then for St Andrews, team captain, while she was playing for Durham, my brother was team captain, but Éomer and I didn't have much overlap. Still - A 'family feud', talk of the university polo gossip mill. And her horse Warsong is related to my Windfola and she keeps claiming he's better. Totally not true."

She frowned.

Damn it, she didn't even know what sport Faramir had played at university. Probably cricket. Or rowing. Or maybe he was more the debate-sort-of-guy. Yes, that sounded about right.

"Why didn't you say?"

"Slipped my mind. Someone apparently broke my brain last night."

Now he suddenly looked more than just a little bit smug.

"As unfortunate it is for our plan; I cannot say I am sorry."

Faramir leaned down to kiss her and she followed him willingly, meeting him midways as his hands slowly moved over her back towards her sides. Who knew what would happen if he - oh wait, she knew! She knew exactly what he could do with these hands of this and this was sort-of the reason (at least indirectly) why she had ended up here at this brunch in the first place. This probably should concern her, propriety and all that stuff, but since (at least right now) said hands had stayed on her hips in a comparatively proper manner, he basically hadn't done anything above high school-sweetheart-level. So, she supposed they should be fine.

When they pulled apart, they certainly were both more than just a little bit flushed.

"My brother played polo for Oxford, briefly," he offered, "and my cousins Lya and Brandon for St Andrews as well."

A couple of things started to re-arrange themselves in Éowyn's brain.

"Lyanna Stark, right? Faramir, she's an icon!"

She had actually heard quite a bit about her and her brother Brandon before, since both of them had played polo for St Andrews before her and they had been local heroes of some sort, so it might actually be interesting to meet them in person. Hopefully, they hadn't heard anything about her though, that could turn out to be a bit of a problem.

He grinned wryly.

"Well, now you can meet her. Though I hope she won't hit on you, too."

Éowyn's face felt hot, and she prayed with all her might that she didn't look like a tomato right now. The edges of the night Val had talked about might be a bit blurry, but she remembered the outlines well enough - party, people, a lot of booze.

"What sport did you do?" she asked instead.

"Archery, mainly. Cross-country. Clay pigeon shooting, golf, riding. Depending on the semester."

"A modern gentleman," she teased him, though he flinched.

"I suppose that was my father's idea."

She raised an eyebrow.

"You didn't like it?"

"I loved it. But I would have loved to love it without the pressure. Now, you researched my family - are you informed about the rest of them?"

Éowyn bit her lip, wrecking her mind whether there were more family members she could know personally but had forgotten about in the haze of Faramir's kisses - but her mind came up empty. So, she tried to remember what she knew.

There was Boromir, obviously. Well, they had met, and he knew this was fake. After all, this was basically all his fault. But he would shut up.

Then the connected families - Swan, Stark, Humphrey. Swan on Faramir's mum's side, the other two on his dad's.

She knew that Brandon Stark had somehow been involved in Gondor Investments for a time, but apparently wasn't anymore, and Lyanna usually lived in Paris.

Of course she had also done her due diligence about the Swan-branch during her research, even though they mostly seemed to do their own thing. A bit of real estate, management, doctors – just what you would expect. For the most part, the Steward-people really were rather predictable.

All but Lothíriel Swan, who apparently worked in marketing for Denethor's company. Lothíriel - Éomer's Lotty. She hated that she hadn't connected the dots, that she hadn't seen it earlier. But there had been nothing to compare - no photo of hers on the Gondor website, no LinkedIn at all (surprisingly), and on the other hand, no information about her job on social media. Her Instagram only seemed to consist of the odd selfie, many many pictures of her puppy, and inspirational quotes. The one time she had met Lothíriel before, meaning the one time after the charity game when Val had (likely totally on purpose) spilled her whole cocktail over Éowyn's shirt, they had talked about different things, not yet caught-up in jobs and 'real adult life'. Everything had been easier, back then, between polo games and too much alcohol, without so many responsibilities and no idea where to go and what to do with their lives. Just drifting from day to day, despite the vague fear of the future in the back of their minds.

It seemed as if in the end, they had all ended up in the family business. How predictable.

And Éomer, that utter bastard, had never said a word. He had made her work herself stupid about business plans and legal loopholes, in the full knowledge that he wouldn't support her plan for Edinburgh anyway. Because of that woman. A woman who had made very clear that she didn't want him.

"I'm informed," she answered truthfully, "but Boromir's friend of his plus girlfriend, these are two unknown variables."

Faramir nodded.

"Good. We should probably join the others now. Are you okay with that?"

He looked so hopeful that she could only nod, following him through the house. Apparently, their destination was at the completely other end of the house, or maybe it was only her anxiety that made the way feel so long - Still, she had almost worked herself into a silent frenzy when she suddenly felt Faramir's hand on the small of her back, grounding and weirdly soothing. He shot her a curious glance, obviously aware of her agitation. She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but she feared it rather came out as a grimace.

They seemed to follow the sound of faint laughter, far more cheerfully than what she had heard in this mansion so far, until they stopped in front of what must be the music room.

"Drink!" someone suddenly called out from the inside, followed by another flood of amusement.

Oh, drinking games then. At 11 in the morning. At Christmas Day. What was wrong with these people? And also - shit. That couldn't be good, especially not with a newly faked relationship. People tended to be far too curious about things like first meetings, dating and sex-life. The only real thing about that was the sex-part, she supposed, and no, she didn't care to share. Before she could do anything about the situation though, they were already in the room. Distantly she noticed how her fingers interlaced with Faramir's, and she found she really didn't mind it.

The 'music room' it was more a sort of living room than the practice room she had expected, but it had a big black expensive looking piano in it, therefore likely the name. Éowyn tried to take in everything at once, preferably before they would notice her next to Faramir.

Oh gosh, this really looks like a college party, was her first thought as she tried to read the room.

Five people, all round-about between her own and Faramir's age, were squeezed onto a big, L-shaped couch that dominated one half of the room. Another man almost throned in an armchair made from the same brown leather, with a woman daintily perched on the armrest next to him. A precarious position, but at the same time the highest seat – certainly a statement she was making on purpose.

The glass coffee table in front of the couch seemed currently almost overloaded with plates, bowls, glasses, and a big tray of muffins, probably the muffins Amrothos had talked about earlier. Bottles stood next to it on the dove-grey carpet, ready for use. Her quick eyes recognized a weird mixture between top-shelf gin, German beer, cheap vodka, off-brand soft drinks and hellishly expensive wine that had likely been stolen out of one of the family's' wine cellars.

The red wine stains will be hell to get out of the carpet if the bottles were to fall over, Éowyn pondered distractedly, but pushed the thought away. Not her problem.

Of course, the group looked up curiously as they entered, she recognized Amrothos, and a man who judging by his looks was obviously one of his brothers – no idea which one though. Boromir and Brandon sat on one end of the sofa, while Lothíriel and Lyanna made a terrifically pretty picture on the other end.

Funny, that extended family apparently was also pretty much into alliterations and rhyme in their names.

However, it wasn't them who made her heart almost somersault in panic, no, that happened when her eyes got stuck on the remaining couple. The dark-haired man had just been talking to Boromir and now leaned back a bit, visibly confused. His eyes kept flickering from the woman next to him back to her in a lazy circle, while said woman slowly started to smile, well, to quirk her lips at the corners.

Now it was official, the whole idea had been an absolute disaster – for once, her calculations had been horribly off. Truthfully, she simply should have stayed away from this party, she shouldn't have come in the first place, especially not under these circumstances. What on earth had made her agree to that scheme?! She really started to question her sanity right then and there.

Because, obviously, she had expected Faramir's family to be a problem, but she hadn't expected her own to mess up the whole thing as well.