Faramir Fiction Archive

Second Prize (R)

Written by Liz

04 April 2004 | 7656 words | Work in Progress

Pairing: Faramir/Imrahil, Aragorn/ Imrahil
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Tolkien's world, I just play in it
Timeline: after ring war
Warnings: incest, blackmail, and a tad of non-con
Beta: Skonichek -we love you!
Summary: After being refused his nephew, Imrahil decides on a second prize.

Work In Progress

---

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 Húrin 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." Éowyn 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 Éomer had returned to Edoras. As wonderful a companion as Faramir was, he was no competition to a welcoming home and family that Éowyn 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 Éomer'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

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