Part 1
Aragorn was certain that the Prince of Dol Amroth was being deceitful,
he could feel it in his very bones. This surprise visit to Minas Tirith
had been warmly welcomed by everyone in court; yet as he watched the
prince converse with his nephew Aragorn knew there was something besides
a short vacation for the prince’s reason here. Imrahil stood very
close to Faramir , he could see that from here. He watched as the older
man put his hand on the Steward’s shoulder and tugged him into
yet another hug. That was another thing; Imrahil had been touching Faramir
all day. He had observed Imrahil finding ways to pull his relative into
embraces or touches that denoted a familial, almost proprietary feeling.
He had given up trying to find an exact problem with it, as there was
none. However there still arose a feeling of disquiet as he watched
Faramir lean into Imrahil, and the sensation of disquiet grew as he
saw the man stroke his nephew’s hair. He had spoken to Arwen about
it, and she had laughed at him telling him that perhaps the Prince felt
lonely for his sister’s only surviving child. It had appeased
his wonderment at the tactile nature of the prince, as he could not
recall the man being so with his sons when he had served him as Thorongil.
But still, he thought, as he watched Imrahil hug Faramir close to him,
rubbing his lower back he could not help but think that men did not
normally touch others like this. Not unless in another kind of relationship,
one that could not possibly be between two family members. Could it?
“ Faramir, you will consider it promise me at least that.”
Imrahil held the man tightly to him and turned the Steward’s chin
upwards so that Faramir would meet his gaze. His nephew was weakening
on the subject; he could see it now in his eyes. Imrahil had spent the
last week cajoling and encouraging Faramir to journey back to Belfalas
with him. To stay with his mother’s kin, as Imrahil had taken
to saying to his sister’s last child. He had not given Imrahil
the assurance he had wanted, and so the Prince had come to receive the
promise that he would return to Dol Amroth. Where Imrahil felt Faramir
belonged best, with him.
It was true that he was here on a respite from his children and ruling
but in truth he was here mostly to take Faramir back with him. The man
had haunted his dreams of late and every time he thought of Minas Tirith
he could almost feel the weight of Faramir’s body as he had carried
him back from Pelennor Fields. He had promised Finduilas that he would
save her children in any way possible if they had come to harm and he
had fulfilled that oath. Yet now, as he stroked his last surviving nephew’s
cheek the last thing on his mind was comfort.
Those dreams of his, ah they were the reason he had come here. Imaginings
filled his nights and days, of Faramir in his arms and of him in his
bed. He knew just how soft that skin was, where all the scars on his
body were as he had watched the healers undress him in order to remove
the arrows from his body. That was how the musings had first begun,
where Faramir would still be injured and Imrahil would remove his clothing
and bathe his body. Those dreams had changed, become more intimate as
the Faramir in his dream would wake and ask for things that no nephew
should ever request from his uncle. Things that Imrahil would be all
too willing to give. At first he had wretched when he awoke at the idea
of doing such things to his own kin but after a month of such visions
and fantasies he had finally come to Minas Tirith, to end it. Either
Faramir would go with him back to Belfalas or he would stay here and
finish what his mind had started. “ Faramir, what say you? Will
you not come back with me?”
The Steward frowned and pulled his head away. Taking a step backwards
he stared at the floor for a moment before shaking his head. “The
city is still in disrepair from the siege, and it will take considerable
time before Gondor is restored, uncle. Nay, I cannot leave when there
is still so much that needs to be done. But will you stay? It has been
so long since I have spoken with any of my mother’s kin and…”
Faramir closed his eyes not wanting to admit his loneliness to the other
man. A warm rough hand caressed his cheek and unwillingly the younger
man nuzzled it, seeking the comfort promised there. “And you wish
not to be so alone. I understand Faramir, and my vacation will be extended
for as long as you like.”
“It is kind of you to take so much time for me. It is good to
be close to you again, Imrahil.” Faramir murmured, as he began
to lose himself in the memories of childhood where he would be carried
on his uncle’s shoulders as they waded in the sea. It would be
wonderful to feel loved that way again. When he had felt protected and
loved without any complications or compromises.
“Aye Faramir, I have wished of late to be very close to you.
Perhaps even closer than we are now.” Imrahil’s voice was
distant in the Steward’s ears as he was drawn into another hug
from his uncle. Was there nothing better than a family’s love?
Aragorn’s face burned as he rested in his bed and stared at the
ceiling. He had woken after a strange dream, one which was perverse
and shaming. Or should have been, he thought, as the erection between
his legs refused to die down. He loved Arwen, he knew that with the
strongest of conviction yet that dream had him aching in a way his wife
had not left him in many years. Closing his eyes he relived it; where
Faramir lay on the bed with Imrahil gently rubbing his back. The fact
that both were naked and Imrahil had straddled his nephew’s thighs
had seemed ordinary, and had not given him the slightest of pause. In
his dream Aragorn had moved toward the bed watching as Imrahil turned
Faramir onto his side and covered his mouth with his own. Things were
moving in a hazy slowness as his Steward lay back and spread his legs,
and as Imrahil began to stroke himself the Prince of Dol Amroth had
turned to him asking him what Aragorn wanted. The question had woken
the king up in a cold sweat and a hot erection, one that still persisted
even now. Groaning softly he made his way to the bath, swearing that
this would be the only time he would take a cold bath in the early morning.
The rest of the day turned out to be no easier as he noted with growing
discomfort that Imrahil seemed bent upon spending every waking moment
with his nephew. The court could sense Aragorn’s disquiet and
the numerous councils became very subdued and quick to finish. The king
took no notice of this fact as the two men he wished to keep his eye
on were noticeably absent from the discussions. Aragorn was unsure of
what irritated him more, the fact that a pair of the most powerful men
in Middle-earth had abandoned him to tedious table talks with the lord
from Lossarnach, or that he was becoming increasingly certain that they
were involved in an incestuous relationship. Reminding himself that
the thoughts of such a matter was dishonourable and below him had not
stopped ideas of where they were and what they were doing from surfacing.
Glancing at his queen wife, he noticed she had the same bored look
on her face that he most likely did. He felt badly that he had asked
her to remain with him throughout the proceedings but Arwen was the
one thing that kept him in the present. Which, after being told that
the Steward had left with Prince Imrahil to go riding together was something
that he very much needed. It was not as if there had been any outward
signs of anything amiss, and it was in all likelihood a complete imagining
on his part. Drawing his mind away from the two absent men he once again
focused on Lord Mardil of Lossarnach. Hopefully the meeting would be
over swiftly and he could spend some time with his wife.
Imrahil watched as Faramir rode ahead, laughing as the breeze whipped
through his black hair. Faramir’s joy reminded him of the times
when the Hurin family would journey to Belfalas and visit him there.
He had never seen his nephew so happy since before his mother died.
He smiled, thinking of what it would be like to have Faramir live with
him in Belfalas once more. Would Faramir ride there, too? Perhaps they
would shed their clothes in the hot summer nights and swim in the sea
together, and then go lie on the soft beaches and keep each other warm.
Ah, the nights they would share together and the days as well. It would
be good to have him back where Faramir truly belonged; by his uncle’s
side and in his uncle’s bed. Too long had his bed been empty,
as his wife had passed beyond the veil many years before.
“ Imrahil? My lord, are you well?” Faramir’s voice
brought him back to the present, and he looked to where the steward
stood holding his horse’s reins. Nodding his head, he dismounted
as well and walked over to stand under the tree in the courtyard. “I
was thinking of when you were little and you would play in the surf.
Looking like a sand piper, always digging in the beach for shells and
clams. You looked so small then. Do you remember when that big wave
came and swept you into the sea?” Imrahil walked closer to his
nephew, cupping his face with his hands. He was aware that all this
touching seemed strange to Faramir, but he could not avoid touching
him again.
“Aye,” said Faramir, “and you dived in and saved
me. I felt safe in your arms, I knew you would not let harm come to
me.”
“I would never harm you, you mean much to me. When I look at
you, I see what is left of my sister. I see what remains of Boromir,
and even your father Faramir. I see him too when I look at you. But
mostly, I just see you; and how lonely you are. Shall I comfort you?”
Imrahil said softly, stroking the other man’s face and leaning
in very slowly. Faramir’s eyes were lidded, relaxation making
them heavy with sleep. “Aye,” he whispered. “Show
me your comfort. I am lonely, uncle.” Faramir closed his eyes,
comfortable in his uncle’s arms. If Imrahil wished to hold him
for a time, he was certainly welcome to.
The prince’s lips quirked before brushing the steward’s.
Finding no resistance, Imrahil deepened it in stages. An increase in
pressure, a tilt of the head to better the angle, a soft lick to Faramir’s
lower lip, a gentle insertion of his tongue-
“What are you doing?” Faramir jerked his head away, shaking
it as he stepped back. “ Imrahil? What was that… kiss? That
was not…what did you mean by that?” Imrahil stared innocently
back at him. “Whatever do you mean, nephew? Do you not wish me
to comfort you?” He watched as Faramir’s eyes narrowed and
then widened. “You, you offer comfort in the form of…”
Shaking his head the younger man stepped back. “You cannot be
serious.”
Imrahil tried his best to act confused, raising his eyebrow. “Serious
about comforting you? Nephew, what is wrong? If you do not wish my touch
why did you not say so? I would not want to displease you.”
Now it was Faramir’s turn to look confused, yet Imrahil was certain
that this confusion was not feigned. “I…the intensity of
your comfort disconcerted me. I did not realise that those from Dol
Amroth kissed their family so.”
With those words, Imrahil was presented with an opportunity that very
rarely showed itself in life.
“Of course we do, do you not recall the traditions of your kin?
Come, kiss me Faramir, as I would have done with you had you not balked
at it.”
Hesitantly Faramir moved foreward to his uncle and kissed him chastely
on the mouth. Quickly Imrahil wrapped his arms around his waist and
pulled the man towards him. As Faramir opened his mouth to protest,
the older man slipped his tongue in and began to kiss him in earnest.
The steward, not wanting to offend his kin, did nothing but held perfectly
still. Or at least tried to as Imrahil’s kisses started to make
him uncomfortably warm.
Part 2
He watched the two men kiss, as he stared out upon the balcony. They
were below him and oblivious to his presence that he was certain of.
Aragorn had observed the seduction fall neatly into place, recognising
it for what it was. His blood burned at the sheer idea of what the Prince
of Dol Amroth was doing to his steward and unconsciously, Aragorn clenched
his fists tightly. This man, this deceitful rogue was bent on seducing
his own kin? To do this to one as Faramir, who was integrity personified
was a smear across all that was decent in the race of men. How could
such a one as Prince Imrahil even entertain such a notion as putting
his arms around his relative, kissing him, pressing him against his
waist and- Aragorn broke off, staring in disbelief at how the man brought
his nephew’s head nearer to him by cupping the back of his neck.
By the looks of it Faramir was being a little reluctant, leaning away
from his uncle only to be drawn closer. A flush grew on the King’s
face as Aragorn looked on, watching intensely the two men below him
become more together.
From the balcony he watched as Faramir suddenly broke away and stumbled
back, walking into his horse and startling it. By the way his steward’s
chest was heaving Imrahil must have been pretty involved with his nephew.
Aragorn stood there for a few moments longer until Faramir mounted his
horse and rode quickly back to the stables. He would have a hard discussion
with Imrahil, he decided. One that the Prince of Dol Amroth would never
forget.
Imrahil walked into the council chamber, searching for the king. He
had been told by a waiting page that his majesty had wished to discuss
something of great import with him. Glancing around the room and finding
it empty, he pulled up a chair near a large table and served himself
a glass of wine. Apparently someone had forgotten to put away the remains
of lunch, and Imrahil did not feel the need to deprive himself of such
a common pleasure. Swallowing another mouthful of the Dorwinion vintage,
he heard the doors open and shut announcing the fact that he was no
longer alone. He glanced over his shoulder and found the king striding
towards him, a mixed look of fury and disgust upon his face. Ah, so
Aragorn had found out what he was up to had he? Well, no matter. He
was quite confident that he could handle this man. After all, he had
the experience of knowing the king when he was still a knight in Dol
Amroth’s army, going about with the name of Thorongil. He had
handled him then, and he would handle him now.
“You wanted to speak to me, majesty?” Imrahil made certain
that his voice did not show even a glimmer of the caution that he sensed
deep inside. Though Aragorn was a puppy compared to him politically,
he still was the more powerful man. He did not want his little excursion
in Minas Tirith to come to a halt, especially when he had discovered
how sweet Faramir tasted that morning.
“How dare you, to come here under false pretences and try to
corrupt my friend in such a way? Tell me Imrahil, do you no longer have
honour, or are you so blinded by your twisted lust that you will ignore
such things like the laws against kin consorting with kin?”
Frowning at the king’s words Imrahil stood and went over for
another glass of wine. “I am sure that I have no idea what your
majesty means.”
"Do you truly think me so blind that I cannot see your actions
for what they are?" The prince stopped and turned at the man's
voice as Aragorn walked over to him. The king was flushed and angry,
his voice stony with disaproval. "I forbid it, do you hear me?
Your actions, your very thoughts betray you, your highness. The way
you touch him, the manner of your speech, even the way you follow him
with your eyes. They have all betrayed you to me; and I will not suffer
the ensuing conclusion of this, this," Although normally eloquent
it seemed Aragorn could not find words for his outrage.
"This, relationship perhaps? Courtship, or if you are honest
about it, seduction?" The prince's voice was silk itself as he
put down his wine glass and turned towards his king. "Tell me the
truth Elessar, are you angry that it is me that is seducing your Steward
or..." The prince glanced down at the king's robes. Taking one
step further he cupped the king between the legs ignoring the sputtered
protest. "Or that it is not you? I can feel you Aragorn, the thought
of Faramir and I together makes you hard. Why would that excite you
if you are the decent man you claim to be? I noticed you observing us
on the balcony, you were flushed and uncomfortable. But somehow I do
not think that it was anger that made you blush, and you did not look
away when I kissed him. Nay, your gaze grew even harder."
"If you do not take your hands away from me I shall remove them."
Aragorn picked up a knife from the table and held it to the other noble's
throat. "I am happily married. Unlike you, I do not need to seek
my 'entertainment' elsewhere and certainly not in Prince Faramir's bed."
"Yes, so I see. Happily married indeed." The other man squeezed
the king gently before taking his mouth into his. Imrahil explored the
wet mouth thoroughly before moving away. "Tell me," he whispered
against Aragorn's lips, "are you jealous of me, or are you jealous
of him?"
The reply was the shedding of Imrahil’s robes, and Aragorn leaning
him against the table.
"I swear to you Imrahil if you do not leave him alone, I-"
" Shhhh..." Prince Imrahil whispered back and wrapped Aragorn
into an embrace. If the king wished to sleep with his nephew, he would
find that it to be an uphill battle for Imrahil had already decided
Faramir most definitely needed a holiday in Dol Amroth. Perhaps a nice
relaxing massage would be in order for his nephew as well. His movements
stopped for a moment as he felt Aragorn melt underneath him. *How interesting,*
Imrahil thought. *Perhaps the king is not as self righteous about my
actions as I had believed.* Slipping his tongue into Aragorn’s
mouth he began to divest the man of his clothing. When Aragorn started
to protest he slipped his hand inside the king’s breeches, silencing
him. Then, without anymore further hesitation, he began showing him
exactly what it was that had brought him to Minas Tirith in the first
place.
Faramir leaned against the stable doors, breathing harshly. It was
obvious that Imrahil had lied to him as no kiss like that could be in
any way called familial. Was this what had brought his uncle here, was
he what had made Imrahil come to Minas Tirith? Surely not, there could
be no way that his own uncle could want- Faramir shied away from that
thought, the idea raising the hair on the back of his neck. Something
was very wrong here, and it would be wise if he and his relative spent
some time apart. Rubbing his lower lip where Imrahil had bit him, he
shivered. Perhaps a great deal of time apart.
“My lord, is something wrong? Faramir ?” A high clear
voice broke Faramir out of his thoughts and he turned his head to see
the queen walking down the path. Strangely she was without her attendants,
which usually accompanied her everywhere. Turning slowly towards her,
Faramir took the time to collect himself. He did not want to give the
impression that anything was out of sorts, despite the actions of his
uncle. He and Arwen were friends, yet he did not think he could bring
himself to tell her that his own kin was trying to bed him.
“Nay, things are well your highness. I was just lost in my thoughts.
Is there anything that I can assist you with?” Faramir smiled,
though it did not reach his eyes.
Arwen frowned slightly and walked closer to him. Her friend seemed
distracted, and somewhat upset for reasons she could not fathom. Aragorn
had told her his suspicions about prince Imrahil, yet she had refused
to believe that such an honourable man would fall to such a thing.
“I thought you and your uncle were going riding today, have
you finished so soon my lord?” Arwen knew it was a layered question
and looked closely at the steward’s face for any signs of something
wrong. The slight flinch around Faramir’s eyes troubled her, and
taking in the fact that Imrahil was nowhere to be seen made her wary
of asking too many questions. “I was taking a walk to the gardens,
would you wish to join me. You would be quite welcome Faramir.”
Arwen offered, unsure if her friend needed to be alone with his thoughts.
The offer was however, accepted and the pair walked arm in arm silently
down the stone path.
It did not take long for them to reach the king’s garden where
they both sat under one of the large trees. Several moments passed as
they sat silently, enjoying each others company. Their friendship had
started under a mutual need for companionship as both Arwen and Faramir
had been lonely in the new age of the king. Neither had friends in the
city, as Faramir’s had been killed in the war and Arwen’s
had taken ship to Valinor. Even now, they were both uncomfortable in
large crowds or state gatherings. Sighing, Faramir leaned his head against
Arwen’s shoulder, needing the physical contact. Although the queen
was not as tactile she understood the human need of physical touch and
had many times allowed Faramir to reach out to her in such a manner.
Besides, she reflected, it was pleasant to have a man rest his head
on her shoulder. Aragorn tended to be stoic and withdrawn at times,
a legacy from so many decades as a ranger on his own. Many times she
had wished her husband would reach out to her emotionally as Faramir
did, but knew that it was impossible to change him. Closing her eyes,
she rested a hand against his face and then stroked his hair. It was
good to be like this, to have someone who understood her.
Awareness came in stages to Aragorn. First was the sensation of warmth
and satisfaction, the feeling of a weight lying on top of him. Realisation
came to him in a sickening wave as he found that it was Imrahil who
lay atop him, naked and asleep. Memories of being bent over the council
table flooded back to him, causing him to throw back his head and moan.
How could he have betrayed Arwen like this? He thought to himself, shaking
his head slightly. With a male no less, a dishonourable man who deserved
to be imprisoned for his inappropriate and lustful attentions towards
his nephew. He whimpered as he noticed that his body seemed to be having
no objections to the admittedly handsome man over him, with more sensitive
parts of his body brushing Imrahil’s hip. Shifting slightly, Aragorn
noticed him was waking up. Steeling himself towards the verbal battle
yet to come he moved away, covering himself with his cloak.
“A little late to be bashful, is it not Aragorn?” A sleepy,
sated voice said from behind him. The king could feel his blood pressure
rise as he turned to find that Imrahil had been studying his backside.
The prince had not bothered to hide his nudity nor the blatant erection
that he sported from between his legs. The smirk on his face was the
worst of the situation, as Aragorn felt a wave of humiliation swamp
his mind causing his face to flush. “Get dressed,” he snarled
before throwing some of Imrahil’s clothing in his direction. He
just could not believe that he had betrayed Arwen like this. True, their
relationship had faded in the past years and the intimate side of their
marriage had ended as well. But she was his wife, and he loved her.
This mistake with Imrahil was obviously some kind of twisted aberration
on his part. What Imrahil could possibly gain from this, he had no idea.
“You will say nothing of this to my wife, else I shall have
you stripped of your title do you hear Imrahil? I will not have Arwen
humiliated by my actions, and certainly not by some impulsive mistake.
This meant nothing to me; you mean nothing to me.” Aragorn stated
coldly, watching the other man pull on his breeches and boots before
reaching for a silk shirt that lay crumpled on the floor. “You
will also stay away from your nephew until it is time for your return
to Dol Amroth, which I would advise you to hasten. Are you listening
to me, Imahil?”
The prince stared at the king for a moment before nodding once. Their
encounter over the table may have meant nothing to Aragorn, but Imrahil
felt a need to repeat it. “If you want me to stay away from Faramir,
you will have to offer me something other than a stripping of rank your
majesty. If you take his place, I will not tell Arwen that you preferred
to sleep with a dishonourable prince than to take your beautiful queen
wife to bed. I wonder how hurt she would be to know that the man she
gave up immortality for has betrayed her. Shall we find out?”
Imrahil had no intention of telling Arwen anything for he held a deep
abiding respect for the woman despite his words. Aragorn however, did
not hold this knowledge and by the furious despair in his eyes he believed
the Dol Amroth man. Imrahil felt a small swell of pity for the naked
man before him, but he had learned long ago that if one wanted something
badly enough, morals could not be allowed to get in the way.
The prince had always found his king to be very attractive, and if
it were not for the fact that he was married Imrahil would have suggested
Aragorn visit Belfalas long ago. Queen Arwen though, had been living
proof that the king would not have approved of such an intimate invitation
so he had remained silent on the matter. This new development had brought
forth several opportunities that Imrahil had long since though passed.
The jealousy in his king’s face had intrigued him and the prince
had felt compelled to explore this new facet to his liege lord’s
personality. It seemed now that Aragorn held no preference over whether
he shared his bed with either man or woman, as his actions had just
demonstrated with Imrahil.
Aragorn knelt on the cold floor, his righteous outrage burned to ash
by Imrahil’s threats. There was no denying what he had done, and
also that he had enjoyed himself immensely. Questions and accusations
circled inside his mind. Why had he not stopped the prince, why had
he not stopped himself, but mostly why was it that he had instigated
such a betrayal against Arwen? True, the sexual side of their love had
faded after several years of marriage but that was to be expected when
he was so busy as king. Perhaps they no longer talked as they used to,
but they had been together so long now that was there anything left
to speak about? He still loved the Evenstar deeply, and yet he had driven
himself to this. It was unforgivable, and yet now he was forced to repeat
his actions rather than risk his wife being hurt by such painful revelations.
He looked up at the prince before shaking his head. No, it was better
that he keep this from his wife than to hurt her with his stubbornness.
He watched with no small amount of trepidation as the prince smiled
and held out his hand to the king. Aragorn took it, and when he had
finished picking up what was left of his clothing and pride, was gently
led in the direction of Imrahil’s bedchambers.
Part 3
"Are you certain that your uncle wants this of you, Faramir? You
could be reading too much into this." Arwen stroked her friend's
hair as he wet the shoulder of her dress with quiet tears. Revealing
such a thing to her had been emotionally draining and he was glad that
she was there to comfort him.
"Aye," he said softly; "There is no doubt in my mind
Arwen. I believe it to be the only reason he is here in Minas Tirith.
I pity him for I know how lonely it is to be without a wife." Eowyn
and he had been quite the couple for the first few months after the
battle at the black gates yet she had left with her brother when Eomer
had returned to Edoras. As wonderful a companion as Faramir was, he
was no competition to a welcoming home and family that Eowyn had waiting
for her. The steward had not been as lucky, and it was because of his
loneliness that Arwen had opened her heart to him and become such close
friends.
The queen sighed and rubbed the back of Faramir's neck as he closed
his eyes. She had never heard of such a thing outside of whispered stories
in her father's halls. In Imladris where people were more free with
their love it did not matter whether a couple had two lovers or three,
nor what gender the lovers were. Here in Gondor it seemed for every
new facet to society that she discovered there was a rule that restricted
her freedom. Arwen hoped that this would change in her husband's rule
but she held out no real expectations of it coming to pass. Her friend
seemed to be sleeping now, and she felt a wave of strong affection for
Faramir which caused her to draw him tightly into her arms. How long
had it been since Estel had last fallen asleep with her under a tree
where she had held him dreaming in her arms? Far too long, decades at
the very least when he had been younger and full of life. Like Faramir
was. Sighing once again, Arwen petted the dark soft hair and began to
sing the Lay of Luthien; despite everything that had happened she was
still glad to be mortal. It was the one decision she had not regretted.
A wet drop; it was what first registered on Faramir's mind when he awoke.
Water hitting his cheek, and a cool wind that pushed his hair into his
face and tickled his nose. Murmuring softly he opened his eyes to find
another pair staring back at him. So he was still in the garden with
Arwen then; by the look of the dark clouds above them it was about to
rain. Pulling the queen to her feet, he held her hand before they began
running together along the grass towards the citadel.
Imrahil bit down softly on his king's neck, enjoying the warm taste
of Aragorn's skin against his tongue. He grinned at the small whimper
he had provoked and kissed the other man softly. "There now, this
isn't so bad, is it?" Shifting his hips, he thrust deeply into
the other man before gently nuzzling the soft neck of his lord.
"I swear it Imrahil, you will regret this one day." Aragorn
winced at the deep throated chuckle and continued. "Even if you
have my body, you will never have anything else; ever." He paused
at that and gasped suddenly as a pair of hot and callused hands wrapped
themselves around his hips and the prince of Dol Amroth drove himself
even further into Aragorn. "Imrahil," the kings whispered
softly, "you are hurting me. You are causing me pain; stop, please.
Please stop."
Imrahil looked sharply at the other man, but seeing the sincerity and
anguish in the king's eyes, relented. "You always were soft, even
when you were on the battlefield. You would not come to Minas Tirith
and take your rightful place as king. You stayed outside and pretended
you were a simple ranger. I suppose I am not surprised that you sacrifice
yourself now to me in order to save others pain. No, I am not surprised
at all."
Aragorn sighed, and leaned his head against the man's shoulder. "Let
me go, Imrahil. You have had what could be taken, and there is no point
in continuing this. Faramir will never have you, you must know this
deep within your heart."
Imrahil looked coldly at the king below him. "No, I will not.
If I cannot have Faramir, I shall have you in his place." Smirking,
Imrahil raised an eyebrow and kissed Aragorn affectionately on the nose.
"I shall have you, Aragorn. In every way I can imagine as well.
Unless of course, you would convince my misguided nephew where his true
place is."
"His true place is here, in Minas Tirith where he belongs."
With added spite, Aragorn added "Here, with me."
"Faramir, have you seen my husband?" Arwen inquired to the
dripping wet Steward. Despite both their best efforts, Faramir and his
queen had gotten completely drenched in the rain.
"No lady, I have not seen him since the council. He seemed upset,
so I thought it best if I left him to his thoughts." He answered,
as he turned from the fire, and passed the cup of tea to Arwen.
Both had found their way to the kitchens, after sending servants for
blankets. It was impossible for them to go to their quarters, considering
how inappropriate the sight of a dripping queen and steward of Gondor
would be for the court to witness.
"I think," Faramir began hesitantly, "that he may have
gone to confront my uncle about his... behaviour towards me."
The steward glanced at Arwen for a moment before flushing and looking
away. "Perhaps it is all in my mind," He mumbled. "No
man in his right mind would want... such a thing with me."
Arwen reached out and clasped both his hands in hers. "Do not
think of it like that, Faramir. You do yourself a disservice. Many people
see you as handsome," Arwen paused and smiled to herself. "And
I have seen some of the nobles follow you with their eyes. They were
not observing to see what you were doing, they were watching you. The
way you move, with that Gondorian grace of yours."
Faramir looked away again and blushed.
The queen smiled and squeezed his hands once more. It was no lie, what
she was telling him. Looking critically, she could see why a man would
be attracted to her steward. The long clean limbs and soft features
made him seem young and inviting. Indeed, two types of men seemed to
be caught by the young one's beauty.
Some, like Aragorn, who sought to coddle and dote upon him as if he
were some fragile doll. Though in her husband's case, the death of Boromir
played in heavily. Then there were those like Imrahil, she thought to
herself. Those that sought to dominate that beauty, to possess it as
their own like a fine hunting hound or a handsome stallion. Imrahil
no doubt cared for Faramir, but he was not in love with him that much
was certain from his actions.
"Arwen?"
Arwen glanced over to Faramir and sighed. "Come, our clothes must
be dry enough by now to risk coming back. We shall go to my anteroom
and dry off, there's a warm fire there, I am certain of it."
Part 4
"What did you just say to me, your majesty?" Imrahil asked.
The question hung in the air until surprisingly Imrahil looked away.
"Faramir does not belong with you; you already have Arwen. It would
not be fair that one man gets the most beautiful of either gender in
his bed. Especially not you, who can't seem to be faithful to even one.
Tell me, why is it that you gave in so easily? It is the one thing that
I do not understand."
Another hanging question, and this time it was the king who broke eye
contact. "I care for Arwen; I love her deeply. There have been...difficulties
in the past, however. But those are no concern of yours. As long as
you remain close mouthed over what has occurred, there will be no need
to involve her in any of our...dealings."
"No?" Imrahil asked wryly, raising an eyebrow. He then caught
the look from his king and realised quickly that he was beginning to
strain whatever friendship with Aragorn he had left. "No, of course
not. There is no reason to involve the Queen of Gondor in any of this."
Aragorn gave him a long, measured look before accepting that Imrahil
would keep quiet. He was still at a loss to explain his actions with
the Prince, for they had made no sense. If Aragorn had merely refused
him, rebuffed his actions than there would have been no blackmail to
speak of. He had asked himself this many times, and had yet to come
up with an answer for his illogical behaviour. A hand on his cheek brought
him out of his musing.
"I do not believe that you have slept with my nephew; your actions
have proven it." Imrahil said softly. He trailed a finger down
his king's face in a proprietary movement before rubbing it softly against
Aragorn's mouth. When the king moved his face away, he let his finger
drop down to his lap. "You would not have reacted the way you did,
had you been."
The statement made Aragorn open his eyes. He had felt drowsy for a
moment when Imrahil had touched him, but the potential for an answer
to his problem woke him up. "I would not? And why would that be,
Imrahil? You think that I would react differently otherwise?" Aragorn
asked cautiously, unsure if he wished to know the answer.
Imrahil threw back his head and laughed; apparently Elessar wasn't
aware of his own desperation. "Do you know why you came so willingly
to me? Why you didn't fight me off at all? I assume that you don't,
so I shall enlighten you. If you had Faramir, as you say you do, you
would not be yearning for a touch by a man. Even if you do not realise
that it is what you want."
The king froze at the idea of such a thing, instinctually denying the
statement as impossible. Surely not; for he cherished Arwen and had
spent many nights loving her in their bed. He did not lust after Imrahil,
and would never have instigated what Imrahil had coerced from him. "You
are wrong." He said grimly, turning away from the man's mocking
laughter before leaving Imrahil's bed in search of his clothes.
"Believe what you wish, your majesty. It does not change the actions
of what you have done. If you wish to delude yourself instead of accepting
facts, I shall not stop you. By the way, your socks are under the bed."
Imrahil stretched languidly, enjoying the glare that Elessar had shot
at him.
"You didn't have to do this, you majesty." Faramir said softly,
looking at the queen as she turned from dismissing the servant who had
brought tea and cakes.
"I know I did not have to, Faramir. But I wished to; there are
not many opportunities that I am allowed where I am not cloistered with
maids and ladies of the court." Arwen sighed and looked at Faramir
with tired eyes. It was rare that she would show such weariness in front
of another but she and the Steward were close, and she trusted him deeply.
"When I came to Minas Tirith from my father's home, I understood
that the transition would be difficult. Not only because of my heritage,
but from the lack of contact here. I knew no one when I first arrived
and even now I am aquainted with few whom I can rely upon to keep my
thoughts to themselves. Now, I have you and several ladies of the court
who are like minded in my way of thinking. Still, it can be quite isolating
living in Minas Tirith when Estel is away in council or at Osgiliath."
Faramir smiled softly. "The king is a great man, your majesty.
I understand what you mean. There have been many times when the daylight
seems dimmer without his presence. He has been a guiding light in all
of our lives."
"But especially yours, has he not? He brought you back from death;
I feel at times Faramir, that he has become almost a part of your family."
Arwen asked him.
"Aye;" Faramir answered, glancing away from his queen. A
shadow passed over his face as the thought of Imrahil came back. "Perhaps
in a way that was needed and could not be given by another."
"Enough." Arwen walked over to where Faramir sat and tilted
his chin up, before sinking her fingers into his hair. A strangely intimate
gesture, but one that she had picked up from her grandmother. "Do
not worry yourself over this, for it too shall pass. Imrahil... whatever
Imrahil's motives are, he shall not harm you or anyone else. He is only
as powerful as you let him become. Do not let him trouble you, young
one."
A soft sigh came from below her, and Arwen felt her Steward rest his
forehead underneath her chest. A wave of memory washed over her, of
when she and Estel were in Imladris and he was feeling overwhelmed by
his destiny and her father's pressure of taking the throne. Warm breath,
the same as this; yet different for where in Imladris she had felt desire
she now experienced affection and tenderness. *Like holding a young
man of my own body,* she mused and stroked his face.
Long had she wished for a child of her own; last night she had stared
at her stomach, envisioning it swelling with a new life before putting
out the light and going to bed. Aragorn's desire for her body was still
as strong as it once was, but the nights where he would stay up with
her and talk of everyday events were over now. Being High King of the
West currently swallowed up much of his time, to the detriment of their
marriage. Arwen understood, not liking the change but knowing that it
was one of the many things that would occur when she took up the title
as Queen.
The only thing that had truly surprised her, was Aragorn's attraction
to men. It was obvious that he had no idea that the attraction even
existed but it was there. She had known since he had taken up the chieftainnship
that his place was among men; and when he led Gondor and Rohan to the
gates of Mordor she perceived men would love him. But she had not known
that her husband would be a lover of men.
Oh, not physically; never that. But it was there in the way he had
smiled at Eomer's invitation to go riding; in the way he looked at Faramir
when the Steward was reading quietly. It was there in the quiet glares
he would bestow upon Imrahil when the Prince was with his children.
One of these days she would take him aside, and tell him that perhaps
he should do some self reflection on where his desires wished to lead
him. It would only be fair, for she did not want him to suffer in ignorance;
even if he was not aware of his own suffering.
"It is evening now; I should leave you to your thoughts your majesty."
Faramir said, finally pulling away from his queen.
"Dinner will be soon, Faramir. Imrahil will be there; I hope you
are ready for it." Arwen cautioned him.
The Steward smiled and nodded. "Between the King, uncle Imrahil
and the two of us, I'm sure it will be a rather memorable dinner!"
TBC
