A/N: This sequel is the first of what I hope to be a series of one-shots and shorter stories following on from Heart of the Horselord. It's AU, EomerOC, and while you probably don't have to read that to follow this, I'm not sure how much sense some of this will make without the background of the earlier story. This details the wedding night, and picks up at the end of Horselord.

Lisswyn, newly crowned queen of the Riddermark, slipped from their private sitting room into the bedchamber and closed the door. Leaning against it, she gave an unsteady laugh. The confused look on Eomer's face when she'd suddenly stood and told him to wait for her had been beyond price. But she'd known the passion between them was escalating, and that if she really intended Eomer to see the nightgown she'd made specifically for tonight, she needed to don it soon.

Turning, and ignoring the huge bed claiming most of the space in the room, she walked over to the wardrobe, one of two in the chamber. This one had been empty until that morning, when her belongings had been placed in it. As she pulled out the nightgown, her humor faded to nervousness, and she slowly turned back, stared at the bed. She'd been too worried about the wedding to be nervous about the wedding night – at least until Eomer had steered her out of the great hall.

The bed was so big. But then, it probably needed to be. Eomer was big and well built.

She swallowed. Why, exactly, was she nervous? She trusted Eomer, wanted what was about to happen with all of her heart.

It wasn't that she didn't know what to expect. Liffild and Ceolwyn had made certain of that, repeating things her mother and Maegwen had told her long ago – primarily, that she had nothing to fear from a man who loved her. Was it just that she didn't know what she was doing, then? Maybe, but her trust in Eomer lessened that aspect of things, as well. They'd been through too much to be impatient with each other in this.

No, the nerves were simply an acknowledgement of how important their physical joining was – a final acknowledgement and declaration of the love they'd grown into, demonstrated in a willingness to share all that they were with each other.

She looked again at the bed, imagined Eomer sprawled there, and the nerves faded, replaced by longing and desire. She quickly stripped out of her wedding gown, hung it carefully in the wardrobe before slipping the nightgown over her head. Shivering, as the fire in the room was banked and the gown, made of lightweight ivory silk, wasn't designed for warmth, she smoothed the material over her hips. A cross between a proper dress and a shift, the gown hung only to mid-calf, leaving her lower legs exposed. Although loose enough to slip over her head, the gown also opened down the front, secured by gold ribbons. Sleeveless, more ribbons secured the shoulders.

She gently touched some of the embroidery that ran down its sides. She'd made the gown as a gift for Eomer, but now, looking at it, she wondered if he would understand its significance. He was a man, after all, and while he would probably realize that its design allowed easy access, it was doubtful he'd see the effort she'd gone to to make it. She took a deep breath, looked at the bed again. And smiled. She knew the gown to be a gift from her to him, even if he didn't.

Turning, she walked back over to the door, and felt the nerves reappear as she opened it. It was one thing to look forward to giving herself physically to Eomer, one thing to design the nightgown for simple removal. It was an altogether different thing to present herself to him so exposed. The gown revealed far more than it covered.

Peeking around the door, she saw him standing by the fire, his back to her. He turned, and some of the nerves faded, banished by the expression of love and longing she saw on his face.

She took a deep breath, and stepped through the door, then simply stood there, waiting. Unsure.

His gaze stayed locked on hers for a long moment before traveling down her body. She saw him tense, but when he once more met her eyes, the love there still overpowered the hunger visible on his face.

"It's beautiful."

Realizing he meant the gown, something inside her eased.

He walked over to her, took her hand, brought it to his mouth. "And so are you."

Lisswyn smiled, nerves completely banished, and reached for him. He lowered his head, met her kiss as he slipped his hands around her waist. So thin was the material, she could feel the rough texture of his calloused hands gently rubbing across her back, as well as the velvet of his tunic abrading her breasts.

He lifted his head, moved her hair and nuzzled against her neck, and unexpected heat rushed through her body, despite her distance from the fire.

In one smooth motion, Eomer scooped her into his arms and carried her back into the bedchamber and across the room to the bed. One of the household staff had turned the covers back, and he carefully laid her down and pulled them over her before turning to close the door and tend the fire.

Lisswyn curled on her side and watched him. She wasn't sure she needed the covers. Just seeing him moving around the room left her body feeling heated and oversensitive.

He returned to the bed, and in the shadows, kept his eyes on hers as he stripped out of his clothes and slipped into the bed. He'd bent over to pull off his leggings and boots, eclipsing the part of him she was most interested in seeing, and she thought about protesting. Then his bare legs brushed against hers as he rolled to face her, propped on one elbow, and she lost track of what she'd been ready to complain about.

Beneath the covers, he was naked, and she was nearly so. The heat was back, and he wasn't even touching her.

He corrected that, and brought his hand up to cup her cheek for a moment before sliding it down to rest against her throat. Leaning over, he brushed her lips with a kiss. "I would very much like to see the gift you've so carefully wrapped for me."

Her mind was fogged, and it took a moment to understand what he meant, and she nodded, swallowing. He had fully understood the nightgown, after all.

He pulled the covers back, and then slowly began to untie the ribbons. When he got to the one between her breasts, he rested his hand over her heart for a moment, apparently feeling the frantic beat.

"Are you frightened?"

His voice was hesitant, his expression troubled when he looked up, and she rushed to reassure him. Only it was so hard to get the words out. "No. No, not at all."

He stared at her for a long moment, then slowly smiled. Taking her hand, he placed it over his heart, and she grinned back in response to the equally frantic beat coming from beneath the warm skin.

Resuming untying the ribbons, he deliberately brushed the side of her breast, and Lisswyn shivered in reaction. Through the material, her nipples were visible as hard points, and it had nothing to do with the chill in the room. He pushed the covers further down, below her hips, though they remained draped at his waist, and finished undoing the rest of the ribbons before looking up, meeting her eyes again. He kept them focused on her as he moved the material apart and slowly slid his hand up her bare body – over her torso to between her breasts, where he once again left it resting against her heart.

He was being so unhurried about everything. So slow. If not for her hand still resting against his chest, feeling his heart beating as fast as hers, she could almost have assumed he was relaxed. Almost.

He was still on his side, propped on his elbow, and now that hand slipped under her to cup the back of her head as he leaned over to kiss her. Lisswyn took the opportunity to smooth her fingers across his chest, over the warm muscles and through the light sprinkling of hair. So engrossed was she in the pleasure of finally being able to explore his chest the way she'd long wanted that she was nearly distracted from his kiss. Nearly.

She focused on one of his nipples, and he broke off the kiss and buried his face in her shoulder on a choked laugh. Pleased with his response, Lisswyn was about to resume her teasing when he eased back up, took her hand and firmly moved it away from him to rest at her waist.

Before she could react, he nuzzled her cheek for a moment then turned to begin tracing her collarbones with his fingers. With light touches, he continued exploring, moving ever closer to her breasts.

Then he stopped, so suddenly she looked at him in consternation.


Following his glance, she saw he was staring at one of the scars on her breasts. Hunlaf.

Pushing away her frustration at the intrusion – had she not known Eomer would react to the scars? – she cupped his cheek, forced his eyes to meet hers. "You are all I remember of that night." At his frown of confusion, she continued, "What it felt like when I heard your voice behind us, and knew you were there. And later, when you came to me, and I knew it was over, and then when you told me you loved me. He doesn't have the power to hurt me because all I remember from that night is your love. Don't let him hurt you."

Even in the dim light, she saw his eyes darken with emotion. "I hate that he scarred you."

"It's only a surface scar, and means nothing in comparison to what you've given me."

Reaching up, she touched the scar on his shoulder from the poisoned orc arrow. "I am not the only one he scarred."

Turning, he took her hand, once more kissed her fingers. Then lowered his hand, gently cupped her breast, stroked the scar with his thumb.

The warm, calloused touch sent the heat rushing through her again, and Lisswyn squirmed in spite of herself. Eomer almost seemed not to notice, as he sought out each of the scars, gently touched them.

Then he lowered his head, kissed them, one by one.

Love for how he was trying to undo the damage Hunlaf had inflicted, and desire from his touch stormed through her, and she groaned in frustration.

Then, almost as if by accident, his hand brushed her nipple. Lisswyn arced off the bed. "Eomer!"

He looked up, grinned, and she was relieved to see the anguish over her scars clearing from his eyes, replaced by what could only be mischief. Moving to cup her other breast, he deliberately tweaked the nipple, then rubbed his thumb over it, and she closed her eyes, allowed the feelings simply to move through her.

Until she felt the warmth of his mouth cover her, begin tugging gently on the hardened flesh.

Squirming against him, afraid he'd stop, afraid he'd never continue with whatever came next, she ran her hands up his arms, gently touched his chest, needing more of him, needing…him. Just him.

He finally lifted his head, but before she could register the loss of attention from her breasts, she felt his hand, warm against the skin of her stomach and gradually, oh, so gradually, moving lower, until that warmth came to rest against the juncture of her legs.

Shyness was gone, nerves were gone, all that was left was love for him, and the desire to know more of his touch. She opened herself to him, then squirmed again as he carefully began to familiarize himself with her body. Gradually, his touches became stronger, deeper, and Lisswyn shifted again, moved restlessly against his hand, not completely sure what she seeking.

Then he once again lowered his mouth to her breast at the same time he intensified the way he was brushing against a particularly sensitive spot between her legs, and pleasure rushed over and through her. Gasping, nearly frightened, she cried his name, and heard him whisper endearments against her breasts as he continued to bring her pleasure.

It was like being knocked over and carried away by a particularly strong river current, and all she could do was hang on until it crested in a surge of intense pleasure.

When she focused again, she realized that he was simply holding her, one hand still on her lower stomach, its warmth and weight suggestive that the pleasure could easily return.

She looked up at him, but words failed her, and all she could do was pull him down for a kiss.

Then she shifted, pushed on his chest. Puzzled, he allowed himself to be pushed onto his back. "It's my turn," she said firmly. Still feeling the aftereffects of her own pleasure, she needed to know that she could give the same back to him.

Her gaze drifted down, following the line of his throat, to his chest, to…where the rest of him was covered by the blankets.

Laughing softly, he said, "Ah. There's an inequity between us, is there?"

Lying back, he smiled teasingly at her, motioned to the covers. "What would you like to see, my lady?"

Aware she was blushing, she grinned at him, enjoying his playfulness. Then, reaching over, she took a firm grip on the covers and pulled them back, and off him. Her knuckles brushed his stomach, and he jumped, telling her more clearly than anything else what price he was paying for the control he was showing her.

"Oh, my." She stared at what she'd revealed, breath simply strangling in her throat. Strong, powerful, beautiful in a most masculine fashion.

She started to reach for him, felt him tense at the same time her shyness returned.

Maybe she'd begin with his chest.

She didn't actually know how to please him, but figured a starting point was what he'd done for her. She began touching him, running her hands over his chest muscles, tugging gently on the fine hair that was there. Brushing against his nipples to see if he'd react again. He did, and she gave him a smug smile before leaning down to taste one.

He groaned, and moved restlessly beneath her. Pleased, she lifted her head, rubbed her cheek against him. There were no words to describe the love she had for him.

Remembering his reaction when she'd brushed against his stomach earlier, she smoothed her palm down his mid-section to his belly. Muscles here, as well, and a line of hair that angled down. Keeping her touch light, she ran her fingers through it, drawing closer to his manhood, and felt him jerk in response.


She slipped her hand further down, and began to explore in earnest, taking her cues from the sounds he was making and the movements of his body.

Suddenly, a sharp noise erupted from him, and in one smooth movement, he pulled her hand away, pushed her gently back, and settled on top of her.

Startled, she could only stare up at him. He stared back, his breath harsh in his throat, his eyes gleaming. They stayed that way for a long moment, then he lowered his head, gently kissed her.

She could feel him at the entrance to her body, nudging against her, and reminded herself to relax. This part could hurt. She knew that, and indeed the midwives had reminded her of it during the exam.

But so swamped was she with love for him, and a desire to know him in every possible way, it simply didn't matter.

Leaning on one arm, he brought his other hand up, began to play with her nipple again while at the same time he leaned down, deeply kissed her.

Need she had not expected to feel again flowed through her, desire that was only intensified when he rubbed himself against her.

He moved again, began to come into her body, and she could feel the tension coming off him.

"I don't want to hurt you," he gritted out, and there was a desperate note in his voice.

Lisswyn wrapped her arms around him, slid her hands down his back, to his hips, and pulled on him, while murmuring in his ear, "It's all right. I promise." She nipped his ear at the same time she wiggled against him, and he gave a long groan and slid completely into her.

The sense of fullness took her breath away, and it took a moment to adjust. There was some discomfort, but she was barely aware of it, so focused was she on the wonder of being connected with him in such a manner. Of having him inside her, part of her.

How was it that when he was the one physically inside her, that she could feel so completely surrounded by him?

He was completely rigid, and she knew it was still out of fear of hurting her. "I love you," she whispered, and began once more rubbing his back, kissing his throat, any and everything she could do to show him the depth of her love.

With another groan, he began to move, thrusting against her, at first shallowly, and determined to reassure him she was fine, Lisswyn lifted her hips, discovering there was still pleasure here for her, as well. That slight movement on her part seemed to trigger a complete loss of control on his part. His movements became deeper and harder, which was somehow just what she needed to send her spiraling again.

With a final hard thrust, he collapsed against her, only his arms preventing her from taking his full weight.

Odd that it didn't seem strange at all to have him on top of her. She'd thought it would, that it would feel suffocating in some way. Instead, all she felt was warm, loved, connected.

Finally, as their heart rates slowed, he leaned down, kissed her gently before rolling onto his side, his arms still around her.

"Are you all right?"

Still having some difficulty thinking, all she could do was shake her head, and it only gradually occurred to her that he'd gone completely still when she did.


She dropped several light kisses on his upper chest before finally looking at him. Loving him. "I'm not sure I'll ever be completely all right again," she said, and smiled at him. "And I'm fine with that."

He slapped her bottom gently. "You shouldn't scare me that way. I thought I'd hurt you. I've never felt that out of control before," he admitted.

She smiled. "You didn't hurt me, and I sort of like knowing you were out of control."

Startled, he simply stared at her, then laughed. "You would." Leaning down, he kissed her again. "That's another reason I love you."

Lisswyn responded by rubbing her cheek against him, then suddenly aware of a bone deep exhaustion, she curled up against him and slept.

The room was cold when Eomer woke, and he weighed getting up to stir the fire, then settled for simply pulling a fur from the end of bed over the blankets already on them. Lisswyn made a noise and burrowed closer to him, but didn't awaken. He turned, tucked her head against his shoulder and made sure she was completely covered.

Lack of sound from the great hall told him it was late enough that even the most stalwart of their wedding guests had finally sought their beds, but there was no hint of dawn through the window yet. Not that it mattered. No one would be expecting them for breakfast in the hall this morning, at least. He grinned at the thought, pleased that they would be able to enjoy a quiet morning together before rejoining the others.

He leaned down, pressed a kiss against Lisswyn's hair. She was on her side, curled into him, and careful not to wake her, he stroked his hand down her back.

Unbidden, a memory came to him, of holding her as she slept while riding with him on the journey to Edoras. Recovering from her injury, it was the second time in a few hours she'd fallen asleep in his arms, and he remembered thinking then that it was something he would like to get used to.

So few dreams had come true in his life, but this one, this most precious one, had, and gratitude momentarily overwhelmed him.

Lisswyn and Elfhelm had both told him that some of their people were beginning to call him Eadig, for blessed, and he'd struggled to understand why. The first year of his reign had been hard, had seen so many more losses.

But supported by their friends from Gondor, they'd been victorious over Hunlaf and the orcs. They had had a good harvest, and their people would be fine throughout the coming winter.

Lisswyn shifted and rolled over in her sleep so her back was against his chest, then curled against him again. With a smile, and deciding he liked this position, too, he cuddled her close.

Eadig. Blessed. Oh, yes.

A/N 2: Again, a million thanks to those of you who read, enjoyed, and reviewed Horselord. I hope you enjoyed this as well, and hopefully, I'll be back soon with some other short pieces. I'm also still toying with writing a third part to my Beginnings/Awakenings Eomer/Lothiriel stories, depending on what time allows. :)