Here's another of my Aragorn/Eowyn one-shots. There's no Arwen bashing in this story (Arwen isn't in it at all), and I ask that Arwen lovers don't turn all violent on me, because this story isn't saying anything bad about Arwen, it's just a celebration of what could have been between Éowyn and Aragorn. It's a nice, fluffy one-shot. I wrote it as a vignette for Elfsheen, an awesome A/E forum.

Disclaimer: All of these characters and places belong to Tolkien. I mean absolutely no harm and am making no money from this.

You know, it occurs to me that had Aragorn and Éowyn wed they would likely not have named one of their sons Eldarion, since it implies Elvish lineage. But I like it, so I used it.



Her majesty Queen Éowyn of Gondor stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes, even wrinkling her nose for good measure. The baby in her arms erupted into burbling laughter.

"He never laughs like that for us," one of the boy's nursemaids said a tad resentfully. "Good evening, your majesty." She gathered up her things and left for the night.

"Goodbye, Prince Eldarion," another nursemaid said, chucking the baby under the chin as she went.

Éowyn, finally done with the day's work, cuddled her son and took him to a window. She had been queen these three years, yet the white walls of the city never failed to amaze her. When she wasn't riding or dealing with affairs of state she could look down on Minas Tirith for hours. She was not aware that the people of Gondor felt the same way about her, now their own White Lady, and now the heir to the throne whom she held.

"It's beautiful," Éowyn said reverently, watching as the setting sun painted the city in glowing colors. Then, changing her tone, "Come, dearest. Your father must be nearly finished by now!"

Ten minutes later Aragorn entered the royal bedchamber. He wearily removed the winged crown from his head and set it down on a cushion, then sat at the foot of the bed.

"Long day?" Éowyn asked with a sympathetic look, rocking their child.

"Much too long," he replied, stretching out his legs and sighing. "There's a matter of the cavalry that I want to discuss with you, but it will keep until tomorrow."

"In that case," Éowyn said in her most formal tone, taking a seat beside her husband, "my lord King Elessar, your son requests an audience with you." The mock seriousness proved too much for her, and she struggled to suppress a thin smile.

Aragorn caught her tone and played along. "You may tell my son that King Elessar is unavailable at present, but that his father Aragorn would be more than happy to see him." Both fighting back grins, they met each other's eyes and started to laugh.

"I worry that his nurses do not care for him properly," Aragorn said, taking Eldarion from his wife and cradling him carefully. "He's so small, and – "

"And he's not made of glass," Éowyn interrupted gently. "They are wonderful nursemaids. You worry too much. And you needn't hold him as if he were so delicate, either – he's part ranger, part rider, you know."

"I know," Aragorn said. The baby's tiny fingers curled into a fist around his father's thumb. "But I can't help worrying sometimes."

They looked into Eldarion's face. He had Aragorn's jawline in chubby miniature, and indeed greatly resembled his father except for a Rohirric nose that he could already wrinkle up like his mother could. The boy's eyes were midway in their change from the blue of infancy to gray, and in their present state when he was still they gave him the air of a sage.

"Soon he'll be riding through the kingdom and wearing a sword," Aragorn said. "He cannot yet say his name and there are days when I almost miss him already."

"We have years before that," Éowyn said, laying her head on her husband's shoulder. "Years of Mother, Father, and Son. Let's enjoy them while they last. Ada."

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