Eomer awoke in the dim light of his room, a weight on his chest that felt warm and soft. It was calming even if his arm was slightly numb. His head still felt fuzzy, but slowly he realized there was a woman in his bed and, with her dark hair, there was only one woman it could be.

He grabbed a handful of her hair and tugged on it. She yelped and tried to free herself.

"How did you get into my room?" he demanded. "Did you mean to entrap me?"

"What are you doing?" she cried as she began prying his fingers apart.

"Quite the little whore, aren't you? I thought you couldn't wait to get away and now you want to be queen!?"

Lothiriel let out a small scream and Eomer released her. It certainly wouldn't do any good for his guards to rush in.

"This is NOT your room!" she spat at him, rubbing her scalp.

Eomer began to object, but as he glanced around he realized the horrible truth of her words. This was his room, his OLD room.

"Are you so desperate for my dowry that YOU would seek to entrap ME?"

"You would accuse me of—"

"Do you think you're the first man to go after my money and title?"

"Watch what you say, Princess," Eomer said with a dark look.

"You called me a whore!"

Surely this wasn't entirely his fault. "If you're so innocent, why didn't you wake when I came in last night? Are you so used to men climbing into your bed?"

Lothiriel narrowed her eyes. "If you'll recall, I spent all yesterday scrubbing floors. I apologize for being exhausted after that."

Eomer closed his eyes. This was entirely his fault.

"How did you even get in here?" The princess pulled the quilt up to her chest. "I locked the door."

"This was my old room and…" he closed his eyes in shame. "I had too much to drink and forgot I was king." He gestured to the door. "That lock was finicky and I would sometimes get locked out, so I just used my knife to unlatch it."

"Well…get out already!"

Eomer pulled on the quilt, but the princess refused to relinquish it.

"Are you naked?!" she said with shock.

"Just give me the quilt and I will gather my clothes."

"I am only in my shift!"

"Just…" he let out a low growl. "I won't look."

Her face was clear that she didn't believe him in the slightest. Not surprising considering the current situation.

"Fine, just let me reach…" Eomer leaned off the edge of the bed to grab his leggings. "A bit farther…"

The edge of the mattress gave way and he slid off the bed. He reached out to steady himself, but only found the princess's arm. The pair tumbled to the wood floor with a hard thud and a scream, Eomer on his back and the princess on top of him, her knee barely missing more painful areas.

A quick knock and then in rushed a maid, concern on her face. "M'lady—"

"This is not…" Eomer fumbled for words. "We weren't…"

"I'm sorry, my lord," the maid finally choked out as she quickly retreated, pulling the door shut.

"Loud, clumsy…" grumbled Lothriel. "Are you still drunk?"

Eomer laid his head back on the floor. "A little."

Lothiriel slapped his chest. "Do you not realize the enormity of the situation?"

"She will not tell anyone."

Lothiriel began to laugh. "Ah yes, it'd be such a dull story of finding her king in the bed of a Gondorian princess."

"My people are loyal."

Lothiriel began to maneuver off the man, keeping her eyes averted and the quilt covering her near-nakedness. "Loyalty has nothing to do with it. It is far too scandalous for her to keep to herself."

"Maybe that's how it works in Gondor…" Eomer sat up and grabbed his leggings. They were stuck under the princess and he yanked hard, tipping the girl over.

She hollered and quickly sat back up. Turning to glare at him, her eyes instead went large and her face went pink and she directed her eyes back to the ceiling. "I…" she choked out. "I mean, people don't change so dramatically from land to land. She will NEED to tell a friend. She knows they won't tell. But that friend will also NEED to tell someone. It is a tiny spark and before you know it, the fire burns your house down."

Eomer fumbled with his leggings and got up to get his tunic. "I am going to sneak back to my room."

Lothiriel looked skeptical. "Half dressed in yesterday's clothes leaving my room? Ah yes, that will certainly stop the rumors."

Eomer let out a frustrated growl. "At least I'm trying to fix this mess."

"So far your bumbling has only made it WORSE!" She quickly covered her mouth.

"Yelling coming from your room will certainly stop the rumors," he mocked. He threw on the rest of his clothes. "I will get dressed and then try to find the maid. I will make sure she keeps what she saw to herself."

Lothiriel struggled to her feet. "It is most likely already too late."

"Are you always this despairing?"

"I know when a situation is hopeless," she said quietly.

Eomer was filled with disgust. "Which is why you fled Gondor."

She lifted her chin in defiance of his judgmental words.

Eomer sneered and stomped over to the door, opening it slightly to peek into the hall. Not even bothering to look back, he slid out of the room and cautiously made his way through the mostly still sleeping Meduseld. A pair of guards were at his chambers and eyed him curiously.

"We didn't know where you were, my lord."

"I…" he swallowed hard. "I fell asleep in one of the storage rooms." He slapped the men on the chests. "Had a bit too much to drink."

They smiled at him and gave gentle nods.

Eomer closed his study door behind him and slumped over to his desk. He hated how confident Lothriel was that there was nothing to be done.

I know when a situation is hopeless.

He didn't care if rumors did take off like fire, he would never marry that woman. He would never make her his queen. Not a coward like her.

Eomer attempted to find the maid, but the more he looked for the young woman, the more he felt stares on his back. He finally gave up and tried to go about his day. They would be leaving soon for Minas Tirith to bring his uncle's body back to his homeland and he had much to do.

The morning meal seemed mostly uneventful if a bit subdued. He noticed every pair of whispers, though, and cursed the princess for making him so concerned. Surely, there had always been this much whispering as they broke fast. Everyone was still waking up. It was normal. Of course it was.

The midday meal was more boisterous as usual, but Eomer noticed every odd look in the princess's direction. She tried to look haughty, but her shoulders still slumped.

He was being absurd. It had only been a few hours. No one knew anything. He must be imagining it.

Back in his study, Eowyn barged in and erased all his delusions.

"Are the rumors true?" she barked at him.

He didn't respond.

"Did you and Lothiriel…" she trailed off.

Eomer grit his teeth. "No, we did not."

"Then why is all of Meduseld and likely all of Edoras saying you did?" She said, hands on her hips like a frustrated mother.

Eomer groaned. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation. "I had too much to drink. I went to my old room and realized my mistake when I found Lothiriel there in the morning."

Eowyn gasped. "So…nothing…nothing happened?"

"Nothing happened except a maid storming into the room."

Eowyn closed her eyes and sank into the chair behind her. "This is bad, brother."

Eomer sighed. "I had hoped she would keep her mouth shut."

His sister looked at him like a silly child.

"I know!" he bellowed. He hated that the princess had been right.

"You have to marry her," Eowyn said firmly. "Write to her father immediately."

"I will not have her by my side."

"You would instead leave her to this ridicule and shame?"

"It was my mistake. She was innocent." He threw up his hands. "And nothing happened!"

Eowyn stood. "Surely you are not quite this stupid, Eomer. You are KING. The gossip already implies that she lured you to her room to entrap you."

"That's not…I'll just explain."

With a look of sympathy, Eowyn covered his hand with her own. "This is a battle you will not win, brother. Swords and spears are not the weapons used for gossip." She grimaced. "Unless it is Lothiriel's brothers threatening to run you through if you do not make this right."

Eomer let his head fall to the desk. She was right, of course. Imrahil and his sons could never let Lothiriel be shamed in this way.

He sat up abruptly. "But perhaps the rumors will never spread to Gondor! She can go home. No one will know."

Eowyn's expression told all before her words added to it. "Perhaps before the war, but we are too tied to one another now. All of Gondor will soon be discussing the princess and her indiscretion."

A knock came at the door and Eowyn called for whoever it was to enter.

Lothirel hobbled into the room.

Eowyn rushed towards her. "Oh, you poor dear!"

It never ceased to surprise him when his outspoken and independent sister would turn into a mother hen.

Lothiriel glanced at Eomer who nodded and leant back in his chair.

"Did your brother tell you or have the rumors spread like fire?" She glared at the king from her place of protection with his sister.

Eowyn sighed. "I'm afraid I overheard a pair of maids and demanded to know what they were discussing. I had been growing concerned all day with the state of Meduseld."

So it hadn't been his imagination.

"Of course…you know what needs to be done?" Eowyn broached the topic gently.

Lothiriel nodded and a few tears spilled down her cheeks.

Eowyn turned to her brother. "I will leave you two to discuss matters for a few moments while I fetch some tea." She looked over the two of them. "The rumors can hardly get worse," she mumbled.

After Eowyn left, the two were silent. Eomer knew what he had to do, but couldn't seem to get the awful words past his lips. How could he marry her? The woman who had rejected his cousin and his country, who had fled and abandoned her own people without any shame, and who now looked at him with such disdain.

"I'll write to your father," was all he managed to choke out.

Lothiriel nodded, still crying quietly.

"This isn't what I want either," he said harshly.

"You didn't flee your country and kinsmen to avoid it," she said with a sob.

Eomer's head grew hot. "Then flee again." He stood up. "Run away. Any life would be better than you being the queen of a barbarian people." He laughed. "And as soon as word of war or danger comes, you will flee anyway, abandoning your people to whatever fate awaits" he said with disgust. "It would save us both the trouble if you left now."

Lothiriel's mouth dropped open and she blinked rapidly. "I…I did not run away to escape war." She lifted her chin. "I left to keep Gondor whole. And I do not think the people of Rohan are barbarians!"

"Do not lie, Princess," Eomer growled as he came toward her. "I heard you."

"Heard me? When could you have heard me say something I have never said?!"

"In Minas Tirith. We heard you tell your uncle that you would not be 'sold off to a barbarian.'"

Lothiriel's eyebrows ticked up. "I did say that, but—"

"Then how can you deny despising us?" Eomer interjected.

The princess tightened her jaw. "I did say that," she quickly held up a hand to cut off his interruption, "but I was not referring to Rohan."

Eomer scoffed at her reply.

"My uncle had just informed me that in order to form a treaty, one of the princes of Harad had demanded me as his third wife," she said, her eyes drifting to the floor. "I met the man…I would have been better off as his horse than his wife."

"Harad?" Eomer said with surprise.

Lothiriel nodded.

"The Haradrim?" he asked again. "But you were so cold to us…"

Lothiriel looked ashamed. "At first I was upset, but…well, I thought of asking you to secretly take me back to Rohan. So I kept my distance so that my uncle would not suspect any of my plans."

"You were going to ask for our help?" Eomer was struggling to take in this new information.

"I came to my senses, though."

Eomer scowled.

Lothiriel saw and shook her head in denial. "I mean, I realized that I could never risk the relations between our peoples like that. So I waited several weeks after your departure to flee."

"Imrahil…he wouldn't have let that happen."

"He likely wouldn't, but then Gondor would have been divided!"

"You fled to keep Gondor whole," Eomer said with a sigh. He turned and began to drift back towards his desk, perching himself on the edge to face this woman who had changed with a few sentences. "But then what did you mean when you said you had fled to avoid this?"

Lothiriel wrapped her arms around herself. "It's foolish."

Eomer cocked his head to the side.

The princess sighed. "I know a woman of my rank and upbringing has no business dreaming of such things, but…but I had always hoped to perhaps love the man I marry and have him love me as well." Another tear escaped down her face.

Eomer was flooded with guilt. Not only had he misjudged this young woman harshly, he had now stolen from her a chance at happiness.

"Do you still wish me to leave?" she asked quietly.

The selfish side of Eomer very much wanted that still, but he shook his head. "I will write to your father." He closed his eyes. "As soon as I figure out what to say."

"I could help."

"I would value your input."

The door opened then and Eowyn appeared with a tray of tea things.

"You two may remain here, but I have a council meeting," Eomer said.

"They will have heard the rumors, I'm sure," Eowyn said as she set down the tray.

Eomer groaned.

"Simply tell them that you are already working on a solution that should prove satisfactory," Lothiriel said with some authority. She smiled. "My father would tell his council that whenever he was in no mood to discuss our family affairs with them."

"Already working on a solution that…"

"That should prove satisfactory," Lothiriel finished.

"And they will certainly find your marriage to the highest ranking woman of Gondor a satisfactory solution," Eowyn said with a wink to her brother. "They've been after you to marry since you returned home."

Eomer let out a heavy sigh. "Yes, at least they will be pleased with the outcome of my drinking."

Lothiriel's gaze fell to the floor and Eomer chided himself for his callousness. He would need to work on being more tactful.

"Princess, if you would help me with the letter to your father after tomorrow's morning meal, I would have time then."

She nodded, but did not meet his eyes.

She may not be the coward or snob he'd seen her as before, but she still was not the kind of woman he would have chosen as his bride. How could one night of too much ale have ruined both their lives so completely?