7. Betrayal

Of all the things that angered him, deception was the most unforgivable.

"You did not drink it," Denethor said accusingly, "The moon tea."

Finduilas shook her head slowly from where she rested in the bed, looking at him through calm grey-green eyes.

"For the love of the Valar, why?" thundered Denethor. "You know how dangerous it is for you to be pregnant. After everything I have done to ensure – "

"Yes, everything," interrupted his wife, her voice as stern as he had ever heard it. "Sending servants to spy on me, reporting every move I make. Avoiding my bed, neglecting my wants and my needs, staying in your study all night when you knew I was waiting for you, making love to me like a nervous boy instead of the man I married, all because you, Denethor the great lord of Gondor, are too scared by the possibility that you might be left without me."

"Spied on - Avoided your – Finduilas! I have tried to ensure everything possible so that I might not have to avoid your bed." Denethor looked at her with incredulity. "You know that."

"Half-made love is not enough, my dear one," Finduilas said softly. "Restrained, careful, distant – as if we are dutiful spouses not the lovers we used to be – I have missed you, the way we were before all this. That is why I brought you to bed that night. The night I conceived."

Denethor growled in frustration. When she had seduced him that night of the rose petals, when they had made love, he had tried to pull out of her at the last moment to avoid spilling his seed inside her, and would have, but she had grabbed his hips and held him inside of her, crying out in pleasure as she had her own release, mingling with his own. Now he wondered if she had done it on purpose. If she would have done it again had she not conceived this time.

Denethor clenched his fists against the truth as it hit him. "You imagine things. You accuse me of spying, on top of everything else."

"Yes, spying! Imprisoning me! I am not a bird in a cage, Denethor. I am sick to death of being watched and taken care of like some helpless, wild thing."

"And the tea?" asked Denethor, unwilling to think of all that, "Foolproof it might not be, but you had your way with me and promised to take precautions in the morning. What of that?"

Before him, Finduilas bit her lip, silent. Denethor scowled, his heart twisting in his chest.

"You planned it," he stated bluntly. "You seduced me and lied to me with promises and now you stand before me risking everything we have. Why could you not just do as I wanted? Will no one give me what I want?"

"I used to be the thing you wanted," Finduilas exclaimed, "Before rumors of lost seeing-stones and whispers from the east became your new intoxication, before they consumed you. Oh yes, Denethor, I know a little about your business, as well. I gave you what you used to want – me, completely."

"The tea, Finduilas, the tea – "

"I did not mean to trick you, my love," said Finduilas softly, reaching out to him. Her fingers just barely brushed his own before he snatched the hand away. "I did not want to deceive you."

"Then why?"

"Because you would not listen when I told you how badly I wanted another child. And now there is a child, my love," she explained, reaching again for his hand to guide it to her belly. "And I will bear him. You will see. I want to give you another son, or a girl... I want Boromir to be a brother. To learn to share and protect and play with other children. "

"You could die," snapped Denethor, removing his hand from her grasp.

"Yes," replied Finduilas gently. "We all die, Denethor. You or I, tomorrow, the next day. You cannot hold back the tide. You can only choose to live. We are not living, Denethor. Not the way we have been." She stood, and Denethor was forced to reach out to her for fear that she was too weak. She clung to him, though whether it was for weakness or persuasion, he was not sure.

"Don't you see, my love? I do not believe this is my time to die. I am strong – "

"No, you are frail – "

"Strong of will and heart, strong enough for this. This child will be a sibling to Boromir and another ray of hope for you and I, and for Gondor too."

Denethor sighed, running his hand through his hair in weariness. "And his mother – what of her? What of her husband, should he be forced to live without her?" His voice broke and he felt his knees give way. He scowled. What was this weakness and from where did it come?

"I was born to be a mother," whispered Finduilas, guiding him to the bed and lying down beside him, her head on the pillow beside his. "I will be fine."

Denethor shook his head, throwing an arm over his face to hide his tears. His anger was still there, but it was tempered by Finduilas' pleading, and slowly giving way to overwhelming fatigue.

"Oh, my love," Finduilas said, finding the tears on his cheek with her fingertips. "I will never leave you. Never, ever, ever." She placed a hand on his cheek, turning his face to hers. She kissed him firmly, as if to brand a mark on his soul. "I swear I am forever yours."

"Then swear also that you will follow every precaution while you bear this child," Denethor said firmly, gathering control of himself. "You must follow very order from the healers."

"Yes, my lord," Finduilas responded, her mouth pursed and her eyes for once unreadable. Denethor scowled. Was she mocking him?

"Every order," he repeated, even more firmly.

"Yes, husband," she whispered contritely, and laid her head on his chest. "Will you send for my brother?" she asked after a moment. "It is long past time that he saw his nephew and we must share our news with him."

Denethor sighed. Imrahil's distrustful eyes were ever upon him when they were together. But for her… If that would help her find the will to be careful, he would do it. "I will, Finduilas," he said, stroking her hair. "Now rest."