The Silver Flame (LOTR)

A King and a Princess

The morning of Aragorn's coronation dawned in a golden glow, as the first light poured through the towering windows of Minas Tirith. The city, rebuilt from the ruins of war, pulsed with anticipation. From the soldiers and nobles down to the merchants and bakers, everyone was preparing for this historic day. The White Tree would bloom once more; Gondor's true king would be crowned.

Visenya moved quietly through the stone corridors, her footsteps soft on the polished floors as she sought the solitude of the balcony, hoping to catch one last moment of peace before the ceremonies began. She had just leaned against the stone balustrade when she heard the faint rustle of footsteps behind her.

Turning, she found Aragorn, standing in his ceremonial robes, watching her with that familiar, warm smile that seemed to belong to both a king and a friend. His gaze was gentle, holding a flicker of mischief, but it softened as he drew nearer.

"Visenya," he began, his voice low. "There's something I need to say, something long overdue." He paused, his eyes searching hers. "You are more to me than just a friend and an ally. In all our battles, in every struggle we've endured together, you became as dear to me as a sister."

Visenya's heart swelled, and she opened her mouth to respond, but he continued, his voice gaining strength. "Today, as I stand ready to take on the weight of Gondor, I would be honored if you would accept a place beside me, officially, as my sister. Gondor has its king, and I would ask you to be its princess."

She blinked, taken aback by the unexpected warmth of his words. It felt like a dream, a gift she had never anticipated.

"Aragorn... I... I don't know what to say." Her voice wavered, but a smile touched her lips. "You honor me deeply. Nothing could bring me greater joy than to stand beside you as your sister."

Aragorn smiled, his expression filled with the gravity of a king but tempered by the affection of a brother. "It is I who am honored, Visenya. You've brought strength, courage, and loyalty beyond measure. Gondor will forever be grateful."

She took a breath, letting his words settle over her like a warm cloak. "Then I suppose I had better get ready. I hear we're going to meet the new king of Gondor."

Aragorn laughed, his hand resting on her shoulder briefly. "You may find him as stubborn as ever," he replied with a wink, and then he left, his laughter echoing down the stone hall.

With a renewed energy, Visenya made her way to her quarters to prepare. The city was alive outside her window, voices rising in joyful clamor as she slipped into her dress. It was a deep green, the color of the forests of Rohan, with silver embroidery running down its sleeves. Her hair was woven with golden threads, the braids intricately twisted and pinned back. When she finally finished, she looked at her reflection, feeling both a part of this momentous day and yet still the warrior who had once faced down dragons and darkness.

Satisfied, she made her way through the bustling halls toward the great courtyard, where the coronation would soon begin. Yet, just as she was crossing the threshold of a quiet corridor, a familiar figure stepped into her path.

Eomer.

He wore the ceremonial armor of Rohan, polished and gleaming, though he looked as though he had been waiting in the shadows. His eyes held a restrained intensity as he took her in, the green of her dress, the glint of silver in her hair, the unexpected grace she carried amid all the grandeur of the day.

"Visenya," he said quietly, his voice rough, betraying an unspoken depth of emotion.

Her heart fluttered, caught between words she had left unspoken and the raw, unguarded look in his eyes. She managed a smile. "Eomer... it's good to see you."

For a long moment, he simply gazed at her, as though he were still coming to terms with the reality that they both stood here, alive and whole.

"I'm glad you survived," he said finally, his voice wavering. "Every time I turned in battle, I searched for you. I feared..." His words trailed off, his fists clenching slightly. "I feared the worst."

She placed a hand gently over his, feeling the tension in his grip soften. "I am here, Eomer, thanks to you—and to the bravery of all who fought beside us."

He took a steadying breath, then met her gaze with a seriousness she hadn't seen before. "I owe you my gratitude, Visenya," he said. "For everything. For standing beside my uncle, for defending my sister. She may never be the same, but you tried to save her. And that is something I can never repay."

Visenya's hand moved from his to rest on his cheek, the warmth of his skin grounding her as much as it seemed to comfort him. "Your uncle ... He was strong. Rohan will honor him, and his memory will endure. Your sister is a fierce shieldmaiden and they will long tell stories of her ferocity in battle"

His gaze dropped for a moment, as if he were searching for something more to say, but when he looked back up, a resolve burned in his eyes. He took her hand in his, holding it between them as he searched her face.

"I almost lost you," he said, his voice rough. "I thought I had to watch you vanish like so many others, but here you are. I have no wish to see you slip through my fingers again."

His words, raw and unguarded, struck her heart. They had faced death together, shared glances across the battlefield, moments stolen amid the chaos and uncertainty. And now, here, he was letting the barriers fall.

She swallowed, unable to hold back any longer. Her hand gripped his, a smile tugging at her lips. "Then don't let go, Eomer."

In one fluid motion, he closed the distance between them, his hand cradling her face as he pressed his lips against hers. The world around them seemed to fall away, and for that stolen moment, there was only him, the strength of his arms, the warmth of his embrace, and the fierce passion with which he kissed her.

She returned his embrace, her hand tangling in his hair, savoring the sensation, the relief, and the joy that mingled in that one perfect moment. When they finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against hers, his breath mingling with hers as he held her close, neither willing to let go.

But the sound of distant bells tolled, signaling that the coronation was about to begin. They exchanged a look, shared and intimate, a silent promise lingering between them.

"Until after the coronation, then," he murmured, his hand reluctantly slipping from hers.

She nodded, her gaze lingering on his as they each turned toward the courtyard, ready to take their places for Aragorn's crowning. As they parted ways, Visenya couldn't help but smile, the taste of his kiss still warm on her lips, her heart racing with a new sense of hope for whatever lay ahead.