Chapter Text
Sitting in the Steward's office, Faramir did his best not to think how strange it was to be here. Obviously, he had been in this room many times before, but always it had been to offer reports or suffer his father's displeasure when Denethor deigned to show it in private. Faramir had always been on the other side of the large lebethron desk.
Now, he sat at his father's desk as the Steward of Gondor, with all the attending responsibilities and honors. Why it was he who sat here now, rather than Denethor or Boromir, was a thought too grievous for close study.
Perhaps, later, when the sorrow and shock had time to lessen, he could reflect on these things with sober attention. Now was not that time.
Fortunately, there was work enough to keep idle hands busy and treacherous thoughts at bay.
Just as Faramir finished a missive for Ethir's lord, there was a knock at the door.
"Come in."
Faramir was startled when none other than his king entered the room. Aragorn smiled at him. "May I beg a moment of your time?"
Immediately getting to his feet, Faramir said, "You needn't beg, my lord. My time is yours to command." He kept his tone appropriately deferential, trying to ignore the familiar flutter in his chest that always presented itself when he was near his king.
Aragorn offered a gentle smile. "And if I were to command you to rest?"
Faramir was momentarily stymied for an answer. He would not think to countermand his king, but the sheer scale of what needed to be done to make right what had been ruined during the war was staggering. There was too much to do to be idle, and Faramir would not rest easily.
Seeing this, Aragorn's gentle smile tipped up at the corner, his eyes dancing, and Faramir perceived that he was being teased.
Gesturing towards the chairs set near the fireplace, Aragorn said, "Would you join me?"
Faramir merely nodded, but he called for a porter before he joined his king. The porter brought refreshments.
"Thank you," Aragorn said to the porter. "Please see to it that we are not disturbed."
The porter bowed. "Of course, sire."
As the man shut the door behind him, Faramir poured a cup of wine for his king and then himself. Only after he had served Aragorn did he finally sit opposite him.
"What did you wish to speak of, my lord?" Faramir said.
Aragorn sipped his drink before replying. "For some time now, I have been considering a proposal. I wish to know your thoughts on the matter."
"A proposal for Gondor?" Faramir asked.
Aragorn took a moment to consider his reply. "Yes, I suppose in some measure it could be called so. There is much to do here in Gondor. Indeed, the whole world is in need of mending." Aragorn shook his head sadly, a far off look momentarily holding his features. "We cannot afford distractions."
"I agree. Has there been some distraction to worry you?"
It seemed an innocent enough question to Faramir, but Aragorn regarded him with a sharp look. The gaze cut Faramir straight to his heart, though he could not guess his king's thoughts.
"It is not a distraction that has yet manifested," Aragorn said after a moment, "But one I foresee on the horizon. I think it best to eliminate it with surety before it can take root, especially as the solution to the problem is already at hand . . . At least, I believe it could be so."
"Your thoughts are sensible, my lord, as anyone would agree," Faramir said when Aragorn said no more. "I sense, however, that there is something more to this issue than you have spoken of. What gives you pause?"
Aragorn offered a small smile. "You see truly. The solution I seek is a delicate one. I have marked you as a man of strong character and conviction. I must lean upon that now. Would you refuse me for your own good?"
"I would refuse you nothing," Faramir said. It was the honest truth. Since first he had laid eyes upon his king, waking from a fever nightmare, nothing pleased him more than to serve his king.
His honest assessment did not seem to please Aragorn. The king's expression grew stony and unhappy. "That is what I feared."
Unsettled, Faramir was unsure of how to remedy this situation. "My lord, I would not refuse you because I have faith you would never ask more than I could bear. Never more than you would ask of yourself."
"But we have newly come to each other's acquaintance, and that is the current dilemma. I could indeed ask more than you could bear. Not out of malice but ignorance. More, there are things you could bear that I would not ask of you were I to know they were a hardship. I must have the truth in these matters." Aragorn's expression was quite stern. "Gandalf tells me that you have stood up before Denethor when your wisdom ran counter to his. I would have no less."
Faramir considered his king's words for a long moment. "Long have I contended my will against my father's, it is true, but never have I gainsaid him outright. Sidestepped in a gray area, perhaps, but always I have felt the necessity ill-advised. I would not desire to do so with you. In truth, I did not desire to do so with him."
As he listened, Aragorn's grave expression grew grimmer, but Faramir was not finished.
"My desires notwithstanding, I have not stilled my tongue when I felt words must be spoken, nor backed away from a path I knew my father would not approve of. I cannot see that changing now, not even for you, my lord. Even were I to wish myself more obedient, I am what I am."
"Make no mistake," Aragorn said gravely. "What you are pleases me."
"But you see some contention in our future?" Faramir could not hide the tiredness he felt at the thought.
"Nay, I see a kindred spirit in you, which is what concerns me. We see the world too similarly. I fear that being so often in agreement, we will not mark when we are at odds, thinking the other feels the same."
Faramir frowned. "I suppose that is true, but it seems an intangible possibility. I would not give thought to worry of it. Have I given you cause to think some problem will arise regarding this?"
Aragorn shook his head, looking rueful. "You are not the distraction of which I speak, but when debating it, I must have the truth of your heart in the matter. It is very important."
Again, Faramir was silent as he considered his king's words and what it was he truly wanted. "I can promise you my honesty, but whatever you command me, I will obey."
His answer did not seem to give Aragorn joy, but he nodded. "That must be enough."
Aragorn settled back into his chair. "I do not know if Gandalf told you, but this is not the first time that I have dwelled in this city. Many years ago, I entered the service of your grandfather under the name of Thorongil."
Faramir startled, for he had heard that name. The deeds of Thorongil were well known in Gondor, and Faramir was amazed to learn that the king was the same man.
Aragorn continued swiftly before Faramir could speak. "When I was here, I was the subject of much interest, especially among the unattached young men and women of the court."
The king gave Faramir a significant look, which Faramir understood immediately. It was no leap at all for him to realize what concerned his king.
Aragorn offered a humorless laugh. "Have you had some personal experience with the same?"
Faramir's expression was one of chagrin. "Not as much as my brother did, but I know of what you speak. A Steward's son is a fine prize. If I may be so bold, you are ten times that."
"I am indeed." Aragorn sounded suddenly weary. Setting down his cup on the small table, he stood up and wandered to the wide window behind Denethor's old desk. "It was a nuisance but no real threat when I was simply Thorongil. I deem that will not remain the case now that I have come into my kingship. I know well the power struggles between the great houses. The position of my spouse is a coveted prize for the ambitious—a situation ripe for conflict. There can be no such strife, not if we are to rebuild."
Aragorn turned back to look at Faramir and continued, "Sauron is defeated but there are still many enemies that would strike at us if they thought us vulnerable. In-fighting among the great houses must be avoided at all costs."
"I agree. What would you propose, my lord?"
Clasping his hands behind his back, Aragorn said, "It is plain that I must marry, and I must do so quickly. If I am already wed, then no one can feel they have lost out on a prize to another; I was never in contention."
"Very wise. Have you someone in mind?" Faramir asked, careful to keep his tone even so he did not give away his own feelings.
"You, Faramir."
"Me?" Faramir was sure he must have heard wrong. A high and mighty lord of the north such as the king would seek better company than Faramir, whatever Faramir felt. For a moment, he was certain his treacherous heart had tricked him into imagining he'd heard the answer he wanted.
Aragorn's expression was grave. "You must see that you are the obvious choice. The Stewards are a house apart from all the other noble houses. After such a long time in service, is it not only proper that your line be elevated to the royal role that your forefathers aspired to? The union of Steward and King is a natural one. More, you yourself are very popular with nobles and commoners alike. If my hand could not be won by anyone more dear, no one would begrudge that it went to you instead."
"I do not know. You are a prize worth a hundred of me. In time, that would weigh more heavily in some hearts than any loyalty to me." Faramir spoke calmly but did not know what he was saying. His mind was still reeling.
Aragorn seized on his words. "Which is why there must be haste. I must be wed as soon as possible before any could entertain the idea of catching me themselves or diminish the grace you have earned honestly. Do you not agree? Or is my wisdom blinded in some measure?"
Faramir was quiet, although he did not weigh the king's proposal with sober purpose. "I agree that your wisdom is sound. Perhaps there is a better candidate, but the Steward of Gondor is a sound choice at least."
"Then we come to the difficult part," Aragorn said, tone slightly grim. "I would not order this of you, but I fear the mere suggestion would be as a command to you. I do not desire that."
His tone was firm, his expression flinty. There was something dangerous to it that sobered Faramir immediately.
"I must know your heart, Faramir. Tell me the objections that lie therein."
"No objections, my lord," Faramir said slowly. "Surprise, to be sure, but . . ."
Aragorn waited quietly for Faramir to collect his thoughts. Faramir remembered waking to his king leaning over him, the touch of his hand on Faramir's fevered brow. He remembered the warm, concerned expression in the gray eyes looking down at him. Foresight was gifted to Faramir, but he thought even without that, he would have known he would love his king as he loved no other man.
Aragorn was easy to love; Faramir had no shame in that. Many loved the man. Faramir's only grief was the strength of his affection. He did not love Aragorn as a Captain loved his General. His love was wholly romantic, and growing apace that he knew himself in danger of pining.
It was a fate Faramir had not fought nor expected relief from. Here, now, was a chance unlooked for. To be Aragorn's spouse. To be able to claim the man in turn.
All that was wanting was Aragorn's love in return, but surely that was too great a thing to ask.
"Your logic is sound. Your heart is in a good place. As for me, I have no other prospect that holds sway. There are no objections." Faramir was firmer this time.
Aragorn's expression was wary but cautiously optimistic. His gaze was again piercing, searching for the truth of Faramir's words.
After a moment, Aragorn relaxed and even offered a tentative smile. "Then what say you? Would you consent to be Prince Consort of the Realm?"
"I would, my lord. If you desire it."
"I do." Aragorn's smile grew wider. "You do not know with what relief I receive your answer."
That was true. Faramir did not know, and he was not sure he wished to.
Aragorn did not seem to mark anything amiss with Faramir's silence, his mind apparently already turned to logistics. "I propose we hold the wedding on Mid-year's day."
Faramir started. "So soon?"
"We must make all haste, for all the reasons I have just said." Aragorn offered another rueful smile. "And, if I am honest, I wish also for my friends to attend. I know Frodo longs to go home, and I cannot keep him longer. He will stay until Mid-year at least."
"Of course." Faramir turned his own mind to the logistics. "And it would be a boon to the City. After the long war, Gondor is eager for celebrations. Our provisions are less than in other years. We could not support a royal wedding and the Mid-year holiday. Combining two such festivities will feel natural, and save much in the process."
"I suppose that is true," Aragorn said, his expression amused. "I would not burden you with more work."
"Nay, this is nothing." Indeed, it was not. Gondor was still rationing from the war. People would be happy for any frivolity and excess, even if it was much poorer than in years past.
"I will announce the wedding tomorrow." Aragorn reached for Faramir's hand, and laid a gentle kiss upon the back of it. "I look forward to Mid-year."
"As do I, my lord." With trepidation, perhaps, but it was finally sinking in that Faramir had agreed to wed King Elessar.
Aragorn smiled, squeezing Faramir's hand once before letting go and departing.
For a long time, Faramir sat where he was, overwhelmed by what he had agreed to.