Boromir watched dispassionately as Eomer awoke. His work had paid off; Eomer hung suspended from a beam that ran the width of the room. He had hung the knots so that Eomer could be turned around, but other than that had no connection with the room. His feet were a foot above the ground and they began to kick as Eomer began to come back to consciousness. Aragorn’s power had knocked him out and he had only grudgingly removed it so that Eomer could return to awareness.
"Where am I?" Eomer asked, looking around at the shadows that surrounded him. Boromir knew that Eomer could not pick him out of the darkness and the thought made him smile. Eomer was completely helpless. Completely at their mercy. How incredibly wonderful.
"The death room of Barad-âr," Aragorn answered, approaching Eomer slowly from the wall.
"Why am I here?" Eomer put as much indignation into his voice as he could. ‘I am a King of Men and ruler of the Riddermark’, his tone said. ‘How dare you imprison me like a common criminal.’
"Don't think me a fool," Aragorn smiled and Eomer shivered, as if suddenly aware that he was completely naked and at the mercy of his liege lord. "Boromir."
Eomer whipped his head around to see Boromir move from the shadow. "Aragorn, it's not what you think."
Boromir stopped a few feet away, putting Aragorn between himself and Eomer. "Of course it's not what I think," Aragorn said, eyes never leaving Boromir's. Slowly, so that Eomer could see his movements, Aragorn let down the rope and Eomer's feet touched the ground, with slack to spare. "You haven't been lusting after my Steward since the first time you met him. You don't want to kill me so he'll be free of me. You don't hate me for taking the one you desire from your grasp." Aragorn turned, beckoning Boromir to him. Boromir obeyed, coming up behind Aragorn and placing his hand in his king's waiting hand. "But let me tell you something, Eomer." Aragorn's voice lowered to a whisper. "He was never in your grasp." Aragorn's foot came out suddenly and kicked Eomer to his knees before them. "You see," he said, moving Boromir before him and undoing his steward's pants as he spoke, "you people, you rebels, think of him as my slave, with a ring that denotes him as such. I like to think of him instead as my partner, my lesser king, so to speak. You see only the slave ring. I see that it once belonged to kings and only they could wear it. You see it as lesser to my Ring, but I know that with his ring, Boromir could rule kingdoms of men. Yet, he chooses to serve me. Why?"
"Because you're a madman!" Eomer answered. Boromir could hear the fear clouding his voice. He truly had no idea what was going to happen.
"No," Aragorn answered, pulling Boromir's pants and leggings down, and then cupping his hardening cock. "Because he loves me, as I love him." Boromir moaned as Aragorn began to stroke him to fullness. The king smiled and then turned Boromir around so that Eomer could see. "And you're going to suck him off." Aragorn kept a tight hold on Boromir's ring hand as Eomer looked from one captor to the other. "Come on, king of Rohan. I know you want to. You forget, I can see your thoughts."
Eomer gulped at the reminder and couldn't help but stare at the cock in front of him. Boromir felt himself harden even more at Eomer's gaze. When Aragorn had said that they would not be giving Eomer any pleasure but that he would be pleasuring them both, Boromir hadn't known what to expect. He certainly hadn't expected this vision before him: a king forced to kneel, hands still suspended above his head, long hair mangy all about him. A king on his knees before Boromir. 'Nothing less than you deserve,' Aragorn's voice whispered in his mind. 'I didn't lie when I said I thought of you as a lesser king.'
'I certainly like being under you,' Boromir replied, a wicked smile plastered on his lips as he took a small step forward, forcing his cock against Eomer's closed lips. "Open for me," he ordered softly and Eomer did, pink tongue darting out to taste the drops collecting at the head of Boromir's cock. Boromir's hand tightened on Aragorn's as Eomer took him as deep as he could and began to suck. 'Shall I tell you what he's thinking?' Aragorn asked, clearly amused at the spectacle before him. 'Shall I tell you how much he's wishing I wasn't here, that it was just you and he in a bed somewhere, somewhere where he could show you how much he wants you? Shall I tell you his private fantasies, ones he's been collecting and perfecting since that fated day the two of you met? There's a rather interesting one we shall have to try, with includes a quite industrial use for sweetwine. He thinks you're very sweet, my dear. He wants more of you. Give it to him." At Aragorn's insistence, Boromir pushed his hips forward, forcing more of himself into Eomer's willing mouth, almost choking Rohan's king in the process. 'Slowly, my love,' Aragorn admonished. 'He isn't used to you, and we don't want to kill him just yet. He has to suffer first, and swallowing you, I'm sorry to say, does not qualify as suffering.’
Boromir smiled coldly at that and tightened his hold on Aragorn. He wanted his king to share in the pleasure he was receiving from Eomer’s unskilled mouth. What Eomer lacked in experience he made up for in longing, in having had planned this since he was little more than a child. When Aragorn had told him Eomer’s reason for rebellion, Boromir was hardly able to believe it, but now, seeing Eomer cowed before them and happy to undertake such a demeaning task for his captor, Boromir began to understand Eomer’s justifications for his actions. And Eomer did have a sweet mouth.
‘Further, my love. Make him ache for it the way I ache for you when you are not close to me. Let him know that I, and always I, come before him in your estimations. Let him know that this is only happening because I allowed it to. Such a debt of guilty gratitude is a wonderful parting gift, do you not agree?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Boromir licked his lips and forced himself all the way down Eomer’s willing throat. A pretty blush was reddening Eomer’s face nicely, adding just the right amount of shame to the encounter. Boromir felt Eomer swallow around him and almost moaned. Aragorn’s warning presence in his mind helped him keep a hold on his noises. Eomer could never be allowed to know how much pleasure Boromir was receiving from Eomer’s degradation. For all the confessions of the night, Eomer still trusted Boromir in some small part of his mind. It would make his death all the more delicious.
‘Aragorn!’
‘Yes, my love?’ Aragorn’s mental voice was very amused by the spectacle and Boromir felt himself grow even closer.
‘I'm about to - I need to...Aragorn!’
Aragorn chuckled. ‘Pull out, Boromir. His face is too pretty. I want you to mark it. I want it to mingle with his tears and bring his shame even closer to the surface. Pull out, Boromir.’
Reluctantly, Boromir obeyed and Eomer made a small noise of protest as he lost the one thing he had longed for all his life. Aragorn’s fingers stroking the inside of Boromir’s palm gave Boromir the only encouragement needed and he came all over Eomer’s face. He watched in fascination as Eomer’s pink tongue darted out to lick it up, as Eomer tried to savor the taste.
Aragorn heard the things Boromir could only dare to think. ‘What can I say, my love? You’re so wonderful that everyone wants you. But only I can have you.’
‘And that’s how it should be,’ he whispered in contentment and leaned back into Aragorn’s arms, feeling Aragorn’s heart beat against him. Boromir’s breath slowed until they breathed as one and Boromir felt himself become submerged into Aragorn’s will. It was a comfortable feeling, like an old, worn, and much beloved blanket, and Aragorn soothing over all his fears was like feeding an addiction. Boromir sighed in happiness as Aragorn’s arms tightened around him, giving him his instructions. Eomer remained kneeling at their feet and Boromir took the jeweled daggers from his and Aragorn’s belts. He tapped the blunt side of Aragorn’s under Eomer’s bowed head and raised the deposed king’s face, all the while reveling in Aragorn's arms still encircling him.
"Kiss the blade, Eomer, and make this a blood oath."
Shamed beyond all pride, Eomer kissed it, then allowed Boromir to slice his cheeks. He kissed the blade again, tasting his blood mingling with the steel.
"Swear by this, Eomer King. That you will devote the rest of your life, however short that may be, to the pleasure of your king, to Aragorn Elessar, the Renewer. That you will not rest until you know that you have not been found lacking in your king’s eyes. That your every thought will be of your king’s welfare and that you will look to your king’s desires before your own. This is the oath of the truly devoted. Swear it. Swear it by blood and steel, on your life and on the life of your son. Swear it on the remnants of your tattered and shattered honor, Eomer, son of Eomund, King of the Riddermark."
"I - I swear it."
Boromir pressed the point of the dagger into Eomer’s throat. He almost whimpered as Aragorn moved out from behind him to stand against the cold stone wall. "Oathbreaker, I name you, for you have broken fealty with treachery. This renewed oath shall bind you all the days and hours of your returned life. Avow it."
"I do affirm your words, Lord Steward."
"The king has found you guilty of treason. Have you anything to say on your behalf?"
Eomer cleared his throat. "Everything I did, I did for love."
"Of something that was not yours," Boromir corrected gently and pricked at Eomer’s collarbone. "Eomer, disavow your love."
"Boromir!"
Boromir ground the point of the dagger into Eomer and Eomer stifled a scream. "Disavow it. Swear you give up this love. Swear it on your blood oath, if you must. Because understand this, Eomer King. I was never yours, and I never shall be. My king was never yours save now and my fealty never shared. I repudiate your love for me, Eomer of the Mark." Eomer flinched as if he had been struck and Boromir cut deeper with the blade. "Your blood is forfeit for every moment you do not obey. Do you wish to bleed your life out onto the floor?"
"I will anyway," Eomer cried. "For you shall not let me leave here alive. Why strip me of my only," Eomer choked and Aragorn took the moment to yank the rope up to its original height, dragging Eomer off his knees. "Why strip me of my only comfort?"
"Because your love is against your oath. I belong to Aragorn and he does not share what is his." Boromir raised a hand to forestall Eomer’s objections. "As you say, you shall not leave this chamber alive. What degradations you endure are yours to cherish forever, and have not been witnessed." Aragorn’s hand snaked around Eomer’s hip and Boromir grasped it. Aragorn took the bloodied blade from Boromir and tasted it. At that moment, he thrust inside. Eomer screamed. Boromir smiled. Aragorn took up a steady rhythm, thrusting upwards, careful to give Eomer no pleasure. "Have you any last words, deposed king of Rohan?" Aragorn thrust harder. "Answer me, commoner. Captive. Slave. Your life is forfeit for your deceit. Have you any last words?" Eomer opened his mouth and screamed.
Aragorn’s eyes glinted with Eomer’s pain and fear as Aragorn handed Boromir the silver, unblooded knife. "Kill him."
Boromir caressed the blade against Eomer’s panting chest and then began to carve into the flesh above Eomer’s heart. "This is what happens to men that try to betray my King." Eomer’s eyes opened even wider in horror and Aragorn handed Boromir the second knife, thrusting harder and harder.
Boromir watched in wonder as rivers of blood began to run down Eomer’s sweat-soaked chest and one white rib poked clean out. Eomer’s cheeks bled true and mingled in his matted hair, staining it beautifully. Boromir held out a finger and wiped away some of the flowing blood, offering it to his king. Aragorn accepted the blood offering graciously and Eomer screamed his throat raw.
Finally Eomer’s beating heart was laid bare. Eomer had long been reduced to a shuddering, crying slab of blood, but Aragorn placed a hand on Boromir’s blood-soaked wrist.
"Not yet. Unman him first."
Boromir nodded and, with two short flicks of the blade, obeyed his king’s command. The flesh that had once been the king of Rohan screamed anew and its tears mingled with the flowing blood. Boromir was covered from nose to navel with gore and blood and splatters of it adorned his pants.
"Do you repent, Eomer?" Aragorn whispered harshly against Eomer’s sliced ear. "Are you sorry for wanting what is mine? Good. It will make your death so much sweeter. He’s mine, Rider." And with that, Aragorn released his hold on Boromir’s wrist and the silver dagger nicked at Eomer’s heart, killing him.
Aragorn thrust for the last time and then spent himself in the slowly cooling body. Stepping back, he surveyed the damage done. Eomer’s body was unrecognizable and almost ripe for the funeral pyre. Boromir’s skin was red and he was glowing from enjoyment of the task.
"Clean yourself up," he ordered softly, caressing Boromir’s blooded wrist as he did so. "There’s something I need to attend to. I’ll meet you in bed."
Boromir would have passed by the closed door without thought had he not heard raised voices coming from within, and the sound of flesh smacking flesh. Concerned, he opened the door slowly and tried to move soundlessly. A mere squeak betrayed the steward's interest, but it was enough to alert the inhabitants.
"Ah, Boromir, welcome," Aragorn half-turned to face his steward, kicking the chained man at his feet in the process. Two guards held the chains firmly in black-gloved hands and Boromir could see that Aragorn had stripped them of their will and consciousness. They would not be aware of the Palace burning down around them if Aragorn did not take them first out of the trance. Boromir's sense of unease grew. This was more than a torture session, then. But if it was indeed an interrogation...
"What's going on, Aragorn? Why did you not summon me here?" Boromir did not move from his position by the door and tried to make out the identity of the prisoner, who groaned suddenly and futility attempted to avoid Aragorn's merciless assault. Boromir saw that the chains were arranged in such a way that the prisoner could neither stand nor sit. He could only sway from the chains and beg for respite. And then the prisoner moaned. Boromir paled in realization. "Aragorn..."
"I told you, my love," Aragorn said, with a well-placed kick into Faramir's stomach. Faramir cried out in pain and doubled over as best he could, trying to protect himself. Faramir's skin was marked with bruises through his tattered rags and his eye was almost swollen shut. "I told you that I would not let him hurt you."
"Aragorn," Boromir was fixed to the spot and could not bring himself to move either forward or backward. In all his nightmares, he had never expected to see this sight. "What are you doing?" He felt true panic begin to coil in his chest and move to capture his lungs. He fought to keep his voice calm. "You promised you would leave him to me."
"Bo'mir?" Faramir groaned and spat blood. He fought to raise his head. "Bo'mir, what are y'doing 'ere?" he slurred, glaring at Aragorn as best he could from his position.
Both steward and king ignored him. "Do you remember, dear Boromir? Do you remember the day your brother first denied me?"
"Yes." Of course he did. It was the first time Faramir had ever disappointed him. It was the first time Boromir had ever been proven wrong before his king.
"And do you remember that I was positive that letting him live would be a mistake?"
"Yes."
"And then I told you that though I would let you be his jailer, if extenuating circumstances occurred, I would step in. Do you remember that?"
"Yes."
"Extenuating circumstances have occurred," said Aragorn darkly. "He has conspired to betray both me and you. He has plotted to commit treason and has corrupted a royal guardsman!" Aragorn kicked the chain attached to Faramir's neck and watched in satisfaction as Faramir screamed. Aragorn continued softly, "I would not expect you to condone this. I would not expect you to be able to sit comfortably by while I interrogated your brother. I would never ask that of you."
"And so you hid it from me." Strangely, that seemed of more importance to Boromir than the fact that Aragorn was slowly killing his brother.
"I feared if I told you, you would attend only out of loyalty, and that would be akin to forcing you."
"You've forced me before," Boromir said frostily, "and that was for mere pettiness. But this is my brother, my liege. I would think that I would hold interest in this case!" Without realizing it, Boromir approached his brother and knelt in front of him on the hard stone floor. He reached out to caress his brother's face and then noticed belatedly what he was doing. Careful of what he looked like, he took the neck chain in his hand gently and lifted the collar. He absently realized that he had placed himself between an enraged king and the source of his anger, but brushed it off. After all, he had been the scapegoat of Aragorn's anger often enough. "Faramir. Look at me," he ordered softly, pointedly ignoring his king. Faramir looked up slowly, pure pain reflected in his eyes. "Faramir. Answer me. Did you knowingly betray my trust?"
"Y'never trust'd me." Faramir's lips were bleeding and Boromir shifted uncomfortably, memories of Eomer still too fresh and unsettled. There was still blood under his fingernails and, as Aragorn had said, the night was far from over.
"Oh, I did. I trusted you, Faramir. Did you conspire to betray me?"
"Not you, Boromir. *Him*."
Boromir could feel Aragorn's anger growing and licked his lips. Aragorn would not stand idly by for much longer and Faramir deserved a better end than the one Aragorn would give him. "Why did you do that, Faramir?"
"Didn't deserve y'."
"Can you be more specific?"
"Used you. Ensla-ensla-," Faramir tried, but couldn't get his bruised lips around the word. "'Littled you," he said instead. "Made you less. Treat'd you badly."
"I told you he wasn't."
"B'cause y'were being deshived!" Faramir spat blood and a few teeth. He watched in slow fascination as his blood dripped out of his open mouth, splattering on the floor. "He was controlling you," he enunciated carefully, bitterly aware of how little time was left to him.
"You were wrong, Faramir. I love him. I did before he was my king. I love him now. Faramir. Tell me. Tell me about Beregond."
"Wanted t'help. Said I was his lord and he would let no usurper come before me in his hear'." Wonderful, Boromir thought. We were betrayed by a lovesick guard. "Ran mes'ages between me and Eomer. Tol' me what y'were doing."
"How long?"
"Since the beginnin'."
"Beginning?" Of what?
Faramir shivered as shock had a chance to settle in and Boromir had to visibly resist the urge to comfort his brother. He knew he couldn't. Aragorn would take it as a sign of betrayal and he had had enough of that tonight. "Coro-coro-coronation."
"And Eomer? How long have you been plotting with him?"
"'Nation."
"His? Or Aragorn's?"
Faramir shrugged as best he could in the confining chains. "Does it matter?"
"I suppose not. And what would you do with me once your plans went into fruitation?"
"Not hur' you!"
Well, that was comforting. "But you would make me trade places with you so that I was jailed and you were free."
"No! No so, Bo'mir. Take his ring off you. Free you."
"And what would have done to Aragorn?" Boromir dared not risk looking back. He knew Aragorn's face would look terrible and his wrath would still be deciding at which brother to be directed.
"Kill 'im."
But of course. "And take his Ring?" That was important. Had the Ring escaped Aragorn's control and was looking for a new master? Even in such a state, Aragorn would understand the reasoning behind the question.
Faramir looked plaintively into Boromir's eyes. "He's not worthy of ruling Gondor!"
"The Ring, Faramir! Would you have taken the Ring?"
"No," Faramir said weakly and sagged in his chains, tears falling freely down his cheeks. Boromir wasn't sure it they were from pain from his wounds, or from his heart. "No."
"Then what would you do with it?"
"D'stroy it."
Anger seized him. Didn't Faramir realize that would kill Aragorn and, thus, kill Boromir? "Who were your fellow conspirators?"
"Bo'mir," Faramir tried to reach out weakly but his broken fingers fell short of Boromir's cheek. "Why are y'so mad? Just want'd to free you."
"Don't blame this on me, Faramir," Boromir said coldly. "Your faults are entirely your own. I do not share them. You were party to treason, Faramir!" Boromir calmed himself down forcefully. He could not show emotion, not here, not now. "Who did you corrupt?
"No'ne."
Boromir closed his eyes and reluctantly called on the power of his ring. He hadn't wanted to force Faramir. Even now he recognized that he didn't want to believe his family could be traitors. It was a grievous and haughty fault. Aragorn was the only one he could ever trust to be true to him and to take care to never hurt him. "Faramir, you try my patience. Who was privy to your conspiracy?"
Faramir jerked forward and Boromir cursed himself for putting too much power into his voice. He had to learn control. Faramir listed a few names in a slowing slur and Boromir could see the quickly approaching end. Aragorn had beaten his brother almost to death and the lack of care was finishing the job.
"Is that all?"
Faramir nodded.
"Is there anything you're not telling me?"
"'e loved you. Eomer. Loved you."
"Yes, I know."
"Jealous," Faramir added. "Was my idea, though. For Eowyn?"
"Yes. You'll die for Eowyn. As Eomer died for me." Boromir watched Faramir start at that and had to remind himself that Eomer was only recently dead. It seemed so long ago that he had carved into that pretty flesh and stilled a beating heart with his knife. The kill was still fresh, the way Eomer's body had cooled in his hands as he brought it to the pyre, the way the blood had clung to his hands. Eomer was only recently dead. Of course Faramir had not known of it. "Is there anything else I should know?"
"Y'r a murdering bastard."
"Yes, I know." Boromir stood and, before Aragorn could stop him, had his sword out and skewered his younger brother through the heart. Finally allowing his tears to fall, he turned to face his king. "That, my liege," he spat coldly as he walked past his lover, "is how you conduct an interrogation." He did not pause as he walked out, nor did he hesitate when Aragorn shouted his name after him.
Boromir slept in his chambers that night.
Fin.
If you missed a part, the complete text of Treachery may be found at:
http://fanfic.yestereve.com/treachery.htm.