Faramir Fiction Archive

Second Prize (R)

Written by Liz

04 April 2004 | 7656 words | Work in Progress

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.

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