To Discover His Truth

The Solstice King

Dawn not only found them summoned, but a guard arrived to escort them. Six men in stiff leather corselets, cloaked in forest green wool cloth trimmed in dark blue, stood ready on dark bay horses. The guards, armed with swords and short recurve bows, had shields buckled to the horses’ saddles. Brynnan thought they were over-armed for a simple escort, but after all, they were situated on the borderlands and must patrol the marches. Still, they seemed at ease and were courteous to the companions.

They rode for several hours, passing villages set in forest clearings until they reached a high stone wall. A road wound through ancient trees, both evergreen and deciduous, until the view opened to a large stone hall with many wings. A tall stone tower arose at one side of the complex.

‘If there are outbuildings, animals or people, they must be behind the great hall,’ thought Brynnan, for the exterior facing them looked almost serene.

But men came out from the hall to give welcome. They gave the companions cups of steaming mead to drink while servants offered to take the horses and others came to carry the baggage. Brynnan took Mavrenn with him, allowing no other to lay a hand on his harp. He heard voices whispering around them.

After being given adjoining quarters and rested, attendants summoned them to the King’s Hall. Brynnan immediately noticed the greenery. Garlands of evergreen branches consisting of spruce, cedar, pine and red-berried holly draped walls, pillars and even the tables.

Richly dressed nobles and warriors occupied the tables: a feast was underway. The high table was draped with green cloth and sprays of holly and ivy and a plant with small golden leaves and white berries. It was the sacred plant that honoured the Winter King. The occupants of the table were no less resplendent in their rich clothes.

King Rhydian of Redmark dominated the gathering. An imposing man of middle age, red-haired and red-cloaked, he leaned forward on the table and looked at his new guests. Orb light glinted off the gold circlet that crowned his head, the enamelled gold pin on his cloak and the gold encircling his wrists, arms, and throat.

“Welcome to our court, Brynnan Marec Mavrenn. The Forest God has sent you to us in our time of need. A welcome to your companions also.”

The lady seated on the King’s left hand, clad all in green and gold, arose and carried a wide double-handled goblet with her. She walked to stand before the Bard and presented the richly jewelled cup to him.

“I am Eirlys. Drink, noble Bard,” she said.

Brynnan graciously accepted the cup and drank. Then he turned and passed the cup to his companions, starting with Nijal, then Geraint and lastly, Andri.

“Come, be seated with us,” Queen Eirlys continued.

As they followed her, Brynnan’s attention was interrupted by a familiar sound of wings. A white raven fluttered down to the shoulder of a man seated beside the King. Brynnan did not know why he had not noticed the man before. Now his aura of power was unmistakable. He was tall, with long white hair in braids and a trimmed white beard. His eyebrows were black, and his eyes a dark grey-blue. At his neck was a thick golden torc, denoting him as a Ruithin priest of high rank. He fixed his hypnotic gaze on the Bard, and Brynnan realized this must be Kian-Hen, the King’s adviser.

“Be seated beside me, Marec Mavrenn, and bring your fabled harp,” the Ruithin mage said.

Brynnan found himself complying, but the Queen herself seated his companions at the table. Geraint was staring at Brynnan, and there was a warning glint in his eyes. Nijal looked inscrutable, but Andri’s gaze roamed the hall, absorbing everything.

Kian-Hen leaned towards Brynnan. “We have had no word of you for nearly two years. You were in service to the Lady Mara for seven years, and we heard news of her leaving Torrent Mountain in mysterious circumstances. There was silence concerning her whereabouts and yours.” Then he added unexpectedly, “Where is your torc? A Ruithin bard and priest should not be without one. But I  see scars around your neck….”

Brynnan felt strange and uncomfortable. These direct and intrusive questions were not the polite protocol for an introduction. Brynnan counter-attacked.

“And you, Kian-Hen, did our Ruithin Arch Priest appoint you as the chief advisor to King Rhydian? Your counsel must give power to his reign.”

Kian-Hen fed a morsel of raw meat to his raven and smiled coldly. “Relax, young Ruithin. We will have time for closer discourse. But your arrival is highly fortuitous. In four days, the sun will rise for the turning, after the year’s longest night. Now the King has a request of you.”

King Rhydian turned to Brynnan. “It is customary for us to elect a Winter King for a full moon's turning before the Solstice. But this year, Kian-Hen has bid us wait for one chosen by the Forest God. The position requires a man dedicated to the land and the people, a Servant to the Great Horned one, a son of the Mother-of-All who will symbolically take my place. We wish to offer this position to you, Brynnan Marec Mavrenn. I cannot think of one better qualified. Will you accept?”

“You will well-serve the Mother in this," put in Kian-Hen. "There is, of course, a seasonal sacrifice in the new morning, but we no longer spill human blood. Our Winter King will hunt in three days before the longest night and take a stag alive, by the grace of the Forest God. It is killed at dawn before the sun’s rising and will become part of our feast. It is vital that blood stains the snow and goes back to the land. Who knows how it may aid your quest, for surely you come seeking some knowledge?”

The expression in the Ruithin mage’s eyes was intense and compelling. Brynnan knew he should consult with his friends, but a voice was telling him that this was the right thing to do. He tried to think of reasons to refuse.

“I do not customarily hunt, and I am reluctant to take life,” he said to the Ruithin mage.

“You do not have to slay the deer. Merely witness what I, myself, will perform.”

“I have heard there is a ritual and physical exchange of power between the King and his appointee. Where would it be performed?”

“You would be prepared and brought here to this hall. The act is done in front of witnesses. Only select members of the court may attend,” Kian-Hen replied.

“What of my companions?”

“Of course. We will select one of them to be your attendant.”

Brynnan opened his mouth to refuse, but to his surprise, the words came out as, “Yes, I grant you my service for the coming three days, ending on the morning of the turning sunrise.”

The King smiled, pleased. “You understand, of course, that all I have is yours to command for that time. You will be lodged in my quarters. My Queen, Eirlys, will also attend you, and I myself will become your cup-bearer and fellow huntsman when we roam forth in the forest.”

The King then stood and announced the event to his court. Geraint started to stand up in protest, but Nijal placed a hand on his arm, restraining him. Andri was selected to be Brynnan’s attendant.

*    *    *

When Brynnan was escorted into the great hall again, it was close to midnight. They had prepared him for the ceremony. He was dressed only in a kilt of a green woven plaid and a rich dark-green woollen cloak trimmed on the shoulders with black fox fur. No women were present amongst the assembled lords. A lit brazier burned near a couch placed in the centre of the floor.

Andri stood near Brynnan, awaiting instruction. He looked very solemn and kept his body still, summoning a professional calm taught to him at the Hall of Music in Torrent Mountain. He looked the part of a young noble, for the deep red cloak of the Brotherhood of Deieros fell in graceful folds from his shoulders.

A deep horn-call sounded. The note was drawn out and seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The King arrived, accompanied by Kian-Hen, with his white raven on his shoulder and carrying a staff twined with the sacred white-berried plant.

The King was dressed similarly to the Bard; only his kilt was red and black plaid, and his cloak was the colour of blood. As for the Ruithin mage wore a simple white robe with a pocketed over-shawl fringed with white tassels.

Kian-Hen stepped forward and threw a handful of crystal powder on the brazier, and a musky, woodsy scent spread with the smoke. A hushed whispering moved like a wave around the dimly-lit hall. It was time.

Kian-Hen removed King Rhydian’s cloak and kilt. Andri, seeing this, did the same for The Bard. The two men formally embraced. The King was heavier, stockier and slightly taller than Brynnan’s lithe and sculpted form, but he was well-muscled and pleasing to look upon, with long, red braids framing his face and his body lightly furred with red-gold hairs. His straight, thick cock, semi-erect, was in proportion to the rest of him.

However, Kian-Hen was staring at Brynnan’s crimson silk rope harness, still damp from his bathing. “They did not remove that from you?” he asked.

“Have you not yet removed the King’s torc?” replied the Bard. “You can read the knots, Master Ruithin, and I am sure you can recreate the explanation.”

Kian-Hen held up his hand for peace. “It is of no matter at this time.” He turned to the assembled people around them. “You are here to witness the transfer of power between our King and one who will be our Winter King until the Solstice passes. May the Lord of the Wood be our witness.”

At this, the raven on the priest’s shoulder beat its wings and uttered several bell-like sounds, a raven expression of approval.

Kian-Hen took one of two coloured glass bottles from a nearby table. He poured a lotion into his hand and massaged it into the King’s cock, which swiftly became fully erect. Seeing this, Andri took the other glass bottle and performed the same service for Brynnan. A strange, throbbing heat suffused his cock, and it, too, became fully hard.

The King kissed the Bard and guided him down on the couch. Brynnan lay on his back and fixed his gaze on the King’s eyes as Rhydian knelt between the Bard’s thighs. Then he laid full-length on Brynnan so that their cocks rubbed together. They spent some time in a close embrace, touching and kissing each other. Then the King took the Bard.

Brynnan spread his thighs, lifting one leg over Rhydian’s shoulder as the King penetrated him. Rhydian was silent, but an expression of ecstasy crossed his face. He grasped Brynnan’s wrists with his fists, pinning him down and pumping hard into the ass. The Bard’s arousal reached new heights as he felt an urging inside to offer himself to the King. The lubricant made his cock burningly sensitized, and he felt an orgasm building.

Rhydian pounded into the Bard. All the time, he kept his eyes locked with Brynnan’s and remained silent except for his heavy breathing. Then the King arched his back and orgasmed, his cum filling the Bard.

Brynnan found himself cumming just after, and the King bent down and sucked his cock until the Bard felt thoroughly drained. His cock still throbbed.

The King kissed him and withdrew. Without being told, Andri helped Brynnan to his feet, and the Bard swayed a little, feeling light-headed.

Attendants came with bowls of hot water and cloths. Andri washed his friend and teacher while Kian-Hen did the same for Rhydian. The Ancient One brought a double-handled goblet to Brynnan first, then Rhydian. The Bard found the hot throbbing in his cock, thankfully diminishing. However, the older Ruithin looked strangely at Brynnan, as if he expected another reaction when none was forthcoming. But the ceremony wasn’t over.

Rich clothes were brought for King and Bard, red for Brynnan and greens for Rhydian, and they gave Bard the King’s red cloak.

The King took the golden circlet from his head and placed it on Brynnan. He did the same with the torc that encircled his neck. Finally, Kian-Hen crowned Brynnan with a wreath of holly, its bright red berries among the green, prickly leaves like drops of blood. An ivy wreath encircled the King’s head.

Understanding what had to come next, Brynnan watched as the King sank to one knee before him.

“I have crowned you, Brynnan Marec Mavrenn, King of Winter. Snow and cold and the frozen forest is now your domain. I pledge to serve you as a faithful companion in the coming days and yield all decisions of state to you. Lead us, King, in our celebrations of the sun’s coming dominance, but let us fully accept the sacrifice due the Longest Night.”

Kian-Hen raised his voice, “Do all you Lords show fealty to the King of snows and silence, the Winter King?”

The assembled nobles knelt and cried out, “We pledge ourselves to the Winter King!” Then all arose – except two who had stayed in the shadows of the pillars. Nijal and Geraint watched the proceedings with somber eyes. They had not had a chance to speak with the Bard since the feast. They relied on Andri to learn more.

Brynnan was feeling strange. If the wine in the cup was drugged, he knew that his body would metabolize it. But something did not feel right. His usual clarity of thought seemed blurred somehow.

The lords seated themselves and drank toasts to their new King. They urged Brynnan to play for them, and he uncased Mavrenn. He played voiceless melodies of snow in the forest, then a wild piece in honour of the Huntsman, another aspect of the Forest God. Finally, he played them 'The Sheep Under the Snow.' He was aware that all his songs had an element of doom. The assembled nobles seemed to accept them readily, but Kian-Hen’s gaze was fastened steadily upon the harp.

When they retired, the Ruithin mage escorted Brynnan to the King’s chambers, but as Rhydian himself turned to leave, the Bard asked him, “Where do you lodge this night, my Lord Rhydian?”

“There is a chamber prepared not far from this one, my King,” Rhydian replied.

“It is not seemly that you should be turned away from your own rooms. You are welcome to lodge within.”

Andri was furiously trying to signal Brynnan with his eyes, but the Bard cast a glance at the singer to tell him to wait, then ignored him.

“0ne other thing, my Lord,” said Brynnan.

“What is your wish, oh King?” Rhydian asked.

“Do fierce war dogs or other fell beasts roam your halls at night?”

“Ah, no?” said a puzzled Rhydian.

 “Is there any reason guests should be locked in their rooms for their own safety?”

“No! That would be extremely uncouth!”

 “Will the companions of an honoured guest be separated from him and never be seen again?”

Andri, meanwhile, had dropped his head and put a hand over his eyes, as if he couldn’t believe that the Bard was asking such questions, except he remembered their time as captives of the Lord of Redstone Holding.

Rhydian seemed distressed, “Why do you ask me these things, oh King? Of course, your companions may visit you as long as they like….”

Kian-Hen interrupted smoothly, “No doubt our new King has encountered such disturbances in the past.” He turned to the Bard with a guileless expression. “No one seeks to harm you here, my King.”

After Kian-Hen and the attendants left, Brynnan and Andri entered the richly appointed chamber. The warmth of its tapestries and rugs enveloped them. Rhydian was lodged in an outer room, and Brynnan, now declared the Winter King, slept in Rhydian’s great bed with Andri.

They lay together quietly for a time before Andri hesitantly questioned Brynnan. “Is all well with you, Master? This sudden turn of events has me confused. Master Geraint bids me look out for you and guard you, as he cannot, but I don’t know what help I can be.”

“Be wise. Be observant, my Andri. Somehow, Kian-Hen has pulled me into this, but I do not know his purpose – yet. The King, I feel, is an honest and open man, but who knows what counsel this Ancient Mage gives him?

“Can we trust King Rhydian?”

“Let us find out. Go summon Rhydian and see if he will share this bed.”

Andri looked surprised but obeyed. Shortly he returned, leading the King. Brynnan saw an expression of hope in Rhydian’s eyes.

“Come share this night with us,  O King. We two are invested in your land, and it is right that we are together. Whether we share our bodies or seek rest, it seems good to me.”

“I was hoping you would ask, Brynnan. What we did tonight awoke a strong desire in me. I am aware of Kian-Hen’s machinations, but I am still in command of my own thoughts.”

“Let us hope that it continues to be so, Rhydian. Lie beside Andri and me and be welcome.”

*    *    *