Both Eomer and Lothiriel survived the evening and morning meals, though mostly with Eomer glaring at anyone in the room who dared to whisper or glance at the princess. He may not care for the woman, but he would not stand for anyone blaming her. Several times he began to stand in frustration to make a speech, but Eowyn's hand would firmly rest on his arm to keep him in his seat.

Lothiriel knocked on his study door soon after he sat down at his desk.

"I have a plan!" she said with a smile.

"To save us from this marriage?" he asked hopefully.

Her face fell. "No…a plan to…you do know that you can easily save yourself from this?"

Eomer was confused after all the talk from her and his sister yesterday.

Lothiriel hesitated. "You need only blame me." She cleared her throat. "My father would send me away somewhere to live alone and you'd be free to find a bride of your own choosing."

Even knowing how wrong that would be, he still found himself tempted. He had been raised with honor, though, and knew he could never bring himself to sacrifice this girl to save himself, especially when the fault had been so entirely his own. He was no scoundrel.

"What was your plan?"

She looked relieved, but also slightly ashamed. "It would possibly save my reputation. Perhaps yours, too, if it is in need of saving."

"You will be queen. That will restore your position."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "As things stand now, I will always be known as the Whore Queen of Rohan." She met his eyes. "And really, you will always be seen as somewhat foolish for allowing me to entrap you."

Eomer scowled at her. "So what do you propose?"

"That we start a bit of strategic gossip."

"I don't think—"

"Hear me out," she said, hobbling forward to sit in the chair facing his desk. "You came to Minas Tirith. What if we start a rumor that we were married then?"

"What? That's outrageous. No one would believe it."

"Wouldn't they?" She smiled. "It would explain why I ran off. Don't you see? If we had married back then, then we would merely be seen as rather lovesick."

Eomer began to challenge her assertions when another knock came and his sister entered. Lothiriel quickly caught her up on her plan.

Eowyn began to nod. "Yes! Who could blame the two of you then, having been separated for years?"

"But it's absurd! I would never have married on a whim like that! I was there such a short time."

Lothiriel rolled her eyes. "But it was on the brink of war! People were marrying left and right, trying to grasp at some happiness before the world fell apart."

"She's right, Eomer. Surely you knew men who married women they had just met."

"But they were…and I'm not…"

"Brother, it is not the worst thing in the world to allow people to think you have a heart under your armor."

Eomer stood and began to pace the room. "Who would believe it, though?"

"They believe that you were lured into Lothiriel's room to be trapped into marriage. That's certainly not better than falling in love with a princess who married you when you weren't even the heir to the throne of Rohan."

"Well, yes," said Lothiriel, with a slight blush "that was part of it as well. It certainly looks better for me if we married before you were king."

"But everyone saw how we spoke to one another here," Eomer countered.

"They saw how you spoke to her, dear brother," Eowyn reprimanded.

"I thought we could say that you thought I had changed my mind when I didn't arrive in Rohan, rumors you had heard while in Gondor or something."

Eowyn shrugged. 'I think it's a good plan. Everyone will see it as romantic."

Eomer wanted to gag, but he could see the benefits if their plan worked. "So how do we start these rumors?"

"Eowyn and I could have a few conversations accidentally overheard by servants."

His sister shook her head. "It will need to be Eomer and me, I think, so it's in Rohirric. I know exactly who our first audience should be, too."

The princess looked sheepish. "And perhaps…I mean it would probably help the illusion if we…well, if…"

Eowyn chuckled and turned towards Eomer. "If the two of you had some moonlit strolls in the garden or close whispering in dark corners."

Eomer's eyes darted to Lothiriel's, but she quickly looked away. So now he was required to play the lovestruck youth. He had no experience there. The closest he'd ever been to love had been when he'd grown infatuated with one of Eowyn's friends after he'd been newly added to an eored. She had had her sights set on a rich landowner's son, though. After that, there'd been no time for meeting anyone or courting. He'd gone from battle to battle and women had been just as foreign as orcs and only slightly less terrifying. Actually, he'd rather take on an entire band single handedly right now if it meant he could get out of this situation, so perhaps women were more terrifying.

"After the evening meal," Eowyn began, a look of sheer glee on her face, "Lothiriel will excuse herself, but give a quick glance to you. Then you follow a few minutes after." She looked up at the ceiling in thought. "Perhaps, I'll send a servant to fetch something over that way?"

Eomer grew annoyed. "There's enough people around these days that we won't need to be quite that obvious."

"True…" Eowyn smiled. "Well, in that case, this should go perfectly."

Lothiriel looked up. "I think it best that we do not write to my father then."

"No?" Eomer was relieved until he realized that meant telling Imrahil in person. Still, he'd rather face him man to man than send a letter.

"I don't think we should risk the contents being read by anyone, especially with our new deceptions. I'll write a letter for you to take along, though, so he knows I agree with what you say."

They spent the next hour or so hashing out the details of Eomer and Lothiriel's imagined love story, Eowyn giggling and enjoying herself far too much at her brother's expense.

"You love this, don't you?" Eomer said through clenched teeth as they set up their first performance outside a window where a few of the older women worked on repairing some tapestries.

Eowyn grinned at her brother. "Ready?"

"No."

His sister rolled her eyes and launched right into the script they'd worked through. "But you're already married to her," she said just a bit too loudly.

When Eomer didn't chime in with his line, Eowyn nudged him with her elbow. He sighed. "But nobody knows that," he said a bit woodenly.

Eowyn let out a soft groan, but got her lines out with the right expressiveness "Then tell them!"

Eomer checked his notes. "What would Imrahil say? We married in secret."

"Well, what was your plan back then?"

Eomer tightened his jaw and tried to fend off the elbows that Eowyn kept swinging at him as he resisted the next line. "We didn't have a great plan. We were just in love." He rolled his eyes and pretended to gag. He would never have behaved that way.

"If you're so in love, why were you so mean to her when she arrived with the elves?"

Eowyn had insisted this part be added while chiding her brother on how none of this would have happened if he'd simply been more polite.

Eomer again looked down at the small bit of parchment in his hands. "She was supposed to sneak out to join me and Theodred after we left the city and come back to Rohan, except she never came. I thought she had changed her mind. I was angry. But then after the war, her father and brothers mentioned that she had disappeared." He looked at his sister with disgust, but she urged him on. "I was afraid something had happened to her and I'd left her, but Aragorn had seen her in Rivendell. The rumors around the city were that she had fled out of cowardice or that she'd run off with an elf lord."

"And you were angry and jealous when she then showed up with the elves."

Eomer nodded and Eowyn slapped his arm.

"Oh! Yes…yes, so very angry," he spat out. This was a horrible plan.

"But it seems you settled things between you," Eowyn said with a suggestive tone.

Eomer scowled at her and she fought back a giggle. "Yes, but we'll keep our marriage a secret still. Our uncle is not yet buried."

"So you'll tell everyone after his funeral?"

"I think so."

"Perhaps you shouldn't," Eowyn said.

"Why?'

"The people need something to celebrate. Your wedding to a Gondorian princess would certainly be a celebration."

Eomer rolled his shoulders, trying to get the weight of the lies off his back. "I suppose."

"Lothiriel and I can start working on some of the details, a dress for her and such. I'm sure we can find something of Mother's or Aunt's that would work." She smiled at her brother. "You need only to speak to Imrahil."

Eomer groaned a truthful groan. Even his imaginary self could not escape the awkward conversation that would need to happen with his friend. And after years separated from his only daughter, Imrahil would again have to say goodbye to her. Eomer didn't think Imrahil would be very happy about the situation.

"It's so wonderful that she married you before you became king," Eowyn mused. "She must really love you if she was willing to leave her life as a princess to be the Third Marshall's wife."

Eomer doubted the princess would have ever done such a thing, though he'd also doubted she would willingly scrub floors.

"She'll make a good queen," Eomer said and realized that likely wasn't a lie. She'd been raised by Imrahil after all, who was a skilled diplomat. And her mother had forced her daughter to do hard labor that hopefully had prevented the snobbery that Eomer had so quickly accused her.

"The two of you better behave then." She wagged a finger at him with the hint of a smile. "No one knows you are married, so you best stay out of her room."

Eomer grabbed her hand. "That's enough," he whispered.

Eowyn pulled away and gestured for them to leave their stage.

"I think that went well," she commented as they made their way back inside. "Rumors should be flying by this evening."

"Then there will be no need for any strolls in the garden."

"People will get suspicious if you are simply cordial to her, Eomer."

"We're supposed to be careful."

"But you are not a careful man." She patted his arm. "You do not do anything by halves. Do you think you could ever be simply polite to a woman you loved?"

Eomer stopped walking as he thought. It was hard to imagine himself overwhelmed by romantic love. Anger, yes. Love for his kin and country, yes. But love for a woman like Lothiriel? For Lothiriel herself?

"I don't know…" he said quietly.

"You would be grabbing her to hold and kiss every chance you got." Eowyn chuckled. "Honestly, as resistant as you are to this, it aligns better with who you are than you'd care to admit." Eowyn lightly punched his chest. "I'll go find Lothrieil to let her know how it went." She smiled. "And then we'll go dress hunting."

She practically skipped down the hall and Eomer trudged back to his study. He wished he could just hide there until they left for Gondor.

Except in Gondor waited Imrahil and a conversation that filled him with dread.

The evening meal was filled all the more with whispers and stares, but they seemed more cheerful. Of course they would be pleased if their king had married. Perhaps the women who had hoped they themselves could be queen would be upset, but the rest of the people would rejoice along with his council. Those men had brought up the need for an heir at nearly every meeting. Did Lothiriel know the expectations that were now placed upon her?

Eomer wanted to only focus on his meal, but Eowyn kept elbowing him. "Try to look in love," she whispered more than once. But Eomer didn't know what that looked like. He could only see his mother wasting away from love lost after his father had died.

He tried to think of how Eowyn and Faramir had acted around one another, but that made him scowl even deeper.

"You're doing a horrible job," his sister chided.

"Your nagging will not improve my mood."

Eowyn sighed. "Do not look this grim in the gardens."

"It will be dark. No one will see my face."

"Except the woman you will marry," she said firmly. "Do remember that Lothiriel did not wish for any of this. The least you can do is perhaps try to woo her."

Eomer nearly choked on his ale. "Woo her?" he hissed and snuck a glance at the princess on the other side of Eowyn, deep in conversation with the wife of a council member. "What do I know about wooing?"

"I wouldn't know!" Eowyn said a bit too loudly. She leaned closer and brought her voice lower. "Try to get to know her a bit maybe. She'll soon be your wife."

"I can get to know her then."

Eowyn's mouth dropped open. "You are a disgrace, brother."

Eomer took another bite of his food to avoid answering. He knew he was a disgrace. He was already failing as a king and he'd barely begun.

Lothoriel eventually rose and excused herself, letting her eyes hold Eomer's for a bit too long.

She was much better at this and Eomer felt ashamed at how little effort he'd been putting into it all. After all, this was to save her reputation more than anything else. Even if he did not have any feelings for her now, he may come to care for her someday. She would be by his side, sharing his bed and his life, bearing his children. Surely, he could pretend to love her when others were watching.

He smiled and she looked taken aback, dropping her gaze. Flustered, she excused herself again and shuffled from the hall with most of the room's eyes on her back.

"Just give her a few minutes," Eowyn muttered.

"Stop managing this," Eomer spat at her. "You have done your part."

Eowyn crossed her arms and shifted her attention to the woman Lothiriel had been conversing with.

Eomer finished his ale and decided that enough time had passed. He nodded to those around him and left by the same door as Lothiriel, well aware that the same eyes now followed him.

Once out in the dark of the garden, he moved carefully along the overgrown path until he saw Lothiriel leaning against the crumbling stone wall. He would really need to get this area cleaned up. It had been beautiful and fruitful when he had been a child and his aunt had tended it.

"I didn't realize it was such a mess back here. You didn't trip with your crutch, did you?"

She smiled. "I investigated earlier in the day."

Eomer nodded and perched himself next to her. He cleared his throat. "I don't…I don't have much experience with any of this."

"I'm afraid I do not either. I was always carefully guarded."

"I didn't think Imrahil was the type to lock away his daughter."

Lothiriel let out a soft chuckle. "He wasn't, but remember, I have three older brothers."

Eomer cringed. "And all good swordsmen."

"Exactly." She looked up at him. "But surely you had women chasing you."

He shrugged. "If they were, they weren't fast enough to catch me." He sighed. "There was only battle and orc killing and grieving the loss of friends and brothers."

"I'm sorry, my lord—"

"Eomer," he corrected her. "Please call me Eomer."

She nodded slightly and looked down at the ground. "Eomer," she said quietly.

A prickling sensation went up his arms and down his back.

"I'm sorry, Eomer," she continued. "Things were bad in Minas Tirith, the black mountains of Mordor looming over the city, but in Dol Amroth, next to the sea, I could almost forget all of it." She turned to meet his eyes. "I am sorry you had nowhere to escape it all. It was so much worse here in Rohan."

"It was bad, but I expect like your sea, I found solace in the grasslands that stretched in front of me as I rode." He looked up at the stars. "And in a sky filled with stars as we slept in the cool air."

A breeze blew their hair and Lothiriel shivered.

"I can go grab you a cloak," Eomer said, shifting to stand.

The woman next to him put her hand on his arm. "Perhaps there is an approach that would better serve our purposes."

Giving her a puzzled look, he allowed himself to be pulled back down to the wall. He kept his eyes on her as she averted her eyes and guided his arm around her.

"Oh," he said in surprise. Of course, that made sense. He was so bad at all of this. How could he ever convince anyone he had married her on a whim because of how desperately he'd fallen in love? He shifted his body closer to hers and tried to think of men he'd watched turn into silly fools after meeting a woman. He grunted in disgust.

"I'm sorry," Lothiriel said and she slid a few inches away.

Why was he such an idiot? "No, I was just…I don't know how to do this," he said in frustration, pulling her closer to him again.

"I have an idea." Lothiriel awkwardly pushed herself to standing, Eomer not realizing her intentions until he was too late to offer her a helping hand. "You, too," she told him with a tug on his sleeve.

He stood. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just stand on the other side here," she tried to guide him while not losing her balance. Eomer was rather amused while also frustrated at feeling so slow in figuring out what she needed from him. He shuffled his feet until he was in between Meduseld and Lothiriel.

"There," she said as she looked up at him.

"What?"

"Well, I'm sure they will assume we're…I mean, they can't see what we're doing, so…" She looked away from his face.

Eomer blew out a breath with realization. With his back to the buildings, anyone who was watching would assume Lothiriel was in his arms.

"Ah," he said in a low voice. Realizing how close she was was exhilarating. She shivered again and Eomer noted how precariously she balanced on her good leg. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest.

She squeaked in surprise, but didn't resist.

She was warm against him, just like that morning with her hair flowing across him and the bed, her arm stretched over his bare skin…

Eomer got a hold of his thoughts. It would do no good to think about that morning right now, especially since it would inevitably lead to disgust with how badly he had handled it all.

'I should probably go in," Lothiriel finally said.

He shifted his hands to her shoulders. "Do you need any help?"

She shook her head.

Eomer didn't immediately let her go. He found he didn't really want to. He hoped she would look up at him again. Why? What was he waiting for?

He dropped his hands to his side as he realized he was wanting to kiss her. He would scare her off if he behaved like that.

"Goodnight," he said, stepping to the side to grab her crutch for her.

She took it and said her own farewell before hobbling back towards Meduseld as Eomer sat back down to watch her. How was he going to survive a week of this ruse? He almost wished he were leaving for Gondor tomorrow, but then that meant he'd have to talk to Imrahil even sooner.

According to Eowyn, the rumors were in full swing now as they made their way through Meduseld and across Edoras. Soon, they'd find their way to other towns and villages of Rohan. But the air in the hall felt lighter as Eomer entered for the next evening's meal. He'd been holed up in the council room for most of the day, but those men had also felt cheerier. Though Eomer had strictly forbid direct discussion on the matter, they seemed pleased with the shift in gossip over the last few days. How could they not be? Their king would have an official queen shortly and not some scheming foreigner who wished to increase her station, but a princess with a large dowry who had loved and married their king when he was nothing, who knew herself to now be queen, but who didn't hesitate to scrub floors and peel potatoes and whatever else Lothiriel had been finding to keep herself busy as she healed.

Eomer had to admit that they both came out of this looking extraordinarily well. His council gave subtle compliments at how well Eomer had chosen for himself and their country.

And as he sat down to eat, he found himself bouncing furiously between joy and gloom, victory and defeat, relief and agitation.

"It has gone better than we could have imagined, brother," Eowyn whispered. "Why are you not happy?"

"I am," he growled. Eomer sighed. "I am. I only despise the compliments I am given for being so wise and of good character to have selected Lothiriel."

"I suspect that if you had not overheard that unfortunate comment, you would have seen her quality far sooner."

Eomer took a sip of his ale. "I suppose."

"Be pleased at how happy everyone is for you."

"For me?"

"Eomer, you are well loved by the people. They are truly happy to know you have found a woman who will care for you."

It began to rain as they finished eating, but Eowyn had her schemes ready and whispered to her brother to meet Lothiriel in one of the back corridors that led to a small covered alcove.

Eomer found his pretend wife fumbling with the door that led outside.

"Here," he said. "This door isn't used much so it tends to get stuck, especially in the rain."

"You know all the tricks for the doors of Meduseld," she commented.

Eomer felt the blow, but directed his anger towards shoving the door open.

The pair stepped out into the small covered spot, the rain pouring down off the roof in sheets that protected them from view quite well, somewhat defeating the purpose.

"There should be a guard coming along who can catch us here," Eomer said as they each pressed against opposing walls. He was still irritated by her comment.

"How were your meetings today?" she asked.

"Fine. Long."

Lothiriel nodded and they listened to the rain for a while.

"I'm sor—"

Eomer hushed her. "The guard is coming," he mouthed and pointed behind Lothiriel.

He grabbed her and pulled her into his arms, her crutch falling to the ground, part of it landing outside the waterfalls they hid behind.

They both waited to be caught, but there was no one. Did he hear wrong? Eomer looked down to find Lothiriel staring up at him, her face so close, her lips so close.

Eomer leaned down, his lips just brushing hers.

"Who's in here?" came an annoyed voice as the water parted to reveal a guard holding the crutch and using his cloak to peer inside the alcove.

Eomer and Lothiriel flew apart, the princess grabbing hold of the wall to keep herself upright.

The king cleared his throat. "Oh, thank you," he said as he took hold of the crutch. "I was just helping the princess. She dropped it and…"

"And I didn't want to slip in the rain," Lothiriel said with an innocent smile. She held out her hand and Eomer handed the crutch off.

"I'm sorry, my lord," the guard said as he finally found his voice. "I'm sorry." He bowed and stared and then finally dropped his arm and scurried off.

Lothiriel giggled. "Poor man," she commented. "Let's hope he's not too terrified of you to share what he saw."

Eomer only felt annoyed. His men were not terrified of him. They respected him, but surely they didn't see him as a tyrant, right?

Lothiriel tugged on the door with no luck and Eomer stepped over to help pull it open.

"Goodnight," Lothiriel whispered as they moved back inside.

Eomer nodded. He couldn't tell if he was annoyed with her or annoyed at her leaving. How could he pretend to be in love when he couldn't even tell if he wanted to spend more or less time with the princess?