A/N: This fic stemmed from a dream that I had last week. My cohort-in-crime, Rosie26 demanded that it get written, so co-authorship goes to her.
In the dim light of the fire in the hearth of his bedchamber, Éowyn looked upon Faramir's peaceful face, relaxed in sleep, as she grappled with the being inside of her. Silently, she pulled out of her cloak a bone-handled assassin's knife, long thin and deadly. She had kept the weapon in an aged wooden box, carved with beautifully wrought horses, at the bottom of the trunk in her room. It was something that she had been gazing at more oft of late, her thoughts growing darker, ever since she had supposedly slain the Witch-king. She stared at the shining blade for a few moments, mesmerized by the gleam upon the cold metal, steeling herself for what she was about to do.
She approached the bed, eying her betrothed as he lay vulnerable and completely innocent of what was about to befall him. But no, it was not that simple. His own beloved would be slitting his throat as he slept soundly, thinking that he had no reason to mistrust her.
She removed her cloak and stood over him, studying his features as she liked to do whenever she had a chance. This was the man who had brought her back from the very edge of death with his eyes, grey orbs that could see into her heart and fathom her motives for the actions that she had taken before the Battle of the Pelennor. His mouth had not judged her, it merely asked to hear more about her. And he listened with his ears, and his heart, a kind heart, and despite all of the hurt he had received in his life, his heart had room for her, and it had beat for her since he had first seen her.
And she loved him in a manner that she had not known existed before she had met him. He was her strength, her courage, her very life. He had brought color to her dull, grey existence, brilliancy that she had taken for granted until this evening. But even as impaired as her judgment had been lately, she knew that without him, there would be nothing left in life for her.
She silently railed against the feeling of cold hatred that finally welled within herself as she lost the battle once again. The dark thoughts overtook her consciousness, and her voice sounded strange to her own ears as she quietly chuckled, taking his relaxed left hand in hers, baring his wrist to her tear-filled eyes. Deftly, her knife sliced through the veins that lay just beneath his skin, as she realized that the black force inside of her was too cruel to allow her to finish him quickly. As he stirred, sleepily murmuring her name in an inquisitive tone, she quickly cut his other wrist as well. So sharp was her blade, he did not feel any pain.
"Éowyn, what are you doing here?" he questioned, opening his eyes, a slight smile upon his lips as he looked up at her blearily.
She took a deep breath to steady her voice before she answered. "I am watching you sleep, my love. Sleep would not come to me."
For a moment, he seemed content with her answer, but he suddenly stiffened as he spied the tears upon her cheeks and then felt the warm wetness of blood flowing over his skin.
"Éowyn?" The alarm in his voice caused her to drop her knife to the carpeted floor as she leaned closer to him, taking him in her arms.
"Hush, my love," she wept, wishing she could quell the fear in his eyes. "It shall not be long now, and we shall be together in a place where no one can touch us again."
"What are you saying?" he asked, searching her eyes. "What have you done?"
Her matter-of-fact tone chilled him to the core. "I have slain you, my love. There was nothing else that I could do."
He tried to sit up, and she could not keep him down. His voice was edged with panic as he said her name, turning his arm to his wondering gaze. Without a word he tore the sheet that he had been sleeping beneath, hastily creating two bandages for himself, winding them as tightly as he could about his wrists as his beloved began to sob uncontrollably. He was torn between calling for the guards and protecting Éowyn from the certain punishment she would suffer for attacking him.
The enormity of what she had just done had finally reached her awareness, and she quickly began to speak to provide him with a reason for her actions. He had to know why she had killed him; she would not let him go to his grave wondering why.
The bandages were futile; he was bleeding much too heavily for them to have much effect. Vaguely he realized that his betrothed was explaining her motives to him, but he was too intent on saving himself to pay her much heed. He tried to stand, desperate to find someone who could help him, but he found that he already felt quite unsteady.
"Éowyn," he gasped in dismay even as she continued her story, her voice becoming more monotonous with each passing moment. He tore more strips from the sheet and bound his wrists as best as he could without her help, unable to do much else. He knew that he must call out for help else he would die here, just as she had intended. But as he opened his mouth to speak, she kissed him, momentarily stealing his ability to think.
With a groan, he lurched to his feet, somehow pulling out of her desperate grasp even as she moaned his name, begging him to return to her. There were two guards only twenty paces away, but then Éowyn's arms were around him, holding him back, and though he was desperate to reach his goal, he had no strength to cry out, and he could not bring himself to force her away from him as she leaned her weight against his unsteady body. With a shudder and a sigh, he surrendered to her, slipping to the floor beneath her, and with a sob, she cradled him against her. Looking up at her with tearful eyes, he resigned himself to his doom.
"Why, Éowyn?" he asked, and then he spied a malevolent gleam in her grey eyes as she smiled down cruelly at him.
"It pleases me to see you suffer, Son of Gondor."
He was shocked by her words, and he couldn't think of anything else to say but, "Please, Éowyn, I love you." He had been so certain of her love, had known that they would be wed and live happily until the end of their days. Had he misjudged her so badly? But then the maniacal expression faded from her visage, and she seemed horrified by what she had done. "We shall be together soon, my love?"
She hugged him tighter yet. "Yes, Faramir, I promise you. We shall be together for eternity." He nodded once, and then with a sigh, he left her alone.
The sudden emptiness within her heart was unbearable. Gently laying Faramir's body aside, she located her discarded knife, and without hesitation, she took it in her shaking hands. "I thought that I had killed you once, but I intend to finish it this time. And you shall be my last victim, evil creature!" Plunging the blade deeply into her own chest, Éowyn felt physically ill as pain briefly exploded within her, and then all faded to black.