Eomer was torn over the slower pace they took to Minas Tirith. On the one hand, he was glad of it as it delayed the inevitable conversation with Imrahil, but on the other hand, he despised the longer hours to contemplate how idiotic he truly was. Lothiriel must have been disgusted by his advances. Or amused. He wasn't sure which was worse.

But surely she'd encouraged him?

Of course she had. She'd do anything to not be the Whore Queen of Rohan.

And he'd been doing such a poor job of playing his part, that she'd stepped in to direct him appropriately.

What a bumbling, naive, pathetic—

"The city, my lord," one of his men shouted.

Eomer looked up to see the White City and his mind flashed back to all the horrors he had seen on the fields below it.

Death.

So much death.

He kept his body stiff as they made their way through the gates where he felt he could relax as they began the winding trek up the road to the top.

Eomer was glad to see Aragorn and his queen, but felt all his anxieties return at the sight of Imrahil and two of his sons.

"Eomer!" Aragorn said as he hugged his friend. "How was the journey?"

"Good, friend. The weather was fine and we encountered no enemies."

"Come. We have rooms prepared and you can rest for a while before our evening meal." Aragorn directed them behind him. "We will only have a small gathering tonight so that you may rest further."

"Thank you, but I first need to speak with Imrahil if he has the time." Eomer met the eyes of the prince.

"Is Lothiriel alright?" Imrahil said with fear.

"Yes, friend. She is fine," Eomer assured him. "Her ankle is healing well and she will likely be walking when we return to Rohan."

Imrahil let out a sigh of relief.

"You may speak in my study if you wish," Aragorn offered and the three men moved inside.

Gondor's king made to leave once he had settled the two men, but Eomer requested his presence. "We have no secrets and it would be best for you to know the situation as well."

They all sat, but Eomer quickly returned to standing and then pacing. He stopped and faced the prince. "Imrahil, I need to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage."

Imrahil's eyes went wide.

"I know it is sudden, but there was…an incident."

"An incident?" The father's tone grew dark.

Eomer dragged his hand down his face. "One night, I had had a bit too much to drink. I forgot I was king and I went to my room to sleep, but in the morning I realized I had gone to my old room and not the king's chambers."

"And?"

"And…it was Lothiriel's room."

Imrahil stood.

"Nothing happened," Eomer said hurriedly. "But in the confusion, a maid came into the room and…" He shrugged.

"And now all of Rohan thinks my daughter a whore."

"No!" Eomer began. "Well, yes, they did, but Lothiriel," he smiled, "she came up with a brilliant plan."

Imrahil glanced at Aragorn.

Eomer quickly summed up the plan for the pair and then sat back down in exhaustion. He felt almost as tired as he had after the battle on the fields below.

"And how exactly have you convinced your people that the two of you are married?" Imrahil asked with suspicion.

Eomer looked to the ground. He should have behaved better with the princess. "Only moonlit strolls in the garden. A few…a few stolen kisses."

"And so you will marry after your uncle's funeral, but people will think it is all for show and that the two of you are already married," Aragorn redirected. "It's really very strategic, Imrahil."

The prince sat down again with a sigh. "Yes, Lothiriel always had a keen mind for figuring out the best path forward. I wished many times to have her at hand during the war." He balled up his fists. "Curse Denethor and his schemes!"

Aragorn placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "This is not an altogether bad outcome, though. Surely part of you had already thought of this path for your daughter."

Eomer was surprised by Imrahil's nod.

"Yes, I had thought the two of you would match well, so take no offense at my frustration." The older man stood and held out a hand for Eomer to grasp. "I only miss my youngest child and am sad that she will not be coming home."

"I am truly sorry, Imrahil. I did not mean to rob you of your daughter."

The prince nodded and took a deep breath. "I will inform her brothers and then have the servants pack what they can in the short time before our departure."

Eomer cringed. "Should I expect challenges to duel?"

Imrahil laughed. "Oh, I expect they will be upset at first, but they also think very highly of you. They could not ask for a better husband for their beloved sister. No man has ever been good enough, but I suspect you are the closest they would ever find." He patted Eomer's back and then left.

Aragorn poured two drinks and convinced Eomer to sit.

"And what do you think of the princess?"

Eomer shrugged. "I thought rather poorly of her initially, but that was based on a misunderstanding. Now…she will make a good queen. The people already thought well of her as a princess of Gondor, scrubbing floors and mending tapestries and such, but now they are in awe. In their minds she is their queen and yet still she helps in whatever ways she can with a smile. She will be well loved by my people."

"And by their king?" Aragorn went straight to the heart of the matter.

Eomer sighed. "I had thought, but…" He hesitated, but Aragorn was the best person to discuss his confusion with in the end. "I had thought maybe there was something there, but then Eowyn congratulated us on our acting and Lothiriel refused to look at me." He tilted back the rest of his drink remembering her face. "I suspect she was acting and I was a fool."

"Or perhaps she worries the same thing, that you were acting and she was the fool."

"I suppose, but…surely she knows I am no actor. I loathed playing the part."

"She does not know you, friend."

Eomer pondered that. She really didn't know him and he didn't know her. Maybe it had been real and both now feared the other wasn't in earnest.

"Would you like some advice, Eomer?" the Gondorian king asked.

Eomer nodded. Yes, he very much would like someone to tell him what to do.

"She will be your wife. It does not matter if she was acting or not during your schemes. The two of you will be bound to one another. Do not hold back your heart for fear of it being broken. That will guarantee a marriage that will never be truly happy."

"So I should just play the fool?"

Aragorn chuckled. "Is that not what love does to all men?"

"But I don't…"

"Tell me about her."

"What?"

Aragorn poured them both another round of drinks. "Tell me about her."

Eomer let his eyes wander the room as he thought. "She's not a snob like I had expected her to be. She gets along with people well. She…" He smiled. "She's funny. She's beautiful. She's intelligent." His chest puffed out slightly. "She's forceful and bold and doesn't cower even at my anger." Eomer laughed. "She certainly will never behave as the simpering females who thought I'd want a servant in a wife, someone who would cater to my every whim and please me. She'd call me an 'ass' if I needed to be called an 'ass.'"

Aragorn joined him in his laughter. "It sounds like Imrahil is right. She will be a good match for you."

"And what if she does not feel the same?" the King of Rohan whispered.

"Then you woo her." Aragorn finished his drink. "But as of right now, you do not know how she feels or doesn't feel. You will need to actually talk with her."

Eomer groaned. Why must all his travels lead towards conversations he would prefer to avoid?