Part One

Boromir visited the dungeons once a week as part of his duties. It was his job to see to the security of the prison as well as to the safety of the guardsmen. He also made it a habit to visit the more prominent of the captives. But the one person he dreaded visiting the most was the one honor condemned him to see, week after week. And he knew Faramir looked forward to these visits.

"Why can't you just die?" Boromir whispered under his breath as he entered his brother's cell. Faramir was in his usual position on the stone platform, leaning against the wall, face implacable, eyes cold as he followed his brother's movements through the room. Boromir completed his cursory inspection of the walls, floor, and ceiling of the cell and then took a seat in the cell's sole chair. "Hello, brother. How was your week?"

"Pleasant. Gruel on Monday, gruel on Tuesday, looks to be gruel today, too. And yourself?"

"Pleasant as well."

"Though I suppose they don't serve *you* gruel." Faramir's voice was almost bitter. Boromir had hoped that emotion would have been exhausted by Faramir's long incarceration. Faramir always did enjoy disappointing his older brother.

"That is true. They do not."

"Why?"

The question caught Boromir off guard. "I don't understand. Why don't they serve me gruel? Faramir, that's a little childish-"

"No," Faramir waved the objection away. "Why did you do this to me?"

"I did nothing. You brought this on yourself by refusing to serve the King."

"I will be no slave."

Boromir could hear the implication as clear as if Faramir had said the words. "And I am?"

"You wear a slave ring, my brother. Do not tell me you are not slave to his will."

"I serve my king out of love. In his kindness, he has given me this to wear so that he will never lose me."

"Can't you hear yourself? Boromir, what has happened to you? You go away as a man I knew and come back bearing a usurper. How could you believe his lies? How could you let yourself be led astray?"

Only self-control learned at the edge of Aragorn's whip kept Boromir's temper in check. Led astray? He had been the one to convince Aragorn to take the One! "I think it was you who was much changed, Faramir, for the only difference between the man who left and the man who came back was devotion for his king."

"Love, you mean. You love your king, so you are blind to his faults."

"Name four."

"He is quick to anger. He kills those who disagree with him, or he incarcerates them, which is the same thing. He is a harsh man with no semblance of mercy. And he abuses you."

Boromir's smile was frozen in place. "Try again."

But Faramir would not be deterred. "I know he does, brother. I've seen the bruises on your wrists when your sleeve rides up. I've heard the guards talking about the one week when you were not seen at all around the Citadel-"

"Palace," Boromir corrected.

"Names!" Faramir scoffed. "They can change so quickly. Titles! Oh, dear brother, don't you see what your king has done to you? He abuses you so often you don’t even notice anymore!"

"Watch your tongue."

"Or you’ll do what, Boromir? Kill me?" Faramir sneered, then thought a moment. "Do you enjoy it?"

"What?"

"Killing."

Boromir shrugged and studied Faramir’s face for any evidence of a scheme in progress. "I do what I must. That is loyalty."

"No, that is gullibility. Can he not do his own killing?"

"I would not trouble my liege with such a petty thing."

"‘Petty?’" Faramir repeated incredulously. "Ending a man’s life is petty?"

"When a man’s life has degenerated to the point that it no longer bears any import to the continuance of the kingdom, then his life has entered the realm of pettiness. It is a mercy to kill him."

"Father never taught you that. Even he would not be so presumptuous as to believe that the entirety of a man’s being and continuance in the world depends solely on his contributions to the realm."

"Father was not my only teacher, Faramir. There are things to learn from every creature and lifeform that inhabits this Middle-earth."

"You need not take such a rebuking tone with me, brother." Faramir sighed and rubbed grime-stained hands against his eyes. "Are you listening to a word I'm saying? Boromir, you're my older brother and I worry for you. You're letting your king take advantage of you and take your loyalty for granted." Faramir paused. "He beats you, doesn't he? When he's had a long day? He ties you up like a prisoner and gives you a traitor's punishment. I can see it in your eyes."

"Silence!" Boromir was out of his seat and had his hands wrapped around his brother's throat before he realized it. Faramir held himself perfectly still and didn't resist Boromir's murderous intentions. Boromir took a step back and tried to calm himself. He mustn't let Faramir get the best of him. Faramir was trying to chip away at Boromir's line of reason and force him into rash acts. Faramir was trying to force his brother to kill him. Aragorn had examined Faramir from afar and declared that Faramir believed that Boromir would be 'reformed' should his brother die by his own hands by virtue of the guilt that was sure to come. Boromir was in no hurry to test that theory. "Know this, Faramir. Aragorn does nothing to me that I don't want him to do. And you will stop disrespecting him. You will stop taunting him. Dishonor me all you want, for I am naught but the king's steward, but you will never dishonor the king in my hearing. I won't stand for it."

"Very well." Faramir brought his hands up to massage the growing bruises Boromir's strength had given him. Boromir frowned. He hadn't let his anger rule over him long enough to truly hurt his brother. He would have to speak with Aragorn about this. Boromir would not allow himself to kill someone without realizing that he was exerting enough pressure to do so. "I will give token respect to your slaver," Faramir paused. "The same I give to my jailer."

"Watch your tongue," Boromir repeated, but felt the conversation begin to slip away from his control.

"Boromir, tell me this. How many people have you killed on his command?"

"Countless."

"Can you name them?"

The names of everyone he had killed... "Frodo Baggins. Samwise Gamgee. Gimli, Gloin's son. Meriadoc Brandybuck. Peregrin Took." He recited the names of onetime comrades as if they were faceless strangers, allowing no emotion to be betrayed. He hadn't *liked* killing them, but he hadn't disliked it either. It had been Aragorn's will and Boromir's as well. He had truly felt nothing at their deaths. "Lego-, no, Legolas Aragorn killed himself. Not counting orcs and others of a less than desirable nature?"

"Of course. I don't expect you to take names as you slaughter some army."

"Kind of you. Then there were several stray Rohirrim. Hama, the doorguard, who wanted Aragorn to disarm. Erkenbrand I killed, after Aragorn killed Theoden King."

"Theodred?"

"I kill him, after. He would not bow to Aragorn. Grima, a servant of Saruman. Several Rohan courtiers."

"Which brings you to your entry into Gondor, having already killed a score of people at the command of that madman."

"Are not all visionaries considered mad?"

Faramir sighed. "I will concede the point, for now. And then you entered into Gondor, killing dissidents as you went, until you came to Minas Tirith, threw down the gate, proclaimed your lord King of all, and then killed Father. All the while believing that your King was righteous?!"

Boromir willed himself to be patient. This was nothing he hadn't heard already. But Faramir was being unusually dense and it was aggravating. His brother was not so stupid as this. "There is no such thing as a bloodless revolution. Aragorn was the heir to the Throne of Gondor. It was his by blood. The ones I killed would not concede. They were traitors and deserved a traitor's death." It was so obvious. Why couldn't Faramir see?

"Then why am I still alive?"

"Because I begged Aragorn for your life!" Boromir cried in frustration. How could his brother draw a parallel between courtiers and a son of the Steward? He had wanted to give Faramir a chance. Instead he was getting idiocy. "Does that please you, Faramir? Does it add to your misguided theory that I can be 'saved'? Or do you not see it for what it was - a man who had killed his father and did not want to have to do the same to his brother?"

Faramir was silent for a long moment and when he did reply, his voice was low. "I had not known."

"Ah, yes, Faramir, this is not the worst it could be. You could be dead. And I would have killed you myself then had I then known what you would be spewing at me now!"

"If I swear allegiance to your king, will you let me die?"

That threw Boromir off for a moment and then he laughed. "No, Faramir, you aren't getting out of this that easily. I will settle for nothing less than your soul." That had been Aragorn's demand when Boromir had appealed for his brother's life four years before. "I will not let you die until you belong to Aragorn as I do, completely and without reservation. Faramir, you don't seem to understand. We're sons of the Steward," Boromir put all the emphasis he could into those words. It had used to mean something to his brother. Perhaps it still did. "It is our responsibility to lead the people on the right path. I will have no lip-servers swearing fealty. If you truly wish to die, run against the wall," Boromir smiled coldly. Suicide was without honor and Faramir, even deluded as he was, would never stoop to such a thing. "There's nothing stopping you. But you will not leave this cell as a free man until you are Aragorn's." Boromir's ring tightened imperceptibly and the Steward stood from the stiff and broken chair. "Now, if you will excuse me, my dear brother, I am called to the king."

"He calls and you run?"

Boromir turned back from the door. "Of course," he replied and exited. He could hear Faramir's sigh of frustration echo behind him and almost smiled. Faramir would never find an argument so good as to convince his brother away from his king, but Boromir knew he would never stop trying.

'Private reception area, my love,' Boromir heard, as clearly as if Aragorn was in the same room as him, and exited the dungeons with as much grace as he could summon. Dueling with Faramir always took a lot out of him. His brother had a way of sucking his vitality out of him and make him long for the comfort of Aragorn’s arms. Aragorn never judged him for his choice. Aragorn loved him despite all his faults as steward and friend.

The private reception hall was as empty as it usually was. Even the guards dared not come in here without the king's express command. Aragorn stood where he always did, before a small table of open books, bending slightly as to read the faded words better. At Boromir's entry he straightened and approached him.

"Here at your word," Boromir murmured as Aragorn's arms encircled him from behind and a chin moved to rest on his shoulder, kissing his neck.

"You smell like death, my love."

"I have just come from the dungeons, Aragorn."

"Ah." More kisses on his neck, moving into his hair. "So how is dear Faramir?"

"Frustrated. He can't get me to betray you and doesn't understand why."

"Yes, I heard." Aragorn chuckled at Boromir's instinctive stiffening. "Don't be alarmed. I was just peeking in to see if you were truly busy."

"I am never busy, save when I'm with you."

"Eomer is coming."

Boromir turned in his king's arms so they could be face to face. "Oh?"

"He sent a messenger yesterday. I have spotted his horse from the watchtower. He'll be here within half an hour. I've already ordered the gate to let him in and send him straight here."

"What do you think he wants?"

Aragorn leaned down and kissed Boromir's nose. "No idea. Damn it, you look edible. Boromir, tonight I'm going to eat you. No protests."

"None," Boromir promised. "As long as I can eat you as well."

"Simultaneous cannibalism? Sounds good to me."

"So tell me about Eomer's message."

"A mere announcement that he was coming, with the requisite number of guards for a man of his station. They're riding hard."

"It's a two week journey from Edoras. Ten days if you ride your horse to death. Eomer would not undertake such a journey unless he had something to say."

"Declaration of war, perhaps?"

"No. He would send an emissary for that. He would not leave himself where we could easily kill him. Besides, there is nothing but rumors that Rohan is arming. Though that might be something to interrogate Eomer about. You told him only enough eoreds to keep the orcs out. Yet he has replaced both Erkenbrand and Theodred, and added another marshal. That's fact, Aragorn, not rumor."

"Just don't let fear of Rohan keep you up at night."

"*You* keep me up at night."

"You're complaining?"

"Never, my love. But I am much concerned. Eomer set forth from Edoras to make a journey that lasts over a month, and his messenger says nothing?"

"Don't worry, Steward. You forget, Eomer has sworn himself to me-"

"And you trust his oath!?"

"No," Aragorn answered mildly, "but I do own his heart, and his mind. There is nothing he can hide from me once he's in my presence."

"Ah. And does he know this?"

Aragorn's smile was unabashed. "Must have slipped my mind."

"I love you." Boromir grinned. "And I will let nothing, nothing, ever come between us."

"Still thinking of your brother?"

"Aye. He and Eomer were always friends. Age-mates, then play-mates. I think they broke each other in, but stuffy older brothers are not privy to such information. I worry sometimes."

"For what?"

"You."

"Then have no fears, my love. I cannot die," Aragorn's hands played along Boromir's back with more than a little reassurance. "And no matter what arguments your brother comes up with, you will not betray me. Eomer poses no threat to me, nor to you. There is no way he can be plotting with Faramir. There is no way they could be teaming up to do either of us harm. And I will kill your brother, your protests be damned, before I let him try to hurt you. You are precious to me, beloved, and I will allow nothing to happen to you." Aragorn tightened his embrace, moving Boromir even closer to him. "Because you're mine and I'm keeping you."

"Good." A trumpet blew somewhere in the distance and Boromir groaned. "I thought you said we had half an hour."

"It appears I underestimated Eomer's willingness to kill his horse. Come. You need to change into court attire. We have fifteen minutes until Eomer can possibly get here from the gate and you need to be placed in close contact with some water." Aragorn's pupils dilated slowly and then he shook his head to clear it. "I've given the order. Come, my dear."

Boromir grimaced but let himself be lead by the backstairs to his little-used quarters where his formal attire was kept. Aragorn busied himself with the armoire and pulled out several garments. Boromir took them with some distaste.

"Strip."

Boromir raised an eyebrow. Aragorn did not even blink.

"You may make a show of it if you wish, but that will take away time. There's water in your tub, and I've picked out what you're to wear. We're expected downstairs in ten minutes. Strip."

Boromir obeyed. He hated formal wear, probably more than he hated orcs. And of all the uncomfortable, confining clothing... "Blue?"

"Looks beautiful on you."

With a look at Aragorn's heated gaze, Boromir resigned himself to not winning this one. "Don't suppose I could convince you to bathe me?"

"Hardly. Now stop stalling." Aragorn made a dismissive gesture with one hand and Boromir disappeared into the bath area. Five minutes later he returned, hair dripping and a towel around his waist.

"That," he said, taking the tower off and using it to dry the rest of his body, "was not fun."

"It wasn't meant to be." Aragorn took the towel from Boromir and handed him an undertunic instead. "Now dress." Boromir complied, trying not to look at the colors. Black and silver were better suited to a son of Minas Tirith, and even Aragorn had not dared change her colors along with her name. Some things were forever.

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