"Just a little bite," Éomer pleaded, inching the spoon closer to Éowyn, as if she were a small child needing to be coaxed into eating her vegetables. "This is your favorite."
Éowyn's response tasted bitter on her tongue. "Perhaps when I was twelve," she replied quietly, her tone as bland as her feelings towards the soup in question.
Summary: Your marriage to the Third Marshal of the Mark has been arranged in the hopes of renewing political ties between Rohan and Gondor. When Éomer is injured while on patrol, you both begin to learn important lessons in patience, and Valar forbid, communication.
AN: Here’s another installment of the arranged marriage-verse for Éomer! Let me know if you want to see more of these two, because I've got something brewing. 😉
Posted on Patreon: Jan. 23, 2026
Word Count: 3.2K
Tags & Warnings: Angst, injuries, hurt/comfort, tinge of spice
Series Masterlist
Three weeks and a day ago, Éomer and his Eored departed to hunt down a trail of orcs in the West Mark.
Three weeks and day, yet they hadn’t returned.
You understood his responsibility to protect Rohan, but you found that you missed him when he was gone. You missed breakfasting alone with him in the morning, and you missed his mostly stoic, but solid presence in the great dining hall, where the evening meal was more boisterous.
You were getting to know his most trusted men, Eothain and Falstred among others. You often gleaned even small tidbits through the stories they told, and you listened closely to anything that might reveal more about your husband. In turn, you tried to share more of yourself in childhood stories, living in Dol Amroth among the royal household of Prince Imrahil with your mother and brother.
Unfortunately, you had never known your father. He died when you were young. It was something you shared in common with Éomer, he’d revealed to you. Though he was already one and ten when Éomund’s recklessness led him into a battle he couldn’t win, pursuing a band of orcs in number that far surpassed his own.
But for all of these stories, so far, all you had learned was that your husband was a straightforward man, if prone to grumbling and brooding at times. It often took you time to pry out of him the underlying source of his moods. In his worst cases, it usually had something to do with his uncle’s continued decline. There were whispers that Théoden King now barely spoke, except through his advisor, Grima, who increasingly served as Théoden’s mouthpiece.
You knew that it frustrated Théodred, his own son, as well as his cousins Éomer and Éowyn. What you did not know, was how you could help.
You were faced with the question in a different way when Éomer finally returned, three days later. Eothain and two other men heavily supported him into the great hall, where you and Éowyn had come to receive him. He seemed barely conscious. His arm bore a laceration from elbow to wrist.
You held your hand over your mouth in a gasp when you noticed the blood running not only from his arm, but from a wound at his hairline down to his cheek, dripping on the floor.
When Eothain met Éowyn’s gaze, she understood what he would bid before he spoke.
“I will send for the healer,” she said.
Éomer’s tall frame took up almost the entire length of the bed. You sat at his bedside with worry creasing your brow. The healer and Éowyn had already tended to him, but your heart still lied in your throat. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave his side.
When he eventually woke, he found you curled up in a chair at his bedside. Uncomfortable, no doubt. He spoke your name gruffly, with the coarseness of sleep in his voice. You jolted awake, blinking in relief to see him with his eyes open. You smiled and went to sit beside him.
“How do you feel?” you asked. While you spoke, you raised the bandage from his head and changed it yourself with the supplies the healer left behind. Éomer watched you do it with a frown.
“Fine,” he said, whether it was the truth or not. “Why didn’t you come here to sleep?”
“I didn’t want to disturb your rest.” You resisted the urge to run your fingers through his hair like you would your brother. Part of you trembled inside, and it was fear. You were afraid of how much you already cared for this man. “Are you sure you are well? Should I send for the healer again?”
“No,” he said. At your raised brows, he said, more honestly, “I’ve had worse.”
You frowned. “Eothain told me that you all but ran headfirst into an orc’s club without heeding his warning. Have I married a reckless man?”
You both knew what you were really asking—if Éomer was such a man as his father after all.
He bristled with annoyance. The pain throbbing between his temples also made his words sharper.
“You’ve married a Marshal of the Mark,” he said. “I trust you understand what that means.”
“I understand very well,” you replied. “I only ask that you do not suffer needlessly.”
His jaw ticked. Another painful pulse above his brow followed the stinging reminder of his failures this day—to his men, and to his cousin, and to his king. His temper snapped.
“I have paid my dues in long, arduous years of training and had my share of censures,” he said. “I don’t need it again from a woman such as you.”
His voice was flat and gruff, chafing you even more. You paused, blinking incredulously.
“A woman such as me?”
“Unlearned in the ways of war,” he said. “And men. And for that matter, the world.”
Your lips pursed, but it could not disguise the hurt in your eyes. It pierced you too deeply. You nodded slowly. Raising your voice wasn’t your way, nor was being spiteful. Still…
“I dare think, you do not know me well enough to say so, my lord,” you said flatly.
You drew Éomer’s attention as you stood. The expressiveness of your eyes dimmed to cold embers. And it didn’t escape his notice that you used his title, not his name.
He sighed and briefly closed his eyes. He spoke your name, but you were already leaving.
“Rest well, if you so choose. I’m sure the healer will attend you better than me,” you said.
Before Éomer could think of anything to say, you saw yourself out of his chamber and allowed the heavy door to swing shut.
In the morning, Éowyn was exasperated with him as soon as she entered the door.
“If I am honest, I expected your stubborn, boorish nature to reveal itself much sooner than this. I applaud you for your restraint,” she said, and set a stool by his bedside with more snip than necessary. She began to unwind a long strip of new cloth to re-bind his arm, after she cleansed the wound.
Éomer would have shaken his head, if it wouldn’t have made it swim with vertigo.
“Do not start, Éowyn,” he warned.
Éowyn sat and stared hard at him. “I will remind you that while you slept, your wife stayed vigil at your side for the entire night without reprieve after I left. She helped the healer tend to you. This morning, she tells me you have no need of her. I hope you did not say so in those words.”
Éomer fell silent. When his gaze fell, Éowyn relented. She drew near to her brother and laid a gentle hand on his arm.
“She is distracted when you are gone, and though she does not say, I know the worry that lies behind her eyes until you return,” she says. “It is the same burden I carry.”
If it were possible, the well of Éomer’s guilt grew.
“In only a short time as this, I see she cares a great deal for you, brother,” Eowyn added. “I would advise treating her with a little more patience.”
Éomer would’ve liked to apologize. Only, you did not return to his bed that night. Or the next. Or the night after that. Instead, you must have chosen to sleep in your own bedchamber—a place you had not even entered since before the night of the wedding ceremony. Éomer refused to admit how bothered he was by it, that he now expected your warm body beside his.
He had been looking forward to returning home from a long ride, but he now realized that he had longed to return to you. He had missed his wife.
Meanwhile, Théodred returned from his Eored’s patrol of the East Mark. Eothain told him of Éomer’s mishap, and immediately Théodred set out through the darkened halls of Meduseld to visit his cousin’s bedchamber. There was not much that could fell Éomer.
However, Théodred paused when he passed by an open doorway that led to the light.
Peering inside, his confusion melted away to find you tending the garden. In just a few months, you had transformed the dingy, dying plants that remained, cutting them down to the only green parts of their stems. Already, new buds of life began to form.
You seemed agitated with your garden sheers, however.
“Good afternoon, my lady,” Théodred greeted you.
You straightened quickly, seeing the prince out of the corner of your eye. You reflexively hid the sheers off to the side and swept a frizzy coil of hair away from your face.
“Good afternoon, my lord. I am glad for your safe return,” you said.
Théodred smiled, but he noticed the tiredness pulling at your features in concern.
“Are you well?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. Merely trimming,” you answered, a bit distracted as you surveyed your work.
You had much more to do, yet not the energy to do it. However, it was a good distraction. You wanted to delay returning to an empty bedchamber. Meduseld was large and dark, and made eerie sounds at night. You had barely slept a few hours alone in your bed these past few days.
“I heard that you have looked after my cousin well,” Théodred said, earning back your attention. “I thank you for it.”
You demurred, lowering your gaze. “I have not done enough to warrant praise, my lord.”
Théodred’s head tilted as he considered you. “Why might you think that?”
Though you briefly looked up, your eyes fell back to the ground.
“Lord Éomer does not need an unpracticed hand. I am no healer,” you confessed. “I believe he prefers to be alone while he rests.”
Théodred hid a wry smile. He knew his cousin well. Éomer handled pain better than most, but he was not an easy patient, nor did he enjoy being fussed over.
Théodred gave you a kind look. “I am sure you did your best.”
With his hands clasped behind his back, he stepped closer to you and added, “Éomer is stubborn, as I am sure you have noticed. He does not wish to burden others, so he will rarely admit when he needs help. Nor is he likely to recognize it himself.”
You meet Théodred with a rueful look. “Not unlike my brother.”
Théodred smiled. “A terribly male trait, I’m afraid.”
You smiled a little in return.
“I understand, my lord,” you replied.
Oh, you understood. But at the very least, you and Éomer had once agreed to respect one another before going into this marriage. At this moment, you did not feel respected.
Théodred took his leave of you so he could visit Éomer next. His steps had a new layer of purpose when he strode into the bedchamber, where Éomer’s injuries still forced him to lay in bed. His face was more pallid than usual, his blonde hair wild and tangled, his night shirt hung disheveled from his frame when he sat up to greet Théodred.
Théodred raised a placating hand for him to lay at peace, but he regarded Éomer with a raised brow.
“You look terrible, cousin.”
“Thank you,” Éomer said sourly. The healers refused to let him out of bed yet, and his head still swam when he tried to rise completely. Though he hated the constriction. He had work to do, and all this laying around was irritating.
“How is married life suiting you?” Théodred asked dryly, his lips curving with amusement.
Éomer spied the knowing laughter in his cousin’s eyes, and he frowned.
“You’ve already been gossiping with Éowyn,” he grumbled.
“Do not blame your sister,” said Théodred. “I met your fair lady myself this morning, rather persistently attacking the garden weeds with shears.”
Éomer was more amused by that image, but considering how cross you must’ve been, he shook his head to hide his disgruntled embarrassment.
“Perhaps she imagines similarly pruning her husband,” Théodred remarked.
Éomer’s face fell. His palm rose to cover it, drawing over his beard.
“Idiot. Leave me be.”
“Remember that she is still learning your ways. If there is something she is missing, then express yourself properly,” Théodred advised. “Though I know that these trifles, such as considering your words before they escape you, have never been one of your virtues.”
Éomer rolled his eyes.
After Théodred took his leave, Éomer grew impatient. He resolved to leave this confounded bed, all the while annoyed that it never felt too large before.
You mainly made yourself busy with gardening. You worked on the tougher weeds that laced between the roots of the moon flowers. In a few weeks, this patch would revive and hopefully bloom beautiful blue-white bells under the glow of the moon.
If only you could get your tools to work.
“When were these shears sharpened last, the First Age?” you muttered.
There was a thorny bush, its stems thick with decay, which was why you needed the shears. You finally leaned all your weight on the handle, and the stem finally cut. Though your hair fell in your face dangerously close to the blades. No matter how dull they might be, sheers were still dangerous. You carefully picked strands of hair from the blades and positioned the tool for another unruly stem.
When a familiar voice called your name just behind you, however, you gasped and whirled around with the sheers in your hand, an unintentional weapon.
Éomer grunted as he leaned away, but he also stepped closer to where you kneeled on the ground. He was without his armor of course, dressed in a loose tunic tucked into his breeches and boots.
“What are you doing? You should not be...” you began to reproach him, but fearing it sounded like a nagging order, or some other thing that might provoke his temper again, you fell quiet.
Éomer took note of it, a familiar sting behind his ribs.
“You have done well with this place,” he said of the garden, surveying your work.
You paused, unable to help the way you blushed. Éomer’s gaze found yours and settled there.
“May I speak with you?” he asked.
After a long, measuring look, you relented. “Let us go where you will be more comfortable.”
Back to bed, implied your tone. Éomer smiled slightly. He still offered a hand to you, helping you from the ground. In turn, you supported him by his arm as the two of you left the garden together.
After returning to his chamber, you sat with him at the neutral ground of the large, comfortable chairs before the unlit fireplace. The autumn air was cooling, soon into winter, but for now it was still warm enough.
Swallowing his pride, Éomer spoke first.
“About the other day…I am sorry if you felt slighted by my words—”
“‘If,’” you echoed, raising a brow. “So if I felt slighted, it was my own fault to take offense?”
“That’s not what I meant.” Éomer realized now what Théodred had been getting at. Either he truly was terrible with words, or he continued to underestimate the testiness of his wife.
You said nothing more, but your true thoughts were in your eyes. He tried again.
“I am not accustomed to being looked after by anyone beyond my sister,” he explained. “Even then, I forget that she hides her worry for me, along with her other troubles. Perhaps it is a trait we both share.”
He reached over and laid his calloused hand over yours, squeezing lightly.
“So please forgive my callousness,” he said. His lips formed a slight smile. “It may take some time for me to remember that my wife is a kind woman. She has somehow come to care for my wellbeing, despite being forced into an arrangement she did not choose.”
You paused, blinking in surprise, as his earnestness touched you as deeply as his cutting words had. You considered his hand over yours. Hesitantly, you covered it with your own. It reminded you of your first morning with Éomer, sharing breakfast together in this very place.
“I did not mean to scold you,” you said. “I know that I am not a warrior, but that does not mean I know nothing of the costs of war. Long have the Swan Knights of Dol Amroth met corsairs in battle. Many of their bodies could not be recovered by the swell of the sea. As a girl, I would watch from the keep as their dwindled numbers returned from bouts with pirates, black market traders, and slavers from both Umbar and Harad...”
You took in a steeling breath.
“Once, a bloated, mottled thing washed upon the shore. The skin was pallid and gray, mutilated by fish and whatever else. My brother could only recognize his friend by a scar upon his right hand, accidentally inflicted when they sparred together as children.”
Éomer was silent, but he listened to you intently.
“Since that day, I have worried that I too should have to identify my brother’s body, knowing him only by his own scars,” you confessed. “How can I not also hold that burden for you?”
Éomer considered this with a tilt of his head, and after a moment, a deep nod.
“I understand,” he said.
“I do care for your wellbeing. Not only for my duty, but because you are a good man. A better one than I might’ve hoped for, despite his stubbornness,” you said, with a teasing note at the end.
Éomer didn’t quite know how to respond. When you said such things, it made him feel warm in the face and neck. Shifting uncomfortably, he cleared his throat and managed to stand without his head swimming. He reached for you to help you up with him, then he kissed the hand you offered him.
“Will you return to these rooms tonight?” he asked.
You gave a subtle smile as he guided you closer to his side. You braced your free hand on his chest and met his gaze.
“I might be persuaded,” you said.
Éomer thumbed at your chin, his lips edging toward a smile himself. He tugged you to him in a kiss, allowing it to be gentler than usual. It lingered just enough to keep you hanging upon it, and upon him. Your hands came to rest familiarly on his chest. Both of his slid down to hold your waist in an enticing grip. You knew that half-lidded look of his.
“Éomer,” you warned, despite the pleasant tingling down your spine. “I will return to our bed, but you are not yet healed.”
His eyes took on a hint of amusement, and mischief.
“I've been forced to postpone a proper homecoming, and I’d rather not wait any longer,” he said, leaning down to capture your lips again. When he was satisfied that he had your attention, his lips marked their desires along your neck, stopping just under your ear. “Allow me to prove I am well enough to give my wife pleasure, and satisfy my own. For the moment.”
You couldn’t help the tremble that ran through you, a warm pulsing between your legs. In that moment, you found it difficult to deny him anything. So, you did not.
You trusted the strength in his hand as he led you to bed.
AN: 😘 If you're craving more heat, don't worry. That "more" I was talking about is coming soon...
Next Time: Actions into Words
Summary: Winter brings bitter cold to Meduseld, but it will be up to you and Éowyn to bring the warmth and merriment of Yule to its halls. What gift can you offer your husband of six months, especially as you begin to realize what he means to you?
Within the privacy of your shared chamber, you heard Éomer stoking the fire while you defrosted in the warm waters of the tub. Even though he had just come in from a long day’s ride, he had your bath prepared before his own, and he was giving you privacy, remaining behind the partition.
It had been a few weeks since you’d drawn the courage to join him in any more bathing adventures, or in fact, invite him into yours. You were, perhaps irrationally, afraid of deepening your feelings for him. You knew he was at least fond of you, and he was conscious of his duties as a husband. You were also certainly compatible with him…physically. But you doubted very much that his thoughts of you went beyond that.
You doubted that he loved you.
It is one thing to be dutiful, even kind, you thought, but it is another thing entirely to love and be loved.
☕ Keep Reading: Actions into Words
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Summary: Your marriage to the Third Marshal of the Mark has been arranged in the hopes of renewing political ties between Rohan and Gondor. The morning after the ceremony, your new husband continues to defy your expectations.
AN: I’ve been wanting to write something for Éomer for a while now, so here we go! Confession: this one-shot actually comes from an Éomer x OFC story I have fully outlined, called The Appeasement Bride. I adapted this snippet into a reader insert story.
Word Count: 1.7K
Posted on Patreon: 1/21/2025
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Spiciness, fluff, newlyweds trying to suss each other out lol.
You woke just after the dawn, the sun peeking over the horizon and filtering through the open window. Its light began to wash over your face and stir you from a deep, well-earned sleep.
Your hand slipped out from under your head and drifted over…and you frowned. Opening your eyes, you realized that your husband’s side of the bed was empty and cold. Already, it seemed, he didn’t care to be with you when you woke. Had you done something wrong?
Flashes of memory from the night before conjured in your mind; of the surprising carefulness in his calloused hands, of hot, sweat-slick skin against yours, and the rasp of his beard as his lips and deft fingers taught you more of pleasure.
A shiver ran down your spine, blooming some warmth between your legs. Surely, if you had displeased him, he would’ve told you so. Or maybe he was polite enough to withhold that from you, along with most of his other thoughts. Éomer was often so stoic, it was difficult for you to learn your husband, even before the wedding ceremony yesterday.
You had come to Rohan over a month ago, and in that time, you had been able to glean precious little about him other than the ones he seemed to value most: his sister, his cousin, his uncle, Théoden King, his country, and his horse.
Not that he told you any of these things in words. You saw it in his actions—by the way he carried himself, and the way he spoke to you and others with fairness and courtesy, not arrogance. You’d heard gossip of his infamous temper, but so far, you had not seen it.
Nor did you see him now.
Perhaps he had more pressing work to do. In these past few weeks, you saw a bit of how demanding his station could be, and you understood his duty to patrol the Riddermark as Third Marshal of these lands. However, if he could’ve just been courteous enough to wake you before he left—
The heavy door of the bed chamber opened to Éomer himself. He wore only breeches and boots, his wheat-blonde hair loose and unadorned down his back. You swallowed a surprised gasp and watched him from the bed, unconsciously bringing the fur blanket up to your shoulders.
He met you with a polite, “Good morning,” before he continued inside to stoke the fire. He held more kindling wood in his arms, and he laid it on the platform before the fireplace.
“Good morning,” you nodded, though your cheeks warmed in a blush at the sight of his bare chest (you remembered that slightly wooly patch well). The defined muscles of his shoulders and arms shifted with his movements.
You were also a little embarrassed for overthinking.
“You rose early,” you added belatedly, for lack of something better to say.
“I am accustomed to it,” he said.
He finished with the fire and stood. You couldn’t help the way he captured your gaze, his measured steps bringing him closer to the bed. You sat up to meet him, the furs draping from your body, covering only where you held the soft fabric over your breasts. His eyes were an interesting shade of green as they roamed over you.
“How did you sleep?” he asked.
Somehow it was not what you were expecting, though it was perfectly agreeable. Your blush deepened.
“Very well, thank you.”
He nodded. Then, something almost hesitant passed through his gaze.
“I’ve drawn a bath for you, unless you prefer to rest longer,” he said.
You blinked. “Really?” That was a kindness you did not expect.
Éomer’s lips tugged upwards. He offered you his hand. Though you hesitated, you slipped your free hand into his. Instinctively you took the furs with you to cover yourself, your face warming down to your neck under the weight of his amused stare.
Your hair was a tangled mess along with the sheets remaining tousled on the bed, and you realized that your body was sore in places you had never felt so. He led you around a simple wooden partition to a wide bath that was built into the ground. Your eyes widened at the luxury of it.
You had noticed that Rohan largely valued comfort and efficiency over ornateness in their architecture, but it seemed they lavished some things with greater detail.
Éomer helped you step into the bath. He took the furs from you, still with that amused glint, but he couldn’t stop himself from taking note of your bare, supple form, what glimpse he was able to get before you lowered yourself into the steaming water. He had explored each and every lovely curve the night before, but you were lovelier to behold in the morning, he thought.
You looked up at him with some hesitance, but there was a question there that he thought he would like to answer.
“Have you already bathed?” you asked.
“Yes,” he nodded, “I will leave you to your leisure. Breakfast will be brought up in a little while.”
“Oh. Yes, thank you,” you said.
Was that a note of disappointment in your tone, in the downturn of your face?
Éomer paused, but he did as he set out to do, leaving you to your bath in peace. He went over to his side of the bed to continue dressing himself, slipping a long shirt over his head that he tucked into his breeches. Though he tried not to let them, his thoughts of you remained.
Meanwhile, you relished in the hot water relieving your sore muscles (and other places). You washed and hummed a little tune to yourself, forgetting that you weren’t entirely alone, despite the partition.
By the time you left the bath, dried off and dressed in a heavy robe over a thin dressing gown, your new husband was already munching on bread and fruit and other good things that were brought up from the kitchens. He welcomed you to sit with him by the fire, where two wide chairs were draped with furs to make them comfortable. You joined him, and the tray of goods rested in between your seats.
“Do you have much to do?” you asked, while buttering a slice of bread. The crust was hard and somewhat sour, but the inside was soft and delicious.
“The only business I must attend to today is to remain kept with my wife,” Éomer said. He glanced up at you, once again capturing your gaze. “As tradition dictates.”
By the Valar, was there no end to how you blushed around this man? You only couldn’t tell if being kept by you was a duty he relished in.
You almost didn’t hear him when he added, “Tomorrow we will see your family off. They ride back to Gondor.”
Belatedly, you nodded. Éomer saw the note of melancholy cross your face.
“I am sure it is…a sooner parting than you would like,” he said.
You offered him a rueful smile. “Yes, but…not as difficult a goodbye as I thought it would be.”
One of his brows rose. “Why is that?”
Drawing in a deep breath, you mustered a little courage to answer him honestly.
“I did not know what to expect when I arrived in Rohan, but its lands have beauty of its own. Its people have integrity and courage, and its noble house is noble indeed,” you said. A small, true smile brightened you when you looked at him. “It is honorable, and kind.”
Éomer blinked in surprise. On his face it was still muted, but it was there. Your words touched him. He cleared his throat, for some reason finding his face a bit warm. In his eyes, you continued to be a wonder. He too hadn’t known what to expect from a woman of Gondor. He knew what many in your country thought of the people of Rohan—simple folk at best, and horse-wild barbarians at worst. With you, he’d mostly expected a haughty, spoiled brat.
He’d never been more willing to be proven wrong. In fact, the more he learned about you, the more beautiful you became.
He reached over, almost hesitant to cover your hand with his larger one. He was suddenly very conscious of his rougher palm in contrast with your soft skin.
“Regardless of how we were entered into this arrangement, I stand by my vows,” he said. “I will honor and protect you, and do my utmost to make you comfortable here in my home.”
You smiled. Your hand turned under his to curl your fingers around his palm.
“I will also honor and protect you in whatever way I am able. And I will do my utmost for your house, for it is now mine as well,” you replied.
Éomer brushed his thumb over the back of your hand. He rose out of his seat enough to lean over, and he kissed you. It was sincere, but all too brief. You leaned towards him after he broke away, left wanting more as your eyes slid open.
Recognizing that look of desire stirred his own, deep in the pit of his stomach. He tugged on your hand meaningfully and guided you out of your chair, over to him. You tentatively sat across his lap, uttering a laugh when you slid backwards and landed against his chest. Your hand flew there to steady yourself. Éomer clasped it against his heart and claimed you in a deeper, rougher kiss, one fueled by a craving he couldn’t name.
You held his bearded face and hummed sweetly into his mouth. You matched his fervor, your fingers slipping into his hair and instinctively tightening a stronghold. He groaned in response. His hands, large and strong, moved over your side and down your back, while the other squeezed the supple flesh of your hip through your thin gown.
Soon, it wasn’t enough. He slid his arms around your waist and under your knees before he stood with you in his arms. He smiled at your squeal of surprise. It was the first real smile you’d ever seen upon his face. It delighted you to be the one who put it there.
He carried you to back his bed. Our bed.
But still, it was only a matter of lust, if twined with mutual respect and…curiosity.
You did not love him. (Yet.)
AN: Love me some blonde, medieval cowboy Karl Urban. 😘💜
⋆˙⟡ Read the Sequel: A Subtle Invitation
Summary: “You needn’t be so formal,” Éomer said. His lips moved against the shell of your ear. “I am Éomer, especially when we are alone.”
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The young king of Rohan is still trying to get used to his new life after the Great War and is just learning how to rule a country. Following his council’s advice he decided to marry a young noble born Lady that seems to be a perfect match for him and a great Queen material. A coldly calculated political move. But what if his decision had some hidden, egoistic motives to it? And what if the lady already gave her heart away to someone who is far away?Let’s find out together. Let’s dive deep down inside both of their minds.
Chapter 10 | Masterlist
Nartíhl was sitting in her assigned seat in the dining room in the western wing.
This is the room where her family had most of their meals when staying in this mansion and she occupied this seat at every meal they had there.
But it gave her very little comfort. She was bouncing her leg and biting her cheek without even realising it.
-Stop it. - her brother Rinvil, who was playing the chaperon here, scolded her.
-Mhm? - she looked at him surprised
-You always do this when you’re nervous - he pointed at her leg.
-Oh.
-Don’t do this, it makes you look bad. And sit straight. - he said in a calm voice.
She straightened herself in her seat. He meant good for her, she knew that.
But just as she shifted her position and managed to control her leg and mouth she started to tap her fingers on the table.
Rinvil rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. They’ve been waiting here for less than 10 minutes but it felt like an eternity. What could he want from her?
The contract was signed and they were about to get married in a few days? If he had any negotiation to do he should have done it with her father earlier. After all, what else could there be to be done? The transaction was confirmed and there was nothing left, right?
They sat in complete silence so when the servants opened the door she jumped in her seat.
-King Éomer and lady Éowyn. - the servant announced.
Nartíhl stood up and quickly fixed her dress and hair.
The young king entered the room, followed by his sister. She finally had a chance to take a closer look at her fiancé. Previously she was too focused on everything that was happening around her, she also felt like with so many people in the room it would be more acceptable not to look directly at him. But now there was nowhere to hide, he was here specifically to see her and speak to her. And so she looked at him.
He was handsome. She had to admit it. Especially with his hair up, she really liked that on him. He looked young, with a lot of freckles on his cheeks and nose which she found very cute. But there was something in his face, eyes and a few wrinkles that made him look much older than he was. She knew this look well, she saw this in many men in her life that came back from the war.
He seemed rather confident but there was a hint of hesitation in him, she noticed this earlier that day.
And just as she was giving a very intense look to his face he looked her straight in the eyes, to which she raised her eyebrows slightly - unintentionally, she was just taken by surprise. He seemed to have noticed it and raised a corner of his mouth in a rakish half-smirk. She could feel her cheek turn deep pink at this and she dropped her eyes. He must have been flattered with her embarrassment but she had no strength in her to try to act more confident than she was. She was terrified and she saw no use in hiding it.
They were standing there, looking at each other. No one said anything. Their company clearly was just trying to blend into the background and Éomer was giving Nartíhl a chance to start. But she remained silent, now looking right ahead with an empty stare. Éomer cleared his throat.
-Lady Nartíhl - he started.
-Your royal highness - she replied with a husky voice.
-Since we are … well in the position that we are, why don’t we address one another by our names. What do you think?
Well, I think that I don’t even know you, we wouldn’t have to be going through this social hell if you wouldn’t propose this and I really would like to know where are we going with this - she thought to herself. But she couldn't say any of it. So she just nodded.
- Please, call me Éomer. - he smiled encouragingly at her.
She opened her mouth but nothing came out. He waited quite awkwardly at her to speak but she only dropped her eyes to her hand and started to play with her fingers.
-So, Nartíhl, you must be… well, why don’t we take a seat.
They both sat down and so did their siblings.
-So - Éomer took a pause. - How…are you doing?
Nartíhl was so taken aback by the triviality of this question that her head shot upwards and she didn’t even try to hide a pure confusion on her face.
-Errr… I’m - she cleared her throat, her raspy voice did not sound like she was doing well. - I am doing well, my - she repeated with a firm voice this time but stopped when she realized he wanted to call him by his title. - Thank you for asking. How are you finding yourself here?
At this point the air in the room was so tense you could literally cut it with a knife.
Rinvil found Éowyn with his eyes and gave her an abashed look. He thought to himself “what is this and why are we here?” and it must have been very clear on his face because Éowyn only shrugged and shook her head.
-It’s a nice horse you have.
Éowyn unconsciously snorted a laugh but managed to hide it with a pretended sneeze.
-My horse. Oh, yes, Lada. She was a gift from my parents. I’ve had her for so many years it feels as if she was my friend.
Éomer let out a singular chuckle.
-Do you like animals?
-I do think they tend to be better companions than people sometimes. They always listen, never judge. They won’t betray you or hurt you with their words.
Nartíhl gave him a warm look and for the first time in at least a few days she genuinely smiled. It comforted her to hear him say such words. She agreed with them. It seemed that they found their first common ground.
They started to share some of their favorite memories with their horses and their most memorable riding trips. She felt less intimidated, she almost forgot how scared she was and she started to think that maybe he is just a man, maybe even a friendly one. The mood kept getting looser and warmer but everything took an abrupt turn when she mentioned Bronandîr. She did not say his name nor did she mention the nature of their relationships, she simply said that she was cleaning her horse in a barn with her friend.
She was finishing a quite funny story:
-And I would definitely fall and probably break a bone if he hadn’t caught me!
She expected the king to laugh with her but his smile got much smaller and his brows narrowed.
-He?
- Yes, my friend.
- From this story I’d assume you were rather close with him.
- Yes, I would say so. We have known each other since we were kids.
The silence that followed was as thick as the one in the beginning but now it felt much heavier.
Nartíhl was desperately looking for a way she could bring the previous mood back and she was searching for any other stories or anecdotes she could share with him.
-Did you know that every other year we hold a big fair where the most beautiful horses are being presented? It’s the best occasion t buy a good horse.
-Yes, I do know it well, my lady - he interrupted her, visibly irritated.
-Oh, excuse me, my Lo.. Éomer, I didn't mean to discredit you.
-Yes, I do know that as well - he replied, now with both teeth and fists clenched.
At that moment a knock was heard on the door. Everyone except for Éomer raised their heads and looked with a surprised look on the door. After a short moment of hesitation Rinvil stood up and opened the door.
-I am here to speak to Lord Éomer.
Nartíhl could hear Éomer mumble a very vulgar set of swear words under his breath.
-What for? - he shouted loudly.
-Lord Dúngar says they cannot find one chest that contains some important documents and they need your decision on what should be done now.
-You’ve been testing my patience the whole day - Éomer said quietly - Can’t you really do ONE thing properly ! - he shouted and slammed his hand on the table with a loud slap. Everything that was on it shook and fell over the table and on the floor.
Nartíhl flinched. When she heard the stump she felt like an icicle dropped in her stomach.
The young king was resting his forehead on his hand set on the table. He was looking down. His fiancée was looking closely at him. He did not really seem angry anymore. He tried to hide his face and she noticed a slight hint of blush on his cheeks. It’s more like he looked embarrassed.
-I’m sorry, Nartíhl. As you can see I am needed elsewhere. - he said with a sigh and stood up. - We’ll see each other later. - he said quietly and walked out the room shaking his head, his sister following him in a rush.
Nartíhl was in such a shock she didn't even stand up when the king did, even though she should.
-What was that? - her brother said rather lightly but his mood quickly changed once he noticed his sister was on the verge of bursting into tears.
-Hey, hey don’t cry. It's not a time to cry.
She looked at him with tears starting to accumulate in her eyes.
Rinvil came to her and kneeled right in front of her chair.
-There’s no need for you to be scared you know? - he said while taking her hand in his.
-But what if he gets angry at me like this.
-Then he will. So what? He will and you will either fight back or shut up and try not to upset him like that again. - she looked at him in disbelief. For him everything was a ‘just’, everything was so simple and easy.
-Don’t look at me like that. Listen, he really is a good man.
Nartíhl snorted. Rinvil sighed with annoyance.
-He is a good man - he continues- but he is a man. A man who’s been through a lot. Even if he will get angry at you,and you’d be naive to think that there will be no fall out between you two, you’d be a queen and not a clumsy servant, that’s first of all. And secondly, I’m sorry to be the one to say this but if that made you cry - it’s time to wake up, love.
She gave him a look of indignation and disbelief.
-Don’t give me that look - he said with a cold chuckle.
-This is your new life, darling, whether you like it or not. There is nothing neither of us can do about it and you know nothing in this world can make father change his mind.
It hit Nartíhl with a full force, like a ship full of stones. It was her new life and it was approaching her at full speed. For this whole time, even though she rationally knew it all was going to happen but she didn't really believe it. She felt like it was some sort of misunderstanding that's going to be dispelled soon and she's going to go back to her life. She also knew that her brother was right and he wasn’t saying it all to hurt her. This wake up call was not pleasant but it was exactly what she needed to prepare herself for what was coming before it’s too late. If she was going to swim, she needed to take a deep breath, otherwise she’d drown.
She nodded slowly.
-Yeah, I guess I have to … adapt? - she said quietly, dubting more and more in herself with each word.
-Remember one thing, love. You will be a queen and his wife. Remember that and believe in your dignity. If you won't believe in that, no one else will. Even if inside you’ll feel like a pile of filth, outside you need to look and act like you believe you are the most important person in the world, do you understand?
She nodded.
-Good - he smiled softly and cupped her cheek. After that he slowly stood up but continued his speech.
-He’s a king, and you should always show the due respect - he said with a moral high ground, but he’s also, if not not above all, your husband and a man. And as such you should treat him.
-Bronandîr would never act like this - she said grumpily and quietly.
He froze and for a moment she thought he would get angry at her but he actually looked rather amused.
-And what makes you think so?
-I knew him well and he would never do this!
-I will let you believe this only because it’s almost your wedding day and you will need a nice fairytale to daydream about when away from home. But for the future- and I can't believe it’s me you hear this from - try taking men’s words and promises with a grain of salt, will you.
And with that he left the room.
Nartíhl took a deep, shaky breath.
She knew that somewhere in all of this was a chance for her for a good life.
It wouldn’t have to be the happiest but it could be safe and comfortable. Becoming a queen was an honour, it really was an honour for her it’s much more then she would expect for herself. But at this moment she was not able to look at the bright side of this.
She felt like she was expected to go with a joyful strut, with her head held up into the craziest storm she has ever seen.
The plot thickens!!! Poor Eomer losing his temper. And poor Narthil. I am not sure I should applaud her brother or hit him behind the head... maybe a bit of both.
The young king of Rohan is still trying to get used to his new life after the Great War and is just learning how to rule a country. Following his council’s advice he decided to marry a young noble born Lady that seems to be a perfect match for him and a great Queen material. A coldly calculated political move. But what if his decision had some hidden, egoistic motives to it? And what if the lady already gave her heart away to someone who is far away?Let’s find out together. Let’s dive deep down inside both of their minds.
Chapter 10 | Masterlist
Nartíhl was sitting in her assigned seat in the dining room in the western wing.
This is the room where her family had most of their meals when staying in this mansion and she occupied this seat at every meal they had there.
But it gave her very little comfort. She was bouncing her leg and biting her cheek without even realising it.
-Stop it. - her brother Rinvil, who was playing the chaperon here, scolded her.
-Mhm? - she looked at him surprised
-You always do this when you’re nervous - he pointed at her leg.
-Oh.
-Don’t do this, it makes you look bad. And sit straight. - he said in a calm voice.
She straightened herself in her seat. He meant good for her, she knew that.
But just as she shifted her position and managed to control her leg and mouth she started to tap her fingers on the table.
Rinvil rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. They’ve been waiting here for less than 10 minutes but it felt like an eternity. What could he want from her?
The contract was signed and they were about to get married in a few days? If he had any negotiation to do he should have done it with her father earlier. After all, what else could there be to be done? The transaction was confirmed and there was nothing left, right?
They sat in complete silence so when the servants opened the door she jumped in her seat.
-King Éomer and lady Éowyn. - the servant announced.
Nartíhl stood up and quickly fixed her dress and hair.
The young king entered the room, followed by his sister. She finally had a chance to take a closer look at her fiancé. Previously she was too focused on everything that was happening around her, she also felt like with so many people in the room it would be more acceptable not to look directly at him. But now there was nowhere to hide, he was here specifically to see her and speak to her. And so she looked at him.
He was handsome. She had to admit it. Especially with his hair up, she really liked that on him. He looked young, with a lot of freckles on his cheeks and nose which she found very cute. But there was something in his face, eyes and a few wrinkles that made him look much older than he was. She knew this look well, she saw this in many men in her life that came back from the war.
He seemed rather confident but there was a hint of hesitation in him, she noticed this earlier that day.
And just as she was giving a very intense look to his face he looked her straight in the eyes, to which she raised her eyebrows slightly - unintentionally, she was just taken by surprise. He seemed to have noticed it and raised a corner of his mouth in a rakish half-smirk. She could feel her cheek turn deep pink at this and she dropped her eyes. He must have been flattered with her embarrassment but she had no strength in her to try to act more confident than she was. She was terrified and she saw no use in hiding it.
They were standing there, looking at each other. No one said anything. Their company clearly was just trying to blend into the background and Éomer was giving Nartíhl a chance to start. But she remained silent, now looking right ahead with an empty stare. Éomer cleared his throat.
-Lady Nartíhl - he started.
-Your royal highness - she replied with a husky voice.
-Since we are … well in the position that we are, why don’t we address one another by our names. What do you think?
Well, I think that I don’t even know you, we wouldn’t have to be going through this social hell if you wouldn’t propose this and I really would like to know where are we going with this - she thought to herself. But she couldn't say any of it. So she just nodded.
- Please, call me Éomer. - he smiled encouragingly at her.
She opened her mouth but nothing came out. He waited quite awkwardly at her to speak but she only dropped her eyes to her hand and started to play with her fingers.
-So, Nartíhl, you must be… well, why don’t we take a seat.
They both sat down and so did their siblings.
-So - Éomer took a pause. - How…are you doing?
Nartíhl was so taken aback by the triviality of this question that her head shot upwards and she didn’t even try to hide a pure confusion on her face.
-Errr… I’m - she cleared her throat, her raspy voice did not sound like she was doing well. - I am doing well, my - she repeated with a firm voice this time but stopped when she realized he wanted to call him by his title. - Thank you for asking. How are you finding yourself here?
At this point the air in the room was so tense you could literally cut it with a knife.
Rinvil found Éowyn with his eyes and gave her an abashed look. He thought to himself “what is this and why are we here?” and it must have been very clear on his face because Éowyn only shrugged and shook her head.
-It’s a nice horse you have.
Éowyn unconsciously snorted a laugh but managed to hide it with a pretended sneeze.
-My horse. Oh, yes, Lada. She was a gift from my parents. I’ve had her for so many years it feels as if she was my friend.
Éomer let out a singular chuckle.
-Do you like animals?
-I do think they tend to be better companions than people sometimes. They always listen, never judge. They won’t betray you or hurt you with their words.
Nartíhl gave him a warm look and for the first time in at least a few days she genuinely smiled. It comforted her to hear him say such words. She agreed with them. It seemed that they found their first common ground.
They started to share some of their favorite memories with their horses and their most memorable riding trips. She felt less intimidated, she almost forgot how scared she was and she started to think that maybe he is just a man, maybe even a friendly one. The mood kept getting looser and warmer but everything took an abrupt turn when she mentioned Bronandîr. She did not say his name nor did she mention the nature of their relationships, she simply said that she was cleaning her horse in a barn with her friend.
She was finishing a quite funny story:
-And I would definitely fall and probably break a bone if he hadn’t caught me!
She expected the king to laugh with her but his smile got much smaller and his brows narrowed.
-He?
- Yes, my friend.
- From this story I’d assume you were rather close with him.
- Yes, I would say so. We have known each other since we were kids.
The silence that followed was as thick as the one in the beginning but now it felt much heavier.
Nartíhl was desperately looking for a way she could bring the previous mood back and she was searching for any other stories or anecdotes she could share with him.
-Did you know that every other year we hold a big fair where the most beautiful horses are being presented? It’s the best occasion t buy a good horse.
-Yes, I do know it well, my lady - he interrupted her, visibly irritated.
-Oh, excuse me, my Lo.. Éomer, I didn't mean to discredit you.
-Yes, I do know that as well - he replied, now with both teeth and fists clenched.
At that moment a knock was heard on the door. Everyone except for Éomer raised their heads and looked with a surprised look on the door. After a short moment of hesitation Rinvil stood up and opened the door.
-I am here to speak to Lord Éomer.
Nartíhl could hear Éomer mumble a very vulgar set of swear words under his breath.
-What for? - he shouted loudly.
-Lord Dúngar says they cannot find one chest that contains some important documents and they need your decision on what should be done now.
-You’ve been testing my patience the whole day - Éomer said quietly - Can’t you really do ONE thing properly ! - he shouted and slammed his hand on the table with a loud slap. Everything that was on it shook and fell over the table and on the floor.
Nartíhl flinched. When she heard the stump she felt like an icicle dropped in her stomach.
The young king was resting his forehead on his hand set on the table. He was looking down. His fiancée was looking closely at him. He did not really seem angry anymore. He tried to hide his face and she noticed a slight hint of blush on his cheeks. It’s more like he looked embarrassed.
-I’m sorry, Nartíhl. As you can see I am needed elsewhere. - he said with a sigh and stood up. - We’ll see each other later. - he said quietly and walked out the room shaking his head, his sister following him in a rush.
Nartíhl was in such a shock she didn't even stand up when the king did, even though she should.
-What was that? - her brother said rather lightly but his mood quickly changed once he noticed his sister was on the verge of bursting into tears.
-Hey, hey don’t cry. It's not a time to cry.
She looked at him with tears starting to accumulate in her eyes.
Rinvil came to her and kneeled right in front of her chair.
-There’s no need for you to be scared you know? - he said while taking her hand in his.
-But what if he gets angry at me like this.
-Then he will. So what? He will and you will either fight back or shut up and try not to upset him like that again. - she looked at him in disbelief. For him everything was a ‘just’, everything was so simple and easy.
-Don’t look at me like that. Listen, he really is a good man.
Nartíhl snorted. Rinvil sighed with annoyance.
-He is a good man - he continues- but he is a man. A man who’s been through a lot. Even if he will get angry at you,and you’d be naive to think that there will be no fall out between you two, you’d be a queen and not a clumsy servant, that’s first of all. And secondly, I’m sorry to be the one to say this but if that made you cry - it’s time to wake up, love.
She gave him a look of indignation and disbelief.
-Don’t give me that look - he said with a cold chuckle.
-This is your new life, darling, whether you like it or not. There is nothing neither of us can do about it and you know nothing in this world can make father change his mind.
It hit Nartíhl with a full force, like a ship full of stones. It was her new life and it was approaching her at full speed. For this whole time, even though she rationally knew it all was going to happen but she didn't really believe it. She felt like it was some sort of misunderstanding that's going to be dispelled soon and she's going to go back to her life. She also knew that her brother was right and he wasn’t saying it all to hurt her. This wake up call was not pleasant but it was exactly what she needed to prepare herself for what was coming before it’s too late. If she was going to swim, she needed to take a deep breath, otherwise she’d drown.
She nodded slowly.
-Yeah, I guess I have to … adapt? - she said quietly, dubting more and more in herself with each word.
-Remember one thing, love. You will be a queen and his wife. Remember that and believe in your dignity. If you won't believe in that, no one else will. Even if inside you’ll feel like a pile of filth, outside you need to look and act like you believe you are the most important person in the world, do you understand?
She nodded.
-Good - he smiled softly and cupped her cheek. After that he slowly stood up but continued his speech.
-He’s a king, and you should always show the due respect - he said with a moral high ground, but he’s also, if not not above all, your husband and a man. And as such you should treat him.
-Bronandîr would never act like this - she said grumpily and quietly.
He froze and for a moment she thought he would get angry at her but he actually looked rather amused.
-And what makes you think so?
-I knew him well and he would never do this!
-I will let you believe this only because it’s almost your wedding day and you will need a nice fairytale to daydream about when away from home. But for the future- and I can't believe it’s me you hear this from - try taking men’s words and promises with a grain of salt, will you.
And with that he left the room.
Nartíhl took a deep, shaky breath.
She knew that somewhere in all of this was a chance for her for a good life.
It wouldn’t have to be the happiest but it could be safe and comfortable. Becoming a queen was an honour, it really was an honour for her it’s much more then she would expect for herself. But at this moment she was not able to look at the bright side of this.
She felt like she was expected to go with a joyful strut, with her head held up into the craziest storm she has ever seen.
That was riveting! I appreciate how things took a turn when she mentioned her "friend" in passing. It's interesting how she is trying to reason with herself and the situation. Rinvil is being hard, but you know, I can't blame him as he is still looking out for her. It sucks for her though. Thank you for tagging me!
The young king of Rohan is still trying to get used to his new life after the Great War and is just learning how to rule a country. Following his council’s advice he decided to marry a young noble born Lady that seems to be a perfect match for him and a great Queen material. A coldly calculated political move. But what if his decision had some hidden, egoistic motives to it? And what if the lady already gave her heart away to someone who is far away?Let’s find out together. Let’s dive deep down inside both of their minds.
Chapter 10 | Masterlist
Nartíhl was sitting in her assigned seat in the dining room in the western wing.
This is the room where her family had most of their meals when staying in this mansion and she occupied this seat at every meal they had there.
But it gave her very little comfort. She was bouncing her leg and biting her cheek without even realising it.
-Stop it. - her brother Rinvil, who was playing the chaperon here, scolded her.
-Mhm? - she looked at him surprised
-You always do this when you’re nervous - he pointed at her leg.
-Oh.
-Don’t do this, it makes you look bad. And sit straight. - he said in a calm voice.
She straightened herself in her seat. He meant good for her, she knew that.
But just as she shifted her position and managed to control her leg and mouth she started to tap her fingers on the table.
Rinvil rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. They’ve been waiting here for less than 10 minutes but it felt like an eternity. What could he want from her?
The contract was signed and they were about to get married in a few days? If he had any negotiation to do he should have done it with her father earlier. After all, what else could there be to be done? The transaction was confirmed and there was nothing left, right?
They sat in complete silence so when the servants opened the door she jumped in her seat.
-King Éomer and lady Éowyn. - the servant announced.
Nartíhl stood up and quickly fixed her dress and hair.
The young king entered the room, followed by his sister. She finally had a chance to take a closer look at her fiancé. Previously she was too focused on everything that was happening around her, she also felt like with so many people in the room it would be more acceptable not to look directly at him. But now there was nowhere to hide, he was here specifically to see her and speak to her. And so she looked at him.
He was handsome. She had to admit it. Especially with his hair up, she really liked that on him. He looked young, with a lot of freckles on his cheeks and nose which she found very cute. But there was something in his face, eyes and a few wrinkles that made him look much older than he was. She knew this look well, she saw this in many men in her life that came back from the war.
He seemed rather confident but there was a hint of hesitation in him, she noticed this earlier that day.
And just as she was giving a very intense look to his face he looked her straight in the eyes, to which she raised her eyebrows slightly - unintentionally, she was just taken by surprise. He seemed to have noticed it and raised a corner of his mouth in a rakish half-smirk. She could feel her cheek turn deep pink at this and she dropped her eyes. He must have been flattered with her embarrassment but she had no strength in her to try to act more confident than she was. She was terrified and she saw no use in hiding it.
They were standing there, looking at each other. No one said anything. Their company clearly was just trying to blend into the background and Éomer was giving Nartíhl a chance to start. But she remained silent, now looking right ahead with an empty stare. Éomer cleared his throat.
-Lady Nartíhl - he started.
-Your royal highness - she replied with a husky voice.
-Since we are … well in the position that we are, why don’t we address one another by our names. What do you think?
Well, I think that I don’t even know you, we wouldn’t have to be going through this social hell if you wouldn’t propose this and I really would like to know where are we going with this - she thought to herself. But she couldn't say any of it. So she just nodded.
- Please, call me Éomer. - he smiled encouragingly at her.
She opened her mouth but nothing came out. He waited quite awkwardly at her to speak but she only dropped her eyes to her hand and started to play with her fingers.
-So, Nartíhl, you must be… well, why don’t we take a seat.
They both sat down and so did their siblings.
-So - Éomer took a pause. - How…are you doing?
Nartíhl was so taken aback by the triviality of this question that her head shot upwards and she didn’t even try to hide a pure confusion on her face.
-Errr… I’m - she cleared her throat, her raspy voice did not sound like she was doing well. - I am doing well, my - she repeated with a firm voice this time but stopped when she realized he wanted to call him by his title. - Thank you for asking. How are you finding yourself here?
At this point the air in the room was so tense you could literally cut it with a knife.
Rinvil found Éowyn with his eyes and gave her an abashed look. He thought to himself “what is this and why are we here?” and it must have been very clear on his face because Éowyn only shrugged and shook her head.
-It’s a nice horse you have.
Éowyn unconsciously snorted a laugh but managed to hide it with a pretended sneeze.
-My horse. Oh, yes, Lada. She was a gift from my parents. I’ve had her for so many years it feels as if she was my friend.
Éomer let out a singular chuckle.
-Do you like animals?
-I do think they tend to be better companions than people sometimes. They always listen, never judge. They won’t betray you or hurt you with their words.
Nartíhl gave him a warm look and for the first time in at least a few days she genuinely smiled. It comforted her to hear him say such words. She agreed with them. It seemed that they found their first common ground.
They started to share some of their favorite memories with their horses and their most memorable riding trips. She felt less intimidated, she almost forgot how scared she was and she started to think that maybe he is just a man, maybe even a friendly one. The mood kept getting looser and warmer but everything took an abrupt turn when she mentioned Bronandîr. She did not say his name nor did she mention the nature of their relationships, she simply said that she was cleaning her horse in a barn with her friend.
She was finishing a quite funny story:
-And I would definitely fall and probably break a bone if he hadn’t caught me!
She expected the king to laugh with her but his smile got much smaller and his brows narrowed.
-He?
- Yes, my friend.
- From this story I’d assume you were rather close with him.
- Yes, I would say so. We have known each other since we were kids.
The silence that followed was as thick as the one in the beginning but now it felt much heavier.
Nartíhl was desperately looking for a way she could bring the previous mood back and she was searching for any other stories or anecdotes she could share with him.
-Did you know that every other year we hold a big fair where the most beautiful horses are being presented? It’s the best occasion t buy a good horse.
-Yes, I do know it well, my lady - he interrupted her, visibly irritated.
-Oh, excuse me, my Lo.. Éomer, I didn't mean to discredit you.
-Yes, I do know that as well - he replied, now with both teeth and fists clenched.
At that moment a knock was heard on the door. Everyone except for Éomer raised their heads and looked with a surprised look on the door. After a short moment of hesitation Rinvil stood up and opened the door.
-I am here to speak to Lord Éomer.
Nartíhl could hear Éomer mumble a very vulgar set of swear words under his breath.
-What for? - he shouted loudly.
-Lord Dúngar says they cannot find one chest that contains some important documents and they need your decision on what should be done now.
-You’ve been testing my patience the whole day - Éomer said quietly - Can’t you really do ONE thing properly ! - he shouted and slammed his hand on the table with a loud slap. Everything that was on it shook and fell over the table and on the floor.
Nartíhl flinched. When she heard the stump she felt like an icicle dropped in her stomach.
The young king was resting his forehead on his hand set on the table. He was looking down. His fiancée was looking closely at him. He did not really seem angry anymore. He tried to hide his face and she noticed a slight hint of blush on his cheeks. It’s more like he looked embarrassed.
-I’m sorry, Nartíhl. As you can see I am needed elsewhere. - he said with a sigh and stood up. - We’ll see each other later. - he said quietly and walked out the room shaking his head, his sister following him in a rush.
Nartíhl was in such a shock she didn't even stand up when the king did, even though she should.
-What was that? - her brother said rather lightly but his mood quickly changed once he noticed his sister was on the verge of bursting into tears.
-Hey, hey don’t cry. It's not a time to cry.
She looked at him with tears starting to accumulate in her eyes.
Rinvil came to her and kneeled right in front of her chair.
-There’s no need for you to be scared you know? - he said while taking her hand in his.
-But what if he gets angry at me like this.
-Then he will. So what? He will and you will either fight back or shut up and try not to upset him like that again. - she looked at him in disbelief. For him everything was a ‘just’, everything was so simple and easy.
-Don’t look at me like that. Listen, he really is a good man.
Nartíhl snorted. Rinvil sighed with annoyance.
-He is a good man - he continues- but he is a man. A man who’s been through a lot. Even if he will get angry at you,and you’d be naive to think that there will be no fall out between you two, you’d be a queen and not a clumsy servant, that’s first of all. And secondly, I’m sorry to be the one to say this but if that made you cry - it’s time to wake up, love.
She gave him a look of indignation and disbelief.
-Don’t give me that look - he said with a cold chuckle.
-This is your new life, darling, whether you like it or not. There is nothing neither of us can do about it and you know nothing in this world can make father change his mind.
It hit Nartíhl with a full force, like a ship full of stones. It was her new life and it was approaching her at full speed. For this whole time, even though she rationally knew it all was going to happen but she didn't really believe it. She felt like it was some sort of misunderstanding that's going to be dispelled soon and she's going to go back to her life. She also knew that her brother was right and he wasn’t saying it all to hurt her. This wake up call was not pleasant but it was exactly what she needed to prepare herself for what was coming before it’s too late. If she was going to swim, she needed to take a deep breath, otherwise she’d drown.
She nodded slowly.
-Yeah, I guess I have to … adapt? - she said quietly, dubting more and more in herself with each word.
-Remember one thing, love. You will be a queen and his wife. Remember that and believe in your dignity. If you won't believe in that, no one else will. Even if inside you’ll feel like a pile of filth, outside you need to look and act like you believe you are the most important person in the world, do you understand?
She nodded.
-Good - he smiled softly and cupped her cheek. After that he slowly stood up but continued his speech.
-He’s a king, and you should always show the due respect - he said with a moral high ground, but he’s also, if not not above all, your husband and a man. And as such you should treat him.
-Bronandîr would never act like this - she said grumpily and quietly.
He froze and for a moment she thought he would get angry at her but he actually looked rather amused.
-And what makes you think so?
-I knew him well and he would never do this!
-I will let you believe this only because it’s almost your wedding day and you will need a nice fairytale to daydream about when away from home. But for the future- and I can't believe it’s me you hear this from - try taking men’s words and promises with a grain of salt, will you.
And with that he left the room.
Nartíhl took a deep, shaky breath.
She knew that somewhere in all of this was a chance for her for a good life.
It wouldn’t have to be the happiest but it could be safe and comfortable. Becoming a queen was an honour, it really was an honour for her it’s much more then she would expect for herself. But at this moment she was not able to look at the bright side of this.
She felt like she was expected to go with a joyful strut, with her head held up into the craziest storm she has ever seen.
ok so here’s what I would do if I’d miraculously take control over Eric Kripke’s mind and make him put into the boys:
For one whole episode I would turn everybody into dogs. Every single person would be a dog, except for one random one, maybe an extra. It wouldn't be addressed in any way - everyone would act like it’s nothing unusual and then in the next episode all would go back to normal and no one would mention it ( but anything that happened in that episode would move the plot forward).
And the episode would start with a shot on a big black doberman and everyone would think it’s Butcher but it would turn out it’s Kimiko and Butcher is an ankle-biting yorkshire terrier (preferably with a bow on its forehead)
2. In one episode they would make a reference to Marvel’s multiversum and interdimensional travel from Doctor Strange and they would end up in a universe where Butcher and Hughie are the wolf and the hare from Ну, погоди [Nu, pogodi!] (a soviet cartoon) because this is so them and I won’t even discuss this:
We have a scary looking criminal who drinks, smokes and wears cool shirts and a well behaved, honest twink. Come on!
Series Summary: As the daughter of a powerful pharmaceutical magnate, you've spent your life in the shadow of your family name. In the wake of your mother’s sudden and suspicious death, you’re left untethered, searching for something, anything, to make you feel alive again. But when a chance encounter thrusts you into the chaotic world of The Boys, a ruthless Supe-killing vigilante group, your carefully constructed reality begins to unravel. As the lines between hero and villain blur, you are forced to question everything you thought you knew about yourself, your family, and the world around you.
Series Warnings: canon divergent (the canon is a fun suggestion), emotionally constipated billy butcher, reader has very poor self-esteem, heavy discussions/depictions of grief, language, smut (18+ MDNI), slow burn enemies to friends to lovers, emotional/psychological abuse, daddy issues, canon-typical violence, murder, alcohol consumption, implied age gap, violence toward the reader (not butcher)
Status: Completed
please let me know if I've missed any tags! <3 take care to read the tags on each individual chapter <3
A/N: I'm so so so excited to share this with the world, I have been working on this fic for so long and it's really my baby <3 I also want to say that I really went loosey-goosey with the canon here. This is essentially a story within The Boys universe, using characters from The Boys, and referencing plot points from the show, but it doesn't necessarily take place within a specific timeframe in the show and some characters won't be mentioned. Just vibes basically. Thanks for reading <3
Fandom: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Rating: Mature
Relationships: Éomer Éadig/Lothíriel
Chapter 13:
A multitude of confrontations, yet another attempt to solve the riddle of Lothíriel's lack of appetite and a clandestine moment in the stables. Lothíriel and Éomer finally see eye to eye.
The young king of Rohan is still trying to get used to his new life after the Great War and is just learning how to rule a country. Following his council’s advice he decided to marry a young noble born Lady that seems to be a perfect match for him and a great Queen material. A coldly calculated political move. But what if his decision had some hidden, egoistic motives to it? And what if the lady already gave her heart away to someone who is far away?
Let’s find out together. Let’s dive deep down inside both of their minds.
Chapter 9 | Masterlist
Éomer was saved from having to confront both his sister and himself by endless clothes fittings and other wedding related trivialities. Ever since the interrupted conversation with his sister he felt a weird uneasiness that he could not name. He tried to ignore it but he felt his body getting restless and tense.
He most definitely noticed that with every passing hour he got more and more irritated. Everybody seemed to be having a long list of carefully prepared questions in a way that would annoy him the most. Wasn’t it all supposed to be organised by the assigned council? Why were they bothering him with all this nonsense? He had more important things on his mind!
But even the things that laid well within his competencies were irritating him much. Everyone seemed so unprepared. He couldn’t tell if he was more embarrassed by the level of chaos the local court presented or ashamed of how disorganized his own people seemed to be.
His irritation OF COURSE had nothing to do with how nervous he was getting as today he was to finally meet again with Lady Nartíhl. He was not nervous. Not at all! And anyone who would dare to suggest such a thing… well they would be punished somehow, Éomer would find a way to get such thoughts out of their head.
Why was he even thinking about this? What was he thinking about? Well, he definitely was not thinking about the mining development plan that was presented to him. Yet again he drifted away during a meeting.
- Do I bore you, your highness? - asked the man who was trying to explain the local mining system to his future king.
- No, of course not, this is fascinating. - Éomer ran his hand through his face and sighed. He tried to sound convincing but it turned out rather sarcastic.
The other man seemed pretty abashed and as the atmosphere was getting more and more tense, lord Dúngar decided to step in and save the day, by saying:
- Maybe we shall postpone the session, what do you say, my king? We will gladly listen to the rest of your work later. - he gave a half smile and nodded to the man standing in front of them
- Yes, maybe we should.
Éomer stood up promptly not leaving much room and time for any courtesy and stormed out of the room visibly irritated.
***
Éomer went straight to his chamber and started to undress himself. He felt a need to wash himself and change his clothes. Suddenly everything about his look was unsatisfying to him, even his hair. He had no idea why.
Surely not because he was about to attend the final marriage contract negotiation in which lady Nartíhl would take part and could see him closely. It definitely had nothing to do with all of this.
His personal servant stormed into the room soon after him, visibly tired and short of his breath after having chased his master through the hallway.
- My lord - the young man tired to ask between sharp breaths - why such a hurry?
- I need to change my clothes - replied the King while trying to untie the strings in his shirt.
- Let me help you, my lord - the servant rushed to help the king undo the ties. - No need to rush, we still got some time. I’ve been thinking what you should wear for today’s meeting for the whole day, my lord, so you would impress everybody.
- I am a king and I do not need to impress any one, especially not with my look - Éomer scolded the servant angrily, barely restraining himself from raising his voice. - I am sure our hosts are not this shallow to judge us by our clothing and garments.
Who are you trying to fool, Éomer? He did not believe these worlds himself. Yet he refused to admit that and let all those feelings sink in.
-Please forgive me, my lord. This is not what I meant.
- I know, I know. Just bring these clothes over.
So he allowed to be dressed in some fancy clothes and have a fancy hairstyle done. Apparently having your hair pinned up was fashionable for men here. He tried to fight so hard the need to fit in with his looks, he was a king, not a teenager trying to fit in. But deep inside he wanted to impress his fiancee. To make her like him even if it would be at least for his looks.
***
Éomer sat in a round room with his council on both sides. The room was pretty cosy - a burgundy tapestry on the walls, a lot of books on the shelves on each wall. A warm afternoon sun glimpsing through the window. It could be almost nice but Éomer could feel his face turning more and more red with every passing second.
Obviously due to the sun and the ridiculous clothes and not because he sure as hell was not stressed to finally meet his Lady.
He rested his chin on his palm and taped fingers of his other hand on the table while waiting for his host to finally show on the final reading and signing of the marital contract.
He tried to calm his mind, so he started to list all the horses he had in his stable. Then he tried to name all of the infantry military formations he knew. The moment he was just about to start listing all his hounds he heard the doors being open.
- Our noble lord Idhoril and lady Nartíhl - it was announced.
Éomer and all his men stood up. The young king felt his head spinning, he rested his hand on the table to steady himself but he knew it made him look nonchalant in a bad way. Get yourself together, Éomer, you fool. You're a grown man, a warrior, a KING for Bema’s sake! No matter what you’ll do the deal is practically sealed and she will be your wife, that’s all. Just breathe.
But the breathing part lasted only as long as lord’s Idhoril council and himself were entering the room. At the very end of the cortege was her. Just as beautiful as he remembered. Yet so different.
A simple purple dress that brought up her skin tone. Her long wavy hair pinned up on both her temples with dragonfly-shaped red pines. So serious, yet so youthful. But her face was far from a girly lighthearted expression. She looked tired. Her cheeks sunken, her eyes red and swollen. Like she hasnąt slept in a long time.
But Éomer did not have much chance to contemplate this. Soon after she arrived he felt a subtle yet noticeable scent of flowers and frankincense that made his head spin.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. Focus, Éomer. It’s just like on a battlefield, Just shut it all down and focus. You are able to kill, so you are able to listen to your wedding contract being cited.
- Your highness. Please let us welcome you. We are honored to host you and your noble court in this fortress - lord Idhoril nodded his head and looked around the table.
- It is our honour to be here - Éomer heard his own voice as if someone also said these words - Lady Nartíhl. - he finally dared to look her straight in the eyes and smiled gently.
She looked him shortly in the eyes but shied away and looked down immediately. She grimaced her face in what Éomer assumed was an attempt to smile at him. Starting nice, he thought to himself.
- Shall we begin? - Lord Dúngar, standing on Éomer's right, asked. The young king looked around. Everyone was standing awkwardly. What were they waiting for?
- Ekhm - lord Dúngar coughed significantly - my king?
Oh! They are waiting for me!
- Yes yes, of course. - Éomer sat down and so did the rest. He noticed he was sitting a bit too far away from the table so he tried to push his chair closer but the legs of the chair got stuck on the wooden floor texture and he ended up jumping awkwardly on the chair, causing a very lund thump on the floor and not moving an inch forward. Well, at least Nartíhl looked at him for a moment.
And so the citing has started. No changes, everything as agreed.
When the reading was over Idhoril and one of his advisers signed the document. Then Dúngar. Then Nartíhl. At the end the paper was handed over to Éomer. He noticed how pretty and elaborate Nartíhl’s signature was. Just as could be expected from someone of her upbringing. Similar to what he saw on the Gondorian documents. Even though his uncle made sure he trained his letters a lot when he was a boy (which was a cause of many eager discussions with a raised voice because who had time to train reading and writing if you could just ride your horse and train sword fighting?) he suddenly felt like he barely could write his name down. But he did. He also put his hand down with a fresh ink and smudged Dúngar’s signature a bit and stained his hand with the ink. But it matter not. He was to get married to the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, her lands with all the mines it contained was about to be joined to Rohan and she was about to become his queen. No matter how self conscious he felt he could not help but smirk. His plan worked out.
The contract was signed.
Yet, no one was leaving the table. Éomer just sat there, staring at the document.
Lord Idhoril’s advisor must have seen his hesitation.
- Is there anything else, your highness?
- Yes.. - Éomer wavered - I was wondering if I could get a chance to speak with our dear Lady privately.
He could feel the air in the room turn tense.
- Of course not alone - he added. What a stupid custom, he thought to himself. In the riddermark no one would care. They were officially engaged, what would he do to her? But he was aware enough of the local customs. They were supposed to be under surveillance.
- Well, what do you think, my dear - lord Idhoril turned to his daughter and asked her.
-Of course, my lord. - a shy and shaky voiced answer.
- Good. But first let’s dine. I believe we would all appreciate a little rest now. You shall have some time to talk in the evening.
Nartíhl springed out of her seat just as if she was waiting for these words. She nodded her head gently and left the room with two of her servants.
Éomer instinctively stood up and so did everyone else at the table. He traced her down with his eyes trying to fight the amusement growing inside of him. All these months he built up her image as a mighty goddess in his head. But so far she turned out to be a shy young girl. He definitely felt his self-esteem rising.
- Shall we?
Chapter 11
TAGLIST:
@konartiste @emmanuellececchi
I'm sorry to have kept you waiting for so long, I hope you havne't completly forgotten about this story! My life got a bit busy for the last few months but I have some chapters ready and I hope it will turn out worth the waiting! After all, they say the messier the writer's life gets, the better the fanfics, right? ;p
