A/N: I do not own any characters mentioned in this Fanfiction, and who really cares who owns them? This story was written for entertainment, no profits are made. Heed this warning: this story is dark. There are no deer with twinkling eyes, nor furry bunny rabbits. It's an AU set approximately three years after the destruction of the Ring. Gondor has been restored, and Man's time has come to reign Middle-Earth. Given point of view is expressed in parentheses.

To Make You Love Me

Chapter One - Blood Roses


Am I not beautiful? I looked at my reflection in the body-length mirror. Clear blue eyes, long golden hair, a scatter of light freckles on my nose. I saw finely toned legs and arms, high breasts and a narrow waist. No, I was a fair creature. Any fool could see that.

Am I not intelligent? I was born to love literature, to spend my nights pouring over the documentaries and faded scripts my forefathers had written about war, about destiny, about their lives. I knew the language of many, and rarely could any woman read or write at this day and age. I was no fool.

Am I not brave? Did I not plunge into battle beside my beloved brother and King? Didn't you hear of my defeat of the Witch-King, how I chivalrously plunged my knife into his wicked black heart? Was I not a hero, a Goddess loved by the people of Rohan?

What about royalty, am I wealthy, am I born noble? Why, I am the sister of the King of Rohan! My brother, Eomer, sits upon his throne, grey eyes flashing. I am known throughout the lands of Middle-Earth, I am famous for my deeds. My wealth does not matter, and nor does it matter to you. Look at the silk my dress is made of, look at the fine gold detail inscribed in the rich cloth. See the ruby I wear at my throat, the sparkling pendant? I am not poor.

What of my strength? Did I not survive a fatal wound? Are my hands soft like a baby's? No, look at the firm calluses from all those years of swordbearing. I can fight for myself, and I can even defeat your famous blade with a quick flick of the wrist! And where did this strength come from? I worked for it. Day and night, I stole time to practice riding and swordfighting, and was never caught. I could run like a deer, quick and nimble. Magic never danced at my fingertips, I could not summon any power. All I have is, by right, mine. I am no slave, no bitch to some stupid bumbling man.

Beauty, intelligence, courage, royalty, strength. What more do you want of me, my King? What more can I offer? Am I not everything one can want? Yes, I am.

Why don't you love me?




The first rays of the Sun poured in through the open window, streaks of pale rose and faint orange filtering in and illuminating her face. I watched her, lying so peacefully next to me. Her face was serene and her skin was like cream, so smooth and light. Her deep blue eyes were closed, and her naturally rouged lips set on the faintest smile in her sleep. Every time I looked at her face, she seemed even more beautiful, more pure, more youthful.

Arwen, my beloved Evenstar, how I love you! How I love your voice, your face, your thoughts, your everything.

Gently, I brushed a few stray strands of her long hair from her face. Ah, my beloved wife. Her delicately pointed ears, the smell of her hair, the soft heaving of her chest as she breathed-oh, truly the Gods were artists, and my Arwen was their masterpiece.

Her soft eyes fluttered open and saw me watching her. She smiled, the tiniest muscle flickering near her mouth.

"Good morning, my love," I whispered, gazing into her fathomless eyes. I was going to drown in her eyes, they were like the gentle lapping of waves, caressing me...

"Good morning, my beloved King," her lips and eyes told me. The sweetest voice, the sweetest smile. The look in her soft eyes.

She really loved me.

And it was during these moments in which I was the happiest man alive.




I surveyed the roses in my hands. A deep crimson, the color of blood. Lifting them up to my nose, I inhaled its sweet yet bitter scent. Roses, the flowers of passion and of love. My favorite.

How sweet Faramir was! How he loved me, worshipped me. I was his treasure, the light in his eyes.

"Do you like them?" he asked me. I turned around to greet his smile.

"They're beautiful, love." I leaned over and gave him a sensuous kiss. "I shall send for someone to put them in a lovely vase, next to our bed," I said. "So that you'll always be in my heart."

Indeed, always. Even after you're gone.

I walked quietly and sat beside Faramir, using my right hand to hold his left in the gentlest way possible. No, he would not suspect anything. Just when he turned around to meet my eyes, I flicked my wrist smartly and the dagger in my sleeve was at his throat, silver blade gleaming wickedly. His eyes widened in surprise, and he gave a little grunt.

"Faramir, my love," I whispered softly into his ear. "My foolish little husband, whom has served me so well over the years." He stared at me, frozen in fear. I couldn't help but smile at his oblivion, his innocence.

"Thank you for the flowers," I crooned, digging the dagger deep. Then, in a quick fluid motion, I slit his throat. He gurgled, and his eyes rolled up in his head. Dead. The blood was pouring in a torrent from his neck, forming a red pool at his feet. I quickly pulled out the dagger and gave myself injuries. A cut on the thigh, one near the collarbone. A deep scratch on the forearm. I dipped my hair in Faramir's blood and made it messy.

A knock on the door. I quickly covered Faramir's body with a heavy wool blanket and opened the door. There stood Ella, my waiting-woman, with a pitcher of water for the flowers. I flashed her a grin and pressed my dagger into her slender hand. She gasped, seeing the blood in the room, but it was too late. I closed the door and locked it, and ran down the hallway.




"Milord! Brother Eomer! Something terrible has happened!" Eowyn's voice rang clearly in the great hall. I turned to see her running in, and my heart nearly skipped a beat.

Her chest, it was bleeding! And another cut on the thigh, the blood seeping through her silk dress, and blood in her lovely golden hair! She was crying hysterically, and I was at a loss. She was so scared, so helpless...I immediately embraced her thin figure. She smelled, ironically, of roses.

"Sh-sh-sh-she-pl-plunged it ri-right in!" she sobbed, clutching on to me. I put my hands on her frail shoulders and shook her gently.

"Eowyn, what has happened?" Horrible images flooded my mind. It took a lot to break my sister into tears, and even more to wound her! "Why is there blood on you, tell me!"

Her eyelids closed, and her breathing grew short. Her body went limp in my arms, but one word escaped her lips before she gave dead away: "Faramir."

It began to rain outside.




The wind and rain whipped my hair, tossing its tendrils about in the air. I blinked the water from my eyes as my steed charged on, his great hooves thundering across the Rohan plains. I could already see Meduseld in the distance, looming above the city. The sky was darkening, and I pressed my beast to run faster. Luckily, Rohan was close to Mirkwood, and after the messenger came with the news, I still had enough time to ride the two hours to see Eomer and Eowyn before nightfall. Probably three hours, since it began to rain halfway through.

The ground was slippery from the cold rain, and I knew my horse was tired. I hadn't been wise in running him the whole time. His breath was quick, and the steam came from his nostrils in great huffs. Despite his exhaustion, he kept on running, the awesome muscles rippling through his powerful thighs. His speed was great, and my cloak flew in the air like a black phantom, whipping this way and that.

I was shivering, teeth chattering, but it didn't matter. What I felt was a mix of pride and accomplishment. Eowyn had done it, and the two of us were well on our way to our near-impossible goal.


I burst in the doors, wet and tired, but on full alert. What a scene! A beautiful young woman with rusty brown hair and verdant eyes was being held back by stern guards. Her hands were bloody, and her face red from screaming. So this was the girl, the innocent one. I clucked my teeth. What a waste of such a lovely creature!

"IT WASN'T ME, I SWEAR IT, LORD EOMER!" she shrieked, on the brink of insanity. "I HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT, THAT BITCH KILLED HIM!" One guard clapped a great hand over her mouth, but she must've bit him, because he pulled back. Her eyes were red from crying, and her voice was cracking. She was breaking.

Eowyn stood, pale and lovely, her cold blue eyes filled with silver tears. "You worthless sow, you killed my husband and tried to kill me!" She gestured to the great bloodstain on her chest. "Curse you, you witch!"

She saw me, and rushed toward me, golden hair streaming behind like a cascade. I received firmly her in my arms, trying not to touch her bleeding chest nor leg. Clever girl, you faked your own injuries! Behind her, Eomer approached. His faced was stressed, and his eyes cloudy. Weary lines were on his forehead. Poor Eomer, oblivious Eomer who had to suffer for his sister...

"Legolas," he nodded briefly. I returned the greeting. "My friend, Eomer, this day indeed is dark."

Eowyn, at my words, buried her precious little face into my chest and started sobbing again. I held her tight, letting her tears wet my tunic, although that this point it was pretty much saturated.

"Oh, Legolas," came her muffled cry. "I don't know why she did it, my beloved Faramir, dead! Oh, all the years I've known her..."

Eomer's eyes flashed with anger. "I say it's about time we show justice to those who deserve it," he muttered. I nodded firmly.

Eowyn turned as Eomer walked back to Ella. She was still in my arms, her hand upon my chest, bright blue eyes taking in every detail. We both watched as Eomer drew his sword. It glinted brightly, and he raised it high above his head. His eyes were full of a rage I'd never seen before.


A crack of lightening gave us enough light to clearly see Eomer's sword smashing down upon her neck.

Faramir was gone, and the only person who could ruin the first step was gone. Eowyn turned back to me, her soft pink lips smiling.

"Well done, Eowyn," I congratulated her softly. Her eyes twinkled in mirth.

"Your turn..." she whispered into my ears.